I write more than I sleep.
I reside in New York City but live mostly in my head, which can be a problem on the subway.
Some years ago I began posting my work-in-progress on a blog as a way to keep myself from rewriting stories to death. I polished my Kindle novel "Diary of a Heretic" on a blog with the same name.
In my dreams I have the same gifts as my character Malcolm in "Diary of a Heretic," who says," "For the moment, I have this incredible gift. It just happened ... I bend, whisper, sing, shout--and a radiant light surrounds and then emanates from people."
In reality, I write more than I sleep; talk too much; laugh too loud. And what "just happened" to me are: an inspiring and loving husband; two grown, incredible children; and left-handedness.
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