I was born in the late fifties. In my early teens I started reading books that spoke to me in a way that nothing else did. It was like finding people who saw and understood the world — both inner and outer — in the same language that I did. I knew then that I wanted to be a writer more than anything.

I didn’t expect it would be such a long journey! Or such a rich one.

Over the course of decades I have lived in New York City, Los Angeles, London, Greece and India. Along the way, I was an editor in mass-market paperback and magazine publishing, lived in an ashram for ten years, and picked up both a BA and an MA in Creative Writing, for what that’s worth.

More recently, I co-directed Authentic Writing for 25 years, a program that supported people in writing about their lives.

My years in Authentic Writing gave me the writing life I had craved. I learned a great deal about myself, writing, and writing in community during those many years of workshops. It was a great place to explore and experiment.

I continue to explore and experiment and grow in my understanding of what writing means to me. It becomes even more exciting as I let go of expectations and the inner voices that try to stop me.

Like most everybody, I was trained to be critical. I was taught, and believed for a long time, that there were “good” writers and “bad” writers, and that it depended on their “talent.” Such beliefs are usually enough to extinguish a person’s desire to write (or paint or compose or sing). Luckily, though often diminished, my insistence on writing was never obliterated, and I’m still here, fingers at the keyboard. Still learning.