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Before I wanted to be a writer, I dreamed of becoming a “gymnasticker.” My grasp of the English language has improved since then, and though I stalled out as a gymnast at age 7, as a writer I still am able to exhibit power and grace in my own way—with words.
My first publication credits were long-form magazine and newspaper features. I have the best “cub” reporter story ever, having been bitten by a bear on assignment. I became a full-time freelancer in 2001 and, later, a syndicated writer specializing in editorial that addresses the practical concerns of average folks: how to remodel the kitchen without blowing the budget or killing your spouse; how to restore ruined credit; how to pair wine with asparagus (it’s tricky).
Nowadays, I write mostly for agencies, organizations, and entrepreneurs who are in the business of helping people live healthier, wealthier, happier lives.
I’m also happily at work wrecking the lives of the hapless characters in my novel-in-progress. I thank the Ragdale and Taleamor Park artists’ retreats for accepting me into their communities to do this dirty work without disruption.
My life is enriched by other joys besides writing: long-distance hiking (alas, no more bear sightings), live theatre, collecting art and pottery, reading headstones (the hardest ones to read are worthiest of the effort), Pilates, beekeeping, my critters (cats and koi), and above all else my optometrist-apiarist husband, Jeff Pinkerton. We live in Chicago and East Texas.