Even as a child, writing was a way for me to speak. I was painfully shy and always tried to sit in the back of the classroom, behind someone much bigger than me. Perhaps, I thought, no one will see me. My teachers began to notice my writing and read sections to my classmates, and so it was that through their encouragement I found voice.
My introversion softened over the years, but not without a struggle. I have a passion for learning and this drew me to one university after another, first as student then as teacher. Standing in front of a room of college students, I realized that I was hired to facilitate learning, and this shifted my attention.
When I write, I try to create connections. I reach across the divide of space and time to greet readers such as you. Whatever the uniqueness of our separate experiences might be, it dissolves as our sorrow or joy or love touches one another. This fundamental passion (of creating connection) is the reason I became a teacher and later a writer.
In a way, we are all bridge builders; the engineering feat of some mirrors the task before all of us. By what we say or do, we can bridge differences and build understanding – or not. For writers, it is through our characters and storylines that we structure our bridge. How amazing is that!
When I wrote Letting Go into Perfect Love, my focus was our collective journey. I shared aspects of my life, but only to illustrate a point or to connect with the reader’s journey. I wasn’t interested in writing a tell-all book; I was interested in illuminating a path that ultimately leads to the miraculous.
What inspires me? I’m inspired by the goodness of people—their selflessness, their generosity, their kindness. While our television networks focus on tragedy, the miraculous emerges within and around such sorrow. A simple smile from a stranger can transform our day. And so it is that when I write, I try to bridge our perceived separateness by illuminating the beauty in and around us.