Growing up in Baltimore, a daughter of immigrants, I learned that everyone has a story that matters. I wanted to hear all of them—about the man killed when a ditch collapsed onto him, about the woman who ran away with an “Inkspot” (not knowing that Inkspot was the name of a musical group), about the bird acquired by a relative that cursed like a sailor, about the old lady who hid her substantial race track winnings in a brown paper bag in her oven, not knowing her daughter would come by to bake something for her. Those stories told around the kitchen table over espresso and cannoli, soda and cake melded with Jack London’s fantastical stories from the Alaska winter wonderland and from the point of view of a wolf captured my imagination. Jack London’s stories lured me into stories—and like a yarn unraveling—one story led to another until reading became an addiction and writing became my dream.
I continue to chase that dream, pursue the elusive Fiction King that prompts us to tell the best stories that can help us understand others. It’s a great privilege to tell stories that move people, cause them to see the world through the eyes and experience of others, to walk a mile in another’s shoes, stories that explore joys and sorrows, struggles and victories of the human condition. Thank you for joining the chase with me, for exploring the world’s of others revealed in my stories.