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I began spinning yarns at a young age, regaling my audience (my long suffering mother) each afternoon with tall tales of the second grade happenings of the day.
Years later, the duties of raising a family of five children curtailed my writing cravings until retirement allowed time to indulge my fertile imagination. I can now claim the dubious title of author without fearing being struck by lightning for lying. Over a dozen novels—only four published so far—and close to two dozen short stories total my output since I starting drawing SS checks. Retirement is grand.