What inspires you to get out of bed each day?
My children (they need me, I need them—it's potato, potah-toh). My husband (his alarm clock haunts my dreams). The fact that I'm still alive is a key motivator. Wine on the weekends cushions the blow of the bleary-eyed week. My front-yard view of the neighbors' horse pasture never fails to lift my spirits. The anticipation of small pleasures softens my brow. Hope sows the seeds of my dreams.
Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?
In second grade, I authored and illustrated a mini-memoir called My Two Brothers and I. Thirty-odd years later, it occupies a spot on my daughter's shelf. I still get a kick out of the chapter in which my "oldest little brother" tumbles into a hole in "the brown hill' (a giant pile of accumulated yard waste) and I scream for help. The accompanying image is banner.
One of the worst earliest poems I ever penned featured the continuous refrain, "What ho, my lady!" for the entirety of two singled-space, typed pages. SMDH.
I wrote a Daffy Duck/Predator crossover fanfic in fourth grade that earned accolades from my teacher and bemusement from my classmates. Speaking of fanfic, I love Hannigram (Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham). I've written two Hannigram fics under different pseuds on AO3; I would have written more, had the series continued. Much to my chagrin, NBC's Hannibal was curtains after Season 3 and my heart shattered like Hannibal's tea cup, never to come together again (inside Fannibal reference).
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