Dolls. It all began with dolls – when I was four years old, I cut off the head of my dolls.
Well, my parents decreed that I should become a physician, and trying to be a good little girl, I nodded and smiled.
And then I cut off the heads of my dolls – there was no time like the present to figure out what made the human body tick.
Except that the dolls were hollow.
And then the grand age of eleven came – first novel but left unfinished because the main characters had been killed off.
Alas. And then it was onward and forward to PSATs, SATs, what was once SAT IIs, college and law school. A little writing here, a little writing there, and so far so good – no characters dead yet.
From dolls to unfinished novels to the real world – join me as I attempt to craft “some sort of epic grandeur” or the “days of wine and roses.”
As one of my favorite authors, F. Scott Fitzgerald, closed The Great Gatsby, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Any feedback would be welcome. I can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.