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Welcome to Chronicle of Joy. I’ve launched this new website—and an emailed newsletter—because the world has gone mad and I need to write about it. Some writers are satisfied scribbling in a diary. Not me. I, sadly, feel compelled to share. So, I've built this stage and you are...

26 January, 2017 /

He’s stolen my NPR, my Rachel Maddow, my blessed Sunday mornings with the New York Times. I can’t do any of it anymore. What am I to do with all this time? This morning, the New York Times arrived on my doorstop as it has for...

26 January, 2017 /

I was sitting at the foot of my father-in-law's hospice hospital bed when I heard from Midway Journal that they'd accepted this essay for publication. Moises had passed away only an hour before. "A Sharp, Distant Applause" is about my mother's death and the gift of hospice to her...

25 July, 2016 /
North Dakota Quarterly, a literary print journal out of, you guessed it, University of North Dakota, has published one of my essays. Thank you to the editorial staff and all the readers who volunteer their time.  The Winter 2016 issue was printed so I am free to include it in its entirety here. Happy reading. CHATTER TURNED TO SILENCE AS as twenty women encircled me. Most bowed their heads, while a handful snuck me a smile. Trapped dead center, I shifted from foot to foot, flushed and antsy. I was supposed to be touched by their kindness, but the truth was, I hated prayer chambers. They reeked of creepy tent revivals on TV, where preachers in white suits spit scripture and women swoon as they’re overtaken by the Holy Spirit. I wanted to scream, “This isn’t me. I’m a lesbian from New England.” I wanted them to know that all this God business was a bunch of bullshit, and that prayer was nothing but a Band-Aid to make us all feel better. But to say that would have been rude, and the hard, humiliating truth was, after twelve weeks in this metaphysics class, I wasn’t so sure what I believed anymore. The idea of being bathed in good intentions wasn’t altogether unpleasant—especially before my breast surgery in the morning. Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, I closed my eyes. In a strong, sure voice, our teacher began with Dear Sweet Spirit…and my classmates joined her in an orchestra of voices. While some people muttered quietly under their breath, others spoke at full volume, and I was soon submerged in a humming beehive of prayer. 
05 May, 2016 /

[et_pb_section admin_label="section"][et_pb_row admin_label="row"][et_pb_column type="4_4"][et_pb_text admin_label="Text" background_layout="light" text_orientation="left" use_border_color="off" border_color="#ffffff" border_style="solid"] There is nothing more beautiful that vulnerability. Watch this and witness someone doing what God put them on this earth to do. I hope to find my way to my light...

20 March, 2016 /

After kindly publishing an essay in their literary magazine, Superstition Review asked if I'd put a video together about my writing process. My first thought was, "Do I have one?" Well, it turns out, after giving it some serious thought, I realized I do. On the end it was...

14 March, 2016 /
For some writers, the pleasure of writing is pleasure enough. Not for me. If I want pleasure I drink hot chocolate or sit on my patio in the sun and read someone else's book. At times, when I stumble on the perfect word or phrase, writing becomes enjoyable. Mostly it's hard. At times even painful.  But for some god forsaken reason, I think I have something to say that people might want (dare I say need?) to hear. So, I need readers. That means people have to know I exist.  Enter, dreaded self-promotion. Marketing. The curse of the artist. 
13 February, 2016 /

My second essay, Prairie of the Mind, has been published by Arizona State University's Superstition Review. Here's an excerpt: My first attempt at meditating was, like a first kiss, too self-conscious to enjoy. I turned off Van Morrison and double-checked that my door was locked. Everyone would...

01 December, 2015 /

I've published my first essay. It's called A Weed in the Garden and was picked up by a journal called The Penmen Review, Southern New Hampshire University's Online Journal for Creative Writers. Needless to say, I'm thrilled. May it be the first of many. Here's an excerpt: Keandra placed her napkin...

05 October, 2015 /
Years back, my dear friend Annie gave me the nickname Pollyanna. As our friendship grew the endearment was truncated to Polly. While the moniker was offered with love, I accepted it with some trepidation because, to me, it seemed to come with a modicum of derision. In between the wry smile and tinge of jealousy was the suggestion that maybe I was in deep denial. I bore the chiding with a happy smile, as any good Polly would, but just below the surface was a touch of embarrassment, like maybe I was delusional and everyone knew it but me. In response to the good-natured mocking, I'd quip, “Yes, I broke my leg and
07 July, 2015 /