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In March 2011, I made my way into boxes of letters exchanged by my great-grandparents as they were finding their way to one another in the 1910s. I had started reading the letters when confounded by my own marriage. Why was love so difficult for us? We tried so hard! I knew the letters could offer a clue or two.

My journey to find—to make—love unfolded in post-its and paths and patterns wound tight like a clock. Along the way I found voice and courage, freedom and forgiveness. And I found love. It looked not at all like I had imagined when I set out in my search, but that's exactly what love is—catalyst, communicator, creative force. Love is the reason we are all here.

I have learned that love is not about a fairytale ending.

Love is doing hard shit. And not being afraid to talk about it.


I am looking for an agent to represent me in this completed work and others that are underway. Ever grateful for your insights and introductions,


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