For me, writing erupts from a burning desire to share the ups and downs of life—to nostalgically connect with moments in time. I somehow wish to catch an act, a feeling and share how it felt, tasted, and smelled. I love words that are more than letters strung together. I like to feel them tumble off my mind’s tongue, to land like a score on the page. I love to paint a description that lingers in the mind. It is hard for me to make up characters to go for a ride down a fictional road. Most of my writing springs from what I know—people and events on roads sometimes smooth and sometimes rough, some light and some dark. I find joy in the funny kid side that delights in exploring a fresh world of words in fairy form, those nymph-like beings who see only child-like scenes with no pain, no stress, no sorrow. I can remember asking my bishop once, “Why do I have to feel such extremes, such highs and lows?” He gave me some good advice in asking me if I really wanted to be middle of the road. “Those people go along and don’t experience the really good and the really bad, they miss the feeling.” I agreed that I was wired correctly and probably I choose to experience reality in all its extremes. When I speak in church, friends sometimes tell me they enjoy my ‘realness.’ I do like to give of myself and find that people relate to the truth, to the frailties of human nature, to the doubts, to the joys, to humor. I like to hear people laugh. I want to be a perfectionist in some areas, preferring never to make a mistake. However, I don’t mind fessing up to mistakes when they’re informative or fun. I really do love people—my favorites being babies, children, old people, and red necks. I love to write about them.