When I was five years old, whenever anyone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up I would immediately say a horse. As I grew older and realized four legs and a tail were not in my future, my responses evolved to more socially acceptable career choices such as veterinarian, defense attorney, criminal profiler, and international jewel thief. Ok maybe last one wasn't exactly mother approved but it was on the list.

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Writing and art were always passions but my family viewed them with condescension for the most part. I believe the phrase "starving artist" was bandied about rather frequently. As a result I went through most of my life believing it would never be an option for me. After all I'm no Hemmingway, and my liver gives a sigh of relief for that. It was purely by chance that I returned to my youthful desire to write, and I'm grateful for it, and for you, for helping make it a reality.

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Serafine