Writing has been the backbone of my life for as long as I can remember... or, at least since I was about 12 and realized I had to move some of the noise from my head onto paper so that I could think more clearly. The thing about being a writer, though, is that your head is never clear of those contagious thoughts, no matter how quickly or efficiently you move them to paper. There's always something creative floating around, waiting to be grabbed and molded into something at least semi-beautiful.
My words are my escape, and I think that's echoed pretty clearly in my first collection of poetry, The Object's Lament. This book is a tangled web of loving from afar. It's built on a decisively queer female perspective, but absolutely accessible to non-queers. Truth is -- I was always told to write what I know, so my pages are often filled with what I know: loving women, loving words, trying to scramble my way through life without turning over too many tables (or other lives) in the process.
I'm currently working on my second collection of poetry. Around and within that, I have a tails of a young adult novel in the works, and so very many unfinished novel-like-things waiting to be tended to. My goal is to complete a novel before I'm 35. So let the countdown begin...