I grew up in an eclectic atmosphere in New York City, surrounded by artists, writers, priests, teachers: academia and bohemia commingling to shape me into a seeker of art and spirituality. I am also the product of a generation that had a paralysis of infinite choices in what to do, who to be.
I have grown up through writing. My grandmother gave me my first journal when I was nine. I still have it: a thin, dark blue leather bound book. A book to be taken seriously. I have kept a journal by my bedside and in my purse ever since. The practice has helped shape who I am and how I think and I have often joked that it has been my one and only discipline.
So yes, I always wrote, yet for a long time I did not take myself or my writing very seriously.
I wrote through my school years, where I also fell in-love with acting. I wrote short stories and lots of bad poetry while studying English and Italian literature at Barnard College. I wrote monologues and performance pieces while I bartended and acted some more. I wrote while pursuing a Masters degree in Drama Therapy from NYU.
Then I found my comfort-zone working with teens, and at the age of thirty-five finally gave myself permission to work on a long piece of fiction. I dared to dream of being a "writer". I did not write with an audience in mind, but it's no wonder that when I started EDGES, the teen voices shone through.
It is seven years later, and my dream is coming true.