I grew up in a little stone house at the edge of a small Midwestern town. Years before we moved there, a previous owner had covered his simple wood frame house with big rocks of all shapes and sizes. Set together with mortar, like bricks, the stones transformed a plain square structure into a unique, fanciful cottage with curved archways and an attached grape arbor. Growing up in that stone house fueled my childhood daydreams and offered the perfect setting for a little girl’s vivid imagination.

I wrote stories and plays, dreaming I would one day write books like the ones that captivated me. What I grew up to write was “the news”. I took a job as a reporter at our local newspaper the summer after my freshman year at college. I loved the atmosphere of the newsroom and the people I worked alongside. Instead of going back to college, I stayed in the newsroom and got the best hands-on education possible, and before long, I was not just a typist. I was a reporter. My favorite assignments involved interviewing and writing about interesting individuals in our community. I was telling stories!

I “retired” to home school our children and most of my creative energies went toward teaching my own children to write. Now that our four sons are young adults (and one is a writer), I’m returning to my childhood passion — writing.

Paddle to the writing cabin? Why not?

That’s my writing cabin in the photo. I’ve named it Selah, a biblical term which means “to pause and reflect”. My husband had it built from logs we’d been storing in our barns. It’s a small space with no running water or electricity, but it sits at the edge of a pond within a short walk of our house. On a warm day, that front porch is my favorite place to write.

We’ll be sharing a few stories here — mine and yours — because sharing them is a sacred act. Our stories are our legacy.

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