My Writing Farrago

Farrago (noun) |  \ fə-ˈrä-(ˌ)gō : a confused mixture: hodgepodge

Synonyms : a random collection : miscellany : conglomeration : mishmash: motley treasury

I write life.

As I see it, within me and around me. As I imagine it. As it was. What if it were?

Life, it turns out, is a mishmash. And since I like to experience it all, so is my writing.

Stories I see. Stories I imagine. Stories untold and ignored.

A farrago of stories.

Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. Fiction-ish: that nebulous, unincorporated territory between the two, starting in fact and meandering into imagination.

Here, you can find the bits and pieces of what I love to add to my writing farrago, and read samples as they become public in links below, on my blog, or upon request.

I am seeking representation and formal homes for my little writinglings.

For Kids

Fiction for Kids. Chapter and middle grade books, particularly magical realism.

Nonfiction for Kids. I love to share the stories of people ignored by history, particularly when ordinary actions lead to extraordinary results.

For the Moderately Aged

Nonfiction Programmatic Writing. While these writings are largely protected under nondisclosure agreements for nonprofit development organizations, select writings may be available upon request. I have extensive experience in developing and designing grant applications, grant and general program reports, budget justifications, and non-technical, engaging program narratives.

Nonfiction Memoir/Reflection.

Fiction. My happy place here is writing flash fiction and magical realism.

A Special Note for the Neurodivergent

We – myself included – are a unique lot over here in my house. Over the years, we have accumulated quite a library of neurodivergent diagnoses: Autism, Dyslexia, ADHD/ADD, Anxiety, Depression, Selective Mutism, Twice Exceptionality. While these present their own daily (sometimes hourly!) challenges, it also means that we get to experience life in a way that many people miss. We see, hear, and feel things often unobserved.

Although I always felt loved, I wandered through childhood frequently feeling like I was never quite understood–my best intentions offended, my questions irritated. I carried a lot of anxiety because I never quite understood where things went awry. Many days I still feel that way.

Stories of others like me have helped me to find a home. They have helped my family find a home. I want to contribute to that pool of literature that lets others say, “Ahhh!! Someone gets me!”