It must be evident by now that I like to write; I suppose you didn’t come here for more of that, but I’ll tell you anyway.  I spent most of my life wanting to write, but occupied with other things; things that seemed achievable when writing was out of reach.  In 2020 I survived a coma after doctors told my husband to pull the plug because if I did manage to wake, I would be nothing more than a vegetable.  After five days of playing at sleeping beauty, I woke up and began flipping people off.  When the tube was pulled from my throat, I started calling everyone motherfuckers (If you are offended by swearing, there is a decent chance you’ll be offended by my book – some of the characters have potty mouths).  Having survived my death date, I feel as if I am now living in the gravy – that extra that maybe wasn’t necessary but makes things SO much better, that extra that you are free to do with whatever you want, and I finally gave myself the permission I needed to pursue my dream.