My very first writing project was a play. It opened with a steady stream of passengers boarding an airplane bound for a ski resort in Idaho. I had no particular plan in mind for what would happen next. But what did I know about plotting or narrative tension? I was only eight years old. The play remains unfinished.

At age eight, I didn’t know what I wanted to write. I only knew that writing was what I wanted to do. As it turned out, my entire working life involved the commercial side of writing—advertising copy and collateral, product packaging and corporate brochures, and editing—books…about child development, architecture, and business.

Now, finally, having phased out my career as a freelancer, I am writing what I want.

My husband asks me why I don’t retire (as he has).

My response is, “I can’t retire. Writing is not what I do. Being a writer is who I am.”

My husband, John (otherwise known as Baker Blake) and I recently relocated from a Boston suburb to Manhattan Beach, California, near our two daughters, son-in-law, and grandchildren.