I grew up in a house with more books than chairs. My mother read on the porch; my father read in the car while waiting for us. I started writing in a spiral notebook at nine and never really stopped.
For twelve years I worked as a copy editor at a small newspaper, fixing other people’s commas. In 2015 I started Margin Notes as a place to write my own sentences. It grew slowly, one Sunday at a time.
Today I write essays, teach a Tuesday-night writing class at the public library and walk to the ferry every afternoon. This blog is my notebook with the door open. Thank you for reading it.