There is no rhyme or reason to how I write, as I write the way I think: in tangents.

Releasing thoughts on paper makes them real; they come alive and keep from getting lost in space — instead of being lost in boxes and piles, handbags and jacket pockets, golf bags. I am not organized in my writing, and I would not follow the script even if I were. It is not in my genes, bewildering as that is even to myself. But I try and will continue to try. I write longhand and on a keyboard, but the words flow quicker and strongest when I write by hand.

I endeavor dearly to make lists and outlines, and quite too often, I do, but seldom stay on the narrow path — do in other aspects of life, though not in writing.

and I’m ok with that