It also involved late nights, fetid, graffiti-sprayed practice rooms, gorgeous flakey boys, bizarre gigs, in-fighting-what's not to love?īut my dream of being a published writer never faded. A lot more equipment was involved, that's for sure. Which turned out to be ever-so-slightly harder to do than writing. I loved writing and all indications were that I was pretty good at it, but I, thank you very much, wanted to be a rock star. I dreamed of being a novelist.īut most of us, I think, tend to take for granted the things that come easily to us.
I began my academic career as a Journalism major I switched to Creative Writing, which was a more comfortable fit for my freewheeling imagination and overdeveloped sense of whimsy.
Won a couple of random awards along the way: the Bank of America English Award in High School (which basically just amounted to a fancy plaque saying that I was really, really good at English) and an award for best Sports Feature article in a College Newspaper (and anyone who knows me well understands how deeply ironic that is). Little's fifth grade class at Glenmoor Elementary did have one) my high school paper (along with my best high school bud, Cindy Jorgenson) and my college paper, where our long-suffering typesetter finally forced me to learn how to typeset because my articles were usually late (and thus I probably have him to thank for all the desktop publishing jobs that ensued over the years). I was editor of my elementary school paper (believe it or not, Mrs. I won the school spelling bee when I was in 7th grade the word that clinched it was 'ukulele.' I originally set out to be a rock star when I grew up (I had a Bono fixation, but who didn't?), and I have the guitars and the questionable wardrobe stuffed in the back of my closet to prove it. Well, where should I start? I've lived in San Francisco for more than a decade, usually with at least one cat.
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