About Me

I, like most book nerds, started reading early. In elementary school I rewrote The Night Before Christmas as a humorous story. It included such laugh out loud moments as “And no one was stirring but the cook.”

Mrs. Schmally, my teacher/agent, sent me on a multi-classroom book tour.

That is where I learned about stage fright.

By junior high I fell in love with art. Photos. Drawing. Painting. My parents, who had other ideas for my future than art and writing, drove to the University of Michigan and left me at the law quad.

U of M sent me home. I was fifteen.

I graduated from college. Hope College, in Holland, Michigan. I don’t mean to boast about my degree, but I scrounged around and found the two majors that ensured I wasn’t trained for any sort of job. Absolutely none. Are you ready? Political science and psychology.

On the way home from my graduation, Dad turned east and dropped me off at Michigan State University’s med school. They were surprised to see me as I had not taken the MCAT. Or applied.

Or passed a biology class.

I wasn’t worried. I expected the world to open its big, job-y arms to me. Throw money at my feet. I was surprised when I wasn’t offered a top management job in ... something fun that paid well and didn’t start too early in the morning.

But, before dad could map the quickest route to Michigan Tech’s engineering department, I was hired at a restaurant. I was the worst server in the best restaurant in Grand Rapids. Figuring this out pretty damn fast, the restaurant promoted me to a manager and marketing coordinator, where I would no longer be offended when a customer asked for Sex on the Beach. (I didn’t know it was a cocktail.)

I think everyone should work in a restaurant once in their life. It’s hard work that requires organization, patience, stamina, and the ability to multitask. My seafood restaurant taught me many things—most important, that I am deathly allergic to shellfish.

That led to another job, a first husband, a couple kids, and a career in nonprofit management. I still wanted to write. But getting a divorce took a lot of my time. And those two kids were a huge time suck.

It’s a gift when you love your job. Working in local economic development is both a privilege and a joy, as you help the community grow and thrive.

As a tribe of three, the kids and I created our own world, that, while not perfect, was kind of amazing. I was lucky with my kids, who are decent, lovely, funny people. I cried when they went off to college. When the dog died. And I leaned on husband two, that good man I married.

Then the job changed, as things do. And it was time to write.

What does that mean, to write? How do you do it? I found resources: Seminars, organizations, and conferences. Local and national. The Yale Writers Workship, Erma Bombeck Humor Writers, Writers Digest, and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association among others.

For me the best way to learn was to sit down and write. Badly at first. Then better. Finding a critique group and friends who write helped more than they will ever know.

Hi, I’m Sharon.

I play with words.