Telling Stories

My Mom would always ask us for the “story of the day” when we came home from school.  Every day.  We would plonk down on a kitchen bar stool and insist “nothing” had happened until she prodded some detail of the day ala story out of us… and then we would be off and running with the food fight in the cafeteria or junior high gossip or what happened in theater class.

telling stories

I think she was trying to maintain open lines of communication with little people headed towards surly teenage years… but what she really did was create a pack of storytellers. Some of my siblings are far better storytellers than I am. (In fact, at my finest, I am only a contender for the third-best storyteller ranking in my family.) I just steal their stories to tell in my books as they’re too busy coaching soccer to bother writing them down.

In fact, I think this is what I am best at—story theft. I can see something happening in someone’s life and think… “oh, now THAT would make a great story.”  I’ve taken mad notes during luncheons with friends as they tell me about their childhoods. I jot down funny tidbits people quip knowing someday it will be used. I notice a man in an ascot and wonder what I can do with that detail. I even plagiarize from my own life.  So, as you will see, my books are a magpie’s collection of shiny things.  (I’ve always liked shimmer.)


I started writing children’s books for my true love nephews. They deserve the credit. Oh yes, and my man who pushed me to go to a conference… where I met an editor… who let me pitch her… and here we are.

And then I started experimenting with telling stories in textiles… to see some of the pieces I’ve been showing, see here.


If you want to add to the magpie collection of story tidbits, commission a piece of textile art, or just get in touch— email me at