I was a rambunctious child; clever, inquisitive, loquacious, and always, always moving. There wasn’t a tree I didn’t climb, a fence I didn’t scale, a bicycle I didn’t race down the street, a stone I didn’t kick, a pool I didn’t jump into…

Because I spent the first two years of my life completely immobile; I was born with a malformed right hip, and my legs were encased in a lower body cast to correct it.

When the cast was removed and I could finally walk, I ran. I skipped. I jumped. I MOVED! And I’ve never stopped moving.
So naturally, forward motion is of utmost importance to me. And that, along with an eidetic memory that keeps me connected to experiences in my past – experiences which are as immediate to me whether they occurred in 1963 or 4:23 this afternoon – inform my work.

Whether it’s a young man frustrated by the career chosen for him (Kyle in The Fierce Urgency Of Now), a precocious child learning to deal with the homophobia that follows him into late-middle-age (Phillie/Philip in Phillie's Trilogy), an aging actress fighting to bring truth to her legacy (June Havoc in Fable), or a young woman searching for acceptance and love in a new country (Anna in All The King’s Horses), I write about people who must decide how their childhood experiences will influence how they are to negotiate their future lives, and make the decision to choose a path they know in their gut is the one they need to travel. And I do it with a humor, an agility, and a passion that keeps me – wait for it – moving forward.

I also write about mothers, martinis, and death. None of these things are mutually exclusive.