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I was asked recently why I write. Answer is easy-peasy.

I came from a large dysfunctional family the fifth out of six. We were all propelled into perfectionism and performing by our parents who would make a millennial Mom look like a weinie.

So, I began writing because all my older sibling were creative, articulate and smart. Whereas my thoughts—although just as brilliant, came out rather swampy when I spoke. This may have been some sort of aural dyslexia, but putting my words down into writing made me feel like I had more appropriately accessed my intellect.

I would love to know what you think of White Oak