Decades ago, I was filmed by a management support group; me presenting a new tool for portfolio managers who were clearly against the tool being forced upon them. I was a young Ph.D. grad brought in to ease this onto very experienced financial wizards. Seeing myself was a huge eye-opener.

Dallas is expecting a thunderstorm, so today on my walk the wind pushed the tops of the oak trees so that they danced in irregular patterns. I wondered which way the storm would blow through town this time.

One Lent as a child, I gave up talking for 40 days which ended up, of course, in abject failure. Unfortunately, I’ve always been one of those loquacious girls who trip from tangent to tangent in every conversation, like a gnat looking for somewhere to light, but never satisfied anywhere. At the first of my writing life, an experienced novelist dictated: One thought per sentence.

My publicist Stephanie, tells me I’m her most reluctant client.

I don’t like this being true, but of course, she is absolutely right.

In one way, reading a story is like floating down a river: feeling the water, not quite sure where you are headed, enjoying the imaginary sensory experience of the part of the world in which the river flows.