Rachel E Dangermond
I have been a writer all my adult life and had visions in my thirties of being a novelist or of publishing a smart collection of novellas. I wrote them, I received my glowing rejection letters, I left fiction behind. In 2004, I began writing the truth as I know it, using my life as the framework, and filling posts with heartache, love, and joy. I’ve pursued my own self-actualization at each juncture, stopping only to document what moves me and pushes me onward.

I have thought on many occasions to stop this nonsense, to quit writing a blog, and yet, I come back each day, compelled to write it down. If you read a passage here that makes you stop and think, and if you’ve been gracious enough to share that with me, you should know that you are the reason I am here.

Note about the photograph: I purchased this tutu in Nantucket to wear to my housewarming party in 2007, the celebration of finally moving into my dream house, the LaLa, on Bayou St. John, after two and a half years of house terrors brought on by remodeling my house in post-Katrina/Federal Flood New Orleans – my very good friend told me if I dared to wear this tutu, I would never get a man – she was right.