We had been out on the docks all day. But no matter how many times we pulled up our crab rings, there were no keepers in our buckets.
And then a commercial boat pulled up. They saw our disappointed faces and unloaded a brace of the biggest dungeness crabs I’ve ever seen, and gave us each one. We sang for our supper, and had our picture taken. That’s me on the far right, not so sure about the monster my aunt is holding in front of me.
When you get down to it, writing is storytelling. All of my stories have bits of me in them, snapshots of that foggy bay, of rain-drenched soccer fields, rocky mountains and frozen grasslands, and of places that live only in my mind. I think I’ll be writing these stories for a long time to come. I hope you’ll join me along the way.