I guess I could say most of my life journaling, or writing a diary, was my “drug.” My self therapy, my way of coping. My first diary was a little red book with a lock and key. I was six. Goodness knows I didn’t want my mom snooping among the pages to find out I didn’t know how to spell …
Catching Up
Hey, I’m such a bad blogger at times. I was finishing up The Wedding Dress so I could pass it off to a reader/proofer before flying to St. Louis for a board meeting. Came home and have been prepping for this week over in Clearwater and the My Book Therapy Deep Thinkers Retreat. I’ll try to post pictures and notes …