Up until 1980, I spent most of my summers at my grandparents’ lovely house on Crows Pond in Chatham, Massachusetts. It totally cemented my love for the water, salty air, wooden boats, hermit and horseshoe crabs, clams, and birds, all kinds of birds: crows and quails and mourning doves and seagulls. They were everywhere. Their songs were everywhere. And it was there, on the Cape, where a seed of an idea, a story about a family and a house and pain and forgiveness, began to grow.

I studied art as a child at the Saturday art program at Boston’s Museum of Fine Art, and I’ve tried to stay close to creativity in a myriad of ways: drawing, painting (oils and watercolors), painting (walls, decoratively and vocationally for a weird time when sponge-painting one’s walls was all the rage), painting (children’s furniture), interior design (opened my business in 1994), and of course, writing.

When I’m not writing, painting, or designing, I can be found walking the beautiful waterfront loop in my neighborhood, doing the New York Times crossword puzzle, talking and texting with my wonderful children, bingeing on English crime dramas, laughing with my ridiculously smart and funny friends, reading (fiction mostly), and trying very hard to get eight hours of sleep every night, which I never, ever do.

A weird fact about me (but something that might explain my restlessness) is that I moved a lot as a kid and kept right on moving in my adult years. There have been thirty-three abodes, and here they are: Boston (Lying In Hospital) which counts because I slept there for a few of my first days, then two houses in Chatham, Massachusetts, one in Dover, Massachusetts, one in South Byfield, Massachusetts, six different houses in Dedham, Massachusetts, one house in Brunswick, Maine, four dorm rooms in four years at Amherst, two different spots in Cambridge, one house in Wellesley and one in South Natick, Massachusetts, two different apartments in Chicago, one in Jersey City, four apartments in New York City (12th Street, 78th Street, 56th Street and Park Avenue South), three houses, one apartment and one condominium in Rye, New York and one house in Port Chester, New York. That’s thirty-three. I’m staying put for a while.

As for my family, I married Andrew in 1989, had Lucy in 1991, Hannah in 1993, and Charlie in 1997. They are awesome.