MJ Goodnow

Betty has asked that I share some so I figure I would.

I was born in New London, CT. Most of my life was spent there on the old "snake hill" going to school and making whatever friends I could. I was a misfit to most of the kids my age and beyond that to the adults around me. Life was hard, I had lost a brother when I was five and another when I was nine. My parents died also 1 year apart in 96-97 so its been rather tough still to this day.

I had spent a lot of my time writing poetry and songs when I lived back in CT and the NYC area but now graduated to shorts and novels.

I have been working on this one "particular" story for 20 years and received a contract for it late June I believe. Thank you Marie and Sue.

I also spent time in Martial Arts as both student and instructor and also I am an ordained minister.

So I figured I'd give my "about me" here since Betty had asked that I shared.

I usually don't but since I am asked, no problem.

Thanks

Dear MJ,
You have had quite a lonely life looking out. If it is any consolation, most people look out their own lonely eyes. It is so hard to connect with other minds. Mostly, people never see past their own bubble of loneness. They roll in it and peer out at the rest of the world, floating a little above and looking down, protected in their bubble, from the trouble of this world.

I loved the bubble. My bubble burst.

Blabbing my heart out is where I am now. No Soap. It is better for me.

Love,
Betty

A minister. No wonder your work has such a spiritual quality.

Ann

Thanks for sharing a bit about yourself. I note that many who write, write from a place where they have spent many hours alone, in introspection.

I saw some criticism of people who post to forums and blogs that said, "better time spent writing for publication." Communication in its many forms is the mark of artists. It's the lucky person who gets a chance to look out, as Betty says, and find people who share similar experiences. The Internet has opened this opportunity for many of us who are otherwise sequestered in the company of computers and our own thoughts.