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As a Peace Corps volunteer in Kenya a few years back I traveled quite a bit and now I just wish I was. A lot of the places I've written about I've been to, a lot of them I haven't. Rafting on the Nile in Uganda, living in a Montana ghost town, African safaris, European youth hostels, the Black Hills of South Dakota all fill my scrapbooks. Now a daughter takes up most of those pages, but I still travel in my head every time I write. My interest in writing came about simply enough, I was reading a series of books and I became fed up with them. I just pulled out a notebook and said I could write one better. That's it, I never dreamed of being a writer and truth be told for 10 of the 15 years since that fateful day I was a closet writer. No one read any of my stories, very few even knew that was how I spent my spare time. I love history and my stories range from ancient Egypt to modern day. They range in genre from western, mystery, suspense, spies, romance, a few erotic pop up even, you get the idea. Then in 2003, my husband said you spend so much time writing you should try to get them published. This from a man I hadn't let read anything in four or five years and just like that, I did. One of the first pieces I sent out was accepted within weeks. This is going to be easy I thought. I was wrong of course. I had one other piece that fit their guidelines so I sent it in. Not quite as quickly as the first, I got a letter saying the publisher had died and the publication was closing. Come to think of it, has that happened twice? Any way as you can see I've gotten over the problem. No one's died since.
About me in
German
Honorable Mention 2008
Crimespace short story contest
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create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands
Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Kenya 97-99
While in Kenya I wrote down a number of views from my site or on my travels around the country and they turned into a story of Colonial Kenya that I started while in country.
The sky is covered with a thick patchwork of black and white clouds washed in color like a painted photograph, shades of blue and yellow hover over the red dirt of the countryside. Hills rise from the plains, not gently slopping hulks like at home, but large distinct bodies that stop before the next one starts. The hills surround me like a crown and rocks jut from them like jewels. In the diffused light outside, the conglomeration of clouds and rising sun cause the earth to be covered in odd shadows. Some hills are illuminated, some hidden in shadow, and others lost in the haze and clouds that the heat of the day has yet to burn off. The acacia trees turn a luminous gold. The trees and bushes on the hills burst forth as if viewed on a stereoscope. Now and then, herds of zebra or gazelle stop at the reduced river to drink. There is a drought on the land. Last night I heard my first lion roar and as I sat outside watching the sunrise, a giraffe passed by only a dozen feet away while the scent of Africa swirled about me.
Excerpt from
Samburu Hills
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A tale of 2 in the Peace Corps
Nonfiction
Appearing on |
Harambee
and permanently at Storyhouse |
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For the Love of Goat
SOLD OUT But you can still read the nonfiction piece about a trip I took in Kenya. Recipe included.
Appearing on |
The Markets of Kenya
The secrets of the Mbeere market are revealed by Jennifer Mueller – “nikwegamano”. Available in
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Kenyan Food
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The Kenyan News
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