I live for the unsaid story – the one that heaves & sighs big hunks of truth,
battling its own judgmental constraints.

Raymond Chandler wrote the mystery The Lady In the Lake.

I like imagining stories beneath the same coat of silky water, buried,
a treasure we must swim to find – down through the changing temperature
to much colder water.

So I teach people to make books, hold their stories finally in hands
blue with cold. Books & stories get us to break the surface – gasping for
air & the next sentence of the story.

A Living Book, like anything else that matters, begins with one pesky &
persistent thought – a reoccuring image almost dream-like. From this
burr-like insistence, the Living Book takes form – growing, changing.