Nothing reveals more about me than my writing. I often compose a story-line bearing drama drawn from my Costa Rican Catholic upbringing, while many of the characters evolve throughout the story as if influenced by a disposition akin to that of my mother: divorced and unapologetic, she threshed through the challenges of being a single woman in a foreign land and raised five successful children in Los Angeles, California. I remember the day I announced my intention to pursue a career in medicine. With a voice of disappointment, my mother expressed her expectation I would have followed my lifetime dream of becoming an architect. I realized then it was passion that gave her fortitude against life’s challenges, as much as the spunk to shout catcalls at the romantic disgraces depicted on her favorite Mexican novellas. As an introvert, I placed myself in my mother’s shadow and made writing my venue for introspection. For 32-years in a medical career, I flowered my patient's history and physical exam with words of passion; this served me well to limit my emotional vulnerability to the daily human suffering I witnessed in the Emergency Room: the blood splotched on my glove in resuscitation required my disciplined response to curb its flow. I wrote Cry Watercolors early in my medical career, and Tujunga waited until I was retired to be completed. For both of these novels, my medical knowledge formed the foundation on which to build their plots. Recently (2019), I took a look back at my first book and thought it was time for a new edition: Cry WaterColors, D2 Edition There is a richness in every encounter we care to remember, that some people chronicle by framing in photographs hung on walls. Others prefer to store their experiences in albums or diaries; but my own cherished memories are keepsakes I lavish onto backdrops for my stories.

BookFest Award for Women's Historical Fiction
BookFest Award for Literary-Adventure & Journey