Writing is an emotional spilling out of my feelings. Generally when I'm upset about something, I write about it. Someone shot my dog Smoky. I wrote a poem about Smoky. I had an epileptic friend named Kathy. Kathy died of cancer. I wrote "My Friend, A Saint." As I grew older I wrote a poem on aging.

In the early days my husband left for work by 4 a.m., and my older children were up by 7 a.m. The younger by 8 a.m. Those early hours after Dan left and before the children arose were "My Hours." I made things for Christmas giving or wrote about my life and living.

During the day, between baking and washing days, I would often paint a picture or two. Another emotional activity. When I was angry about something, I could really paint up a storm.

English was my best subject in school. I took a refresher course at 75 years of age and got an "A" along with three college credits.

My mom told me to write letters to those I knew as if I was sitting with them and talking to them. So it is that I find it easy to write short stories and have published my first book at age 80. I do so enjoy writing; my art, my crafts and writing are all God's gifts.