I am a writer.
I am a woman, I am middle aged.
The eldest of five children, mother of one child, grandmother of two.
I spin yarn, crochet and knit. I have done some weaving. Cross stitch and sewing.
I am a crafter, a fiber artist.
And I am a writer.
For writing is but another craft. I spin the thoughts in my head into words. I weave those words into the fabric of a tale.
I crochet granny squares of fiction. Each block a chapter or short story. Stacked, awaiting the final stitching, the words that make the whole.
Yes. I am a writer.