It started with poetry -- a feeble attempt to capture the attention of the young ladies in high school -- and a punk rock fanzine, The Only Alternative, which was photocopied and stapled between classes. Actually, it started in kindergarten with The Five Bunnies at Easter, which I wrote and my classmates illustrated. One day, I'll be smart enough to get back to my roots.

Virginia Commonwealth University brought with it a thousand and six writing opportunities, especially once I realized that majoring in mass communications was a dead-end street. A few articles into my writing gig with the student newspaper, The Commonwealth Times, I found myself elected managing editor. Somehow, despite my alternative rock posturing, I led the paper into an era of respectability -- perhaps the worst thing that could have happened to a once-delightful anti-establishment rag. The long nights of beer, coffee, Pixies Cds and typesetting led to an internship at The Richmond Times-Dispatch, some collegiate freelancing with The New York Times and The Washington Post, and, ultimately, a full-time editing job for VCU's University Relations office.

A full-time job in the waning weeks (then months, then years) of my college career meant three things: access to office supplies, a new Mac and a photocopier. As I dabbled with the world of work, some like-minded friends joined me in two, almost-successful publishing efforts: Circuit Magazine, a monthly tabloid which lasted all of three issues, and Caffeine Magazine, another monthly that launched us into a year of minor fame. By the time we ratcheted Caffeine to the magic circulation level of 10,000, the staff realized that medical careers, Portland (Oregon) and starvation trumped pouring our rent money into a fun, witty and somewhat popular venture. One day, I'll be smart enough to get back to my roots.

Several years of being partially co-opted by the university PR world, I threw in the towel and started my freelance writing and editing career. In a nutshell, I did a little writing and made a living as night manager at World Cup coffee shop, a clerk at Video Fan and a paid greeter at the Virginia Historical Society. My first break was a full-page profile for WIRED Magazine, followed by a moment of financial panic that led to a full-time corporate job at Circuit City. Frying pan, meet fire.

A year of publishing, website development and listening to recaps of "Friends" episodes over the cubicle walls had me bouncing off the (cubicle) walls. An offer to build an employee communications function for Luck Stone Corporation (a friggin' rock company!) was my way out. Nine years later, I've left behind the communications and moved into organization development (read: change management and corporate psychology), which has left me plenty of creative time for my poetry and a thousand and six writing opportunities.

Garden of Words is organized into three sections, linked above:

1. Poetry: Papyrus sheafs inked with pokeberries. No ballads.
2. Journalism: The journalism and freelance work that kept me in black beans for a decade.
3. Garden of Words Weblog: Personal musings on my life and my writing.