MY WEEKLY BLOG TELL ME A STORY I was studying ballet quite seriously at thirteen years old. I shuttled from Worcester to Boston four times a week, an hour and a half ride each way, for a three hour training session. Sometimes my mother would drive me. When she...

THE ACHE FOR HOME Our two-story wooden cottage in Old Orchard Beach, Maine,with the extended front porch, a dozen rocking chairs and a whitewashed fence,had a soul. Houses with names often do, particularly old ones. The Tide Rock House had a soul as ancient as the icy...

MY WEEKLY BLOG FIRE AND ICE I got home one day, it was 1987, and I checked my voice mail. “Hello,” a deep woman’s voice said, “My name is Olympia. I’m an actress, and I just finished reading your book, Awakening the Healer Within. I wonder if we could meet.” I stared...

LEND ME YOUR EARS “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,” so saidMarc Antony. People want to be heard, but we don't always do a good job of listening. When you have a conversation with someone, are you deciding what to say next while they're still talking or...

TAKING RISKS Back in 1993, I received a phone call from an agent who asked me if I wanted to audition to write Diana Ross’s memoir. I didn’t understand what he meant. Audition? That had never come up before. He went on to explain that she had fired her writer and...

BLACKOUT Waiting for the lights to come backon. Waiting to hear the whirring of my printer warming up. The phones ringing. The buzz of the refrigerator.  The sound of ice dropping into the tray. The pilot light firing up the burners on my stove. The annoying voices of...