Lorna loves to write.  Her first short story, written on a yellow legal pad when she was six, starred a family of mice.  The next year, she wrote a poem about black roses, which caused her teacher to request a meeting with her parents.  Lorna has been trying to cheer the hell up ever since.

She was a kid on a New York Island, and grew up in the Highlands of Scotland.  While there, she couldn’t wait to get off the mountain.  These days, she spends a lot of time trying to go back.

Lorna left University twice.  She wanted to stop reading other people’s writing and concentrate on her own.  These days, she spends a lot of time trying to go back.

Lorna is on wheels, and her day-job involves making the world a more accessible place.  She walks up stairs on the promise of beer and conversation.  She has been dragged up a hill backwards.

Lorna lives with her boyfriend and a cat who thinks she’s a dog.  Her Dad was her first best friend and he’s still on the list.  Sad songs and bad coffee make her cry.  She cries when she’s happy, too.  This confuses people who don’t know she cries when she’s happy, too.  She does not care.

Lorna loves to travel and then write about it.  She once fell off a toilet in Pisa, Italy.   She hasn’t written about it.  Ok, maybe she has, but only once.  Twice.

Lorna cannot read maps.  She doesn’t care.

Closer to home, she and her boyfriend like to kiss (each other)  in public.  It’s disgusting.  They do not care.

Lorna is not normally known by her initials, nor does she like to talk about herself in third-person.


(Inspired by a new online writing community.  Details can be found here.)

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