It all started with a squirrel that refused to die.
You’re holding a collection of blog posts from September 2010 to December 2011, during which I was recovering from divorce and struggling through deadly depression. I didn’t know how the hell I was going to make it through anything. I was drowning, but I wanted to avoid advertising it. Still do. So I wrote instead about writing. The weather. Running. Putting one foot in front of the other.
One day, there was this damn squirrel. And before I knew it, I was writing about digging a squirrel grave in the rain, the Corn Pops war, Shakespearean bluejays, and a whole host of other insanity that always ended with me shoeless and screaming.
Come on in, and let me tell you the whole story...
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About the Author
Lili Saintcrow was born in New Mexico (which probably explains everything, given the nuclear testing) and spent her childhood bouncing around the world as a military brat. She fell in love with writing in second grade and has done it obsessively ever since. She currently resides in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her children, dogs, cat, and assorted other strays, including a metric ton of books holding her house together.