Here I am in 1950, at my brand-new desk, “writing” with my father’s fountain pen. I couldn’t read yet, but that was a minor obstacle.
I still feel about writing the way I did at age four: it’s irresistible. It’s like riding the back of a bird in flight—a far-seeing freedom.
As I pour a lifetime of writing into “River Song,” I invite you to come along for the ride. Whatever else happens, something here may echo something in your own wild mind.
Bon courage and happy reading,
Harriet Ann Ellenberger (aka Harriet Desmoines)