Finding Rosemary

I was that odd child who spent her days wondering why we say “break a leg” when we mean “good luck.” Playing with the host's dog in a corner during a party? Me. Last to get the joke? Also me. Books have always been my home. Reading the last page is both exhilarating and painful — finally knowing everything, but losing all my friends at once.

I find logic in feelings but not in small talk. I wonder what trees think about. I throw myself into impossible things, like teaching myself ballet. Or writing a novel.

I placed this story in New Zealand because that's where I figured out I had no idea who I was. New Zealand answered before I did.

For twenty years I've taught movement without ever demonstrating a single pose — no showing, just saying — which means my working life has been one long experiment in what sentences can make a body do, and a mind believe.

My debut novel, Finding Rosemary, is for fellow book eaters who don't quite fit in, who like their love tangled, their mysteries layered, and their certainties shaken.