Barbara Froman





Barbara is a writer and musician whose early love of sound led to a study of music and degrees in music composition. After a few career twists and publications, she became the Director of Mundelein College’s Creative Writing Program, then taught Literature and Creative Writing at National-Louis University where she also acted as a consultant to National’s graduate program in Written Communication. She's written fiction, non-fiction, drama, and poetry, placed in screenwriting competitions, and was nominated for a Fringe First at the Edinburgh Fringe. When she's not writing, she's practicing, composing, reading, or watching movies….

Barbara Froman isn't a Goodreads Author (yet), but she does have a blog, so here are some recent posts imported from her feed.


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I’ve been thinking about aromas.

When I was in college, the popular scent was patchouli. You could smell it in classrooms, dorms, practice rooms, the library…pretty much everywhere. I could never understand why women liked it. To me, it smelled like dirt. And not that fresh soil smell that rises into the air after a summer rain, promising the emergence of a range floral essences....

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Published on June 29, 2019 14:02
Average rating: 4.44 · 18 ratings · 13 reviews · 3 distinct works
Shadows and Ghosts

4.44 avg rating — 16 ratings — published 2011
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Tender Weeds

0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions
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(After)Life: Poems and Stor...

4.50 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 2015 — 2 editions
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“Sometimes I think there's only one mother in the world, and we all got a piece of her.”
Barbara Froman, Shadows and Ghosts

“You think because I'm dead, I don't know things? I'm your mother. I know everything.”
Barbara Froman, Shadows and Ghosts

“I always dreamed that when I lay at death’s threshold, my unborn creations would appear around me to plead for their lives, that the room would ignite with two-dimensional characters begging me not to die.
"But of course, it didn’t happen that way.
"It didn’t happen that way at all.
"What I got instead was a bed of squashed kiwi fruit…”
Barbara Froman, Shadows and Ghosts

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