The Author Who Doesn’t Like To Read … her own stuff. Out loud.

It’s been a very tough bunch of months. Or a few bunches of months.

And I don’t really want to talk about it.

Instead, let’s read a story. Or, I will. In this case, probably a true tale about a boy who ended up with his head smashed in on a rocky river bank about 200 feet below where he should’ve been. At least I think that’s what I’m going to read. I don’t actually like reading out loud, which makes it hard to choose.

You can come hear me, an introverted writer who never reads out loud, read...