And so…Confessions has made her way into the world. In fact, I hold her in my hands this very moment. And as any quelling Mom would say of her newborn, she is beautiful; I am so happy and proud.

Seeing one’s work in print is magical for a writer. Until the point of publication, the words are just black print on 8 1/2 x 11 white paper; the cover is a picture on a screen often with colors and details that insult the artist’s impeccable work. Then suddenly, it is a work of art. It is a book. The cover is a matte satin I can’t wait to touch; the font sends me reeling; words lay on lush pages the color of vanilla ice cream; the poems/prose pieces speak to each other; the comments on the back cover attest to the integrity of the art. This is the pinnacle for the writer—the moment when one discovers one’s work all over again—but this time framed and dressed in all its finery—just as we were on Easter morning when I was a girl. Can it possibly get better than this? For a few perhaps a stellar review in the NY Times or arrival on the best seller list; for the rest of us, this is the Oscar. I want to thank….

Yes, I want to thank the staff and editors of CavanKerry Press, particularly Florenz Eisman and Teresa Carson, my assistant, Donna Rutkowski, Greg Smith, designer, Carlos Andrade, artist, my editors Molly Peacock, Baron Wormser and Mickey Appleman (Pearlman), Roland Merullo and Michelle Blake for their generous comments, all my readers, my husband and son—without you Confessions would still be yellowing pages in a folder. Thank you! Thank you all for the gift of this book.