The year is 2022, and I am finally fixing some broken links, and adding some current day context.
I was so busy in 2000 when I started writing children’s books. My four kids had thrown their copies of “How to be an Average Human,” out the windows, my late husband Jeff was deconstructing our house, then forgetting how to put it back together, and I was on the cusp of becoming the full time caregiver to my spouse (who would go on to succumb to young onset dementia in 2013.)

The creation of fictional worlds was meant to confer on me a sense of purpose and external validation. But the thing is, you cannot ask the world to confer upon you something which you must learn to be content without.

You also oughtn’t to assume that the quathings-forth* of your particular neuro-atypical brain will be anyone’s cup of tea.

Nevertheless, it gratifies me that I made a whole-hearted attempt to follow this path.

These days, I am spending less time writing, and more time contributing butterfly-wing quanta of motion in the direction of overcoming the ugly tides of autocracy and non-equality which have a zombie grip on the U.S., as well as the globe.

I hope you’ll use whatever form of magic, energy, elbow grease, prayer, and voting you’re adept at to help in that effort.
(*quath forth: verb invented by my second life-love Allen, who thought he was using a real word. What quaths forth are the emanations of your mind and mouth.)

From a few years ago: (Clarence the cross-eyed muse is still with me, btw.)
emily gillespie clement has a muse (who might really be a pooka) named Clarence who often forgets to show up for work.