About Me

I am a writer and I am a musician. As a child, I loved the piano and singing, and books. Even before I could read and write I pretended to read and I wrote (or scribbled, to my mother’s dismay) in between the type of old books, as though I was the author. At ten, binding my own book and filling it with short stories was entertainment for me. In junior high, I began writing poetry and continued throughout high school. When I was fourteen, I wrote a 300 page soap opera about my friends and me. I began a daily journal in high school and have kept a journal since that age. Books were important to me from the very beginning. I understood that books were worlds unto themselves, places of fantasy and doorways to unreachable lands and lives.
           
I also possessed an innate sensitivity, which often seemed a curse. With the last name Cowe, pronounced “cow,” I learned about the cruelty of others. I learned to ignore taunting, though it left an indelible mark on me. When my peers were teased, I felt their pain as well. My ability to empathize grew stronger, when as a sixteen year old; I fell in love with Paul, one of only six black students at my rural high school. I was ostracized, friends betrayed me, my parents forbid me to see him, and I was deemed promiscuous. I was outraged at the injustice of the reaction of my community. At this time, my writing began to reflect my feelings of alienation and confusion at the hatred of others. I continued with music as well, playing the clarinet and singing in choir. My creativity saved me at a time I felt very much alone.

I went on to college and the study of sociology, as my passion for social justice, understanding, and compassion for others came to the forefront. I learned I was able to see the best in someone, even if they could not see it themselves, and I could easily place myself in their shoes, a trait likely born of my early experiences with being an outcast at times. Writing and music were still my respite and a way to express my emotions.
 
After I graduated from SUNY Buffalo, I took a poetry class there for the first time. I continued taking writing classes, though my finest writing came from watching, listening, feeling, and simply writing. I write best from my heart, and my heart expanded during my tenure as a children’s social worker. I learned to play the guitar at this time, and began to write my own music. My passions were all there, yet I could not seem to bring my desire for social justice and compassion, into co-existence with my creative life.

My writing now reflects my experiences with the world and my attempts to translate pain into compassion. It is what I am meant to do. The first day of my WNY artist residency several years ago, I had a moment of clarity and joy. Tears erupted in my eyes. I was thankful for that chance to simply write. It was a blessing, and it became one of my goals, to write full time eventually. I continued to write and joined the Buffalo Philharmonic Chorus to expand my musical life, all while continuing on my path as a counselor.

After social work burned me out, I tried grant writing, as I thought that writing of any type was my vocation. I quickly discovered, one stressful day driving to the bookstore for lunch (to calm myself), that I was wrong. I called out in the car, “I don’t want to write for them! I want to write for me!” I realized then that writing for me, means writing about things that matter. Writing about life and relationships and about the pain that exists in the world is what matters. I want to understand the common humanity of us all, and to translate this insight into lasting works of art.