Bio

Where I Came From…and How I Got Here

Born in Coral Gables, Florida, I was raised in a household that was both Cuban and American. My family mixed the best of both worlds when it came to cuisine, culture, and the freeform use (or combining) of both Spanish and English in conversation. My dad’s career with the telephone company took us to Jacksonville, then Maple Grove, MN, as he pursued advancement in the burgeoning field of 9-1-1 location services. When I moved to Colorado and launched my own career, I found myself following in his footsteps, first cutting my teeth in generic high-tech companies, then eventually getting hired on to one of the industry leaders in 9-1-1 database management and next generation emergency services. Today I continue to take pride in my work as a project manager for Motorola, deploying Emergency Call Handling Solutions. Though I’m not on the front lines as a first responder or 9-1-1 call taker, my work supports their efforts to save lives. Knowing this gives me a satisfaction and fulfilment I could not find in any of my prior roles.

As for education, I studied Child Psychology at the University of Minnesota, which is technically unrelated to my profession and my writing hobby, but I feel has benefited me as I’ve learned to navigate many tricky work-related situations (and personalities). Ten years after I graduated with a Child Psych B.A., and after I launched my career in project management, I decided to return to school to pursue a Masters’ Degree. Most of my friends and colleagues urged me to consider an M.B.A., but the thought of spending long years and a lot of money on a Business degree was soul-crushing then (and still is now). I vowed to “do this for me, and only me” and promptly signed up for a Creative Writing Workshop at the University of Colorado, Boulder. At the time, the class was just for fun, to get my feet wet, and see what the program was like. I was a non-matriculated student and assumed I could easily audit the class for a semester, but soon found out that was incorrect. I needed to persuade the Professor, a Ms. Elizabeth Sheffield, to permit me to attend. After several (pleading) emails and writing samples, she agreed to meet with me, and informed me her class would “be a good experience for me.” I had no idea what that meant.

Day one, I found out. Quite brutally. Graduate students in a writing program, I learned, earn their standing by eviscerating other students through round table critiques. These critiques were the mainstay of our writing workshop and lasted for hours. Weekly, we were expected to produce pages of new material of our own, as well as read and write up thorough dissections of our classmates’ submissions from the week prior. Thus, I began what I affectionately refer to as a trial by fire in the academic world of creative writing. I almost quit at least five times during that first class, and several students I’d gotten to know did drop out before we hit the halfway mark of the semester. There were more lows than highs for me, as my style of writing, I learned, was clichéd and too mainstream for C.U.’s experimental, literary fiction program. I endured regardless, determined to finish, and by the end of that class I committed to applying and completing the degree program.

Once again, I had no idea what I was doing. My first application was soundly rejected. I repeated the process of requesting (begging) new professors in the subsequent semester to let me attend their classes so I could continue moving forward with the program while working out acceptance. Perhaps my stubbornness impressed Professor Sheffield, I’m not sure, but after months of observing my work in class and determination to bear my classmates’ critiques, however harsh, she offered to write me a letter of recommendation. I was overjoyed. Soon I received a notice in the mail that I’d been waitlisted for the program. Several long, anxious weeks later, I was accepted. During this process I learned I was one of seven applicants matriculated via that round, out of a pool of more than 200. I couldn’t believe it. I felt very fortunate, and even more nervous. What had I gotten myself into?

Five years later I graduated, which was two years later than most of the other students. I’d received permission from the dean of our program complete the program in a longer timeframe than their rigid three year maximum to graduate, as I was working full time and could only squeeze in classes at night and on the occasional afternoon, if my boss at the time felt benevolent. Wearing the heavy, velvet robes as I received my M.F.A. in Creative Writing from C.U. Boulder was one of my favorite moments of all time, and one of the top achievements of my life so far. I know my writing still has room to improve, and I endeavor to do so daily. But what I produce now is better than before, and I continue to work to break free of certain bad habits, in hopes of writing more simply, cleanly, and passionately. This is a work in progress for me, and I know I’ll get there, someday.

I’ve always written stories for as long as I remember. My mom still has one memento from my childhood, a little book made of scraps of paper, stapled together, with penciled illustrations and text documenting the “Adventures of Potato Chip Man.” That may have been my first attempt at a complete an entire story. I continue to write fiction today, as my time allows, though balancing a growing family, career, travel, and all of life’s many commitments poses a significant challenge to finding consistent writing time. Often, I sacrifice sleep. My dream is to publish one of my fiction manuscripts someday and add Author to my resume. Until then, I will enjoy sharing my travel anecdotes and foodie pursuits with whomever feels inclined to read them. I hope my words offer a brief escape from the daily grind, for those unable to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, or perhaps inspire new ideas for those who wander, just like me.