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Suzannah Gail Collins

I am the author of a poetry chapbook, I Will Meet You at the River, (as Suzannah Gilman), frequent traveler, and a licensed attorney who represented victims of domestic violence under a grant from the U.S. Dept. of Justice Office on Violence Against Women. My poetry, essays, fiction, and nonfiction have in such in such publications as The Florida Review, Pearl Magazine, Calyx Journal, Green Hills Literary Lantern, Pearl Magazine, Prick of the Spindle, Slow Trains, The Cafe Review, and The Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry. I competed in flash fiction slams, winning every time. I won Literary Death Match on my 50th birthday. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize for poetry, I now concentrate on blogging for The Gloria Sirens and writing fiction. I have four children, four daughters-in-law, and four grandchildren. I live with my husband, the poet Billy Collins, in Florida.

Watch Out for Women Drivers

The day starts with the alarm going off at the ridiculously unreasonable hour of 7 a.m. I drive my 2013 silver Boxster S to the Sebring International Speedway. It’s just over the bridge from the hotel so you have time for a quick breakfast sandwich. It’s always better to have something in your stomach if you have to throw up later.

Dance, Dance, Revolution: Stepping in Time with My Gay Son

Dance, dance, revolution! The long slow dance toward the dawn of equality— gays finally have the Constitutional right to marry. What does that mean for young gay people—that the world will suddenly change and embrace them? The mother of a gay high school senior examines the dance she has shared with her son on the journey that brought them to this historic place in time and to his latest coming out: online, in an article he wrote for the national student think tank publication for which he is a regular contributor. Paula Whyman shares with us her hopes for what happens for her son from now forward.

Married People

I especially want to say to the people I know (and love!) who have lived decades wishing today would come– or not daring to wish that today would come, only wishing that something much less significant than today might come…

Will the Real Cheryl Strayed Please Stand Up?

I watched as Cheryl went from person to person like a hummingbird gathering nectar, engaging people as though she were truly interested in them– and I’m sure she was. She told me that she asked so many questions of her mother’s friends and house guests when she was young that her mother gave her a limit of how many questions she could ask each person. What were the types of questions she asked? “Who do you love? Why do you love them?” All questions of the interior life. Imagine a five year-old engaging you in such a conversation.