Fai was born and raised in Tacoma, WA. Every day she expected Mt. Rainier to explode. Finally, when she was 28, Mt. St. Helens did explode. She learned something that day. For all those years, she had worried about the wrong mountain.
But that didn’t stop her. No. Instead, she increased her level of vigilance to worry about as many things as possible. Still, it was the things she’d never thought of that happened. Her creative skills were put to the test.
And that’s when she started writing. The more she made up problems for her characters, the less anxiety she suffered about her own life. Soon she realized just how much fun that was. She began writing seriously and found she couldn’t stop.
She lives with her wife, Becky, in an old Victorian home in a small town north of Seattle. Moxie, a Chow-Chow/Newfoundland mix and Pepe, a Tuxedo cat, makes her laugh every day. Her writing studio is in a small attic room at the back of the house overlooking the garden and patio. She listens to the Muse whispering through the open window, and she writes.
I have an UglyDoll. His name is Jeero. Actually, he is Jeero the Second. This is the tale of lost love.
Jeero the First was on display in an art store in Bellevue. He hung with his cousins, brothers, uncles, aunts, sisters. You get the idea. He had two ears (perhaps they’re horns?) two arms, and two very short insignificant legs that could never hold him up if he tried to stand. Most important were his two wide eyes, and a flat-line mouth all on a small gray-green fuzzy body. Adorable! A key chain was attached to his head. He said he would be my friend forever. Well, maybe not in so many words.
The keychain seemed to be an invitation to take him with me wherever I went. I was never alone. His flat-lined mouth smiled at me as he told me how much I meant to him. Well, maybe not in so many words.
When I hung up my keys at night, I would pet his ears and tell him to guard the house well. He always did. Nothing ever happened at night while he hung there.
One day I had a ton of errands to do. I grabbed the keys and told Jeero we were off on a day of adventure. His big round eyes told of his excitement and surprise. Well, maybe not in so many words.
When I hung up my keys that afternoon, I was stunned. Jeero was gone. His keychain still hung from my keyring, but his little gray-green fuzzy body was gone. His round eyes and flat-lined mouth gone. His stellar, exciting personality gone. I checked everywhere, my pockets, my purse, my car. I revisited all the places we’d been that day, checking shopping carts, floors, the parking lots. You can’t get goner than that. Truly, unarguably gone. I felt no messages from Jeero coming from the Universe. In so many words or not.
Had he pried himself off the keychain to be free to seek his fortune? Had he fallen off and been picked up by a child? Had he flung himself out the car window to be eaten by a dog? (Oh, the tears do not stop.)
I returned home alone. For weeks I searched in vain.
A month later, I came through Bellevue again, and stopped at the art store. Standing in front of the UglyDoll display, I reached for Jeero. Although I tried to tell myself that my Jeero had been found and had received a new keychain sewed tightly to the top of his head. Thoroughly cleaned, his flat-line mouth smiled at me and his wide eyes looked surprised to see me. He tried to tell me that he wanted nothing more than to be my best friend. He would always be with me, never forsake me. Well, maybe not in so many words.
I let him believe that I thought he was the original. But now I understand how fragile friendship is. He is not my constant companion. He is permanently clipped to the doorknob in my studio and acts as the conduit to my Muse. From time to time he tells me of the siren song he hears calling him to far away places. The bank, the store, the library.
Well, maybe not in so many words.