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Canaries

   “She, meaning I, but I’m calling her she — Linda — is not prepared to be the subject of a novel. She is not prepared to be Linda, but Linda will have to do. A neutral name. More dignified than Debbie or Tiffany, less formal than Jane or Ann; not the name she would have given herself — that name would have been Simone, back when she was sixteen, longing to be a French bohemian with full red lips and jet-black hair and a wild, passionate heart. For now, a simple Linda Gregory will suffice.

            She lives in Los Angeles, and suffers from an ailment no one perceives except her therapist.

            ‘There’s something wrong with your voice.’”

             - Canaries, page 1

Where did the idea for Canaries come from?

Years ago, I used to speak in a breathy way. I was frustrated by my voice, or lack of it, as no one seemed to be able to hear me.  In the spirit of adventure, I decided to learn to take vocal lessons and learn to sing.  My vocal instructor warned me that something was seriously wrong with my vocal cords and I needed to see a doctor right way before I did any damage.  The doctor diagnosed me with a tumor which could have robbed me permanently of the power of speech if I had not found it in time.  After surgery, I spent a month forbidden to speak. I never did learn to be a great singer, but that experience of forced speechlessness forced me to think about developing my own voice. 

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Canaries was written with the invaluable help of Gobi, my patient writer's assistant.
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