Flawed people, flawless God.Author, Speaker, Blogger
I’m searching for my place in this messy world-craving, saying, and doing things I regret.
I fight for relationships, and sometimes I give up too soon.
I hold grudges. I harbor issues.
And, always, I’m trying to measure up.
Do you walk in my world?
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“Ann Lee Miller develops multi-layered relationships between the characters with the painful honesty of complex human emotion and depravity, and her vivid descriptions engage me in a way not many people can.”Sandi Greene
Wisdom & stories wrung from an imperfect life…
I looked up from the front desk of Amstutz Hall at the coeds and frat guys funneling through the glass doors into the glare of the lobby lights. The scents of bonfire and beer drifted toward me as I reached for the girls’ keys in the mailboxes behind me. They hovered...
I’d hiked uphill behind Ridgecrest Baptist Conference Center in Black Mountain, North Carolina. A summer breeze ruffled the nearby leaves and cooled the sweat on my skin. I turned around to a sea of greens my color-blind eyes couldn’t catalogue. A dirt road curled up...
I sat on the edge of Mom’s bed, staring, not at her, but at the palm frond that had drooped and dried over a picture frame—left over from last Palm Sunday. I focused back on Mom’s brown eyes—that held half the hazel of my own—sucked in a breath for courage. “I want to...
I became a writer the year I discovered Sister Sheila had hair. I was in fifth grade at St. Hugh’s Catholic School in Miami, knee deep in nouns and verbs, when Sister Sheila walked through the door in a new habit that showed two inches of mouse brown hair threaded with silver.
Thanks to Sister’s jump-start, I went on to earn a BA in creative writing from Ashland University and an MA in creative writing from Wilkes University. Currently, I’m completing a Master’s in Fine Arts (the equivalent of a PhD in other disciplines) in creative writing at Wilkes University. With five novels and a messy stack of magazine, newspaper, and blog articles, I’m still infatuated with the written word.
My newest crush is embarrassingly myopic–blogging memoir every Friday. And sometimes it’s just plain embarrassing