C. D. Faulconer; a biography
Birth: Walla Walla, Washington. Sweet famous onions. Fields of wheat swirling green and Rembrandt gold. Distant mountain flanks tractored into quilt patterns. Leaping fires in those mountains from dry lightning.
Birth: Santa Cruz, California. Abandonment. A rented hotel room above the Boardwalk. Neon lights bouncing off the bedroom walls. Fear.
Birth: Concord, California. A son born early and jaundiced. A clumsy mother.
Birth: Kansas. A resolve to do asunder the marriage that had failed.
Birth: San Francisco. A college degree. A teaching credential.
Birth: Santa Rosa, California. Pain. Surgeries. Dark lessons.
Birth: Oregon. Mildew and generosity.
Birth: San Anselmo and Sausalito, California. A journey around the world. The Taj Mahal.
Birth: San Francisco. Marriage. Conversion to loving and being loved.
Birth: Widowhood.
My heritage is Danish . . . Frandsen was my maiden name; and French . . . LeVeque impregnates my genes.
I write under my maternal great-grandfather's surname, (Jesse) Faulconer. In historical Oregon he was a dentist and witnessed his friend's uncle being scalped by the Indians. Later, he heard his Call to preach Christ. His congregation was large. He converted many Indians.
I was married to Tom Jilek for 22 years. He died in July of 2006. We were rarely apart and shared an unabashed union. Tom never doubted my ability to write, and relentlessly picked me up off the defeated floor insisting that I keep going when I said I couldn't because the hundreds and perhaps thousands of rejections had bloodied me. My apprenticeship is truly a study in sheer perseverance and fortitude.
My Road to Damascus moment, the Call to write, came in 1984.
My Baccalaureate Degree was earned at San Francisco State University. A Teaching Credential was also earned from that institution. Teachers were spilling from the stars in those early 1970's, and unable to find a full-time teaching position, I turned my back on the classroom world . . . forever. Another diploma was earned after four additional years of study from The Institute of Writing for Children and Teenagers.
Six books, short stories, and copious letters have struggled into life thus far.
For whereabouts, I live in the Chaparral zone of Glen Ellen in the mountains above the Sonoma Valley in California. It is a two-acre spot of tranquility beneath the white rainbow nights. I live close to Nature with my three Chihuahuas: Tiger Lily; Pocket; and Jimmy.
White wing, black wing . . . writing is an echo . . .it returns to my soul and fastens there.
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