Ginny Grulke

Over 20 years ago, I began writing as an escape from the pressures of career and family. I have not had an intent to publishing but want to share my pieces with others of like minds. Writing is a way to build a community and connections. My writing has included poetry, nonfiction, and nonprofit marketing and newsletter articles. From the time I was young, my life revolved around being a strong, independent woman. As a young girl, I hung out with my Dad and learned to help with projects that a boy might normally do. I learned that getting dirty was OK, and that girls can be physically strong. When I was ten, I created a one page “newspaper” for our small rural Pennsylvania neighborhood. The writing urge was already there. Double-majoring in math and physics in college, at that time a male dominated discipline, quickly taught me how to stand my ground when the men around me wanted me to back down. However, spending so much time with numbers and equations did not encourage any writing. That all being said, I married a wonderful intelligent man who was able to put up with my independence. I am a lifelong horsewoman who cares for her horses, competes on horseback, and manages a small farm outside of Lexington Kentucky, Although retired now, my career was in the IT industry, and in the nonprofit sector for the last 10 years. I was often the person the nonprofit committees came to when they needed something written that engaged the reader. My husband died of cancer recently after 44 years of marriage, and I have examined my experiences and feelings of loss through short stories. These writings cover the expanse of feelings as well as the day-to-day tasks of caring for a very ill husband. I hope that my stories can give a sense of community to others who have lost their husbands; that we are not in this alone and that we all are searching for ways to begin a new life.


The Awakening: A Widow-to-Be in Five Scenes

SCENE I I awoke with a start; I had been buried in a dream, but a sound reached in and pulled me out abruptly. Was it a thump? Raising up […]

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