About

Here’s who I am…

Although I attended four high schools: Ferndale, Michigan—seven months, Palo Alto, California—four months; Birmingham Michigan—two years; and San Mateo, California—three months, I’m a high school drop out.

Before I was twenty-four, I had moved twenty-one times. Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s all food for the laptop.

I’ve had two husbands—both named John (which prevents confusion). The first one was nice, the second one’s a keeper. I have a daughter, a son, two stepdaughters, six grandchildren, a daughter-in-law, and two sons-in-law.

In grade school I wanted to be an architect, a justification for chopping up cardboard boxes. In high school I wanted to be an illustrator, or a writer, or a painter, or a wife and mom.

After I was a wife and mom, I also wanted to be smart, so I took night classes and spent several hundred credit hours at Oakland Community College, Wayne State University and The College For Creative Studies. I was good at writing and good at art (my teachers said so). I wrote newspaper articles and a children’s book that were published. And two novels and ten children’s books that weren’t.

Once I had a job as an editor, but I wanted to be in the art department, so I became a graphic designer. I did that for a long time—years and years and years (decades). I loved the work and handled the stress. Then I got breast cancer, decided life might be short, and started painting full time. There were art galleries, and art shows, and art fairs. When I got tired of doing that, I went back to writing. This time around: two novels and a memoir, so far.

And that’s what I’m doing now. For two weeks in the summer I write in an old trailer at John’s family farm in Wisconsin. The rest of the time I write in Michigan, where I can see the Detroit Zoo water tower from my window.

Lynn Arbor—Writer

Latest Post

When Clouds Look Like Mountains

I was on the treadmill looking into the distance at low gray clouds. They looked like mountains. So I moved myself from Detroit to Denver and was on a treadmill there, looking out at the Flatirons. Treadmills are really boring, your feet move but you don’t go anywhere, so your brain (mine anyway) takes off at a trot.

So I’m thinking about what things look like and what they really are.

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