More About Millie Anne…

So often these days there is not enough time to share something about ourselves at the first meeting that might lengthen a friendship. We are always busy and have to rush off to pick up our kids from school, or to get back to a writing deadline. So, besides the bio that’s posted in the sidebar, I’m sharing more about me, hoping that you will find things in common with me and share similar experiences.

I am a native Californian raised in San Francisco in the 1950s. I write stories about my life growing up in North Beach and San Francisco’s Chinatown. When I had my fill of office politics I went on the road, worked a variety of different jobs, and met many interesting people. From ski bumming in Squaw Valley to working on a dude ranch in Tumacacori, Arizona, my memories delight me and I want to share them with my family and friends.

My writing ambitions started when I read books by John Steinbeck in Junior High School. I loved his details, the way he described people, and their relationships. My biggest kick came one day while driving down Cannery Row in my little red Sunbeam Alpine with the top down. Goosebumps raised on my arms. “Wow, there’s the Chinese grocery, and there’s the fish cannery to the right. It’s all just like Steinbeck described!”

When the time came to make a decision about what to do with my life, I could not think of a more exciting thing to do than to head out onto the road in my ’69 Camaro.

Regret has never come to haunt me for leaving the city where I grew up, to search for new adventure, and to find more of what I might eventually desire to do for the rest of my life.

Currently I am busy writing life stories and having fun. It only takes one word from a conversation, a lecture, or from reading, or listening to tapes of stories by Mark Twain. I am inspired to write a tidbit, and sometimes, much longer stories about a personal experience. While listening to Roughing It, by this humorist, he spoke of coyotes, and my mind zoomed to the day I got lost in the Arizona desert as I was looking for a church graveyard. I had stopped my dusty gold Camaro for a scrawny dog. I almost got out of my car to check it out but froze when I realized it was a coyote. I still wonder if he would’ve attacked me.

After a few other adventures like working on a dude ranch, going to college, and working other odd jobs, I found a mentor to help me develop my writing skills. Dawn Thurston ( taught me how to write well about a difficult times growing up in a culture not my own (LITTLE GIRL LOST, a work in progress). Most uniquely, Dawn has been expert in guiding me back to memories I had filed away… painful memories meant to be a secrets forever. Rediscovering these types of memories, and writing about them, has bought me a better understanding of difficult people and given me an insight to their reasoning.

Now I write fiction and memoirs using my past experiences to hopefully inspire and encourage others to persevere.

The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 35

Copyright 2015 MillieAnne Lowe, Oceanside, California

Deep into the thicket of the Saratoga Hills frogs and crickets sang in harmony by the creek. The soft glow from the remaining embers in the fireplace of Robin’s home created shadows all around the living room. Haley, Jeanne, and Krista had fallen asleep exhausted upstairs in their shared bedroom. Continue reading “The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 35”

The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 34

Copyright 2015 MillieAnne Lowe, San Diego County, California

Alone, after her nephew, Eric, and his friend, Fire Chief Greg Mullins, had gone back to work, Robin stood by the television rubbing her forehead and twisting the channel selector one way, and then the other. “That’s the same stuff you told me this morning,” said Robin to no one but the television. “Well at least there have been no new murders by the Serial Killer,” she added. Continue reading “The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 34”

The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 28

Copyright 2015 MillieAnne Lowe, Orange County, California

Since his childhood, Steele had always thought that he and the darkness were one. In the darkness, away from the temptations of the women he found inadequate, he found comfort. The darkness served as a theater to visualize and relive his pleasurable memories and adventures. In the dark places of his mind, it served as a place to regenerate another murderous event. The darkness was Steele’s personal think-tank. Continue reading “The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 28”