I’m an extroverted introvert, a writer, a gypsy with a camera. All of these things make for some great stories.

Linda Donahue is a writer and poet. Her debut poetry collection, illusions and misdemeanors, was released in 2019. Her debut novel Broken, is set to be published late 2020. She’s also the writer of numerous short stories and a photographer whose work has been exhibited at galleries in New York and Miami. She’s been featured in the Palm Beach Post, Women’s World, the Wall Street Journal, and online at Lost in Cheeseland and HiP Paris. A former creative director and copywriter, she’s served on the board of directors of several local and regional organizations, including the American Heart Association, Tobacco Free Florida, and Florida Governor Jeb Bush’s Women and Heart Disease Task Force. A proud native of the Garden State, she currently resides in Miami with her (crazy) dog, Bonzo.

Frequently Asked Questions:

You’re from New Jersey?

Proudly so. I’m from the same town that brought you Harlan Coben, Chelsea Handler, and Chris Christie.

What exit?

Shut up.

What’s the best Bruce Springsteen song?

The one that’s playing right now.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I can’t remember not wanting to be a writer.

When did you take up photography?

My first experience with a camera was in front of it. My father, a lawyer by trade, took up photography as a hobby while I was in my “tween” years. He was pretty darned good, but as a self-taught artist, he learned his craft through experimentation. Unfortunately, I was the subject of that experimentation. Dad learned depth of field, lighting, and exposure by placing me in myriad uncomfortable situations—indoors, outdoors and in pitch dark rooms. I believe several sections of the Geneva Convention were violated as my father tortured me for countless hours. Having been traumatized by my experience, I took up photography as therapy while in high school. My father fled in fear each time I tried to get him to pose for me (knowing I was out for revenge), so I began aiming my lens at inanimate objects and landscapes. I put the camera aside for a while when I went to college, focusing instead on honing my writing skills. I kept it in storage while I began a career as a writer. But after a few years, I needed a creative escape that didn’t require thinking or words, I dusted off my Canon and rediscovered a world of inspiration. It was like gaining entrée into a dimension that few could see, where I could capture incredible moments in time and space. Best of all, it’s an unlimited reservoir of inspiration I can tap into. And now it’s how I see the world.

What else inspires you?

The way human beings interact with the world. When a person with limited means gives what he or she has to someone with even less, I find myself wanting to be more generous. When a person keeps jumping over hurdles others think impossible to achieve a dream or purpose, it makes me want to work harder. When an artist/musician/writer risks all to share themselves with the world, it makes me a little more fearless in doing the same.

Most people won’t know there’s invisible copy here.

READ ABOUT SOME OF THE BOOKS I’VE READ HERE.
CHECK OUT MY FAVORITE WEBSITES HERE.
HERE’S SOME OF THE MUSIC THAT MOVES ME.

Insert comments box here.

You’ll notice I’ve disabled comments throughout this site, a decision I didn’t make lightly. There were technical reasons: it was a doggy-door for spammers and hackers, and comments would require moderation. There was also the matter of civility, something I have found lacking across the internet. As a creative artist, I expect and am accustomed to critiques. Art in all of its forms is subjective, after all. That’s not the problem. It’s the “trolls” as they’re called—the ones who use their anonymity to verbally diminish and degrade others—that I don’t want to give license on my website. So, no comments. If you want to reach out to me to have a civil conversation about something you’ve seen/read/heard here, I invite you to follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.