The world is crazier than most people know. But I know. I was a clinical social worker for forty years. I am a witness. I retired from social work to write about the sad, the mad, and the savage; with whom I have spent most of my life. I have decided to translate these stories into fiction, because, as a co-worker once said, "You couldn't make this sh*t up. No one would believe you."

About Me

About Me:

I’m Janey B, baby boomer and dreamer extraordinaire. Clinical social worker and writer. Chronicler of the mad, the bad, and the totally unbelievable. Devout believer in the concept that there’s a dance in the old dame yet…

Writer of fanciful novels of the not-yet-old having bizarre and wild adventures (Jane of the Jungle, and soon-to-come sequel, The Battle For A**hole Flats). Believer in the impossible, the magical, the tragic, and the uplifting; not necessarily in that order. Also soon to be published: The Burden of Our Brothers, a non-fiction record and commentary of my life as a social worker, which proves all of the foregoing. (Some previewers say the stories in this book are not believable. As a colleague once said to me, "You couldn't make this sh*t up.")

My latest pastime is an all out war on aging. What gripes me about getting old is that it takes too long.

So I have decided to skip it.

I live a life not much different than my daughters. I work like a dog, keep the house, the yard, the pets, and stretch every dollar until it could circle the earth. 

So I refuse to get old until I'm ready to die. With modern medicine and all, that shouldn't happen for close to thirty years. And this gal just ain't gonna go the old bag route for at least 29 years, 11 months, 30 days and 11 hours.

Here's to exercise, good food, chocolate and beer. Here's to every nip, tuck, snip and suck I can afford. Here's to staying involved, learning new things, listening to everyone, laughing at everything, crying when necessary, and dancing out the door.