First of all, yes, Georgia Beers is my real name. I claim no responsibility; the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of my parents. I have never been all that fond of my name, but I must admit it does have an advantage: it’s memorable. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for making me easy to find!
I am a homebody who is extremely proud of my city. I was born and raised in Rochester, New York (about two hours directly across Lake Ontario from Toronto), and I love it here. I did leave once. Bonnie and I decided that a change of (warmer) scenery was in order, and we headed south. We lasted about 4 months in Florida, moved halfway back to Durham, North Carolina, and stayed there for nearly two years. We did love it there, but we both suffered from terrible homesickness, and we toyed with going back to Rochester. Three family members with illnesses made the decision for us, and we returned to Rochester in 2009. I don’t plan on leaving again for a very, very long time.
My family is large (half Italian, if that gives you an idea), but my household is small. And mostly quiet. As an introvert, I appreciate that. Bonnie and I are currently guardians of Bonnie’s niece, Mikki, who is a senior in high school. After the deaths of both Bonnie’s brother and his wife, Mikki came to live with us. It’s been…interesting. For all of us. But we’re doing our best to make it work. We have two dogs, a cat, and a nice, cozy, inviting house in the city. Bonnie is taking great joy in remodeling it room by room. I mostly stay out of her way until it’s time to help with things like colors. Paint, I can do. Ripping down walls? I’d rather not. I will admit to finding great joy in watching my wife when she dons her “I’m going to demo something today” attire and attitude. Even after 19 years together, I still find it damn sexy. What is it about a woman in a tool belt?
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, and I published my first lesbian novel in 2000. Slices of Life makes for nine books (though it’s a novella, so it’s technically about half a book), and I don’t plan to stop any time soon. I’ve found such joy in the writing community, both with fellow writers and with readers. There’s something so inexplicably special about receiving an e-mail from another lesbian in some far-off place that tells me how much she enjoyed my work, how it touched her or moved her or prompted her to do something differently in her life. It’s like a drug for me now, and I don’t ever want to stop getting notes like that.
So, I’ll keep on writing.