Paula Watkins Alfred

I love people and their stories. I grew up nourished by my grandmother’s tales told on stormy Oklahoma nights, in a kerosene-scented cellar, crunching on homemade pickles and crackers. As a young girl I used to sneak out of the house, and under a summer moon, I’d write poems and prayers—backyard soul food for a beginning writer. In the curious way that life unfolds, I went to law school and upon passing the bar I entered a new world of stories.  My work as a Tulsa County Public Defender immersed me in tales of violence, loss, pain, failure, and outrage.  And yet, sometimes, I witnessed redemption, so vast and beautiful, it brought me to my knees. I’m still struggling to find a story big enough for all that I’ve seen and felt. In the meantime, I’ve started writing fiction, which feels like a rainbow after a storm. 

I’ve played one brilliant game of high school basketball.  I’ve watched elegant white egrets standing in the river on a warm spring morning. I’ve kissed a daughter’s sweet cheek. I’ve poured every bit of my heart out to a man who could hold it all and not spill a drop.  Who knows what else is possible?

I celebrate my good fortune—sharing my life with a partner, Jim, who has lavished me with a generous and tender love, and our daughter, Sarah, a joy in our lives.