Libbi Bosworth

Established 1964, Dallas, Texas. Dad a truck driver for Yellow Freight, Mom a self-taught artist (remember those Draw Bucky ads back in the day? Yep, scholarship for Mom). The youngest of six children, therefore the loudest.

Proud juvenile delinquent in Galveston, Texas, but if my kids do the same I’ll throttle ‘em. Left home young. 1980s in Hollywood, New York City, Boston. Boyfriends, husbands, cats. Songwriting, country music and beer joints where people cashed their welfare checks at the bar.

These days I lay low as a mom and wife, waiting to pounce. On what, I’m not sure. My life resembles part “Ringling Brothers parked their wild animals and rides here” and “This is a blast—I have the coolest family.” There are definitely days I want to make a run for 1990 and take the other direction at the fork in the road.

Professionally, I’m a singer first and always will be, although I don’t perform nearly often enough. I’ve been singing since I was in second grade. I’m a songwriter, too, lucky enough to have thrown words and melody together a few times and have some very talented artists record the results. I’m also a writer. I’ve been writing since my first bad poem as a teenager, which is kept locked safely away, never to see the light of day (trust me, I’m doing you a favor). I’ve only recently outed myself as a writer.

Mostly, I am an observer of life. I find humor in daily routines gone wrong, the things my kids say and the ironies of life in general. I simply observe and repeat. Admittedly, my “filter” may be a little twisted, but as my mom says, “If you don’t laugh about it, you’ll probably cry.”

I’m not your ordinary, everyday almost was.