I read and enjoy a few blogs (Redneck Mother comes immediately to mind), but I have resisted starting my own because I don’t think I have anything to say. Three reasons I’m here anyway: I keep getting asked if I have a blog. My friend Stephanie (who IS funny and …
I loved stories from the moment I could decipher language, but perhaps I wanted to write my own because I was afraid. When I was little, I could never sleep. I feared cockroaches, monsters, death, fire, ridicule, parasitic infection, and hell. Even as a teenager, I could see a “wolfman” …
I revise my novel using a pickax, then realize that what I really needed was a shovel. So this is hell.