This past month I learned two things: It’s not easy writing a novel without an outline, and it’s not easy driving a car without a speedometer. (Or, for that matter, with one. My first speeding ticket, at 16, involved a Cops-worthy chase, almost getting pistol-whipped, a court appearance — during which I giggled — and… Read More
Even when I was little I was fascinated by graveyards. Not the new ones, mind you, with their tinkling wind chimes and fake flowers scattered over the grounds like Mardi Gras confetti. I loved the ancients that were old and crumbling with slats of rock teepee-ed over the mounds to keep robbers and coyotes from… Read More
With a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, my husband said, “Come here–I have to show you something.” Always susceptible to intrigue, I followed him into our bedroom. The lights were dimmed, and I could see an odd flickering coming from our pedestal table. I stepped closer. It was a child’s nightlight with images of… Read More
“Some stories are true that never happened.” ~Elie Weisel My memories are being eroded; they are being washed away bits and layers at a time. And once I walk through the valley of my mind, stooping to sift through the remains, I realize that I cannot separate the pieces that are fact from those that… Read More
When I was six years old, my family moved from a two story, cedar-sided home with an intercom system and attached garage into a 500 square foot slave quarters set on a 365 acre, Civil War-era farm. The arrangement was supposed to be temporary, only until our new house was built, but my nine-year-old brother… Read More
Let’s all go snorkeling in KAUAI!
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending a social media session in Nashville hosted by River Jordan, author of The Gin Girl, The Messenger of Magnolia Street, Saints in Limbo, and her forthcoming novel, The Miracle of Mercy Land. Also at the event was JT Ellison, the bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Taylor Jackson… Read More
I know–try not to be jealous.
Today marks one week since I murdered my first novel. It was not a senseless act of violence, but neither was it premeditated. I just knew–and, if I am to be honest, my readers did as well–that it had to be done. As always with something birthed through a haze of blood, sweat, and tears,… Read More