The seventh draft is done, and it’s time to stop making excuses.  I’ve been writing a book, Called from Darkness,  since I was about sixteen years old. It started with a nightmare I had while visiting my grandmother on her farm in rural North Dakota's Great Plains. I shelved it for a decade and came back to it about two years ago. I kept the characters and the major plot elements, but I fleshed it out into something deeper and darker than my sixteen-year-old brain could have

I’ve always prided myself on being a safe driver. The only time I’d gotten into a car accident was when I had my learner’s permit. I backed Nana’s Grand Marquee into something in her garage and busted out one of the taillights. With some elbow grease and a few hours on a Saturday afternoon, it was as good as new. No one was more surprised than I when my 2002 Honda Civic, Florence, was sideswiped by an 18-wheeler on US-29 South in Danville, barely an hour into a five-hour road

Contrary to common experience, I haven’t wondered how to make friends as an adult woman. Friendships seem to fall into my lap. Making...

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of presenting on email marketing for authors at the Virginia Writers Club (VWC) Annual Symposium. Over...