Comfort books: Sucking your thumb and reaching for your blankie

2010 is five-sixths of the way over, and already it’s the kind of year that has me counting toward its demise in fractions. It’s been the toughest year of my adult life. Not everything that’s happened this year has been awful. In fact, I’ve made lots of new friendships, developed new skills, and invested time… Continue reading Comfort books: Sucking your thumb and reaching for your blankie

Why my novel is more like my husband than my child

I often hear writers refer to their creations as their babies, and fret about sending them out into the world to be judged and possibly ridiculed. I can understand the analogy, since a novel is a deeply important part of you that somehow takes on its own life. My relationship with my novel, though, is… Continue reading Why my novel is more like my husband than my child