All the signs were there.
As a teenager, when I pictured my someday home, I imagined a cottage in the woods. Peaceful and serene, with a typewriter, a piano, and a cat. No children running around; no husband interrupting my concentration. Just me, on my own, writing books. Continue reading
Yes, friends, it’s true: I shall reach the exalted age of sixty soon. Very soon. Very.
Recently, I watched an episode of “Sex and the City” in which Charlotte announced that she was not going to turn 36 on her birthday because “I’m just not where I thought I’d be at 36, so I’m sticking at 35.” Granted, she was in a tough spot: her marriage had crumbled under the stress of infertility, and her efforts to resume the career she’d paused for babymaking had proven fruitless. Still, it set me to wondering: am I where I thought I’d be at 60? Continue reading
Back in April, I told you about how I’d finally finished writing my first novel.
After I finished the writing, I began to take the next steps, such as researching agents, learning how to write a query letter, and trying to decide whether I’d be better off with traditional publishing or indie publishing. I also did one other thing: I submitted my manuscript to the William Faulker-William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition for unpublished works. Continue reading