One of my favorite things about being a writer is having the chance to meet other writers whose books I admire. I probably admire few books as much as I do Splinters of Light, my new friend Rachael Herron’s powerful, poignant, and surprisingly comic novel inspired by a People magazine article about the impact of
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My husband and kids always know where I am by following the sound of my radio. I listen to it when I’m folding laundry, putting on makeup, washing dishes, knitting, soaking in the tub, or scrubbing the bathroom. I don’t have a fancy radio. Far from it: mine is a plastic, battery-operated transistor radio
The first time I ever cooked for my husband, Dan, I fed him lasagna made with no-boil noodles and a jar of sauce. The first time he cooked for me, he opened what looked like an empty fridge, produced a smattering of ingredients, and somehow created an entire Chinese feast of pot stickers, stir-fry
Whenever I speak to aspiring writers at libraries or bookstores, I inevitably hear stories like these from women: “I used to write, but then I had my kids and quit.” “I just retired from my job, so finally I have a little time to write.” “I’ve been working on my novel for about ten
Any artist knows that reading reviews of her book/play/movie/art gallery opening is bound to lead to pain and frustration. Why? Because even if the majority of the reviews are stellar, it’s the poor reviews we will end up focusing on, and doing so can paralyze us with doubt. That’s what just happened to
In his iconic memoir on writing, Stephen King says, “Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.” In my case, I haven’t just killed my darlings. I’ve conducted a bloodbath. A slaughter fest. A series of gory Halloween-style chainsaw moments that would make even Stephen