On the plane ride home from San Francisco: If the little boy next to me can put his hands in the air and smile with glee as we take off, then I don’t have to be scared.

(From a writing perspective, this entry is cringe-worthy, but I love it for the ending and for its honesty. Most though, I love that I used something of my surroundings to get at a story.) San Francisco, October 22, 2003: Yesterday, when we got off the ferry to Alcatraz, a man told us we just had one mandatory stop, then… View Post

Last weekend was Concordia’s Graduation and Monday bunches of flowers were left and placed all over campus. We have two bouquets in our office. I added some postcards with quotations from authors put into artistic images on my whiteboard in my office. I think this would be such a fun idea to do for my books. Is that arrogant? “Hey… View Post

Years ago, I was running up and down the stairs of our townhome in good old Germantown, MD, picking up toys, folding laundry, doing the flurry of very important things that needed to be done, while Harper sat at the table I’d set up in the girls’ playroom and wrote a story. “I’m writing a story with page numbers,” she… View Post

I am on the third, and last, of the Emily books, and have felt a sad apprehension over having to let Emily go since I bent the cover of Emily’s Quest and creased the spine just so. Why is a paperback that fits in your hand so delightful? Is it because of its lightness and its ability to hold so… View Post