Chapter One Is Here — Take a Look

It’s coming soon!  After almost three years, Bodies (Count them Rising) is being edited and prepped for print.

Take a look at Chapter One and let me know your thoughts.

Chapter One: Waking the Dead

Eric’s story — two months before Jenna wakes up

His nostrils flared. He recoiled from the smells saturating the air: blood and sweat.  His heart pumped irregularly, the blood roaring in his ears like a truck accelerating under a bridge. Disoriented, Eric looked around. While the room was murky, Eric could make out blood stains the color of dirty, sun-baked bricks. The stains decorated the floor and walls like abstract paintings.

What had happened here?

Naked, Eric sat in a pool of his own blood, somehow alive. He pushed himself into an upright position. Everything hurt. Surveying his arm from which intense pain radiated, he held back a scream. He gagged, noise loud in the quiet, as he stared at the chunks of flesh loosely entwined with a string of muscle. It looked as if someone or something had attempted to chew his elbow off. Actually, his entire arm looked like someone’s dinner. His other hand went to cover the wound, but that hand was also decorated with missing flesh, half-healed scabs, and open sores.

A snippet of the previous day, at least he thought only one day had passed but he couldn’t be sure, surged back to him.  He and the rest of the survivors had taken refuge in this old movie theater, but stalkers, the undead, found them. A fragment of the battle flitted through Eric’s mind. His head pounded as more memories cascaded like a tidal wave.

Dead eyes stared from outside the theater, not nearly as decayed as the rest of the creatures’ bodies that, in many cases, lacked clothes. Even with ruined body parts exposed, it was hard to differentiate anatomy when it was a blur of rot and decomposition.  The maggoty swarm assembled along the large glass windows and doors. They pushed, writhing and swaying against the barrier. Jenna and Caleb, Eric’s friends and companions, had tried to herd him to safety in back, but Eric pushed them away. He was nearly sixteen.  He had to fight. A stalker focused lifeless eyes on Eric, and then the window at which he stared, shattered. The battle with the stalkers began.

He looked around.

 Where were his friend now? Had they all died? Had they abandoned him?

Eric jumped at the crackle of broken glass, bringing him back to the present.  Heart pounding in his chest, body aching, Eric was surprised when his limbs responded and cooperated. Frantic, he searched the ground around him for a weapon, any weapon, but found nothing. He crawled to the corner and waited. There was little else to do.

The thing moved toward him. An atrocity Eric could easily smell from the distance even over his own unpleasant scent. As the figure emerged from the shadows, Eric noticed a face covered with tufts of matted hair.  A long, unkempt beard hid thin lips and sunken cheeks. More hair, in knotted dread-like tangles ascended from the scalp and cascaded in all directions.  Twigs had lodged in the mess and Eric had an absurd vision of a bird springing out of the tangled dreadlocks like an animated character in an old-fashioned Disney movie.

The beast pointed at Eric. “What happened to you?”

Eric, astonished, remained mute.  Could it be human? Before him stood a man, not a stalker. He warily surveyed the person in front of him. While in much better condition than Eric, his appearance indicated life had not been kind to him, but it was the zombie apocalypse after all. Life had not been good to anyone lately.

Eric, instantly a shy teen once again, tried to find a place in the room to conceal his nakedness from the man’s critical gaze. Finding nothing to shelter him other than darkness, Eric squeezed back into the shadows before he spoke. His voice deep and scratchy, sounded to his own ears, little like he remembered.

“I don’t know what happened or how I ended up here alone.” He faltered, noticing the crowbar the stranger brandished in front of him. Wary, Eric attempted to slip deeper into the recesses of the darkened, abandoned movie theater. A wall met him.

In addition to the crowbar, a lethal looking curved sword hung from the belted loops of torn, stained jeans that encased the man’s long legs. A bandana hung loosely around his neck, but Eric could see scars that slithered from side to side. A grungy shirt with an ironic smiley face highlighted muscled arms underneath, corded and ready to deliver a deadly blow if needed.

Eric’s death.

He looked for an escape route.

“Wait, kid.  Don’t get scared. I haven’t seen another human for months now, but, you look worse than the undead.  Shit, are you human?”

Eric nodded. He wondered the same about the stranger.

The man scratched at the untamed beard, reminding Eric of the wizard out of Harry Potter but this man was surely no Dumbledore. He would not be able to help Eric with magic or spells to find his friends.

Eric didn’t know what to say next, but there wasn’t a need to reply.  The still nameless man set down the crowbar and pulled a backpack off. A rifle was carefully attached.

“I travel light kid, so don’t expect a choice but you need some clothes. Here’s my spare t-shirt and jeans. I don’t have extra shoes, but I’m sure you can find some, if you live long enough.”

“Who are you? What happened to my brother Billy? Where’s Jenna and my friends?” Eric’s mind was a jumble of unanswered questions.

The man shrugged, handing Eric the clothes, almost as grungy as the articles he wore.

“My name’s Abraham, but friends used to call me Abe. We seem to be the only two people crashing this movie theater tonight. I didn’t see anyone else, human that is, in my travels. There’s definitely no one in this town, unless you’re a fan of the undead.  They’re everywhere, so you better keep your voice down.”

Eric nodded and whispered, “Yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday, we were all here. I don’t understand.” He stood, awkward and shaky, as he attempted to put on the clothes offered by Abe.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Eric.”  He scowled trying to remember more of the past. He ran a hand through his blond hair, but half-way back it stuck to a matted clump of what he hoped was just blood. It felt a whole lot thicker.

“Sit down, kid. You look like you’re gonna die, if you’re not already dead. What do you remember?”

Eric, flummoxed, began telling Abe everything his foggy memory would release. “I was here with my friends. There were sixteen of us traveling together. And we were heading to this inn in Virginia. It was supposed to be safe, but we got stuck in this movie theater during the day.”

“Sixteen. That’s a large group these days.”

“They’re all good people,” Eric looked embarrassed at his zealous release of information, but even talking made him feel better. “Well, people and ‘others.’” He stuttered, stuck on exactly how to explain his former companions. “Some of the people we travel with are different. They don’t like the light.”

“The ‘others.’  I’ve heard of them.” Abe said, his expression channeling one of the original three wise men. “They have an allergy to the light. Tend to avoid the sun when possible, but they are a lot stronger than the average human.”

Eric nodded and continued to relate what he remembered. “The front window shattered and a bunch of stalkers attacked. Me and my brother Billy had to save one of the “others” who ventured too far out to help in the fight and got caught in the sun. Jenna tried to get me to go in the back to safety, but I refused.” Eric’s head swarmed with bees. The pain traveled down to his spine.

“How’d you get left here?” Abe asked

“I don’t know,” Eric said. Frustration at the holes in his memory caused him to draw out each word. “We pushed Victor’s body back into the shadows and then chaos.  I remember being swarmed by the stalkers and then…nothing.”

“Well, I’m making camp here tonight. As long as you don’t plan to eat me in my sleep, you are welcome to join me.”

Eric looked confused.

“A little stalker humor. Lighten up kid. I think we should move to one of the smaller theaters. I’ll see if I can patch you up some. I got some medical supplies and canned goods. I’m not usually willing to share, but you look like you had a tough day, and it’s nice to have company for once. Let’s just say the last interaction I had with humans didn’t really end well.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you more once we set up in back. Let’s hope for an uneventful night.”

The two trudged through the ruined remains of the movie theater. The once grand Cineplex was now a chaotic wreck.  Bits of plaster mingled with the remains of stalkers.  Broken benches and glass covered the floor like the water at the beach during high tide.  Eric tried his best to avoid the sharp fragments, but with every step, he felt the prick against his soles. He must be dead. He didn’t feel a lot of pain. Or he just didn’t care.

The two traversed the empty space cautiously, listening carefully for any unnatural sounds. All was quiet until they tried to enter the last, small theater in the back of the building. The door squealed in rebellion, noise trumpeting across the empty space. Both men waited anxiously for anything to reveal itself, but nothing ventured forth.

Abe handed Eric the crowbar and grabbed the blade, before inching his way into the theater first. The crowbar felt overwhelmingly heavy in Eric’s hand. It hurt to lift it.  Nothing.  Silence. Then, as if performing The Nutcracker on stage, in front of the ripped curtains and the slashed screen, a body emerged from the shadows.

“Not good,” Abe whispered.

Eric and Abe stood side by side. Eric remained silent, but crouched, panic rising as the undead directed its gaze upon them. Dried blood etched a whimsical design on what remained of the stalker’s clothing. It shambled forward, stumbling over the wrecked seats in its path, limping toward Eric with unblinking, cataract-filled eyes. Eric readied himself to fight next to Abe who held the large curved sword clasped securely in his hands.

Eric’s palms were sweaty. His body shook with fear.

The creature charged at Abe, ignoring the theater seating blocking its way. Its teeth chomped, the sound loud in the otherwise empty space. As it came closer, Eric could see and smell the putrid ooze dripping from between its teeth and spots of mold devouring what was left of its already gangrenous skin.

Abe hoisted his sword and swung with all his might. The blade hacked at the creature’s arm, but did not stop the stalker. Abe stepped away from the slow moving stalker and swung again, his strokes sure and steady as if he had trained for this battle his whole life. Finally, the head of the creature flew off its decrepit shoulders and onto the carpet moments before its bone-bare, hooked fingers reached Abe’s face. The headless body swayed briefly and then pitched forward. Greasy, dark blood decorated the already vile and stained carpet. Eric sank to the ground, weak and nauseous.

“Dinner, anyone.” Abe joked.

“It’s not funny.”

“Sorry kid, but being alone for such a long time warped my sense of humor a little bit. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll live.” Eric gave Abe a small smile. “How’d you do that?” Even the brief exertion had left him short of breath and barely able to stand.

“Ex-military or rather I was in the military until the world collapsed around me.”

Eric grunted and moved further inside the small confines of the theater. “Need help cleaning up?” He asked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do much.

“That’s the spirit.” Abe kicked the decomposing corpse, not at all flustered from the fight. “I’m good for now. You sit and rest for a couple moments and then I can use your help if you’re up for it.

Eric nodded but started to stand.

“Sit.  That’s an order.”

“Okay. Then what?” Eric wheezed.

“After I get rid of the stalker remains, we’ll try to clean you up, and then dinner. You hungry?” Abe didn’t wait for a reply. “I got beans or beans.” He went back to firmly close the door against any new invaders, sheltering the two for a few minutes. Eric collapsed further down onto the floor. The closed door and the small amount of security that it brought with it didn’t last long.

Abe, who had dropped his supplies and moved the pieces of corpse near the door,  reopened it in order to haul out the remains. Eric, wanting to be useful, held the corpse’s head by the sandpapery hair while Abe hauled the body out of the room by its legs. They also brought in the rest of Abe’s supplies, which he had stashed near the entrance in case there was a need to make a quick escape.

After ridding themselves of the stalker’s body, Abe surveyed Eric’s wounds under the dim light of a battery powered lantern and ripped up the last of the shirts he carried with his camping gear for bandages. As he ministered to Eric, dabbing iodine, binding the cloth tightly against the remaining bits of flesh that cleaved to Eric’s muscle and bone, he murmured in disbelief.

“You have wounds and scars everywhere.  How’d this happen?” Abe asked.

“I still don’t remember it all. I’m trying.” Eric gulped water from a canteen in between answers.

“Don’t worry about it too much. We have a long night ahead of us.” Abe patted Eric on the head with fatherly affection.

Once Eric was bandaged and resting, Abe opened a can of beans that the two split between them.

“Sorry for the meager meal, but I wasn’t expecting guests. I’m here because I was running low on supplies and needed to restock. Pittsfield was the closest town to the house I took shelter in, but time to move on. I was getting too much attention from the stalkers.”

“My group was trying to find a safe place too,” Eric looked at Abe to see his reaction. “There’s an inn in rural Virginia someone knew about, and we were heading there. At least that was the plan before they left me.”

“Sounds like a smart plan.”

Eric looked around the theater in disbelief. His twin brother would have never left him here.  He felt his eyes become heavy with tears.

Abe noticed and started talking, hoping that if he revealed more of his own history, he’d calm the boy. “Right after the virus broke out, I was on active duty with the army. My wife and family lived in New Jersey. I lost everyone pretty quick. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, but most people who have made it this long have a similar story.  I don’t think anyone has family left.”

“I have a twin brother, Billy,” Eric said. “At least I did before this happened.” He pointed at the wounds that laced his body.

Abe’s arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t see any human remains around the theater.  Maybe everyone escaped.”

“It’s just as likely the stalkers didn’t leave anything to be identified.”

“Stalkers don’t usually eat bones,” Abe said.

“The other option is that Billy, Jenna, and the rest of them left me here.” Eric’s frowned.


“My friend. How could they leave me here to die?” Eric’s voice turned into a whisper.

“So you thing they’re either dead or left you here to die?”

“I’m not sure which option I like better.” Eric covered his face with his hands so Abe wouldn’t see the tears fall.

“Maybe another option exists.” Abe patted Eric on the back with awkward strokes.



Don’t Publish with Caliburn Press

Does anyone know anything about book contracts?

I have a contract from 2014 with Caliburn press and I have not heard anything from the company. Not a peep, a word, a single email, call or text.

The contract says my book was suppose to be on the publishing schedule no more than one year after the contract was signed.

I am thinking about getting a lawyer to get my book rights back. So frustrated. Does anyone have recommendations?


First Pages are Impossible

I’m working on a new project and would love feedback…

October: Haunted

            One night stands are normal, or you think they are when you’re at college. And if you had the pleasure of spending time with my friends and acquaintances, you’d believe monogamy dead. As a college student, you also probably believe others share in the experiences and values you align yourself with. Every person on campus drinks grain alcohol mixed with Kool-Aid out of old Gatorade coolers, receives an occasional grade of D in an oh-so-tough course led by a lousy professor, and has meaningless one night stands. It can be a shock when you realize your experiences are far removed from others.

My time at college has been marred by generalized anxiety disorder. Until my senior year, I did none of the above. So I surprised myself when I ended up in bed with a guy I barely knew. I’m not the kind of girl who would normally be in a strange man’s apartment in the early, early hours of morning. In an unmade bed smelling of sweat and boy parts, too terrified to move an inch.

But here I am on strange sheets. My body rigid. My finger itching, but I refuse to scratch and give Jeremy, the almost naked guy next to me, any indication of interest. Instead, I fist my hand, manicured nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm. Control.

I hear myself swallow, loud in the silent room, and tell myself to relax. Five deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth. Control the fear.

One night stands are normal. Control the anxiety now.

I’m sure many other college students can relate when I say I’m not sure how I ended up here, some of the helpful details obscured through a haze of hard cider and Fireball. Earlier, I strutted out of my apartment in my new slutty pirate outfit, yet somehow managed to feel less than sexy. It had looked good in the package. But my black leggings were itching and covered with cat hair even though I’d made every attempt to hide them from the demon cat, Snuggles, who illegally lives with me. My high heeled black boots make me wobble and my low cut shirt fell to the left, which would give anyone a good look, not only at my cleavage, but also my bra.

The Shadow of a King by C.M. Gray



What I liked: The Shadow of a King by C.M. Gray was well written with vivid descriptions. The opening scene of the king, Uther, dying slowly in the small chamber of the abbey, created a powerful first chapter to pull the reader in. All the characters were easy to visualized, making it easy for the reader to cross over into a foreign time and land.

What I wanted more of: Action and pacing. It took too long for any action to happen and when it did, it was written at the same level as the dialogue. In Chapter 7, The Night of the Long Knives, the action is told through story-telling and dialogue and wasn’t as compelling as if the author had found a way to set the reader in the middle of the action.

It was hard for me to get through, but if you love Authorian legends, give it a chance.

Eleanor & Park


Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell — Review

What I liked: I liked both Eleanor and Park. The author did a great job adding layers and depth to the characters. I wasn’t sure this was going to happen when I was about 50 pages into the book, but it did. The author did a nice job with Park and Eleanor’s parents’ as well. So often, parents come across as flat or stereotypical, but not in this book. And that made Eleanor’s home life ring true. Her troubles felt maybe a little too real as I read and I worried for Eleanor throughout the novel. I also liked the setting, having grown up in the 80s. References to U2, Elvis Costello, big hair and eyeliner made me a little nostalgic.

What I wanted more of: The ending felt rushed. I couldn’t understand how the relatives who help Eleanor hadn’t played a larger role in the story. They seem to suddenly appear. I also wondered what happened to Eleanor’s family and why the same relatives seem oblivious to any changes after Eleanor’s appearance. While I thought all the main characters were realistic, I disliked how the school teachers and administrators were portrayed. They were at best ineffective, and sometimes portrayed as downright mean.

Overall, a quick and entertaining read with moments of surprising emotion; an interesting view of love while growing up in dysfunction.


Originally posted at

Snacking when writing is serious business. Foods need to fuel creativity and feed the soul, as well as mind and body. I have to admit, my snacks often come in the liquid variety, as you will see with first two entries.

  1. Coffee

Without coffee, there is no writing. More than any food product, a mug of something warm and caffeinated usually sits by my computer urging me on.

  1. Wine

When it’s too late for coffee, wine makes a good substitute. A glass of merlot relaxes me and helps put the stress of the work day behind me. It allows me to focus on what is really important — writing.

  1. Dark Chocolate

Besides the purported health benefits, a small piece of dark chocolate wakes the senses and reminds me there is more to the world than just what I see.

  1. Potato Chips

My sweet tooth satisfied, time to turn to something salty. I prefer plain potato chips, but I’ve been known to eat any type when in need of a snack. Salt and vinegar chips have a kick that reminds me of the diversity, not only in snack food, but in life.

  1. Frozen Cookie Dough

No one can resist this frozen delight even though the package clearly states do not eat without baking first. Writers have to be rebels once in a while.

  1. Justin’s Organic Peanut Butter Cups

I eat the organic version and pretend I am being healthy, but who can resist the flavor combination.

  1. Ritz Crackers

Motivation is something authors always consider in their characters. I also consider it in my snack food cracker choice. Ritz crackers sound healthier than chips, so I feel less guilty when consuming. But who knows for sure. I’m not planning on reading the label anytime soon and finding out the truth.

  1. Trail Mix

See number 7. Trail mix sound healthy even if it contains M&Ms. Who really wants to know the truth about the calorie count?

  1. Yogurt Covered Raisins

Raisins and yogurt both have health benefits. Do those same health benefits exist in this candied form? I tell myself they do. Again, see number 7.

  1. Ice Cream

On a hot summer day, when I’m getting ready to settle down and write, there is nothing better than something cold and sweet to hype me up. Thank you sugar rush!

Review of The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchison

What I Liked

I love the way the story is told through the eyes of a survivor, Maya, through flashbacks. Both her personal story and her time with the Gardener are emotionally charged. The other characters are developed well, and I could keep track of each thanks to their individual personalities. The plot is full of tension and suspense, but also clarifies how the daily lives of the captives can be tedious even when full of anxiety.

What I Wanted More Of

I had to work hard to push aside all the questions that came to mind as I read. How could this huge structure exist and no one question it? How could they order food and supplies for more than twenty women in captivity for years and years and not set off red flags? Twenty women between the ages of 16-21 are continually held in captivity for close to thirty years. How could this man kill and replenish the woman without ever getting caught? Insight into the killer and how he and his butterfly garden came to be would have made the story more plausible.

What I Didn’t Like

While I don’t want to give away any spoilers, I didn’t enjoy the connection between a secondary character and the Gardener at the end.  It seemed, again, too implausible.

Despite these few flaws, the book deserves 5 out of 5 stars.  It kept me reading from page one to the end.

Rory and Bowen’s Playlist

Rory and Bowen, teen sleuths extraordinaire and amateur ghost hunters, share their favorite songs and why they like listening to them. Rory and Bowen also want you to know that while this is a great introduction to who they are, you can learn much more when you read Wear White to your Funeral. (Originally published on Kindle and Me at

Grab your copy today.


See More

1. Waiting for my Real Life to Begin by Colin Hay

Living in Trumbull, Connecticut with her aunt has ruined Rory’s life. She can’t wait for college and to begin doing what she wants.
2. Simple Song by the Shins
Rory is afraid of her strong connection to Bowen, but he is able to calm her fears.
3. Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush
There is drama, love, hate, murder and a ghost! Yes, a ghost haunts Rory.
4. Can’t Take my Eyes off of You by Lauryn Hill
Rory is enamored with Bowen but battling her insecurities. She’s crushing hard, but refuses to admit it.
5. Young by Cosmos and Creature
Rory wants to stay with Bowen, be safe and develop their relationship. Two problems stand in the way: a ghost and a murder leave her wishing for more innocent days.

1. About a Girl by Nirvana

Bowen knows from day one that Rory is something special and the someone he has been looking for.
2. Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard
Bowen is ready to give Rory all the time she needs to fall in love. He’s committed and not going anywhere.
3. Steal my Kisses by Ben Harper
Rory has a harder time letting go of her fears and Bowen has to “steal” a few kisses to let her know how he feels.
4. Run by Snow Patrol
Bowen is at Rory’s side as they run from the evils around them, whether human or supernatural.
5. It’s the End of the World as We Know It by R.E.M.
Could a murderous stalker and an evil spirit be the end of Bowen and Rory? While it might be the end of the world, Bowen is enjoying the ride.

Online Book Tour and Giveaway



My online book tour is going strong. Check it out at:

Here is an interview originally posted at Two Ends of the Pen:

Can you give us a brief overview of your latest book? Is it part of a series?

In Wear White to Your Funeral, a half buried body and ghostly apparition lead Rory and Bowen into a deadly game of cat and mouse, but who is the killer? Is it human or something long dead and otherworldly? Rory is drawn into the mystery of the White Lady, which opens doors for some very real danger. A suspected killer, a menacing ghost, and a stalker have Rory and Bowen on the run to solve this supernatural haunting.

Rory is your average high school senior. Or she was, until her mother banishes her to hell, also known as Trumbull, Connecticut. The small suburb with only a mall and movie theater sure feels like the netherworld until Rory’s first day at her new school. That’s the day she meets Bowen, who begs her to join him on a class project. But when Bowen drags her to a graveyard after dark for research purposes, Rory wants to fly back home to Atlanta, or at least return to her aunt’s house unharmed and unmolested.

Nothing could go wrong, right? They talk, they laugh, and they wander among the tombstones looking for information on the local ghostly legend known as the White Lady. Then they have to run, but they cannot outrun a ghost. The police are of little help, Rory’s aunt just wants her to remain safe, and Bowen, who she can’t stay away from, keeps finding ways to get her into more trouble than she has ever known. Whether breaking into a suspected killer’s house, being followed by a menacing ghost, or being stalked at school, Rory hopes finding the killer will put an end to the supernatural craziness. The ghost died wearing white, but now it’s time for their funeral.

Who knows, maybe this will be the first of many supernatural adventures for my main characters, Rory and Bowen.

Do you have a favorite character?

They are like children. You love them all but in different ways.

Have you ever had a minor character evolve into a major one? Did that change the direction of the novel at all?

I killed off a character in my first book, Apocalipstick, and my daughter had such a strong and unhappy reaction to the character’s death that I regretted my choice. Ultimately, I kept the plot the same and the person ended up losing his life in a fight against a horde of zombies. His death gave me a great idea for the second book and provided some interesting plot twists. While I initially regretted killing off the character, I think it was a good idea for the future of the series. You never know who might come back as a zombie or something else!

How long before you got your offer of representation/your first contract? Was it for your first novel?

When I wrote my first book, I didn’t really understand the process of finding a publisher, so I sent the manuscript for Apocalipstick to many indie publishers and received a multitude of rejections. That spurred my desire to research getting published and how to target the right small press. It’s important to know what the publisher wants and closely follow the submission guidelines. I’ve been published through three different small presses and each experience has been unique and enjoyable. That being said, my current publisher, Destiny Whispers, is the best! Destiny Whispers published my last two books No Trouble at All, Mystery Man in the Leather Hat as well as my upcoming YA novel, Wear White to Your Funeral.

Do you outline your story or just go where your muse takes you?

I used to sit down and start writing without much thought, but my writing process has become more organized of late. Even if I don’t have an official written outline, the story is clearly outlined in my mind. It makes building the world, developing symbols and motifs, creating the characters, and penning the book easier. But I like to write out a chapter by chapter outline to expedite the writing process.

Besides Amazon, are there any other sites where your books are for sale?

You can find Apocalipstick, Remote, No Trouble and All, Mystery Man in the Leather Hat, and Wear White to Your Funeral at Amazon,, Smashwords, Ingram, and

Do you find it difficult to juggle your time between marketing your current book and writing your next book?

I find it difficult to juggle my time. Period. I teach high school and spend the bulk of my days planning lessons, teaching classes, and grading essays. I come home to two dogs that are more demanding than my children who fled the house to go to college. I wouldn’t change a thing, but find it hard to schedule in writing.

What advice would you give a new author just entering into the self-publishing arena?

Keep going.  It took me a long time to write something readable. Many bad books ended up in the recycle bin before I produced my first novel in 2013 about zombies, the apocalypse and romance: Apocalipstick.  I’m still learning from everything I write, from the reviews I receive, and from the people who support me. The goal is to continue to improve and one day, hopefully, write something many, many people would like to read.

Besides writing, do you have any other passions?

I ride horses, but I am awful at it. My daughter has been riding since she was four years old and I wanted to stay involved. We ended up buying one horse when she was a teen and then rescuing another, a thoroughbred and former racehorse with arthritis.  I love trail riding and take lessons, but cannot improve. I have a mental block.

Some fun facts about you, which do you prefer – dogs or cats? Chocolate or vanilla? Coffee or Tea? Talk or Text? Day or Night?

Coffee fuels my mornings and my life. I only drink tea when in Ireland. I lived there for a year when I was in college and loved it.  After many cups of coffee, some coherent thoughts enter my mind and I attempt to write like today (It’s soon to be 5 AM). I usually write in the morning for an hour because it is quiet. I tend to get up at 4 am or 5 am to start the process.  I am a high school teacher so in the summer I can relax and sleep in later.

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