My current work-in-progress is another historical novel set along the Oregon Trail, this one in
Spring is supposed to be the season when the weather turns milder—when the frigid temperatures
Last week I wrote about marching forth, and today I’m writing about springing forward. Daylight
When I was first born, my parents brought me home to a tiny pre-fabricated house
I wrote last year about attending the virtual conference sponsored by the Historical Novel Society
I’ve discovered that my son is more sentimental about the past than my daughter. That
For most of the forty-seven Christmases my husband and I have been married, we have
As readers of this blog know, I am a proud alumna of Middlebury College, Class
My last review of a haunting book for 2016 is of The Summer Before the War,
My fourth-grade teacher was a rather strict nun whose name I cannot remember. (I think
My story, My Son Made Me Tweet, will appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul:
When I attended Middlebury College in the mid-1970s, the school had a long weekend without
I’ve written before about spring vacations our family took when our kids were small—how I
Writing descriptions is not something that comes naturally to me. I much prefer writing dialogue.
As I sat in the dentist’s office a couple of weeks ago waiting for the
I’ve been through a first round of sorting most of my old photographs now, and
Several weeks ago, my older granddaughter announced to me, with grammatical precision if not ideal
I’ve written several posts about childhood trips to visit my grandparents in Pacific Grove, California.
I mentioned last week that I left home for college about the time my sister
On June 25, 1975, for my parents’ twentieth anniversary, I gave them a photographer’s sitting
Every once in a while, I go back through old journal volumes to see where