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An Expose on Poop

Life has been weird this year. I lack a better word. A breakup. “Temporarily” moving back home with my parents. For some, it is a normal part of life. I left out the part where I was 57 when it happened. Now 58, I’m still here. That wasn’t the plan. It was only going to be temporary. Then my mom asked me to stay until my dad passed away.

My dad, my hero. The man I adore for his resolve, his determination, his giant presence. My dad has end-stage kidney failure. It’s been...

I write because I love to write. I have stories I want to tell. I certainly don't do it for the money. I spend way more than I make. Indie authors especially rely on reviews from readers and literary sources. They are such an important part of garnering support. But there's also that tiny little need for validation, that what you've written is received as you'd hoped. Even feeling good about the end product doesn't mean there isn't a sense of worry when the notification an editorial review is...

When I first introduced Missy Kinkaid in Finding Scarlet, I had no idea she’d resonate with readers the way she did. She was spunky—bold, opinionated, and fiercely loyal. A firebrand, really. The kind of woman who walks into a room and somehow makes everyone feel her presence before she even says a word. Readers loved her energy, and I did too. But even as she lit up the pages, I knew there was more to her than quick wit and bravado. I wanted to know what made her tick.

That curiosity became...

Solo Travel for Women Over 50 inspired me to post on Facebook recently. The post went something like this:

I love the honesty and openness of this group. I divorced two years ago after a 29 year marriage and went straight into a long term relationship - sharing his home. That ended a few months ago and I felt heartache on a level I had never experienced...at 57 years old. I suppose I was simultaenously mourning my marriage and that relationship ending. Ugh. My biggest struggle became figuring...

I am empty nesting. Redefining who I am. Parts of me were put on hold during those years when the focus shifted from me to raising my children. My children have successfully made their way to college and beyond. The immediacy of my day-to-day involvement has waned. And I have found those parts of me that were buried, scratching at the surface, clawing their way from the depths they were tucked away, and itching to be re-exposed. The athlete I'd been all my life wanted out.

I was a swimmer...

In my mid-fifties, I decided I needed to celebrate where I have landed in life. Even that came at an incredibly challenging time for me. I was about to release my memoir, and my nest was officially totally empty. I felt excited about the book but a considerable void about life without my kids around. I used the need for book promotion to do what I never do: put myself front and center of the camera – without my children as props. I played dress-up for a few hours. I had my makeup done, which...