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"Hope is the thing with feathers - / That perches in the soul - / And sings the tune without the words - / And never stops - at all -"~Emily DickinsonThis week I attended an author luncheon in Nashville.

All my life I’ve suffered from an overactive imagination. At six years old, sitting in our station wagon outside Herndon’s Market, I became convinced that the tattooed men getting out of their truck were on their way to kidnap me. Leaning over

The litmus test for my marriage began on Monday when I printed out the first hard copy of my novel and passed it to my husband. He’s read my work before, and I am quite used to his “leave it

A few weeks ago I read an article about 10 gadgets every writer needs. Remaining true to my and my husband’s ancestors (mine were "Black Bumper" Mennonite, his Old Order Amish), I am going to flout those fandangled thingamabobs and

Two days after Christmas we celebrated my seven and three-year-old nephews’ January birthdays with presents and a pizza party. The thing is, my other five-year-old nephew’s birthday doesn’t come around until mid July. So, with shiny new toys still piled

I am a wee bit obsessed with time management (think the dad in Cheaper By the Dozen meets Captain Von Trapp). It’s embarrassing to admit, but if I have a to-do list scheduled and a family member or friend stops

Today -- for the first time in over a week -- I ventured out to our land. Our house is officially “dried in;” the windows have been installed; the electrical wiring is almost completed. As I looked around at my husband’s

Growing up, it was quite common for my father to meet a stranger and within minutes be discussing the Apocalypse as casually as if Gog and Magog were teams from Saturday Night Football. It always terrified me to hear such things, and over

When my husband came home on Christmas Eve eve, he found me sitting on the couch with my laptop. I was staring blankly at the screen, my contacts long since discarded, my glasses and cat lady sweater in place; my

Making small talk while I rang up an order this week, I asked a young mother if she was ready for Christmas and watched her face blanch with panic. “Can vitamins be bought with food stamps?” she asked rather than answering.