This sign for Bust Head Road hit me square in the funny bone. I don’t expect to see a plethora of poplars on Poplar Lane, or anything resembling Honest Abe on Lincoln Avenue. They’re just names — something to distinguish…
Halfway to What?
I’m driving on a country road somewhere between Haymarket, Virginia and Middleburg, not bothering with a map or GPS because the twisty drive is a familiar one for unwinding. I recognize wooded stretches and valley views and know that there’s…
Getting Closer
Through the glorious process of revision, I have rewritten the beginning and end of my book. I’ve renamed it, added characters, and beefed-up a few who needed more meat on their bones. This is no longer a linear chronology that…
In Search of Voice
Describing an author’s voice is a lot like describing a small town’s charm, or the dominant flavor in a great soup. As writers we need to understand what voice is and be careful to build and preserve a clear and…
He Asked Me to Call Him Bob
My first conversation with Robert Lescher was otherworldly to the point where my editor would nix it as implausible, had I written it that way in fiction. I was aggressively seeking an agent for my first book, which is now titled Dead…
In Search of My Groove
When I finished writing, rewriting, and re-rewriting Dead End Files about two years ago and happily placed it in the hands of a renowned literary agent, I felt my work on that book was complete and it was time to…