Writers Conferences: From One Comfort Zone to Another

Sometimes, leaving the couch is exactly how you find out where you're most comfortable.

When a Calendar Fail & Lack of E.S.P. Collide.

Look, it was my mistake, okay? Still, having hope for my husband’s E.S.P. to come in is fine, as long as I consider that a very loose and unpredictable fallback plan.

Hi, Honey! A Dementia Diary

For decades, 4 p.m. meant one thing to me: a phone call to my mom. And then one day, it was gone. Hi, Honey! A Dementia Diary shares the story of loss, grief, and growth. I can't wait for you to read it.

Unpacking my Suitcase, Urn included.

“Did you bring your mom?” “Yes! She's right here!” I said as I pulled a tiny urn from my pocket for all to see. ALL. All six-hundred attendees of the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop. All who giggled and clapped as I held up the Tiny Traveling Urn that brought me to the Dayton stage.

Go in with Delusion

On one hand, I tend to do everything with intention, very thoughtfully planned out. On the other hand, I dive in without looking back. Why? Delusion.

Navigating Grief: One Year Later

Today marks one year since losing my mom. It’s been both the longest and shortest year, during which I learned a hell of a lot more about grief than I ever wanted to. For instance, did you know there is no trophy for Best at Grieving?

Wave Season? Tsunami, Actually.

January's tsunami has not mixed well with a quiet morning, a cup of coffee within arm's reach, and a few hours dedicated to mapping out my Monday morning epiphany.

Happy New Year! Kind of.

When we dropped our youngest off last weekend, Rich and I both felt this weird mix of doom and delight. As it was just after we’d dropped him off last year that the first shoe dropped, there was a natural gurgle of PTSD. Could everyone just be cool this year and…stay alive?

The Year in Review

In 2024, you read nearly 60,000 words delivered directly from my brain to your devices. That's a lot of words. I cannot thank you enough.

Back to Reality. Eventually.

Anytime I’ve taken a writing break in the past, I’ve lasted just days before the keyboard called me back. I’ve always answered the call lest whatever was percolating was actually the BEST ARTICLE EVER WRITTEN. Not this time.