Last night my dad’s house burned down. It was there at seven-thirty in the evening. By eight-thirty it was gone. Destroyed in 39 minutes. No one saw this coming. No one’s sure what caused the fire, at this point. It appears to have started in a bathroom.

All five people who were in the house got out okay, with only their clothes—or in my dad’s case his pajamas—on their backs.

Life is strange, how it plods along, and then—poof!—a puff of smoke and a pile of charcoal is all that’s left of everything you own, as if it was a cruel illusion—which I suppose it is. Physical things create an illusion of permanence in an impermanent life. Love is all that lasts.

I’m still in shock, and I wasn’t even there. (more…)

The latest issue of Piecework features vintage aprons, including a collection with themes like Visit to Grandmother’s Farm, and Cycle of Life. My favorite is the peridot green gingham with cross-stitch embroidery depicting the Eternal Question, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” Aprons remained in vogue during the entire first half of the twentieth century, when most women worked at home. Sometime during the sexual revolution, aprons lost favor, except for men working the outdoor barbeque, proud of their culinary skills, pleading for kisses as rewards.

A lot of changes took place during that time. In the course of just ten years, my siblings and I went through big changes in what clothing was acceptable, and who was expected to make it.

When my oldest sister was in junior high school, she came home one day upset because her friend had been sent home for her skirt being too short, a crime proven by use of a ruler. My guess today is that either the fabric shrank in the wash, or she’d gone through a sudden growth spurt in the legs. After all, she wasn’t “that kind of girl.” In high school my oldest sister belonged to an organization called Future Homemakers of America. Many of the girls who belonged made their own homecoming and prom dresses. One girl in my sister’s class earned the reverence of her peers when she stitched hers completely by hand. (more…)

When I first hoped to see Snow Angels in print, I decided to come up with a concept for the cover, and I drew this sketch. Actually I drew more than one, but this was the one that made me happiest at the time. I’m not much of an artist. Sometimes I impress myself—but then I’m easily impressed. Anyway, it seems appropriate to the season.

Snow Angels is available as a free e-book on my website. My multi-talented husband, Ken, created the cover art you see there.

NOTE: Please only comment on this post if you’ve read Snow Angels. Off-topic comments will be moved or deleted. The comments on Snow Angels are sometimes snipped due to content that may give away the ending of the story (thus the term “spoiler”) to others who haven’t yet read the story.

That title should provide ample warning there may be a political minefield ahead. Have you had a chance to read Harold Pinter’s Nobel Lecture?

The part I’ll quote isn’t about US politics as you might expect, but some writerly advice about politics in theatre:

“Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. “

© THE NOBEL FOUNDATION 2005

My suggestion is to read Mr. Pinter’s entire lecture with that same objectivity, perhaps as if he were a character in a play, talking about another country, not the US. That may help to set aside any immediate emotional reaction and give you a chance to think through what he has to say. I found it necessary afterward to do a little research. What follows are the questions I asked myself and the thought processes I went through. (more…)

I had jury duty last week. I have to go back this week to sit on a panel. They’re selecting for a long trial—about two months. Part of me thinks, wow, that might be interesting. Another part wonders what will happen to my writing flow, my other interests—the rest of my life—if I’m selected. All in all, I’m not thrilled. Please don’t think I’m trying to get out of doing my duty. I believe in the jury system and all that. I’m even fascinated by the chance to watch any real life court proceeding—as long as it doesn’t involve me paying a settlement or serving time. The educational experience can only help me as a mystery writer. It’s just that I’ve done this duty so many times, it lost its novelty a long time ago. (more…)

Yann Martel’s novel, Life of Pi, is a brutal, dramatic tale. It perplexes, confronting the reader with realism and fantasy in the same thoughts. It’s the kind of story that makes you wonder if it could possibly have really happened. If so, what really happened? I’m left with a mystery, but not a frustrating one, it’s magical in a sense. I savor it like the taste of a fine meal I’ve just finished. I linger over it and reminisce. (more…)

If you’re in the mood for a little fiction, you may want to check out the new Short Stories page on my website. (more…)