In writing, the doorway of no return is the situation that pushes our hero into a new normal. In the story’s opening, a glimpse of the hero’s life as he knows it is depicted until something rocks his world. The hero is thrust, whether willingly or unwillingly, into a new normal.

Dig deeper is typed into the margins of my rough draft.

My novels all follow a pattern. The heroine and hero are going about their daily lives trying to maintain the status quo when an inciting incident throws their ordinary world into chaos. This new struggle reveals wounds and insecurities and forces them to figuratively look at themselves in the mirror and realize they are broken. Up to that point, they’ve been either ignoring their issues or trying to fix the brokenness by themselves. The problem is, they can’t. And neither can we.

I love feisty heroines who stand their ground, put their foot down, or dish it back out to the hero. I’ve never considered myself a gutsy person. Sure, I like rollercoasters, but I’ll climb the curtains if I see a spider.

What do Froto Baggin’s from Lord of the Rings, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, Marlin from Finding Nemo, and Luke Skywalker from Star Wars all have in common, besides being movie characters?

Discovering our distinct voice can be not only challenging but also scary. What makes us unique makes us dissimilar. To stand out can also mean to be exposed.

I used the above quote, “If you’re going to drug me, make sure it’s with poison,” from Miss Dodd’s character in my recent release, The Captain’s Quest. As part of my marketing strategy, I created it into a meme to shock the reticular activating system of people’s brains in an attempt to gain their attention.

Inspiration for my books typically comes from real-life experiences: my own, from history, or friends’ stories. Reality, however, can be stranger than fiction.

I can write about chiseled features, a shirt stretched across broad, muscular shoulders, a lithe, athletic build, and thick waves of dark hair curling slightly at the ends, but that isn’t what makes a hero sexy—at least not enough to keep readers flipping pages.

Criticism can be a painful pill to swallow. I’ve lost sleep over bad reviews. One person called into question the proper use of an English courtesy title used with one of my characters. There’s a good chance that I got it wrong, even though I’ve done extensive research to stay as historically accurate as possible. When to use which English title is confusing.

Coasting only got us so far before we rolled to a stop....

Mental health emergency room visits and suicide rates are up in young adults during the pandemic, according to the CDC. It grieves my heart to know people feel hopeless, alone, and distanced. They can’t see a future or their purpose when they’re stuck in a holding pattern that feels never-ending. For those of us who’ve been around for a bit, we’ve survived ups and downs before. It’s easier for us to have confidence that the sun will rise and the storm will eventually blow over...

I’m notorious for jumping to the worst-case scenario. For writing, it’s a great skill. I identify my heroine’s greatest fear and then concoct the worst possible outcome that I can think of that preys upon her anxiety. This skill is awful when it comes to real life, especially when you have a child getting his driver’s license.

At barely 5’3” tall, I’m used to being patted on the head, being pushed to the front row of pictures, and never being able to see in a crowd. However, I refuse to ask strangers to grab things from the top shelf at the grocery store. People probably look at me funny, but I’ll do running leaps,

My son calls me the Grinch. I have this weird thing about me that I like to have all the Christmas decorations down before starting the New Year. I’m torn about it. Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, as the song goes. I’m filled with whimsical sorrow as I wrap up the nativity scene and stow away the ornaments for another year. However, part of me gets excited because the anticipation isn’t over.

It was a big day in the Dudley household. My sixteen-year-old passed the written driving test to get his learner’s permit. Shortly after, I handed over the wheel and was out on the road with him, traversing through neighborhoods. Handing over the controls isn’t an easy task. My right foot pumped an invisible break, and my grip tightened on the door handle. Somehow, I maintained a calm voice, “you’re doing well, now break… break… break harder.”

Waiting can be painful.This year has been full of long, agonizing waiting. Waiting for schools to open, see family and friends, travel or vacation, a job position to open, and relief from bills or payments that have started to pile up. We’re told to hang tight for another 2 to 4 weeks, but the waiting has begun to feel endless.

Ever feel bombarded by small battles? Multiple gauntlets are thrown down, issuing one challenge after another. We seek satisfaction, running around picking up gloves, accepting challenges, and dueling in match after match until exhausted and spread too thin.