I Write About The Trials

I Can Spend 10 To 15 Minutes With Someone, And They Can Tell Me What They're Going Through. I May Never Have Gone Through That, But I Get It On A Really Deep Level.

The Death Of A Friendship Was Usually Slow And Insidious, Like The Wearing Away Of A Hillside After Years Of Too Much Rain. A Handful Of Misunderstandings, A Season Of Miscommunication, The Passing Of Time, And Where Once Stood Two Women With A Dozen Years Of Memories And Tears And Conversation And Laughter—where Once Stood Two Women Closer Than Sisters—now Stood Two Strangers.

Readers Need To See Themselves Between The Lines Of The Story.

My Characters Are Not Plastic.

The General Market Wants What I Do.