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Louise Mondragon Aragon April 7, 1923-December 24, 2008 presente
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Dear Reader,
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…
This is the writing prompt: I’m challenging you to write a page, paragraph, or sentence and tell me your story. I love this prompt because it forces me to think out of the box and be original, innovative, and magical. Magic to me is the unexplainable, like finding a $20 bill in your glovebox in your 65 Mercedez Benz just when you ran out of gas and were broke and poor.
Back in the 80’s I had a boyfriend named, the Caveman. He was a Viking with blue eyes and long ginger hair and beard. He drank a little. He drank a little a lot. We lived in his schoolbus hippy cave. It was a mancave on wheels, big wheels. We lived in his cave for a summer in the Colorado Rockies near Woodland Park up Ute Pass on Hwy 24. We roughed it for love. I was in crazy Chicana love. He was in Caveman Biker Dude love. Insane doesn’t begin to describe what it was. But it ended and I survived and learned valuable lessons about real love. That’s my story. What’s yours?
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…
In 1995 I joined a group of musicians and comedians named the Latin Locomotions. It was three crazy Chicanos two women and one vato extraordinaire. We toured for the Department of Defense after Desert Storm. We started in Europe and traveled to the United Arab Emirates and ended at Camp Justice in the middle of the Indian Ocean between Africa and India on the island of Diego Garcia. We traveled with the military on cargo planes and treked through deserts, jungles, beaches, and cities. It was a magical time in my life where I left behind my mother, son, husband, friends, and colleagues to give back by entertaining the men and women who defend our country. I fell in love with the U.S.A. by leaving it and traveling to other places, meeting other people from different religions, cultures, languages, and ideas. I looked into the eyes of those people and knew that my life had meaning. I felt proud and small in a world filled with people who look like me and don’t look like me.
Looking back on that time, I was blessed to have people in my life like Sherry and Manuel, the Latin Locomotions. They taught me to cherish the life I’ve been given and never take an opportunity for granted. I never went to graduate school. I gave my time and energy to learning about the world from traveling and meeting people. I lived my life. I’m the Crazy Chicana in Catholic City from Red Canyon Falling on Churches on the Road I Ride Bleeds.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…
When I was a teenager I drank, smoked, and cussed like a sailor. I was a chingona. Still am to this day. I’m not all talk though. I can definitely hold my own in a bar fight, or cat fight, or wrestling match. I’m not passive, I’m not aggressive, but don’t piss me off. I stand for the underdog. I protect the weak and those unable to stand up for themselves. I stand for justice. I promote peace but know that in war many will die to fight for freedom.
When I was fourteen I got knocked up. He was nineteen and had a Thunderbird. I was a child infatuated with a Chicano from San Francisco that arrived in my small town in Southern Colorado and blew my mind. I dropped out of highschool and rode in his Thunderbird all the way to California. Fifty years later, my son is grown, my ex is dead.
I’ve graduated with a GED, a bachelor’s degree in English and Creative Writing, published several books of poetry and poems in anthologies, I’ve taught in my hometown in the building I used to attend junior high. I’ve taught writing workshops to countless children through Writers in the Schools, I’ve mentored young women in Building Bridges, a leadership program for disadvantaged girls. I’ve performed on stages all over the world. I’ve written my poetry, fiction, and memoirs and write for the Stiletto Gang. But what really makes me proud of myself is that I’ve never given up on my dreams to be successful, to graduate from college, to teach, to learn, to lead.
Now I’m 65, my husband is 60, my son is 50 and we have all become eligible for AARP. I have survived long enough to witness this event and I’m so glad I didn’t give up, give in, fall down and not get back up again. I look forward to whatever comes and however many days I have left in this world. I learned that peace comes from not letting the bullies win. I’ve stood up to the bullies and they’ve beaten my head and kicked me in the gut, but I kept getting up until they gave up and left me with my resolve that nothing is going to keep me down, not even hate.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…
I always wanted to be a grandmother. My mom was the best mom. Not perfect. Not even close. She was imperfect like me with flaws and humanity. She taught me to be a chingona and to fight for the less fortunate. She taught me to love the sinner and hate the sin, but sometimes I hate the sinner and the sin. She was a world class grandmother and great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother. She had lots of grandchildren. Some weren’t even related to her but called her grandma.
My students called me Mama Fatula and still do to this day. I have a couple of soul sistas that share their grandchildren with me. They call be tia abuelita Juliana. So what if I never have my own grandchildren. There are enough children in the world that need love and don’t have grandmothers. I’ll be their abuela. I’ll love them as if they were my own. I used to tell my students goodbye after class by saying, Look both ways, have a nice day, hasta luego, te amo. They asked me do you mean it when you say I love you? I meant it.
April 2022 the Year of the Miracle by Juliana
/in Author Life/by Juliana Aragon FatulaDear Reader,
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…
This is the writing prompt: I’m challenging you to write a page, paragraph, or sentence and tell me your story. I love this prompt because it forces me to think out of the box and be original, innovative, and magical. Magic to me is the unexplainable, like finding a $20 bill in your glovebox in your 65 Mercedez Benz just when you ran out of gas and were broke and poor.
Back in the 80’s I had a boyfriend named, the Caveman. He was a Viking with blue eyes and long ginger hair and beard. He drank a little. He drank a little a lot. We lived in his schoolbus hippy cave. It was a mancave on wheels, big wheels. We lived in his cave for a summer in the Colorado Rockies near Woodland Park up Ute Pass on Hwy 24. We roughed it for love. I was in crazy Chicana love. He was in Caveman Biker Dude love. Insane doesn’t begin to describe what it was. But it ended and I survived and learned valuable lessons about real love. That’s my story. What’s yours?
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…
In 1995 I joined a group of musicians and comedians named the Latin Locomotions. It was three crazy Chicanos two women and one vato extraordinaire. We toured for the Department of Defense after Desert Storm. We started in Europe and traveled to the United Arab Emirates and ended at Camp Justice in the middle of the Indian Ocean between Africa and India on the island of Diego Garcia. We traveled with the military on cargo planes and treked through deserts, jungles, beaches, and cities. It was a magical time in my life where I left behind my mother, son, husband, friends, and colleagues to give back by entertaining the men and women who defend our country. I fell in love with the U.S.A. by leaving it and traveling to other places, meeting other people from different religions, cultures, languages, and ideas. I looked into the eyes of those people and knew that my life had meaning. I felt proud and small in a world filled with people who look like me and don’t look like me.
Looking back on that time, I was blessed to have people in my life like Sherry and Manuel, the Latin Locomotions. They taught me to cherish the life I’ve been given and never take an opportunity for granted. I never went to graduate school. I gave my time and energy to learning about the world from traveling and meeting people. I lived my life. I’m the Crazy Chicana in Catholic City from Red Canyon Falling on Churches on the Road I Ride Bleeds.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…
When I was a teenager I drank, smoked, and cussed like a sailor. I was a chingona. Still am to this day. I’m not all talk though. I can definitely hold my own in a bar fight, or cat fight, or wrestling match. I’m not passive, I’m not aggressive, but don’t piss me off. I stand for the underdog. I protect the weak and those unable to stand up for themselves. I stand for justice. I promote peace but know that in war many will die to fight for freedom.
When I was fourteen I got knocked up. He was nineteen and had a Thunderbird. I was a child infatuated with a Chicano from San Francisco that arrived in my small town in Southern Colorado and blew my mind. I dropped out of highschool and rode in his Thunderbird all the way to California. Fifty years later, my son is grown, my ex is dead.
I’ve graduated with a GED, a bachelor’s degree in English and Creative Writing, published several books of poetry and poems in anthologies, I’ve taught in my hometown in the building I used to attend junior high. I’ve taught writing workshops to countless children through Writers in the Schools, I’ve mentored young women in Building Bridges, a leadership program for disadvantaged girls. I’ve performed on stages all over the world. I’ve written my poetry, fiction, and memoirs and write for the Stiletto Gang. But what really makes me proud of myself is that I’ve never given up on my dreams to be successful, to graduate from college, to teach, to learn, to lead.
Now I’m 65, my husband is 60, my son is 50 and we have all become eligible for AARP. I have survived long enough to witness this event and I’m so glad I didn’t give up, give in, fall down and not get back up again. I look forward to whatever comes and however many days I have left in this world. I learned that peace comes from not letting the bullies win. I’ve stood up to the bullies and they’ve beaten my head and kicked me in the gut, but I kept getting up until they gave up and left me with my resolve that nothing is going to keep me down, not even hate.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…
I always wanted to be a grandmother. My mom was the best mom. Not perfect. Not even close. She was imperfect like me with flaws and humanity. She taught me to be a chingona and to fight for the less fortunate. She taught me to love the sinner and hate the sin, but sometimes I hate the sinner and the sin. She was a world class grandmother and great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother. She had lots of grandchildren. Some weren’t even related to her but called her grandma.
My students called me Mama Fatula and still do to this day. I have a couple of soul sistas that share their grandchildren with me. They call be tia abuelita Juliana. So what if I never have my own grandchildren. There are enough children in the world that need love and don’t have grandmothers. I’ll be their abuela. I’ll love them as if they were my own. I used to tell my students goodbye after class by saying, Look both ways, have a nice day, hasta luego, te amo. They asked me do you mean it when you say I love you? I meant it.
My Tweaking Obsession
/in Cozy Mysteries, How to Write, Mystery/by Lois WinstonBy Lois Winston
No, that title does not have a typo. I’m neither obsessed with Twitter nor with twerking. However, I am a compulsive tweaker.
Every author has her own process for writing a novel. The two most talked about are whether you’re a pantser or a plotter. Pantsers write by the seat of their pants. They sit down at their computers and start typing. Maybe they have an idea for the beginning of a novel or a main character. They may know how they want to start a book and how it will end. But they fly by the seat of their pants between “Once upon a time” and “The End.”
Plotters painstakingly outline their books. Some write copious synopses. Others use an outlining method that spells out what will happen in each chapter or even in each scene in the book.
When it comes to the actual writing of the book, some authors write numerous drafts before they’re satisfied with the end result. Sometimes the finished product bears little resemblance to the first draft, especially if you’re a pantser but rarely if you’re a plotter.
I have a friend who’s a New York Times bestselling author. Between the typos, grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors, not to mention the run-on sentences that would make even William Faulkner cringe, if you read her first drafts, you’d think she never made it past third grade. She doesn’t worry about any of it. Her process is to get her thoughts down on paper, to keep typing, unfiltered words flying onto the page without fear of sabotage by her inner editor.
With each subsequent draft, she concentrates on refining a different aspect of her work. The final version she turns into her editor, more often than not, lands her on that coveted NYT list.
Then there’s me…uhm, I. (You’ll understand that grammatical correction momentarily.) I’m an obsessive tweaker. I will spend half an hour staring at a blinking cursor, searching for the exact word or phrase. I’m incapable of moving on to the next sentence, let alone the next scene, until I’m happy with the results. But if that weren’t enough, I constantly go back and reread what I’ve written previously and continue to tweak. In other words, I edit as I write. I can’t help it.
Then my critique partner reads what I’ve written, offers some suggestions, and I go back and tweak some more. The end result being that by the time I type The End, I’ve really only written one draft, one thoroughly edited first draft, but a first draft, nonetheless. Of course, the book will then go through beta reads and proofreading that will result in additional tweaking because there’s always a missed typo or some other finetuning that’s needed. Essentially, though, from the first word on the page to the last, I’ve written only one complete draft. That’s my process—and my compulsion. I wouldn’t know any other way.
What’s yours?
Stitch, Bake, Die!
An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 10
With massive debt, a communist mother-in-law, a Shakespeare-quoting parrot, and a photojournalist boyfriend who may or may not be a spy, crafts editor Anastasia Pollack already juggles too much in her life. So she’s not thrilled when her magazine volunteers her to present workshops and judge a needlework contest at the inaugural conference of the NJ chapter of the Stitch and Bake Society, a national organization of retired professional women. At least her best friend and cooking editor Cloris McWerther has also been roped into similar duties for the culinary side of the 3-day event taking place on the grounds of the exclusive Beckwith Chateau Country Club.
The sweet little old ladies Anastasia is expecting to find are definitely old, and some of them are little, but all are anything but sweet. She’s stepped into a vipers’ den that starts with bribery and ends with murder. When an ice storm forces Anastasia and Cloris to spend the night at the Chateau, Anastasia discovers evidence of insurance scams, medical fraud, an opioid ring, long-buried family secrets, and a bevy of suspects. Can she piece together the various clues before she becomes the killer’s next target?
Crafting tips included.
~*~
USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry.
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Malice Magic!
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangBy Lynn McPherson
Malice Domestic 2022.
What a fabulous event! It was the first time I’ve been away since 2019. I was nervous and excited all at once. It blew away all my expectations. Walking through the hallway and all around the hotel, I saw author after author I admired. Maureen Jennings, Louise Penny, Sherry Harris, Rhys Bowen, and Lori Rader-Day, just to name a few. The panels were well-organized and entertaining, nevermind informative and fun. Dru Ann Love moderated one of my favorite panels on how to keep a series fresh, with great advice from panelists Edith Maxwell, Amanda Flower, Cheryl Hollon, SC Perkins, and Barbara Ross. It was fabulous. Attending an interview with Rhys Bowen by Louise Penny felt like a dream come true. I also got to meet the head of the Blue Ridge Literary Agency, Dawn Dowdle. Dawn was warm and welcoming. Each night I had the privilege of dining with fellow authors at the BRLA table.
Will I be back next year? Definitely? Would I recommend it to anyone interested in mystery? You bet!
Here are a few photos of my time away…
Lynn McPherson has worked for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, ran a small business, and taught English across the globe. She has travelled the world solo where her daring spirit has led her to jump out of airplanes, dive with sharks, and learn she would never master a surfboard. She now channels her lifelong love of adventure and history into her writing,
where she is free to go anywhere, anytime. Her cozy series has three books out: The Girls’ Weekend Murder and The Girls Whispered Murder, and The Girls Dressed For Murder.
Going in . . .by Dru Ann
/in Drus Book Musings/by Dru Ann LoveThis past month, I got on a plane or two or three to attend two reader/fan conventions.
First was to Albuquerque, New Mexico for the Left Coast Crime convention. This was the first time I was in a crowd of over 100 people. Was I anxious, yes, but that feeling of being among your tribe took over and except for a few blips, I had a wonderful time. In New Mexico, the mask wearing was optional. I wore my mask when I was in mixed company, meaning if I didn’t know three-quarters of the group, my mask went all. Hugs were plenty, but I asked before giving out hugs. I was on a panel “Decades of Books” and it was cool research books during a section decade. We received kudos for our panel. As for the airplane ride, mask was still mandatory, so I was feeling comfortable on my flight. Next year, Left Coast Crime will be in Tucson, Arizona where I will be Fan Guest of Honor.
Second trip was to Bethesda, Maryland for the Malice Domestic convention. This time the mask mandate was lifted, but I still wore my mask. My guess is that 75% still wore their mask. I was Fan Guest of Honor this year and moderated a panel “Writing a Series: Keeping it Fresh” with Edith Maxwell, Amanda Flower, Cheryl Hollon, SC Perkins, and Barbara Ross. After the panel, there were continual compliments on how well it went. At the banquet, after my speech, I was surprised when I received a standing ovation.
The best part of the month of April and attending these conventions, was I got to be with my crime fiction family after an absence of two years and it felt so good.
I tried to write the other day and other funny stuff by Lynn Chandler Willis
/in Uncategorized/by Sydney Leigh/ Lynn McPhersonI have a book due to my editor next week. I haven’t left my zip code in two years and now I have two trips planned within a matter of days. I’m leaving Thursday for Malice Domestic and then next Thursday to New York City for the Edgar Awards. I’m not complaining. I’m just wondering how everything seems to happen at the same time. Boggles my mind.
Speaking of my mind, or specifically the way it works, hold onto your seat. You’re in for a wild ride.
7:00 AM: Ahhh…that first sip of coffee. So far so good. Sit at the kitchen table and open laptop. Open up my Scrivener file and…ask Finn (my dog, roommate, furbaby, boss) why she’s whining. She doesn’t answer. Back to my file and my WIP that’s due next week.
7:03 AM: Finn’s still whining. I remind her she hasn’t eaten her breakfast yet. It’s still in her bowl. Get up and go to the cabinet where the dog treats are kept. Grab one. Sit back down. Give Finn the treat. Back to the WIP.
7:05 AM: Certainly she hasn’t already eaten that treat? Take a sip of coffee and ignore the whining. Back to my file. Research the Norwegian word for “mother.” Back to my file. Oops. I’ve already forgotten how to spell it. Back to Google.
7:10 AM: Have stare down with Finn. Give in and give her another treat. Back to my file. Dang it. Coffee’s cold. I warm up the coffee and take a moment to enjoy the view out my kitchen window. Except my view includes my adult daughter (who lives with her hubs and 5 kids in the big house beside my little cottage) in her back yard waving her arms and kinda gyrating in this spastic manner. I’m concerned there might be something seriously wrong so rush outside and discover 3 of the chickens have flown the coop and she’s trying to herd them back into the fenced yard. The rooster is throwing one more hissy fit because three of his girls are free and sticking their tongues out at him. Do chickens have tongues?
8:00 AM: Back inside, reheat the coffee, again. The laptop’s powered off so I wake it up to continue my WIP. Finn whines again. I ignore her.
8:20: Whoa! Look at that! Finished that chapter. BAM! Moving right along…until the other set of grandkids who are vacationing at Universal in Florida FaceTime me. They’re having the time of their lives and I can’t stop smiling while they’re telling me in great detail about their trip so far.
8:45 AM: Still FaceTiming. Grandkids ask me how the book is coming along. They ask me all about my upcoming trips and what I’m going to wear (two are teenage girls so they’re very concerned about stuff like that) and then I panic for a split second wondering if anyone still wears pantyhose. Do they? Do I add that to my shopping list for Malice and the Edgars? Suntan or nude?
9:00 AM: The grandkids are off to Harry Potter World and I wake up the laptop again. Add my chapter heading. Yeah! Got that first paragraph down. Daughter comes over and says one of the baby turkeys is gone. I help her search the property for the missing baby turkey.
10:00 AM: We didn’t find the baby turkey. We feared the worst. My laptop has gone back to sleep. I let it sleep and log in to the day/night job. I may have cried.
10:10 AM: One of the customer service reps transfers an escalated call to me since I’m a Senior Customer Service rep and get the really irate customers. The customer wants to know why she can’t exchange a shirt she purchased last June for a newer color. I explain our 30 day return policy and invite her to place a new order for the new color, and hey, I’ll even override shipping cost for you! She then asks if I’ll price match what she paid back in June. Which, by all calculations, was discounted by 70%. SEVENTY. PERCENT. I politely tell her no, we can’t do that again and it goes downhill from there. She wants my employee number. My manager’s name. My blood type…
10:15 AM: Blood type…what if a killer picked his victims according to their blood type? But how would he know? Oh! He has access to medical records…
10:25 AM: Hang up with irate customer after being cussed out because I stood my ground and not only refused to give her another 70% discount, I took back my offer of free shipping.
10:30 AM: I take my 15 minute break. I wake up the laptop and craft a new villain.
PS…the baby turkey was found safe 😊
Read more
Who Wants a Free Book!?
/in Uncategorized/by Bethany Mainesby Bethany Maines
Whew! I can’t believe we’re half-way through April already! Where did the last three months go?
How did I get here?
As I’ve blogged about previously, I decided to do an experiment in book launching for my most recent series by putting out all three books of the 3 Colors Trilogy in quick succession. February saw the release of A Little Red. With March came A Deeper Blue and in just a few short days, on April 27, I’ll complete the trilogy with A Brighter Yellow.
Reader’s Choice
From a reader perspective, I think this release strategy has been successful. Readers are happy not to have to wait for their next hit of romance and adventure. From my perspective… yeesh. I’m tired. This has been a hamster wheel of marketing. I’m not complaining. I’ve enjoyed the lovely reviews and excitement from readers, but I think if I do this again, I’ll probably put them at least a full 2 months a part. I sincerely underestimated how much work it would be to keep the motor of marketing turning.
What’s next? And what’s this about a free book?
However, the I’m not quite done yet. As I mentioned the final book in the trilogy won’t be out until April 27, but before then there is a special set of free days for A Little Red, allowing people to scoop up book 1 for FREE and get caught up before the release of book 3. So if you’re interested in snagging a free book just click the link below.
***
Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous
short stories. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her
daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel. You can also catch up with her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and BookBub.
Untitled Post
/in Uncategorized/by Saralyn RichardSettings
by Saralyn Richard
The five books I’ve written have three distinct hat I know and love. The two books in the
settings, all different, all places t
Detective Parrott mystery series take place in Brandywine Valley, Pennsylvania.
I have family members who live there, and I’ve been privileged to visit many
times. A paradise for equestrians, artists, and nature-lovers, this is a landscape
filled with wide, beautiful, and peaceful vistas. Country mansions,
old-fashioned bank barns, horse stables, and wildlife abound, and many of the
people who live and work there are healthy, wealthy, resilient, and
independent. Brandywine is the last place you’d expect a crime to take place,
so when outsider, Detective Oliver Parrott, shows up to investigate deaths or
thefts or other crimes, he has an uphill battle.
Along
the way, the books take readers to many of the unique attractions of Brandywine
Valley, including Longwood Gardens, The Brandywine River Museum of Fine Arts,
Kennett Square, incomparable horse trails, and outstanding restaurants. Many
readers have enjoyed these glimpses so much that they have traveled to the area
to experience it for themselves.
By
contrast, the stand-alone mystery, A MURDER OF PRINCIPAL, is set in a far
different universe—the urban high school. Aside from the differences of
outdoor-indoor, wealthy-disadvantaged milieus, the worlds depicted in these
novels contain similar types of tension and drama. The urban high school is a
familiar and much beloved setting for me, since I spent many years as a
teacher, administrator, and school improvement consultant there. In this book,
readers are treated to an administrator’s view of the principal’s office, the
teacher’s lounge, the cafeteria, the football field, and the auditorium—a million
stories beyond the flagpole.
A
third beloved setting is a coastal island, where the closeness of the community
and the intensity of the summer temperature can be sometimes comforting and
sometimes oppressive. My children’s book, NAUGHTY NANA, and my newest adult
mystery novel, BAD BLOOD SISTERS, are situated there. Having been born and
raised on such an island, I’ve enjoyed sharing the various sights, sounds, and
smells of this setting, and placing my protagonists there.
Much
has been written about the importance of setting in a work of fiction.
Sometimes the setting is mere wallpaper, and other times setting is as
important as a character in telling the story. When I read novels, I learn from
and enjoy the settings. It’s hard to imagine GONE WITH THE WIND apart from the
South during the Civil War, THE POISONWOOD BIBLE without the African Congo, or
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD in any other location besides the fictional Maycomb,
Alabama.
As I
write, I cannot separate the setting from the plot or characters, and I hope my
readers sense how integral the setting is to the story.
How
about you? When you read a wonderful book, how important is the setting?
Saralyn
Richard’s award-winning humor- and romance-tinged mysteries and children’s book
pull back the curtain on people in settings as diverse as elite country manor
houses and disadvantaged urban high schools. Saralyn’s most recent release is Bad Blood Sisters. A
member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America,
Saralyn teaches creative writing and literature at the Osher Lifelong Learning
Institute, and continues to write mysteries. Her favorite thing about being an
author is interacting with readers like you. Visit
Saralyn