Birthing a book takes a long time. At least for me. And in the case of my upcoming book, it took years. And years!
It is autumn. Pumpkins are everywhere.
When I was a child, I used to imagine the years of life as a ladder. Each rung represented a year, and in my imagination, the rungs had different colors.
For the love of the Irish! Even though I never met my three long-gone Irish great-great-grandmothers, I like to imagine them making soda bread.
My publisher, The Wild Rose Press, has authors from all over the world. Perhaps unique among publishers, it encourages friendship between its authors through an email loop.