Girl running

My Daughter

I gained my daughter later in life. She is a child of my heart if not my body. We go through periods of adjusting. Frequently.  We were adapting, until she approached her 13th birthday. Peace is now a timid visitor rushing out the door without notice.  Then it happened. An epiphany of profound impact. She and I have diametric paradigms in the way we approach the world. It sounds better…
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Why History?

Why, of all things, do I write historical fiction? It requires long hours of research into the most insignificant of details. Did they use the word Neanderthal in the late 1890s? What patterns of wallpaper would grace a Victorian parlor? What’s for dinner during the Civil War? These questions also differ by region or socio-economic class (I wanted to be an archeologist as a kid, but I hate hot…
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