
I’ve told you before that I’ve been struggling the last several years with my creativity. Most of it seems to be a result of changes in my hormones during perimenopause and menopause. But before that I realized I’d gotten pretty deeply mired in burnout. Slowly, my creativity has been coming back, ideas have begun to flow again, and this past month I’ve been plotting away on my next superhero book. Yay!
The ”how” is partially from balancing my hormones with hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and partially from several small things that have made a big difference. I got a scholarship to attend Author Nation last year, and it really helped energize me. There I met and decided to have a weekly check-in with some writer friends who are “more like me.” (I’m not going to try to explain the specifics; when you’re with people who get you and to whom you don’t have to explain your thinking, it’s so freeing! It really helped open the valve on my joy and creativity.)

That led to me backing a Kickstarter by Johnny B. Truant a couple months ago. He wrote a book called The Artisan Author: The Low-Stress, High-Quality, Fan-Focused Approach to Escaping the Publishing Rat Race based on the class he taught at Author Nation last year. (Release date November 4, 2025 – look for it!) I decided to back the level that included a 10-week college-style class based on the book. We’re just a month in and I’ve already met so many more authors who feel like I do – like, I started writing, and particularly self-publishing, so I could write my way. Then, in trying to learn how to sell books, I got caught up in all the reasons I “needed” to change this or that so that my perfect readers could find me on Amazon and other vendor sites.
I wrote a more detailed post on Substack if you’re interested. I talk about self-publishing and using your voice and standing up for others. Here is the ending to that post. I hope it gives you something to think about. It’s worth it.
0 0 Read moreYOU have more power than you realize. That’s the actual tagline. So let me encourage you to use your words. Use your power. Even if you believe the exact opposite of me, use your words. A world that becomes more and more homogenized becomes more and more unsafe for “the other.” Love isn’t just for the people like you. To Love means to take care of the widow and the orphan, the illegal immigrant and the transgendered neighbor, the politician and the farmer.
That’s how Love becomes the answer.

A crab shell on the riverbank marked the end of day. No crab inside, just the empty carapace and claws, bright objects against the darker sandy grit along the water. Jyr laid thin branches of hemlock around the shell, then watched the river current flickering where the setting sun touched the ripples.

She had gathered bare sticks and limbs to make a fire, but that was for after night dropped its curtain over the landscape. For now, she sat cross-legged on the bank, next to the shell, and waited.
Soon, the heron had told her. The change was approaching. Was she ready?
She’d asked, “Will I like it?” The heron had preened, offering nothing else.
With a weathered branch, Jyr drew shape after shape in the damp sand. Maybe the runic symbols Belna had taught her as a child would help hurry along whatever lay ahead.
Six mallards swam past, their soft quacks of conversation weaving with the low rush of water over stones. A breeze from the northeast ruffled Jyr’s hair and brought the sharp scent of pine sap. Small rocks mixed with the finer sand pressed into Jyr’s bottom, forcing her to shift.
As the sun sank below the horizon, the river darkened. Instead of a fiery glint, the running water now reflected the spangle of stars emerging overhead.
And still Jyr waited, her stomach rumbling in a low growl. When?
As hard as she stared, nothing and no one appeared out of the night. Finally, a crab moved at the edge of the water, and with a quick stab she had it in her beak. Beak? Now standing, she lifted one leg and then the other, her knees bending backward, then she shook, feeling her feathers move and rearrange themselves.
Another crab, another swallow. Jyr resumed her slow stalk along the bank, the memory of what she had been already fading, like the shapes and symbols drawn in the wet sand.

War is hell.
Writing can also exact a toll on you that’s hard to come back from. I don’t propose to compare the valiant efforts of our soldiers, amazing servicemen and women, to me sitting safe behind a computer and writing about war. Not at all. I never served in combat, but I did counsel men who did (this was before women were allowed to fight in combat) and I heard the stories late at night sitting around a big, ole aluminum coffee pot in the US Army Service Club or playing pool with the men. We had a lot of soldiers passing through on their way ‘back home’ who felt more comfortable talking to me about their experiences than their families.
I was so young… and not a trained counselor or psychologist. But I did have one thing: I’m a good listener. Something taught to me by the nuns, especially the wise and round-faced Sister Mary Celestine at St Peter’s. I learned a lot from these Army and Air Force soldiers about brotherhood and loyalty and being ‘blooded’ and that unbreakable bond these men had with their units. I envied that. I wondered how we women would fare in such tense situations under fire.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to write about women in war.
My last several books are about Paris during the Occupation by the Nazis and the brave women who fought in the Resistance even as they fell in love and raised children. But writing about such intense times does take a toll on you. Especially when you’re fighting your own pain from an accident and struggling to make a deadline. (I thank God for my fabulous editor Isobel who was with me during this time and never gave up on me.)
Then I remember the sacrifice made by the women and men fighting the Nazis. My God, would I have had the courage to do as they did? I like to think I could and every day I strive to do what I can to help others… whether it’s at the market and someone needs help, or a nervous, new receptionist at my doctor’s office starting her first job.
The world is a scary place.
I also give thanks every day for what I have. Shelter, food, my treasured books I’ve collected since I was a little girl. And the Internet. Which allows me to share my heartfelt stories with you.
So, here we are… the hot days are slowly giving way to cooler temperatures. And with the advent of Fall, I’m so excited to announce my next Paris WW2 book, The Stolen Children of War.
I’m so thrilled with this fabulous cover.
It’s so circus-y!
That’s Lia, my heroine. A trapeze artist and trick rider since she was a kid.
The two children she saves will steal your heart as they did mine!
There’s also a stolen baby, handsome heroes, and an adorable baby elephant.
And a mystery, too… a madman threatening circus queens….
It’s a glorious ride of heart, passion, and razzle dazzle under the big top!
Can’t wait to introduce you to the world of circus during the Occupation of Paris 1943 when the children needed the joy of circus more than ever!
Out 10th November https://mybook.to/ChildrenOfWar
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This weekend I saw some friends who moved away five years ago. What a wonderful surprise! At church, one of the pastors asked them what it was like to visit after so long, and one friend said something that made me laugh.
He said, Coming to this church, you get contaminated. People are so friendly and loving and kind, it brings out those traits in you. Then we all learn and grow together.
What a great way to look at it! Getting contaminated, but in a good way! It made me think of us. Outside of church, I’ve never known such an encouraging, helpful group of people like writers. No matter what’s happening, outside or inside our community, we end up coming together and helping each other through.
I want you to just sit in that for a moment. Think of all the writers who have encouraged you or taught you or held you together when it seemed things were falling apart. Think of all the times you’ve done that for others. This kind of contamination is our super power!
Let’s never forget it. Keeping up this strength individually and as a community is so worth it. 🥰
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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