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I’m sitting on our red loveseat, candles glowing on the coffee table. My netbook is propped on my knees and the cat’s purring beneath them. A mug of peppermint tea sits within reach. I’m so glad to be home, with all of its familiar comforts. I’m working on my edits. Painstakingly layering in more details about smaller characters. Giving the reader more time with Molly. Exploring more of her thoughts and observations and reactions. It’s challenging, making sure the new bits feel organic and not just thrown in helter-skelter, a paragraph here, a sentence here, a little scene here. But I’m lucky to have someone who believes in my book and asks great questions. Our Thanksgiving was not what we expected. We had to call an ambulance for Steve’s dad last night. Steve spent hours at the hospital with his mom, while I waited anxiously at their house, phone in... Read More