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  • I smiled at the challenge. A ranger friend from Fort Union National Monument trusted my acting.  He wished me to play a career soldier, a corporal in the cavalry. He had faith I could convince others I was a different gender from a different age.

  • This time of year the summer gets thick with memories like fruit ripening. I didn’t go out to Lake Johanna to swim this year. Usually I paddle around with cries and laughter of kids around me and drive home still wet with my windows open, feeling the wind in my hair.

  • Every storyteller usually has some snippets of truth from their own life, and those around them weaved into their novel. As a tomboy growing up in Central Illinois, who wrote poetry and stories in secret, I never dreamed I’d ever be published.

  • So, what does an author do on the days she has the attention span of a gnat on crack, a myriad of visiting ghosts, and four – count ‘em – four attention-seeking dogs crawling under her desk, scratching her legs, and begging to be cuddled?

  • Lesbian sheroes in herstorical fiction are viewed with suspicion. How, critics ask, can an author know what lesbians could get away with in times past with only a few first-person records available? 

  • Abolitionists opposed slavery from the moment the slave ships first arrived in the Americas, even before the colonies dreamed of becoming a separate nation. For over a century, they told the facts of such an inhuman practice, and they preached the ultimate wrong of one person claiming the right to own another. Yet, for most people, those facts were not “true,” they weren’t real, until Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote and published Uncle Tom’s Cabin....

  •  “So,” razzed younger neighbors, “what does a seventy-year-old who sits on her bottom all day to write know about getting up on a paddleboard? You’ll fall on your butt!”