The scream was a deep, miserable thing that flew out of my mouth, gushing into the room like rusty water bursting from a pipe. I gripped the edge of your crib and watched the graying of your skin; marveled at your beautiful lips, parted as if you were still breathing. My spirit ripped away, and suddenly, floating at the ceiling, looking down, the room filled with your silence and my screams. [Read more]
Many of you know that this past November, during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), I completed the first draft of the 2nd book in my historical novel series, Driven. I had a blast placing Emily on a ranch in Wyoming and complicating her life. [Read more]
Well Finally! This has been one unbelievable year. Like many of you, mine has been an upside-down roller coaster…a lowering of standards while at the same time trying to hold on to what’s essential. Dinners together. A walk outside if it’s not too smoky. Birthday celebrations.
Greetings! I simply had to connect - and I’m trying something new, crazy hair day and all. Bear with me as I enter the world of video. Virtual hug, Vanya [Read more]
If you're like me, you're sick of the news. Of the platitudes and scare-the-crap-out-of-you updates. You recoil at your own inner chaos or the belief that if you'd only accept the new reality, you wouldn't struggle so much. That if you were a stronger person, you'd get off the couch and accomplish something. [Read more]
The Visit - Many of you know my “thing” about using music to get to the core of something I’m writing. It’s been part of everything I’ve ever published, from Dylan, Nat King Cole, and Beethoven for scenes in Boot Language - to Janis Joplin and Madame Butterfly for my short essays that found homes in literary journals. [Read more]
From my desk... Here’s a little diversion from the holiday madness that I hope you’ll enjoy! They said what? I love the things people say. The wilder, most impassioned, the better. In fact, I enjoy it so much I have a habit of writing down the
OMG, I’m about to send the first book of my historical series, Driven, to my editor. I’m told I may have a thriller on my hands. My first reaction was “Wahhhh?” I guess it’s true…women’s lives were extraordinarily harrowing a hundred years ago. They had no power.
Farewell I have a handful of childhood friends from the old neighborhood where I grew up. We’re spread all over California, but we’re committed to each other; to our friendship. We send group texts, plan the next reunion, share updates, fears, joys, and tragedy. We’re
Hi All! My grandfather used to tell stories of homesteading in northern Wyoming, in the high grassland between the Black Hills and the Bighorn Mountains. His descriptions were painted as a hard life punctuated by beauty: wild mustangs galloping through open prairies; purple spring blossoms that
