As we prepare for Thanksgiving here in the U.S., I’m thankful for a small moment I witnessed of an exercise in honesty.

According to researchers, a medicine I use for my allergies is giving me a false sense of relief. Maybe I’m ok with that.

The older I get, I discover more and more creative ways to injure myself and add to my growing litany of aches and pains.

To achieve my writing goals, I need less order and more chaos, so I’m making some changes to my posting schedules.

In the waning days of summer, Brent confronts his arch enemy in a pitched battle, but will he emerge victorious or defeated?

What are fluffy tales? Why do I have five thousand of them? What do they have to do with publishing novels? Let me explain.

A technical problem at a restaurant reminded me of the aftermath of Hurricane Hugo when good people kept asking, “What else would we do?”

For a summer during my teen years, I taught handicrafts to kids. With my lack of skill, it was a fake it ’til you make it situation.

A monstrous attack by a hideous creature disrupted our peaceful morning stroll with the dogs and put me in quite the sticky situation.

Despite this week’s postage rate increase, a handwritten letter still far outweighs the cost and enhances the power of thank you.

Living in the North Carolina mountains normally means pleasant weather, but our current summer heat means we swelter in place.

When a snack craving interrupts the writing process, I hunt for anything edible, even mystery munchies that might be a little old.