As we mourn the passing of one of my favorite actors, James Garner, I find myself remembering the time I ALMOST met the man. He and Joanne Woodward were filming a movie for Hallmark— Breathing Lessons —in our area. And by “in our area” I mean if front of my house. We spent an entire afternoon sitting on our front porch watching them “drive” up and down our road. Actually they were in a mock car being towed and filmed by a camera car. At one point, the producers stopped at my mom and dad’s house and asked my dad if they could use their home as one of the locations. My dad said NO. WHY? I have no idea. In hindsight, I think the early stages of dementia may have been at play, and he simply didn’t understand what they wanted. He LOVED James Garner! If I’d been there, things would have been different, I guarantee it. As is, much of the landscape through which the car is driving is from our stretch of road. In one scene, if you look fast, you can see one corner of my

I’m on the verge of typing “The End” on book #3. Of course, it isn’t really the end. I still have a number of drafts to go. But somehow finishing the FIRST draft is the sweetest. In the meantime, however, there’s nothing sweet about the final pages. I’ve thrown Zoe into a deep pit of despair. She’s on the brink of losing everything she holds dear. And I do mean everything . The problem is I also hold some of these things quite dear, and I don’t know yet how it’s all going to turn out. Not entirely happily-ever-after, for sure. There will be loss. But how much? Even I don’t know until I write it. One of the first lessons I learned when I started writing seriously was “torture your characters.” Emotionally. Physically. This time I’m doing both. And I’ve put her smack in the middle of one of my darkest nightmares. She’s there right now, as I write this post. She’ll be stuck there, frozen in time, until I get back to her tomorrow. I admit, I might have been able to

On Monday, I wrote like a crazy, possessed woman. It was glorious! I love being in the zone, sort of knowing what I need to write, but not exactly. It was one of those days when my characters take over and I’m along for the ride, waiting to see what happens next. Tuesday, I woke up and realized I had a serious flaw in what I'd written. I’d missed an obvious and easy way out of my character’s predicament. Not good when you’re trying to build suspense. Clearly I needed a few more obstacles in her path.   So I spent the next few days un-doing and RE-doing what I'd joyously pounded out on Monday. It’s a wonder my delete key isn’t worn out yet. Cut this, add that. Reword something else. I chopped large chunks. My page count went in reverse. I added some new stuff back in. For three days I worked like crazy, but my page count ended up right where it was on Monday. Today, I'm happy to report I'm back on track and barreling forward once again. I had hoped to be