I love stories.

I listen to them. I watch them on TV, videos, or movies. I read them.

And I write them.

I’ve written almost every kind of story there is. Mystery, romance, confession, science fiction, fantasy, paranormal, horror, and every other kind I can think of and garnered a couple prizes and ‘best-selling’ author designations along the way.

I’ve written short stories, novellas, and novels.

In the process I’ve learned that my favorite stories are science fiction and paranormal. Preferably the two combined.

My stories are always clean, they are always either contemporary or near future, they always have at least a slight romantic element, and they always end happily. Always. Guaaranteed. (Okay, two short stories, ‘The River Boy’ and ‘Down From The Mountain’ have endings that might not be considered completely happy. Maybe just somewhat happy. You decide.)

Check out the covers below and see what you think. And have a happy, happy day.


100 baby chickens.

I have mixed emotions about chickens. On the one hand, the babies are cute. And for some reason I’m unable to comprehend, raising chickens is becoming more and more popular. Kids seem to love them.

I don’t know why.

When I was in elementary school, my mother decided we would raise chickens so she sent away for one hundred baby chickens. They arrived but the weather wasn’t warm enough to let them stay in the chicken coop at the edge of our yard so she fashioned a huge box and put it in a corner of our kitchen. And we lived with one hundred baby chickens in our kitchen until they could move outside.

That was a long time!

They were cute, I’ll give you that. And their peeping was also cute. But when they moved outside, they grew up to become large, full-grown chickens that laid eggs that we kids gathered on a daily basis. It was our chore.

Do you know how nasty chickens can be? How strongly they can object to being moved to see if there are eggs under them? How unhappy they can act if you take their eggs? How much it hurts being pecked?

As you might guess, I don’t have the fondest memories of chickens. In fact, I’m happy to let all the grand-kids who raise chickens ‘teach’ me all about their chickens while I watch from a safe distance and cheer them on in their chicken-raising endeavors.

Still, I do like eggs and am grateful that chickens exist every time I eat a couple.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: