I was a shy kid, and making friends did not come easily to me. My nose was often in a book, and fictional characters became like friends. I enjoyed getting to know them and seeing where their stories took them. But they weren’t real.

Eventually, some people saw beyond the shy kid and reached out to me. They wanted to get to know me, and I got my first taste of friendship. They helped me to become the person I am, and I am grateful.

Writing was a fun hobby back then, but it became a true passion. As an adult, my writing led me to like-minded people. Writers understand the drive to create story and find the right words to tell it.

Joining critique groups helped me find other people who share my passion, people who understand the frustrations of this business. They encourage and offer help. We share our triumphs and our defeats. Writers have become some of my dearest friends.

Critique group friends told me about conferences and workshops, where I could learn more about craft and the publishing business. I went, and besides all the things I learned at those events, I met even more friends.

After trying to get published for decades and having no success, I became extremely frustrated. It wasn’t until I asked myself, “If I had to choose between my friends and a published book, which would I choose?” that my attitude toward publication changed. I didn’t have to think about it. I would take my friends in a heartbeat. They add true joy to my life.

More then six years ago, one of my critique group friends asked me to join her in attending a workshop. The novel I was working on at the time was Like a River. That workshop eventually led to the book being published. Without that friend, my career wouldn’t have happened the way it did. I owe her.

I owe all my friends, writers and non-writers alike. Most of them cared about me long before I was published and are my biggest supporters. Every time I launch a new book, friends turn out to show enthusiasm for it. They tell their friends and eagerly await the next book.

Some friends are folks I rarely see (if ever). We met at workshops or book events, but we live hundreds of miles apart. Yet they are true friends. We care about one another. Some have welcomed me into their homes and offered me a place to stay when I travel. Some send me friendly notes, emails, or Facebook messages. They make my life better.

I meet with friends over meals and enjoy their company. I travel to workshops and book events with friends. My real-life friends are so much better than those fictional friends I met in the pages of books when I was a kid.

To my young readers, if you know of a shy kid who could use a friend, step forward and be one. And to all my friends, thank you for being there for me. You have enriched my life.

As I watched coverage of the Winter Olympics last month, I heard several athletes say, “I owe it to my family.” An announcer said, “It’s all about family.”

The same can be said for writers like me.

My mother was a huge influence on my becoming a writer. She was a published poet, and she encouraged me when she saw I was interested. She was my first writing teacher, and she always made sure we had shelves filled with books. Reading novels convinced me those were what I wanted to write.

My husband supported my efforts and supplied the finances needed for conferences and workshops. When I decided to write historical fiction, he accompanied me on research trips, even when he had to sit for hours while I dug through archives.

As I wrote, one of my sisters read every page. Some were pretty awful, but she proofread and offered her opinion. When my older daughter still lived at home, she read a lot of my early chapters and begged for more.

Once when I became discouraged, another sister gave me needed advice that put being published into proper perspective. I am a writer and have to do it, published or not.

The being published took me many, many years, but when it happened, my family was there to help and support. All six of my siblings read my books, even though a couple admitted they were the only novels they’d read since college. My children, my cousins, and my husband’s family read my books and told their friends about them. Even my granddaughter spread the word to teachers and friends.

When I needed an author website, my nephew volunteered to design one for me. I’m very low-tech, so he also maintains it.

When NOT ON FIFTH STREET came out last year, I received an email from a woman who grew up in the house I wrote about in the book. How did she learn about the book? From my aunt.

The Ironton Tribune published an article about NOT ON FIFTH STREET (which takes place in Ironton). I put out the word that I wanted copies of the article. And a cousin sent them. The publisher of the Tribune assigned the article after he heard about the book from my niece.

I have always loved being part of a large family, and I am grateful every day for the part they have played in my published life. It truly is a family affair.

Come back to this page next month, and I will tell about the other half of the story: Friends.

I was recently honored by an interview with the Ironton Tribune, which was followed up by an editorial which discussed the importance of interesting young readers in history, a sentiment I care deeply about.

The article reminds us that history is often best learned by means other than text books and history class. Class assignments can be boring, yet knowing our past is vital to our future.

For me the answer was historical fiction. Reading stories made history more interesting, and now I attempt to share history with today’s young readers in that same way.

History is so filled with catastrophes and big events that time eventually relegates them to old files and archives. Movies have kept the fate of the Titanic alive, while the steamboat Sultana remained unknown by most. That is what led me to write my novel Like a River. I wrote about the record-breaking Ohio River flood of 1937 in Not on Fifth Street. I feel an obligation to remind people of those tragedies, remind them what previous generations have endured.

Jack Gantos, Newbery-winning author, wrote, “…every soul is a book of their own history… Sadly, we don’t know the history of every person who ever lived…”

Millions of real people have lived on this earth in ways barely noticed. Some would have stayed unnoticed if their skeletons had not been unearthed thousands of years later and studied. Paleontologists and archeologists can tell us about long-gone people by their remains and artifacts they left behind.

The more recent past has been recorded and handed down to us. We read about famous inventors and their inventions. We learn about generals, kings, and presidents, artists and writers, and even outlaws and criminals.

But what about “average” people? People have struggled through everyday lives, fighting their own personal battles, living their own dramas, but not “making history” by their actions.

My goal when I wrote Empty Places was to show what an average person’s life was like in 1932 in a Harlan County coal camp. I use fictional characters to portray lives of people long forgotten.

We might have heard stories passed down by our parents and grandparents. We can pass those stories on to our own children and grandchildren, stories that get a little less firm in our memories as time fades them. And what about those who don’t have progeny to tell their stories to? Are their stories lost forever?

I research the way people lived in the last two hundred or so years. I listen to stories handed down by families, including my own. My fictional characters are a mixture of many real-life people, whose stories haven’t been recorded in history books. I write fictional stories that COULD HAVE happened to people.

It is my way of trying to make their lives live on, to have meaning for a new generation of readers.

Recently, the news has been filled with memories of 2017: the eclipse, the tragedies, the “fake news.” Each retrospective includes an In Memoriam section. And so must mine.

Two of my blog posts early this year mentioned the death of my dear friend Bunnie, who is still missed every day. But Bunnie’s life was not the only one that ended in 2017. Two friends (Barb and Jean) lost their husbands last year, and their grief continues. My husband’s older brother passed away in April. An elderly friend passed in December, a friend lost her sister, another friend lost her mother, and an in-law lost his father. One of the saddest events was a Celebration of Life service for a friend’s 14-year-old daughter. That same friend lost a 7-year old daughter about 7 months later. Both of these girls were special-needs children. I have a deep love for all of God’s “special” children. If you have lost a loved one in 2017, I offer my heartfelt sympathy. It is not an easy thing to go through.

It’s always hard to move on to positive things after an In Memoriam, but life does go on.

My newest novel (Not on Fifth Street) launched in October. The book deals with the catastrophic, record-breaking Ohio River flood of 1937, and the story was inspired by my father’s experiences in that flood. For that reason, it is a novel close to my heart.

Not on Fifth Street was my third novel to launch in three years, which has been exciting for this writer who, not so long ago, wondered if she’d ever see a published book. There will be no launch in 2018, but I am working hard every day on a work in progress. (Fingers crossed for 2019).

I traveled to North Carolina a few times to do research for my work in progress, and enjoyed the helpfulness and hospitality of folks there.

I participated in three 2017 book festivals and numerous signings. I met many readers and writers, and I made new friends. I took part in a panel discussion at a local university, and I went to dozens of critique group meetings.

My novel Empty Places was a finalist for an Ohioana Book Award. It did not win the award, but it did receive the most votes in its category for the Readers’ Choice award. I thank all who voted for it.

I talked at several schools last year, and have more school visits scheduled for 2018. One visit took me to Connecticut, where I spoke to 6th, 7th, and 8th graders. It was a joy to meet both students and faculty in another state. I love seeing people who love to read.

I have often talked or written about the wonderful Highlights Foundation workshops I have attended since 1999 and how much I learned from faculty members. In 2017, I was a TA at one of their workshops at Boyds Mills, PA, where I hope I helped up-and-coming writers. I also attended a Highlights Foundation retreat, which has become an annual thing for me. On another trip there, I spent days just writing in a cabin. A great time! A group of local writers and I got together for a lakeside retreat in Tennessee also. Anytime I can get away from everyday chores and focus on writing is time well spent. I hope to do that more in 2018.

I also attended book signings for author friends and reveled in their successes. I have heard many speakers over the course of the year, who have taught me interesting things and often touched my heart.

May 2018 be a good year to all who read this. May your life be filled with peace, love, and happiness. And books!

This is a busy, bustling time of year for me. I celebrate Christmas with lots of lights and decorations and two Christmas trees. When I realize how long it takes for me to get all the decorating finished, I tell myself that I will cut back next year, but it never happens. I love the season!

I also make time to shop for gifts and wrap them. I bake cookies. I send cards. I go to Christmas Eve Mass and attend a concert or a play. I also get together with friends and family for numerous holiday parties. Busy and fun both!
My husband and I also celebrate our wedding anniversary during the Christmas holidays. He was in the Navy when we married, and the wedding had to be planned for when he was on his Christmas leave. So our anniversary has become part of our holiday celebrating.

My year-round activities continue, even through the holidays. There is still church on Sunday, as well as writers’ meetings to attend and my weekly lunch with my siblings and daughters. Finding time to write gets tougher, but I manage to fit in a few hours here and there.

This year, I launched a new book in October, so I also have book signings planned for this crazy, busy, bustling month.

And remember! Books make excellent Christmas gifts. They need no batteries, they can take a reader to interesting places and even other time periods, and they can make a reader laugh or touch a reader’s heart.

Whether or not you celebrate Christmas, whether or not you do the holidays in a big way, please have a happy, healthy, and safe December. And take time to enjoy it all.

Then check back in 2018 to this spot to see what I am up to next.

The busiest time of year has already begun. Halloween candy was marked down on November 1st to make room for the Christmas displays. But I can’t let myself find the holiday mindset just yet. Other things must come first.

Before we deck the halls and trim the tree, we observe Thanksgiving. This holiday proclaimed by Abraham Lincoln didn’t mention shopping or football, only giving thanks for our blessings, and I have been blessed in abundance.

I sometimes feel guilty for having so many blessings while others are having a difficult time. People I care about and people I don’t know suffer on a daily basis. They have lost loved ones. Their homes were destroyed by fire or flood. They struggle to make ends meet. They live in fear. They face injustice. They feel hopeless and helpless. So my prayers of thanksgiving are mingled with pleas for those who have not been fortunate.

And while I offer these prayers this November, I also take time to observe that other November holiday so often forgotten. Veterans Day.

I belong to a family of veterans. My father. My husband, My sons. Uncles. Cousins. A nephew. I always take time to remember them on November 11. And I add them to my Thanksgiving prayers and my everyday prayers as well. My prayers remember all veterans. These are the people who risked their lives to protect the life I am so blessed with.

May your Thanksgiving be a happy one, but also may it be a thoughtful one. While you remember your blessings, say a prayer for those who are not so blessed. And give thanks for the men and women who protect and defend.