About six years ago I became serious about pursuing my dream of a writing career. I’d written a book with my sister years earlier and had coasted on that accomplishment for the next ten years—calling myself a writer, but doing very little writing. And then I saw an ad in Writer’s Digest for Thrillerfest. I was excited to meet other authors, sharpen my craft, and find a community of like-minded people. It was an exhilarating weekend and just what I needed to inspire me to get back to my true passion. I met authors who had written not just one, but five, ten, fifteen, or more books. I realized right then, that if I wanted to call myself a writer, I needed to, well, write.

I told myself—it’s not a matter of if I’ll get published, but when. I got busy, dusted off my work-in-progress, and held myself accountable to a weekly writing schedule. In between shuttling my kids to activities, I’d bring my laptop wherever I had to be, plug in my earphones and write. I finally finished my thriller, THE VERITAS DECEPTION, and while submitting that to agents, began a new collaboration with my sister. We finished that one, titled BLACK-EYED SUSANS, and now there were two manuscripts to submit to agents.

Every week, emails arrived from literary agents
Some with CONTINUE READING