One Resolution, Many High Hopes

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

Since 2014 I’ve avoided declaring writing resolutions and tried keeping things simple with one easy goal—reading one book per week for a total of 52 per year.

This year I far exceeded that goal, partly because I embraced a new-found love of audiobooks. I’ll share my bookish end-of-year recap with you in a few weeks, but for now here’s a list of the writing I published in 2018:

Short Stories

From Autumn to June
A young girl struggles with feelings of loss over an aborted sibling.

I’ve lived all my life without knowing you. Fourteen years. I’ll still never know you, but at least now I know of you. You existed once, and nobody gave you a name, and I’m sorry about that.

The Lost Girls
A six-year-old boy experiences a truly haunted Halloween while trick-or-treating with his sister.

He’d never been to the ocean and didn’t know what the waves sounded like when they broke against the shore, but Timothy knew they didn’t sound like the voices of girls.

Articles

A Different Point of View
In this post for Women on Writing, I reveal a trick to getting to know your characters better.

Start at the Beginning—Using Titles as Prompts
In this post for Superstition Review, I discuss writer’s block and how to beat it.

Essays

Although it didn’t get published, I was thrilled when my essay Pure Imagination won honorable mention in Women on Writing’s essay contest in March.

I may not have writing resolutions for 2019, but I have lots of hopes. I hope to find an agent or publisher for one (or all!) of my three unpublished books. I hope to write something completely different, non-literary, and fun (maybe a cozy mystery?). Above all, I hope to keep scribbling away—preserving memories, creating worlds, and wondering at the magic of it all.

Happy New Year!

Read My New Story “From Autumn to June”

This week YA Review Network published my short story “From Autumn to June.” I wrote this piece last spring and was thrilled when YARN sent an acceptance letter over the summer. Having worked with them previously on my story “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” and again on a piece that will be published in October, I knew my work was in good hands.

“From Autumn to June” was one of those rare stories that almost seemed to write itself. It’s as if it were there all along, just waiting to be discovered. When that happens it feels like magic, and it’s the best part of being a writer.

Another great thing about being a writer is getting to see the world through different points of view. This particular story explores a very sensitive subject from a perspective not often considered or given a voice. While researching, I was surprised to discover how prevalent this issue is—I found several support groups on various platforms dedicated to those struggling with it.

At first I wasn’t sure how to approach the narrative. Remembering how much I loved reading Barbara Kingsolver’s letters to her mother and daughter in Small Wonder, I thought I’d try the same. The style, called epistolary, has an eloquent way of capturing intimacy. I love how it turned out, and I hope you do too.

Read “From Autumn to June” here.

On First Publications

Photo by Lance Grandahl on Unsplash

A writer’s first publication is something special. I remember mine—a newspaper article I wrote when I was fifteen. My friend Bethany wanted to be a photographer and I had lofty aspirations to become a music journalist. Some of our friends were in a heavy metal band and had an upcoming gig, so I wrote a sprawling profile and Bethany arranged a photo shoot of the band members perched on a block wall at sunrise.

I gathered our materials in a manila envelope, waltzed into the offices of the Merced Sun-Star, and told the receptionist I would like to see the editor, please. With a straight face, she told me he was busy at the moment, but she’d be happy to take my envelope. Reluctantly I handed it over, reiterating my preference of delivering it personally, as the material was time-sensitive. The receptionist assured me it would be forwarded promptly and—who knows?–maybe they could use it for the Sunday edition. She smiled politely, and I walked away feeling dejected.

That weekend we went out of town to visit family, but when we returned I skimmed through the Sunday edition, just in case. When I saw my byline above a (ruthlessly edited) version of my article, my jaw dropped open. I ran through the house, shrieking that the NEWSPAPER published my story! The NEWSPAPER! I saw clearly my future as a celebrated music journalist, perhaps writing for Hit Parader or Metal Edge (spoiler alert: neither magazine survived the digital age, and mainstream metal did not survive the 90s). The moment is etched forever in my mind as my first real writing triumph.

Last month, my daughter had her own defining moment—also at the age of fifteen. Encouraged by her creative writing teacher, Abbey wrote a short story to submit to the 2018 Tempe Community Writing Contest. Her story “Ladybug Princess” won first place in the high school fiction category and was published in Tempe Writers Forum V.4. I was so crazy proud of her I purchased over a dozen copies, sent out an email blast, and instructed my husband and son to have roses and chocolate cake waiting when we returned home from the awards ceremony.

Abbey’s been writing seriously since middle school and has been recognized for her talent by winning honorable mention in the Young Authors of Arizona Scholastic Writing Awards in both 2015 and 2016. While those achievements were awesome and inspiring, there’s nothing like winning first place and having your story appear in print.

She had the option of reading “Ladybug Princess” at the awards ceremony and bravely chose to do so. I sat in the front row, brimming with joy at my daughter’s accomplishment and also thankful that she has this victory to power her through what can sometimes be a difficult journey.

It takes grit and tenacity to be a writer. Those of you who are writers know what I’m talking about. It means facing rejection over and over. Losing your confidence and feeling, at times, very alone. Spending hundreds of hours crafting stories you never know if anyone else will read.

But experiencing the wonder of creating worlds and characters that otherwise would never have existed? The incomparable thrill of seeing your name in print for the first time? So worth it.

Read Abbey’s award-winning story here.

A Good Way to End 2016

Honestly? This has not been a good year for me when it comes to publishing. Part of that is the majority of writing I did in 2015 is tied up in 2 unpublished books. One of the books is a collection of short stories, and I hadn’t been submitting the stories individually because for so long I only imagined them as a collection. That could still happen, but there’s no reason for me not to submit them to literary journals in the meantime, which I started doing this fall.

Numbers-wise, I only had three new publications this year, and I collected more rejections than I care to admit. Still, I believe in quality over quantity, and I’m proud of the pieces I did publish. One of them came out this month in Superstition Review, and you can read it here. “The Woman in Room 248” is the story of a young nursing student trying to reconcile her idealized vision of a dream career with the harsh reality of the job. Superstition Review is a tough journal to get into (this wasn’t my first time trying!) so I was thrilled to join their list of contributors. And I’m relieved that I could end 2016 on a positive note.

Hopefully 2017 will be a more fruitful year; I think it will be, now that I’m not stubbornly hoarding all my newer fiction in the hopes it will be released in the neat little package I’d envisioned. Sometimes dreams need to be let go, but more often they simply need to be re-imagined. I’m a dreamer at heart, so that’s no problem for me.

Sometime in the next few weeks I’ll post my 2016 end of year book survey. I read so much this year (57 books and counting!), and I can’t wait to share some of my favorites with you. Until then, Happy New Year, everyone!

Interview with Amy Silverman, Author of My Heart Can’t Even Believe It

Amy Silverman with her daughter Sophie

Author Amy Silverman with her daughter Sophie

Last summer I had the privilege of reading an early draft of Amy Silverman’s new book, which launches May 1 at Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe. My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is a strikingly honest memoir that blends investigative journalism and personal narrative to explore what it means to raise a child with special needs—Amy’s 12-year-old daughter, Sophie, has Down syndrome.

With a journalist’s heart (she is managing editor of Phoenix New Times and has twice been named journalist of the year by the Arizona Press Club), Amy asks hard questions about biology, about history, about motherhood, about discrimination, about the future, about Sophie, and about herself. Most of the time she finds the answers, but her daughter—who is a remarkable and charming girl—continuously surprises her mother by defying all expectations and refusing to be solved.

Like Sophie, My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is fearless, honest, and beautiful.

Click here to pre-order the book through Changing Hands Bookstore, which comes with two tickets to the launch party!

My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is also available for pre-order from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

About the Book:

amy's book cover

In MY HEART CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE IT, journalist, blogger, and NPR contributor Amy Silverman tells the story of the birth and growth of her daughter, Sophie, and the Down syndrome diagnosis that changed everything. Amy wrote the book she desperately wanted to read but couldn’t find, meant not just for parents of kids with Down syndrome, but rather a story for anyone touched by disability, a story about science, and a story about being different: something that all of us can certainly identify with. It’s part memoir, part investigative reporting, part parenting manual — a crash course in genetics, history, politics, pop culture, education, medicine, health care policy, marriage, motherhood and family.

About the Author:

Amy Silverman is managing editor at Phoenix New Times and a commentator for KJZZ, the National Public Radio affiliate in Phoenix. Her work also has appeared on NPR’s This American Life and in The New York Times. Amy holds a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia University. She lives in Arizona with her husband Ray and daughters Annabelle and Sophie.

Find Amy online at her website, myheartcantevenbelieveit.com.

Elizabeth: You’ve been blogging about your daughter Sophie for nearly eight years. What inspired you to begin sharing your stories, and when did you decide to turn those stories into a book?

Amy: I actually shared my stories about Sophie long before the blog came along. Around the time my first daughter, Annabelle, was born, I began to write memoir – inspired mainly by the now-defunct section on salon.com called “Mothers Who Think” as well as Anne Lamott’s work and what I was hearing on “This American Life,” the public radio show.

I did a few stories for the local NPR affiliate here in Phoenix and managed to get a couple published on Salon. Around that time I also began to teach Mothers Who Write, a local writing workshop I co-teach with Deborah Sussman (and where I met you – yay!). All the memoir stuff started to fall together; I was hooked.

Deciding to start a blog was not easy – I’m old and was not an early adapter of the Internet and all it has to offer. (To say the least.) A co-worker at New Times convinced me to start a blog with the goal of getting me to understand what the company was trying to do online. As a journalist I’d been taught to never give my work away, but I was intrigued by the idea of telling the story of Sophie’s kindergarten year. I started and haven’t stopped, although I’ve slowed down.

And as for the book, to my dismay Sophie did not come with an instruction manual. Not one I was prepared to read. Everything was either too sciency or too touchy-feely – not real.  Not my reality, anyway. (Which is not to say that there aren’t great books out there about DS – there are.) As Sophie grew, and as my shock (and awe but mostly shock, I have to admit) wore off, I began to explore what it meant to have a kid with Down syndrome in the 21st century. It felt like a book. So I pursued that.

My Heart Can’t Even Believe It combines personal narrative with investigative journalism. Can you describe your writing process? How did you approach blending these two different writing styles?

First, I had some amazing role models. If you are at all interested in the genre, I recommend The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman and Crazy by Pete Earley.

Fadiman’s book goes back and forth between a very specific narrative and some wonderfully vast political and historical perspective about the Mong people. Earley, a longtime newspaper reporter, writes about his son, who is seriously mentally ill, and then reports on what it’s like to be SMI in the Miami jail system. Different approaches, both super powerful, both moving from a specific storyline to a broader one.

I read Fadiman’s book when Sophie was in the hospital for open-heart surgery and the book really opened my (sleep-deprived) eyes to the possibility of a different kind of story telling. I’d been trained to never, ever use “I” in my writing as a journalist. Totally forbidden. On the flip side, in my other life as a memoir writer and teacher, there was no reporting.

I began to wonder what would happen if I mixed the two – and then I did, in a story for New Times when Sophie was very young. It worked for me. I was hooked, and began looking for different ways to do it more.

Along with raising two daughters, you are managing editor of Phoenix New Times, run several writing workshops a year, and blog regularly at girlinapartyhat.com. How do you balance work, family, and creative writing time?

It’s not pretty. My husband would tell you I am not very good at it. I am lucky to have a day job that has turned into a 24/7 job as journalism has changed and while that sounds like a negative, it’s been my saving grace because it means that I can slip away during the day for a kid’s school event and make the time up super early the next morning before my family wakes up.

I don’t sleep as much as I should and my closet’s a wreck but if I don’t get that creative time I’m just a miserable person to be around. And family time is not negotiable. I’m not sure that answers the question. There’s an element of smoke and mirrors as well. A lot of time in the car and on the iPhone.

When did you tell Sophie you’d written a book about her and what was her reaction?

People think this is weird and I have to agree, but I didn’t really tell ANYONE about the book until I actually signed a deal with a publisher. I am terribly superstitious (and maybe a little insecure) and at so many points I was unsure it would ever happen. So a few of my writer friends knew and that was it. I told Sophie a few months ago. She was (and continues to be) thrilled. I should hire her to be my publicist.

The first complete draft was due to my editor last fall and on the day it was due Sophie shook me awake, saying, “Your book is due today! Your book is due today!” When I dropped her off that day she instructed me to go print out a copy and leave it at the school office so she could read it. And she was disappointed when it was not available for her winter non-fiction book report project. She is very excited.

Writing memoir means asking hard questions about ourselves and answering those questions with unflinching honesty. You did that here, and the result is an extraordinarily brave and powerful memoir. What did you discover about yourself while writing this book?

I discovered how painfully naïve and uneducated I was before I had Sophie – both emotionally and intellectually. As a child of the 70s and 80s I was sheltered from people who were different from me. I didn’t meet an African American person until college. Growing up, I didn’t know any of my friends were gay.

Sophie was the first person with a developmental disability who I really got to know as a human being. I guess I knew those things before I wrote the book but putting all the pieces together and telling our story really brought it to the surface. I’m not proud of that; I have a lot of lost time to make up for.

On the book cover is a lovely photograph of Sophie. Is there a story behind the photo?

This is embarrassing. I only vaguely recall that photo. We tried several and I was going back and forth with my dear and incredibly talented friend Claire Lawton, who suggested design elements for the cover, and one day she sent a batch that included this image and I said, “Where’d you get that?” And she said, “I found it on the Internet.”

It must have been posted with something I wrote, a blog post maybe, I believe Sophie is 5 or so in the image and I recall the outfit – but not the moment. So yeah, so much for controlling your kid’s image online. Go me.

You have a launch party at Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe on May 1. After that, where can readers find you on your book tour?

Details for upcoming events are at myheartcantevenbelieveit.com in the “events” section. I’ll be at Changing Hands in Phoenix on May 7 for the Mothers Who Write Mother’s Day Weekend reunion and again May 12 for a workshop called “Writing The Memoir in Real Time.” More info about pre-ordering and ticketing is at changinghands.com.

Spring Forward

Image from Flickr by Saskia Jansen

Image from Flickr by Saskia Jansen

April is fast approaching, a month with two important dates for me that mark the end of some major projects I began last spring. One of the dates is April 29, when I will graduate from college with my bachelor’s degree in English. The other is April 22, when edits for What Was Never There will (finally!) be completed.

I can say that with confidence because April 22 is not a self-imposed deadline that I can simply extend. To graduate from my degree program, I’m required to take a capstone course for which I choose a culminating project that showcases what I’ve learned—I’ve chosen the final draft of What Was Never There as my project, and that final draft must be turned in to my instructor and classmates in six weeks.

It’s a relief, because I struggled last semester with finding time and creative energy to devote to this second book while balancing homework, and now my second book is homework. It’s also a relief because I at first assumed that my capstone project would have to be the standard 30- or 40-page research paper, and I was dreading it. In January, I learned that I could choose a creative writing project over the research paper and that it could be a work already in progress.

I’ve yet to decide whether to continue school and earn my teaching certificate. If I go that route it would only take one more year, and classes would be at the community college level. Much cheaper! I’ve dreamed of becoming a teacher since my son’s kindergarten year, when I spent a significant amount of time volunteering in his classroom. I’m well aware, however, that it is an extraordinarily tough job, and that good teachers live and breathe their work (and are vastly underappreciated). It’s definitely not a career choice to be taken lightly.

In other news, I had a lovely time reading a birthday-themed story for this year’s Canal Convergence, which was the 30-year anniversary celebration of Scottsdale Public Art. Phoenix New Times co-sponsored the storytelling event, and I was flattered when they asked me to be one of their five readers. The evening was a blast. The story I wrote is called “Still Waters,” and I hope in the near future to have it published so I can share it with those of you who couldn’t be there.

Although I haven’t had much success with my latest round of short story submissions, I received a nice surprise recently when the managing editor of Hospital Drive emailed to ask if she could include my story “The Distance Ratio” in a “Best of” print edition. Of course I said yes, and I’ll let everyone know when ordering information is available!

Finally, thanks for sticking with me these past few months as I cut back drastically on my social media-ing. Now that I’m almost done with school (SEVEN WEEKS!), I’m looking forward to posting more, including sharing some wonderful and inspiring writerly news from several friends (and one very special family member). 🙂

Other Voices

One piece of writing advice you will hear repeatedly—and with good reason—is to put aside your rough draft for a while before starting edits. This is so you can gain perspective on your work. Usually the problem is that after you write something you think it’s fantastic, maybe the best thing you’ve ever written. But sometimes it’s the opposite—sometimes you think it’s the worst.

I felt that way about my story “We Never Get to Talk Anymore.” I wrote the rough draft nearly three years ago, shelved it for a few months, and then reread it. This is terrible, I thought. No one’s going to like Myrna. No one’s going to understand her. Yet another, smaller voice was cheering for her, saying, No, this is good. Keep working on this.

Unfortunately, some stories are that way: no matter how much time you take away from them you cannot gain perspective. Back then I was still shy about asking friends to look over my work, so I struggled on my own trying to decide whether this story had any merit. After submitting it and receiving a swift rejection I felt strangely validated–I knew this was terrible!

I tweaked the story a bit, set it aside for several weeks, tweaked it some more, resubmitted it, received another rejection, and went through the whole cycle again. At no point did I feel truly confident in this particular piece. The fourth time, however, I submitted it to a magazine called YARN, and they would not only publish “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” but nominate it for a Pushcart Prize.

This story that I once thought was the worst thing I’d ever written.

Remember those competing voices in my head? What if I’d listened to the louder one? The quieter voice—the one that believed in Myrna’s story—was right. But often you won’t listen to that voice. Sometimes you won’t even hear it.

What I want to tell you is don’t be shy about sharing your work. Pick two or three writers you admire, and make them your critique partners. Listen to other voices, because when it comes to judging your work, yours can’t always be trusted.

Yes, once in a while a story will come along that perhaps wasn’t meant to be written. Or, more likely, it is simply not the right time for that story to be written. Maybe it really is a mess, completely unsalvageable. Maybe you’re right that it deserves to be permanently shelved.

But maybe you’re wrong.

The Key to Getting Through Rejections

Image from Flickr by Brenda Clarke

Image from Flickr by Brenda Clarke

This morning after dropping the kids off at school, I headed to Xtreme Bean Coffee Co., determined to catch up on the one class I’ve fallen behind in (one out of five—not bad, right?). I ducked into the dimly-lit vault (the building was formerly a bank) and planted myself in a corner, vowing that after I checked my email—just this once!—I’d focus only on reading my assigned short stories and scribbling annotations on a legal pad.

Good thing I checked my email. The instructor had sent out a notice postponing the due date for the assignment by one week. And I needed that, because what I really wanted to do today was write a blog post.

Most of you who follow me here are writers, and writers never get tired of talking about one thing—rejection. I’ve written about it before, and how rejections usually don’t bother me. But yesterday I received one that bothered me a lot, and I want to tell you why so you don’t make the same mistakes I made.

The first mistake was letting my number of pending submissions dwindle down to one. Don’t do this. It’s important to keep multiple submissions going so that you don’t pin all your hopes on one single response. There have been times when I’ve received acceptances for stories that I’d nearly forgotten were out there because I had so many circulating, and that’s a nice feeling.

My other mistake was believing that a long response time meant something. Twice I’ve had stories take longer than usual to come back, and when they did it was with personalized notes from editors encouraging me to send more, and admitting that it had taken so long because the work had been carefully considered (although ultimately turned down).

In the case of yesterday’s rejection, it took nine months to arrive, and having previously submitted to this magazine I knew they were pretty good about sticking to their ideal turn-around time of three months. So at about the half-year mark I started envisioning my little story being passed up the chain of editors, all the way to the top, and my hopes climbed too.

But sometimes the reason for a longer than usual response time is simply this: the editors are buried beneath their slush piles. When that happens it’s very likely that all you’re going to get after nine months or even a year of waiting is a form rejection. Which is what I got yesterday.

Which is okay. The key is not to wait.

In case you missed it, my short YA piece “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” was published last month in YARN, a fantastic magazine publishing literature about young adults, and also by young adults. Check it out and let me know what you think!

How Sweet the Silence

I read something the other day about how we have a better chance at accomplishing goals when we keep them to ourselves.

That struck home, because the first time I wrote a book I didn’t tell anyone. Not my kids, not my husband—not until I had a completed first draft. Back then my youngest was three years old, so it’s not like anyone was asking, “What do you do all day?”

Since that novel was published, however, I’ve struggled to write the next one. I’ve started several, and if you follow me on social media, you’ve probably heard about them, because like most of us on social media I’ve fallen into the habit of publicly announcing my hopes and dreams almost from the moment they’re envisioned.

This doesn’t work for me.

Sometimes there was good reason my plans fell through. I joined National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November 2013 ready to pen my next novel. I told everyone. And then I got content edits back for The Fourth Wall, and spent the rest of the year knee-deep in edits.

The early months of 2014 were devoted to “preparing for launch”; I’d never been through the publishing process before and had a lot to learn. But by March I thought, Okay. I’ve done all I can do and now I’m just sitting here waiting for a publication date.

So I joined Camp NaNoWriMo on April 1, ready to pen my next novel. I told everyone. And on April 2—yes, really—I received the email with my publication date. Two months away.

Now—one year later—I’m going to tell you what all authors know and most don’t talk about for fear of sounding like ungrateful jerks: once you’re published, everything becomes harder. Your reasons for writing get lost and what you swore you wouldn’t care about—the numbers—becomes all you care about. And then it’s hard to keep going, because the numbers will break you.

I didn’t bother joining NaNoWriMo this last November. Instead, I read throughout the fall and then all winter long, and when people asked me what I was working on I usually told them the truth: nothing much.

But something happened recently, on April 1, to be exact. On that day I made a last-minute decision to join Camp NaNoWriMo, ready to pen my next novel. I told no one. And I ended the month with 30,000 words toward this new book.

So, what’s my book about? I’m not telling. 😉

Not yet.

What I’ve discovered is that keeping quiet about my works-in-progress has enormous benefits for me. For example, if I’d announced on April 1 that I was starting a novel, I may have been completely deflated three days later when I realized I wasn’t writing a novel at all, but a rather long short story. Still, no one knew my original plan; I could change it and write a book of short stories if I wanted. All that mattered was that I was writing again.

So that’s what I did. Last month, I quietly wrote a book of short stories.

I know. It’s impossible to get a short story collection published unless half have already appeared in The New Yorker, or you’re famous, or whatever.

But what if I didn’t know that? Like a scrappy pilot once said while navigating an asteroid field, “Never tell me the odds.”

Or what if all that really mattered was the sense of accomplishment that comes with creating something you can be proud of? That’s where I started, and finally that’s where I’ve returned.

I’m proud of these stories, I can’t wait to tell you about them, and sometime very soon—I promise—I will.

This Is Why We Write

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Image from Flickr by creativecupcakes

On Tuesday I was treated to a presentation of The Fourth Wall by a group of 7th graders who chose the book for their quarterly language arts project.

That goes straight to the top of the list of amazing and utterly surreal moments in this author’s writing life, right up there with seeing my debut novel on bookshelves.

The kids were assigned individual and group projects; for the group project they decided to put on a talk show. One child was the talk show host, and in a series of interviews with “Marin,” “Frankie,” and “Tom,” he probed the characters with questions about each other that revealed individual strengths and weaknesses and gave insight into the plot.

Because the interviews were conducted before and after the novel’s resolution—separated by an amusing intermission—the audience could see how the characters changed and grew.

It was brilliant. The kids gave nothing away, focusing solely on the real-world aspects of the novel and leaving out the magical realism—which makes sense, as only one of these characters experiences it, and we all know Marin likes her secrets.

But Marin’s dream world is of course a vital part of the story, and the students represented this perfectly. They created a backdrop—a painting of the forest in Marin’s dreams—and displayed it on the wall behind our talk show host and his guests. So it is there all along—framing everything—yet none of the characters can see it.

Before staging the talk show, these 7th graders gave a brief overview of The Fourth Wall for the audience, including the title, tone, and theme. Their take on the theme? Letting go of the past so you can move forward.

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

A huge, heart-felt “Thank you” to Lisa Jones, 6th/7th grade Aspire Language Arts teacher at Connolly Middle School in Tempe, Arizona, and to her wonderful students, for reading my book and inviting me to watch Tuesday’s performance.

Also…thanks to everyone who came out to the Tucson Festival of Books! And a big welcome to my new subscribers. This was my first time participating in a book festival, and it was a blast. We sold a few books, handed out tons of bookmarks, and discovered organic cotton candy.

Really, that’s a thing.

Here are some pictures, and congrats to R.C. who won the giveaway for my husband’s hand-crafted feather earrings!

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Tucson Book Festival

 

Click here to purchase The Fourth Wall on Kindle