Holy cow! It’s strange to think about, but I have been writing novels for six months. I turned out FOUR books in SIX months.

What the hell, self? That can’t be healthy.

I learned a lot. Fought off a bunch of anxiety. Lost the battle with many-a-panic-attack. Worked hard. Struggled. Stressed.

But, mostly, I’ve laughed. Writing about Trellis family interactions is a lot of fun. I started writing The Call to make myself happy in the wee hours of the morning. I published it assuming no one else woul...