I consider myself a fiction writer. Currently I spend my days drafting devious plots and killing people (in books and stories). I’ve dabbled in romance, and am noodling around with a paranormal plot.
My adult writing life began with none of these. It began with responding to a call from Chicken Soup for the Soul. They were seeking essays on—dare I say it—menopause. This was back in the days when Jack Canfield was involved with the franchise and Soup books were on everyone’s gift list. That was followed by a sale to the Cup of Comfort series. In my case, Cup of Comfort for Cat Lovers. Both books were published in 2008 and they gave me the confidence to think I could do this writing thing I loved so much.
I soon morphed into fiction writing and then life, and a fuller than full-time job got in the way. It’s been a while since I’ve published anything new. Been writing, just not moving ahead from there. With the arrival of the pandemic, my day job departed. I returned to full-time writing. Here’s the deal with that: 1) it takes a while to write a book 2) writing is like a muscle. Use it or lose it. Oh, it comes back, but I’m the first to admit that my initial drafts were hot messes. I’m getting better now. And having fun again, but I admit to an initial crisis of confidence.
The Cup of Comfort series is now a Simon & Schuster imprint. They may do submission calls, but I wasn’t able to find any. Chicken Soup, on the other hand, has a robust webpage, and it lists multiple submission calls. One topic, Believe in Angels appealed more than the others. I had been touched by an angel when I was in college. The episode probably saved my life. I wrote the essay in one sitting. A few months later, I received an email accepting my essay. The book is releasing on Monday, and if you are so inclined, you can order your copy here. Truly, a cause for celebration!