Joan Spencer mystery novels
For a couple of years, I blogged occasionally with the other Perseverance Press authors on the Get It Write blog. One of my contributions, "Kicking and screaming and rereading my babies," tells a little about the process of turning my old books into ebooks for all those gizmos. If you like ancient history, here they... Continue Reading →
(This blog first appeared this June in Janet Rudolph's Mystery Fanfare blog.) Ours did. Fresh out of college, my birthday a week earlier the only thing keeping me from being a child bride, I married the man I’m still married to many years and two sons later.But when I was ready to marry off... Continue Reading →
Losing independence is tough stuff. It can happen to the best of us at any stage of life, and we fight it. I half-remember a cartoon in which I think Linus (or was it Sally Brown?) said, "I can tie my own" (looks down) "two shoes!" Well, right now I can’t. But hey, it’s way... Continue Reading →
For some time, one of my good writer friends has been threatening to drag me kicking and screaming into the 21st century. It’s a joke between us, but it really did take some dragging to persuade me to turn my published mysteries, at least the five to which I have all the rights, into electronic... Continue Reading →
Get It Write–not exactly the same as Get It Perfect, is it? I do the very best I can when I know something’s going to see publication and will revise till the cows come home, if I think I’m making it better. Recently, though, I’ve been coming to a whole new understanding of imperfection. About... Continue Reading →
Many years ago I heard Madeleine L’Engle say to a group of writers that the fingers are the only part of the body besides the brain with gray matter. That may not make sense to some people, but to me, a touch typist since my early teens, it made very good sense. When I’m writing... Continue Reading →
I’m not ready! Things pile up, and I keep digging myself out. Sometimes literally, as when I was moving my sister’s household into a tiny assisted living apartment last summer and then finding good homes for what didn’t fit and recycling everything else possible. One son, helping, said if she’d disposed of all the many... Continue Reading →
Back when my first mystery came out, my father sent letters to several hundred of his nearest and dearest friends, urging them to buy it. Proud? Almost as proud as when I produced his first grandson. But then, so help me, he asked me when I was going to write a real book. And I... Continue Reading →
Sara Hoskinson Frommer 