Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
Retired trauma surgeon who wrote for much of my career as a stress reliever with no intent to publish. After retirement from surgery I began to publish.
How do you make time to write?
In the winter
Do you believe in writer’s block?
As a transitory event, yes.
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write about strong women as dating back to the Isle of Skye in the 18th century there are multiple stories of strong women in my family including my mother who earner a four year business degree in the 1930’s, unusual for men and unheard of for women.
How are you publishing your recent book and why?
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
Extrovert and not sure that it does affect my writing.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
Get off your ass and get going (directed at myself only).
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Ultimately you need to be concerned with character arcs and plot points but for the first draft just write as your cortex directs you.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
Facing the central part of the cafeteria, Kimberly could see Layla coming toward them from a corridor on the opposite side. There was a boy she didn’t recognize a few feet behind Layla. Something was not right. He had on a heavy jacket, which was weird this early in the fall. Instinctively she started to get up to find a teacher. Before her eyes, the boy disappeared in a cloud of fire, black and debris. As she ducked under the table, she saw Layla flying to their right. The explosion was sufficiently violent that the glass behind Kimberly and Allison blew out. Kimberly immediately got to her feet and began running toward the blast zone.
“Wait, Kim, don’t go there,” Allison yelled after her, “we’ve got to get out.”
Kimberly could hardly hear her but yelled, “Come on, people will need help.”
The people, kids, and teachers near them, were on their feet or sitting stunned. With Allison following, Kimberly ran to where she had seen Layla. In front of them, there was a black void where nothing was moving. Around the periphery, kids, and adults, were screaming, many people were down.
Layla was down, her body sprawled grotesquely, not moving; Kimberly squatted and felt for a pulse. There was none. Layla’s head was loosely, grotesquely, positioned on her body.
“Oh my God, she’s dead, isn’t she,” cried Allison.
“Yes,” replied Kimberly. She had never seen a dead person before, but there was no way Layla was alive. Kimberly shook her head and swallowed as she tried to process what she was seeing. Allison was sitting crying. “Come on, Allison, we’re Girl Scouts and know first aid. We can’t help Layla, but others need us.” Allison stared at her. Putting her hand out, Kimberly pulled her friend to her feet and got in her face. “Come on; we need to be useful.”
The crying girl nodded and followed as Kimberly turned to look for living victims who needed help. Within a few steps, she almost tripped over somebody.