If there’s anything you should know about how I write, it’s that I am a cheater. I have cheat sheets. Loads and loads of cheat sheets. You might be surprised when I say this, but learning to write (well) is almost like learning another language. The language of capturing EXACTLY what you mean.

Whatever I’ve learned about writing has been from studying books and blogs, and with the help of the variously aspiring and successful authors in my critique groups. I had an idea for a book I couldn’t get out of my head, and have been trying to teach myself to write it. I didn’t go to university. I travelled. I bartended in Australia. I lived the life I wanted to, and then became the stay-at-home matriarch to a tribe of blonde-haired littlehellionsCHERUBS, the youngest of which will be starting kindergarten *gasp* thisfall.

Because I didn’t go to university, my cheat sheets have become my text books, my…