Sometimes I like to think that I lead a fabulously glamorous life. I’ve lived in New York City, San Francisco, New Orleans. I’ve traveled to Europe, Mexico, the Caribbean. I’ve partied with celebrities in the wee hours of the morning in the VIP sections of notorious night clubs. I’ve had five hundred dollar dinners which included champagne and caviar. I’ve presented workshops at romance conferences, I’m teaching an online writing workshop this month, and in August, I’ll be doing a live reading at a literary salon in SoHo. I’ve published with one of the Big 5 publishers, and my royalty checks come from their offices in London.

But the reality of my day to day existence is nothing dazzling, or exciting, or even all that interesting. I spend most of my days sitting in my roc...

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