Other than being able to juggle a bit and touch my nose with my tongue, I don’t have any odd…
Author: Jennifer McMahon
A few weeks back, I gushed about my agent, so this week, I’m going off topic. I just received a…
I have a confession to make: I am a cheapskate. I shop in thrift stores. Our family car has 210,000…
Fifth grade. Danny. He had freckles and smelled like some exotic spice: cardamom or coriander. He was a foster kid…
When I was growing up, I was convinced there was a ghost named Virgil living our attic. I drew pictures…
This past week, instead of writing, I’ve been dealing with contractors — the retaining wall beside our house has fallen…
When I was a kid, I thought there was a trapdoor under my bed that led to the goblin trains.…
The day I landed my first agent, I thought I had it made. She was one of my top choices…
It’s 1985. My grandmother buys me a white Camaro with red interior. The car is hot. It has a red…
Last week, I announced to my family and friends that I was “on vacation”. “But what does that mean?” they…
