My guest post on Wendy Ely's blog

I started writing when my kids were very young—both to escape mountains of laundry, but also to keep my sanity. After all, there’s only so much Barney a person can take and remain unmedicated. But there was one problem. There were too many voices in my head. And I don’t mean my characters’ voices, because that’s a good thing. No, I heard my mother’s voice—I knew she’d disapprove of anything above a G rating, my pastor’s voice—he’d question my saggy morals, and even—gasp—what if my kids someday saw that Mommy wrote all kinds of naughty words and shook their little heads in disappointment? I was my own worst enemy and I censored myself constantly.

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