My novel Dearest has been released, good reviews are trickling in, yet I find myself a little bit nervous. You’d think after twenty successful years in the writing business I’d be oozing with confidence, but the truth is I’m eating peanut butter out of the jar to soothe my angst. For twenty years I’ve written and published nonfiction and have received many kudos for my work. But Dearest is my first novel, and I feel as if I’ve just plopped my newborn into a daunting, unknown world. The one good thing about being a seasoned writer is the thick skin that one must develop in order to survive in a tough business. And when I take my face out of the peanut butter jar, I remember that I have that thick skin. I made it as a nonfiction writer because I believed in my work, I listened to people who knew more than I did, I accepted rejection while constantly honing my craft, and I forged ahead. I’ve done the same as a novelist, and now Dearest is out there. I’m very excited along with being very jittery. I also love being a novelist and know, as long as there is peanut butter, I will continue to forge ahead.