I admit it: I love to tell stories. Not lies, exactly. Fiction isn't quite a lie, is it? In every fiction there's a grain of truth, it's said. And while we're saying, let me tell you that a book I wrote a few years ago with two adorable children (who are now in preteen stage) is about to be released.
It's called, Mystery at the Phoenix Festival, and it's about two children and their parents who are traveling cross-country in an RV with their service dogs. Life is good, they are having fun, and then ... the dogs are dog-napped. The story puts some hard questions in front of the children, to be sure. The sub-plots are unnervingly timely, and I have to say that while it was fun to take their outline and develop the characters and the story, I wondered if the timeliness of the message would be lost by the time the book was actually released.
Well, as fate would have it, some things never change. People remain people, some helpful, some cruel. So the story is just as strong as it was when I wrote it two years ago. It's odd that it's release comes on the heels of my other children's book, Mystery at the Lake House. They are not part of the same series. They are not related in subject matter or even style. I do like the idea of helping children tell their stories, though -- kids are wonderfully imaginative.
If I ever run out of stories to tell, I know exactly who to ask for ideas.