KATHRYN R. BIEL: AUTHOR

The year was 1989. I was a mere 13 years old, babysitting for the next door neighbors while they had a night out on the town. The kids were safely tucked in their beds, and I put on the TV. Just in time to catch the beginning of the second half of Gone with the Wind . I'd never seen this movie, but I'd been aware of the book for years, as a battered copy sat on my mother's bookshelf. Ok, so it's a bit more battered, but yes, this is it. When I got home, I told my mother and had all sorts of questions. What happened with Ashley? Did he tell Scarlett he would marry her? My mom, ever the dedicated reader, was disappointed that I saw the movie first. It was then that this battered, 862-page classic became mine. So I read it. Twice. And then I saw the movie. And then I bought a copy of the screenplay while on vacation. Luckily, it was the 50th anniversary of the movie, so there was lots of memorabilia available. And then my mom began getting me the plates from t...

Four years ago, I began my journey as an independent author. Four years ago, as I chaperoned my daughter's Kindergarten field trip, I anxiously checked my phone and waited for those first few sales to start. I had a goal. I had to sell 4 books to re-coup the cost I'd spent on the cover (yes, can you believe I paid money for that first awful cover). I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. My book was woefully unedited. I had it edited. I changed the cover. I published a paperback, making it somehow real. I started writing my second book. And I waited. It didn't sell much. More than the 4 books I needed, but not much more. Then I learned. I networked, I listened, I worked. I wrote. And I wrote. And I wrote. In the 4 years since Good Intentions  was published, I've released 9 titles (8 novels and 1 novella). I hope by the end of this year to have 10 novels out. And I wouldn't be here without the support of so many. No man is an island, and certainly no one in...

It's a beautiful, sunny day. The windows are open, the kids are outside playing. The winter coats are hanging up. It's 60 degrees ... in February. Before I can even question this gift that Mother Nature is bestowing, I'd best get to my point. After about eight or so years of threatening to work on our basement, my husband has actually started it. Long story short--we had a finished basement. Due to the incompetency of our contractors ten years ago, we lost it, having to gut it down to the walls and floor. The rebuilding process has not been speedy. In the meantime, that area has become a dumping ground and storage area. For the past six weeks, my husband has been cleaning out, which included several dump runs. Now, mind you, I've been asking him to get a dumpster for years because I knew we couldn't start work without cleaning out first. It doesn't matter who suggested it. All that matters is that it's getting done. Except now my husband wants me to move...

I had the best weekend. It was a weekend of nothing that meant everything. Of course, there was the usual--soccer, religion, laundry, grocery shopping. Sunday dinner at my folks' house. In many ways it was unremarkable. But in this ordinary way, it was totally unremarkable. Friday night started with a dinner out--just the four of us--to The Cheesecake Factory. The kids had given us gift cards there for our anniversary (thank to a little help from Grandpa). I was too sick at the time of our anniversary to use them, so Friday was perfect. Spared me from cooking; changed up the routine from pizza. It was a pleasant dinner, even with my daughter telling jokes that took about five minutes to deliver. In case you were wondering, a joke with a five minute set-up is not worth the punchline. But it was a pleasant dinner. The only time electronics were used were to Google some facts that had been under discussion. There was a cat drawing contest (Sophia won for anime, I won for realistic),...

A year ago tonight, we got the call that my uncle (and godfather) lost his battle to esophageal cancer. Prior to his diagnosis 19 months earlier, he'd been the picture of health. One of the best things I can say about him is the absolute passion and zeal with which he lived his much too short life. The list of his accomplishments is extensive, but tonight I want to share a story about this great man. My uncle loved to garden. Each spring, he planted thousands  of seedlings. At one time, he had three gardens going, in addition to tending the church garden. Among many other things, growing food from the earth was certainly a passion that he shared. As such, he was a wealth of knowledge about all things plants and was the guy we asked whenever we had a question. When Sophia was in pre-school (I think 4 year-old, but it could have even been 3 year-old), they read the story of Johnny Appleseed. Her wheels are always turning, and she started pilfering apple seeds to plant because ...