I’m a little bit dumbfounded that I can get nostalgic about writing a book that hasn’t even been published, yet. But the other day I was glancing through some old files and came across a photograph of my previous office, the place where I began writing Secret Sex Lives: A Year on the Fringes of American Sexuality. As I stared at that old photo and was reminded of those first days of research, I got verkle
Apparently Investigation Discovery network has aired again the Deadly Sins episode about Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc, and Justin Thomas, a love triangle that resulted in murder and was the focus of my book Wasted, because my blog is being slammed with hits due to searches for Regina and Kim. After the first airing, I promised to provide you with additional photos, which I’ve failed to do because I’ve gon
Dear Friends of Investigation Discovery: I had no idea how many of you would be hitting my blog looking for additional information on Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc, Justin Thomas and Wasted. I apologize for not updating this blog in anticipation of that. Rest assured that I will update it ASAP with photos and links to additional information. Unfortunately, I’m on deadline for my next book, Secret Sex Lives. In
Today’s the day after Christmas. It’s a day I should be writing my year-end blog where I tell you what wonderful things happened in 2011 and how joyous and grateful I am. And for those of you who haven’t been keeping up with me through Twitter or Facebook (since I haven’t been very good at blogging this year), wonderful things have happened in 2011. In May, I finally finished the sex book. In July, my publisher
As you may have noticed, I’ve been more than lax in my blog posts since last spring. At first I was too busy with the sex book to think about blogging. Then, after I turned in the manuscript on May 1, I was just plain all “wrote out.” The book took everything I had to give, emotionally and physically. More than three months later, I’m still all “wrote out.” I can barely tap out a word. But I feel I owe you a fe
In 2001, when I first started covering the story of Andrea Yates, the Houston mother who drowned her five children, I read every article on the case I could find. I thought the most touching writing came from a reporter for the Los Angeles Times. I contacted her to tell her how beautiful and emotional her work was. If I recall correctly, I told her she should be the one writing the Yates book, not me. Her writing
Didn’t they know that I wanted to be happy, I wanted to think clearly, I wanted to work and be an adult like others my age? I wanted, I wanted, I wanted and I thought it would never come. I’m glad I was wrong.