Before I started writing SUCH A PRETTY FACE, I asked myself, ‘What would it be like to lose 170 pounds?’ For years I was a freelance writer for The Oregonian. I wrote about homes, home décor, people, events, and fashion. When I started freelancing I had three kids under the age of five. I was buried in diapers, the housework was crushing, and I rarely slept like a normal human. I tried to remember to brush my hair. My most glorious of days occurred when I realized I did not have spit up on my shirt. My three little sweethearts were dear and wonderful, and oh, how I loved them and their sweet smiles, but the Role Of Mommy was all encompassing. I felt myself, I felt Cathy, slipping away, down a rocky cliff, out into the shark-filled ocean, no life raft or calm and serene, pineapple – filled deserted island in sight. Until I started working as a freelance writer. Freelance writing gave me something else to think about. It gave me an identity. It gave me something to do that I loved doing – write. I had a new, part – time job, complete with interviewing and photo…

I have 15 days to go. Fifteen days until my deadline for my next book, Henry’s Sisters. This means that – except for a short jaunt to drop a kid off at school on the east coast – I will spend most of my other days muttering to myself, half-crazed, almost sleepless, and teetering on desperate. I will talk to my characters out loud. They will talk back. They will throw things in my mind and screech and use poor language and make me laugh. I will laugh out loud at inappropriate times at my characters. I will try to avoid this inappropriate laughter during church. It is most likely I will be in pajamas until 4:00. I won’t wash my hair much and I’ll probably smell stale. I will eat too much and gain weight, that is a given. I will be edgy and mentally hyperventilating. This is typical for deadline time and I am almost used to this rollicking insanity. When the book is turned in I will go and drink. No, not bottles of rum, you silly. We’re talkin’ decaffeinated mochas with piled up whip cream. I love to write and I love to read. If my…