I did something yesterday I haven’t done in a very long time: I took myself out on a date. A movie date, to be precise. I had been hard at work on my current manuscript (the second in my new paranormal series) and by early afternoon I was feeling restless and more than a little brain dead. “Cabin fever,” my husband said and he was right. And we both knew the cure. I jumped in the car, rattled over the back roads between our house and the new movie theater in town, and got there just in time to buy myself a Diet Coke and a small popcorn before the previews started. I settled down in an aisle seat, feeling that delicious shiver of anticipation I always get when the lights dim and the candy bars on the screen start dancing. (Okay, so I’m easily entertained. What can I say? I’m a writer. I don’t get out much.) The funny thing is I wouldn’t recognize a Manolo Blahnik if I tripped over one. My favorite sweater is almost twenty years old and I’m fifty-seven. I’d rather spend my money on yarn and books. And I married the first boy I…

Dating is hard. I mean, way harder than writing a book. Way harder than getting published. Even harder than walking in five inch stilettos. Mostly, I’m convinced, due to the inordinate amount of frogs out there trying to pass themselves off as Prince Charming. Some of my recent forays into Toadville: a man who, after three weeks of dating, admitted to me he was actually married, a guy who committed a felony (While on a date with me! Hiding from the cops – not my idea of foreplay.), a man who learned English from watching old Seinfeld reruns (If everything in your life relates back to Kramer, you have a problem.), and Hairy. Nope, I didn’t spell that wrong. The man was a walking wookie. But, the one that capped it all off, my favorite amphibious fellow, the man with one leg. That’s right, just the one. Not one to discriminate (Hey, love comes in all shapes, right?), I went out with him anyway. Until he dumped me. That’s right folks, I was dumped by the guy with one leg. See, what I mean? Dating is really hard. So, as I set out to write my latest story, I’ll admit,…