Drama isn’t just the stuff of my fiction, it’s the story of my life. Case in point: two days ago, I’d just posted on Instagram when I realized to my horror I’d accidentally (don’t ask!) tacked a list of my passwords onto the post. I instantly deleted it, of course. I wasn’t aware it had gone out on Twitter and Facebook until I got a phone call from my sister-in-law, Doretta, in California. It’s not enough I have to worry about hackers in the Ukraine—oh no, way too tame for yours truly— I had to post my passwords on the Internet. Hours later, when I finally staggered off to bed after changing all my passwords, it was only to toss and turn with nightmares of Ukrainian hackers. My decision to go indie after decades of being traditionally published began in similar grand fashion. It dates back to an incident that occurred before there even was an Internet to speak of.  When my second novel, SUCH DEVOTED SISTERS, came out in the 1980’s, it happened to coincide with the fatwa on Salman Rushdie, with whom I shared the same publisher at the time. Everyone involved with the Rushdie novel had received…