You need to get down among the people who are the dirtiest and dustiest, and the depravity, and you need to see Christ's light shining there.

My characters are not plastic.

The death of a friendship was usually slow and insidious, like the wearing away of a hillside after years of too much rain. A handful of misunderstandings, a season of miscommunication, the passing of time, and where once stood two women with a dozen years of memories and tears and conversation and laughter—where once stood two women closer than sisters—now stood two strangers.

Readers need to see themselves between the lines of the story.

Friends don't get jealous of each other or begrudge the other for finding success. They celebrate every victory together.

You need to get down among the people who are the dirtiest and dustiest, and the depravity, and you need to see Christ's light shining there.

Real love never fails.