Until April 2011, I thought I would always live in and write about the Pacific Northwest, as I had since 1984. Life, however, likes its little surprises, and so my husband and I, along with our two corgis and four cats, are now proud residents of St. Paul, Minnesota.

For the first time in 25 years I’ve seen dazzling fall foliage instead of a landscape dominated by evergreens, and am learning to stop looking for mountains and the ocean, and start looking instead at lakes and rivers. We live in a neighborhood with sidewalks and a fabulous coffee shop, and flinch a little less each time we hear our former home state pronounced Or-ee-gone. It’s okay--we’re undoubtedly mispronouncing names here left and right. It all evens out in the end.

I do wonder how long it will take me to set a
book here, after staging Hannah’s Dream,
Seeing Stars, Going to Bend and Homesick
Creek primarily, if not entirely, in the Pacific
Northwest. I have no doubt that it’s going
to happen. It’s only a question of when.

In the meantime I’m getting the chance
to introduce new friends, acquaintances
and book group members to my work.
What could be better than that?