I’m laughing. Ha, ha, heh, heh.
She’s not.
Silence.
Uh. Hullo?
Lull of silence continues at the other end of the line.
I often feel like these reindeer, trying to fly but falling flat on my face.
I’m interviewing nationally-known author Debbie Macomber (pronounced like cucumber her publicist informed me). I’m writing a feature article for our local newspaper about an annual festival held in Port Orchard, Washington, which is the real-life setting for Macomber’s novels. At the time of the phone interview, six or seven years ago, Macomber had sold over sixty-million books. A fact the city of Port Orchard celebrates. Thus, the festival. Although I personally hadn’t read Macomber’s books, I had read of her determination to make it as a writer. In the face of financial hardship, she persevered until she sold her first book. I recall her telling me during the interview that it took her twenty years to become an overnight success.
