This is the long version of my writing history, long and rambling and not especially interesting, but it’s me.

As careers go, I tend toward those that pay little to nothing. Raising puppies was one of my early choices. Puppies are such happy, magical little creatures, always glad to see you and couldn’t care less how you look. And there’s nothing quite like puppy breath. What is it they say? The only love money can buy? However, letting innocent, loving puppies go to strangers is hard. What if they aren’t loved and cared for properly? What if they’re mistreated? I have a vivid imagination. So I wrote off raising puppies.

Then I wanted to be an artist. In high school I thought I was pretty good, but when I got to college and ran into some serious talent (alas, it was all in others), it became clear that Corot and Pissarro could rest easy--they had nothing to fear from me. Technical illustration did suit me, but back then it was a man’s field. That’s how Patricia turned into Ellis; my resume was much more appealing when my gender wasn’t immediately apparent. Ellis is my name, just not my first name. Besides, I like Ellis.

Gradually I switched to editing.

At Fluor, where I was an editor, I morphed into writing training materials. What a job! I loved it. Actually getting paid to write, even if it wasn’t fiction. I learned a great deal about writing as well as papermaking, building automobiles, and chemical processes. All of it was interesting. I traveled, met some great people, and enjoyed my work.

Writing was always there. My parents used to play poker with friends and all the kids were sent to another room to entertain themselves. Quietly. We told stories to each other, and once we learned to write, we wrote them. Mine were about horses, dogs, or some sort of theft--jewels, race horses, artifacts of some sort. Murder hadn’t entered the picture yet.

All through school I wrote stories. My teachers encouraged me to write, but it never seemed possible to make it a career. I’ve heard there are only about three hundred people in the United States who make a good living at it. Most have day jobs or supporting partners or they saved enough in another profession.

Then I took a creative writing class from Scott Regan. He offered practical, hands-on advice and inspired us all. The class met on Wednesday evenings, and I stayed up half the night writing afterwards. He gave me the key to turning a kernel of an idea into a book. I took his class three times and would take it again if he were still here.

So over the next eight years, I worked on Haunting Refrain. Sometimes I’d get discouraged and put it aside for a year or more, but then I’d go back to it. Finally, on a significant birthday, I realized it was now or never, and I finished it. Then I set about selling it. Whoever said ignorance is bliss was probably a fledgling novelist. But after about twelve rejections from agents (little did I know), I got lucky and found Silver Dagger Mysteries. I met the editor at conference and she said to send her three chapters--probably just to stop my rambling, garbled pitch. But SD took it and I was overjoyed. My experience with HR showed me how little I really knew  (and still don't know), but overall it was gratifying and positive. I wouldn’t trade it. Through the book, I met so many terrific people, authors, readers, all sorts. I did book signings, conferences, workshops, talks, the whole deal. For an introvert, promotion is not easy, but it gets better as you go.

Conferences are expensive, but the value is in meeting people and networking. The return on investment isn’t measurable--believe me, it’s not in the number of books you sell.

What I do like is teaching, and for a couple of years I taught elements of fiction at a local community college. The students were interesting and fun and I learned from them as much as I taught. It took many hours a week though, and I ended up making about $3 an hour--my non-profit tendency at work again.

Cold Comfort is sitting on my shelf. I don’t know if it will ever go anywhere. It’s another romantic suspense, but a little harder-edged than Haunting Refrain--moving toward an R rating. At least a dozen beginnings and a few half-done manuscripts lurk in my computer. Maybe one day . . .

I’ve just published The Peeper with my friend Jim Christopher. He’s really Supercop and I sometimes think he has magical powers. Working with him was quite an experience: fun, hard work, and meeting characters I love, especially Elliott. This one’s definitely an R.

What it all comes to is that I’m still in love with writing and couldn’t quit if I wanted to. I still can’t support myself on fiction, but there’s always hope.