Thistle Down

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I may write in isolation, but even before The Glass Dragon, I relied upon a cadre of critique partners and beta readers. The list grows longer every year and with every book. Sara, Lizzy, Maggie, Jessica, and Bob top the current list. I couldn’t do this without you.

DUSTY WATCHED A GLIMMER of light creep under the wooden mini blinds of her bedroom. The pink ballerinas on her curtains began to take form. A tiny bit of breeze crawling through the open window on this hot August morning made them flutter as if they truly danced. Like the way Dusty imagined herself dancing in the recital last spring. Only, all she and the other preschool girls got to do was bourrée and turn a bit. In her mind, she had flown around the stage like a fairy.

Dusty was five now. Next spring she’d get to really dance in the recital. And she’d let her sandy blonde hair grow long enough to pull back into a proper ballerina bun.

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