Would You Read My Book?
Who Is the Bravest in Publishing?
Who Is the Bravest in Publishing? By Ruth Thaler-Carter, “An American Editor” Ruth graciously offered to share this piece so I, too, could cheer on brave writers! — Donna We don’t usually think of writers as brave (unless they’re investigative reporters or pioneering...
Do you wonder if you have a book in you? I bet you do.
Here I share stories of real people. Some have written books. Some haven’t.
Would you read their books?
Do you wonder if others would read yours? Let’s talk about it!
What does a ghostwriter do?
What does a ghostwriter do? A good ghostwriter works with authors to create “marketable literary properties.” That’s the trade-speak for a book that sells a lot of copies. More than a great book, more than good ideas, you want a marketable literary property. No good...
The Exoneration of Bishop Carlton Pearson
The Exoneration of Bishop Carlton Pearson by Donna Mosher It might be said that Carlton Pearson launched his Gospel of Inclusion ministry at the church service featured at the end of the movie “Come Sunday,” which portrays his theological crisis after his public...
My Impossible Dream
In 1983, on my twenty-second birthday, I was diagnosed with what would become known as AIDS.
I thought I had glandular fever or a flu that kept coming back. But when a friend who had similar symptoms died very quickly, I had my T-cells checked. T-cells are a type of white blood cells that are essential for a healthy immune system. My T-cell count was 364.
The Biggest Wave in the World
I had just set the windsurfing world speed record in 1983, breaking the 30-knot barrier in Weymouth, England, but that’s not how I made my name in the sport. My fame came on a day when I was surfing alone, thanks to an eccentric and very wealthy fellow windsurfer and cover photographer for such magazines as Vogue and Life, who showed up to watch me after everyone else had left the beach for the day.
My Superpower Was My Kryptonite
About ten years ago, I began to notice a sense of incompleteness, a tightness in the pit of my stomach, a longing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It started off as a small nagging feeling that would come around only now and then. Eventually, it turned into an anxiety that wouldn’t let me sleep. No matter how hard I tried or how high I climbed, it was never high enough; I could never be enough.
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