Kathleen Maher

My fiction belongs to no genre and often the characters and consequent plot surprises me. I often write 20 pages, and after several rewrites have one worth keeping. When I've finished a manuscript, I put it away for months that become years. If the story pops to mind after I've almost forgotten it, I rewrite it a few more times.

Obviously, I wouldn't do this if I didn't love writing fiction and rewriting fiction. When I put one manuscript aside, I begin another.

Currently I have a novella,"Underground Nest" in e-format, available wherever fiction in e-format is sold. Also available is a novel, "Diary of a Heretic," in both e-format and in paperback. Follow the links for reviews, descriptions, and a chance to buy one.

For at least five years now, I have wanted to publish my novel, "The Vitruvian Man." The title, I admit, is obscure. The picture is not. The Vitruvian Man is the name of Leonardo da Vinci's famous drawing of a man circled and squared.

Various obstacles have delayed me getting this published. The novel remains in limbo.

For the last two years, I've been writing serial fiction on my site, titled for now

"James Bond and the Girls of Woodstock."

Although, I know the whole story, I'm ending the series halfway through--soon--because it needs another approach. Also, the serial has almost no following. It might have done better if I posted once a week, as I did at first.

My father died last year and grieving too over. I can't rush that (or anything) without unraveling. My first memory is my father read "Pied Beauty" to my sister and me, wide-awake in our cribs. The first line to the poem is "Glory Be to God for dappled things." My relationship with my father was very dappled. We shared the brightest moments and some very dark ones. I wouldn't (probably couldn't have it any other way.