![]() I finally realized no publisher was going to buy my fiction. I wrote two other novels, a YAF ghost story called The Blue Hour and another novel about a friendship between two young girls - one black, one white. We don't know what to do with it, they said to my then-agent, who said to me, "If you were unknown they'd snap it up in a second." Great. ![]() ![]() I got rave reviews from publishers for the book, but none bought it. I began this novel then, foolishly believing a publisher would let me break out of the box they had put me in: Reagan daughter writing about her family, either fictionally or truthfully. About twelve years ago I heard strangers talking about two sisters-in-law who fell in love and divorced their husbands. Till Human Voices Wake Us was one of those stories. They're the stories that find you, that ask you to simply grab on, aim for the stars, and explore the filmy side of the moon. They're the ones that bloom from a single moment, from a dream that doesn't vanish at dawn. Every writer has stories that have nothing to do with them. What writer could resist? But I've always had other stories to tell - stories that had nothing to do with me or my family. Eight published books, more than a few having something to do with my very famous family, the Reagans. Yes, I do have a writing career - it's spanned decades.
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