The first day of the writer’s conference, my daughters and I crowded onto the elevator with several other conferees making their way to the morning keynote session. Fifteen-year-old Holly and 17-year-old Leilani were the only teen attendees that year. “I just love to see expiring new writers,” spoke up an elderly lady. She nodded and smiled at my daughters. Of course, she meant to say aspiring. Not expiring. I think. Quick-witted Holly didn’t miss a beat. “You must mean my mom.” During the process of writing 29 of my own books and many titles for clients in addition to countless…

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