After  nearly six years of nose -to-the-grindstone in Darfur and daily work on my second novel (an effort that felt much like digging a well with a teaspoon), I’m resurrecting my writing life.  Time to get my novel WHEN ALL THE GIRLS STOPPED SINGING out in the world.  Then I can move on to a book of short stories, a memoir the years tromping around in dangerous places trying to fix egregious messes, and my third novel, a raging farce.  I’ve become a writer in a hurry.