Frequently Asked Questions
Q: "How do you pronounce your last name?"
A: I pronounce it "Peter-froind" (think "Freud" with an N), but if that's too hard for you, "Peter-friend" works great. That's what it means in German, anyway, and it's how my dad and grandfather pronounce it.Q: "Is there going to be a third book in the killer unicorn series (that started with Rampant & Ascendant)?"
A: Yes, someday. I don't have a title, publisher, or release date yet, though. But I promise I have not abandoned Astrid! Meanwhile, enjoy the killer unicorn short stories.Q: "How many books are in the Secret Society Girl (Ivy League Novel) series?"
A: There are four books in the series. The correct reading order is: Secret Society Girl, Under the Rose, Rites of Spring (Break), and Tap & Gown.Q: "Are you going to write any more books in the Secret Society Girl (Ivy League Novel) series?"
A: Tap & Gown is the last book in the series. (It's time for Amy and me to graduate!) If you're interested in reading further in the series, check out the free secret stories.
Category Archives: CPs
On the radio this morning, the DJ was talking about how there are now fantasy bowhunting leagues, like fantasy football leagues. How neat is that? Of course, I already have a fantasy bowhunting league. It consists of Astrid, Cory, Valerija, … Continue reading
From the comments section of the last post: “The problem with the whole CP thing is if you write very sporadically, you don’t want to try someone’s patience. I’m having that problem right now – my kind-of CP is all … Continue reading
After last week’s post, one of my critique partners who has never been within a country mile of RWA would like me to correct my earlier statement about finding critique partners through RWA and writing boards. So here I go. … Continue reading
Now that I’ve made the case for having a critique partner (CP), you’re probably wondering how to go about finding one. The bad news is that finding the perfect CP is pretty much like finding the perfect mate. The good … Continue reading