It’s been seventeen years since I first published The Proviso, and a very hard ten since I put out the second edition. I can’t stop fiddling with these characters and I can’t stop feeling like I’ve missed something that will make the story richer.

My kids are grown and gone now, but not without a rough few years. Menopause has changed me in ways that have made me a stranger to myself—one I don’t like. My mother went through a medical scare that introduced a great deal of drama into my very large, previously drama-free family, which I never thought could happen. It’s not as intriguing in real life. I’m long past the pack’s age, and they are forever frozen in time.

I’m not sure I’ll write any more books. Menopause took my creativity, real life took my willingness to create trauma and drama for people who don’t exist, thereby reliving it, and my mother’s sisters took any security I had in my Dunham-like family structure and cohesion.

★    ★    ★

The current prophet/president of the church has decreed that we not refer to ourselves as “Mormons” or the church as the “Mormon church.” We are to refer to ourselves as “a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

I’m not playing that game. It’s deceptive and I’m not going to hide behind the name of a church no one knows. “Mormon” is shorthand for a cultural touchstone, and is my identity as much as “American” is. Also, you can’t tell a good “a Mormon, a priest, and a rabbi walk into a bar” joke with such a cumbersome mouthful nobody will grasp immediately.

Centering my characters’ motives around Mormonism allowed me to accomplish two goals: explain a thirty-six-year-old virgin (they exist—well, okay, they did) and put our culture out there accurately and hopefully somewhat objectively. I’ve been accused of making the church look bad, but it has its warts and I’m not afraid of it.

I have a blog post on this cooking.

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I’ve also been accused of writing porn and I’ve endured all the usual derision that genre romance usually engenders. A family member called it “your lady porn,” even though they did immediately apologize for minimizing my work. I’m largely immune to this, but sometimes I get my back up and try to defend it. I can’t. I can’t articulate why genre romance is so different from Penthouse Letters.

So, on to something I saw the other day on 𝕏.

sex is nervous system coregulation and if you think about that a little bit you’ll be a hell of a lot better at it thank me later

That statement — *”sex is nervous system coregulation and if you think about that a little bit you’ll be a hell of a lot better at it”* — is actually quite profound, both biologically and emotionally.

Here’s a breakdown in simple terms:

### What it means:

* **Nervous system coregulation** happens when two people *subconsciously help each other’s nervous systems feel safe, calm, and connected*.
* In sex, it’s not just about physical actions — it’s about *emotional attunement, presence, and mutual regulation*.
* When both partners feel **safe, seen, and synchronized**, the experience becomes much more fulfilling.

### Simple analogy:

Think of two musicians playing jazz together. If they’re not in sync, it’s noise. But if they listen, adjust, and feel each other’s rhythm — *they create magic*. Sex is like that: attunement creates harmony.

### So, how does this insight make someone better at it?

Because it shifts the focus from **performance** to **connection**. When you tune into your partner’s breath, body, tension, or comfort level — and respond with care — you regulate each other’s nervous systems. That deepens intimacy, trust, and pleasure.

Genre romance in 200 words.