I grew up halfway between Disneyland and the beach with a book in one hand and a transistor radio in the other.

I started writing fiction during the “chick lit” craze. Real Women Wear Red was my answer to the height of all those pink covers. We had just moved to Florida after meeting my father for the first time. I sat out on the Lanai with my laptop, all lathered up with Hawaiian Tropic sunscreen, listening to Jimmy Buffet, and wrote, so inspired by the tropics and this unusual meeting.

RWWR was my third novel and the first to acquire a literary agent. In fact, my agent said my writing had a “poetic, almost lyrical rhythm” to it. It also garnered my first publishing contract and remains my bestseller.

After my uncle said, “Welcome to the family; now that you know you’re a Holmes, you’re going to want to pay attention to music” I began pondering what my agent meant by saying that my writing had a  “poetic, almost lyrical rhythm” to it.

Music had always been my first love. Should I be pursuing music in some way? Poetry? I’d heard that my grandmother had written poetry so I started with that. But my grandfather, uncles, cousins, nephews, etc., were all musicians. So after writing Real Women Sing the Blues where Robin longs to ditch her corporate life for singing the Blues, I decided it was time to pursue music for real, instead of just through fiction.