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I decided I might start posting some of my book reviews on my website. Just for fun.

Die With Zero: Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life

My Review: Four Stars. I really wanted to give 5 stars, but there were too many things that I didn’t quite agree with.

Click here for a link to the book on Amazon.

Die With Zero interested me because the title seemed to go against almost everything I had been taught about money. I come from a very conservative upbringing where the message was simple: save, save, save. And in my own life, there have been times when those savings weren’t merely comforting—they were necessary. There have also been times when we saved so much that we didn’t really experience all that life had to offer.

So I tried to approach Bill Perkins’s argument with as little prejudice as possible. And while I didn’t agree with everything he had to say, I did find myself agreeing with some of his ideas.

But honestly, what is the point of having money if you never allow yourself to enjoy your life? And what is the point of life if you never really allow yourself to live it?

I agree that money is meant to be used for good. It should help our lives function, certainly, but it can also provide meaningful experiences and opportunities to connect with the people we love. Saving everything simply for the sake of saving can become its own kind of trap. There is a cost to being overly cautious. If we’re so worried about protecting ourselves from every possible future disaster that we never really live, we’ve lost something valuable too.

Where Perkins really began to lose me was when his philosophy seemed to assume a level of future financial security that not everyone will have. The idea that you shouldn’t worry too much about saving when you’re young and poor makes sense if your income eventually rises substantially. But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the rainy day actually comes, and there is no safety net.

I’ve been through extremely difficult financial times, and I know the difference between wondering how you’re going to pay for what you need and having enough money to feel secure. I don’t take that security lightly.

Perkins also discusses extremely wealthy people who will never be able to spend their fortunes and questions whether they might have been better off working less and enjoying more of their lives. Perhaps. But I also think people get to decide for themselves what constitutes a meaningful life. Some people genuinely love building businesses, creating things, or working toward enormous goals. That creativity in business can be a beautiful thing too.

For me, ultimately, I do not actually want to die with zero. That’s cutting things a little too close. I don’t want to postpone every experience until some distant future either. But I also don’t want to spend my final years worrying that I might outlive my money.

Maybe that’s what I ultimately took from this book: neither extreme appeals to me.

Saving everything while continually postponing life isn’t much of a life. But spending as though the future will necessarily take care of itself doesn’t feel wise either. Somewhere between those two extremes is a balance—enough security that we aren’t living in fear of tomorrow, but enough willingness to spend our time and money that we aren’t afraid to live today.

Actually live. Go out and experience all that life has to offer. Interestingly, that’s also the big takeaway I got from another book, After by Dr. Bruce Greyson.

I didn’t agree with Bill Perkins on everything, but he certainly made me think. And perhaps that’s one of the best things a book like this can do.

That title might sound dramatic, but it’s completely true.

My husband and I drove to Cadbury Castle hill fort on Sept. 2, 2025. We had just finished a wonderful tour of Stonehenge. Having studied the navigation in advance, we knew it would take a few hours to get to the hillfort from Stonehenge, as there are no quick roads. England is full of tiny, hedged roads that look like they are barely wide enough for one vehicle (by American standards), and yet they are meant for two-way traffic. Needless to say, we did not drive very fast.

Our GPS had been prepared in advance, the route determined while still in the USA, just to be sure that we didn’t miss anything. And yet, when we arrived at the spot where the GPS said, “Arrived,” there was nothing there but a tiny dirt trail that looked like it belonged to the farmer, not the general public.

My husband doesn’t love hiking, so, as usual, he decided to stay with the car while I got out to investigate and walk the trail.

There were a lot of cows. That’s what really struck me once I got up the short burst of hillbank and onto the main pasture.

Now, my mother grew up on a ranch, and as a child, my family would go out for two weeks each summer. There we would enjoy life as if it were still, almost, frontier times. I had seen a lot of cows in those years of childhood. I had seen them up close, at a distance, in the corral, in the milk shed. I was not afraid of cows.

But… these were not my family’s cows. I was not on my family’s land. And I had not yet come to fully understand the do’s and don’ts of the English countryside, especially when it comes to venturing into traditional sites and whatnot.

I determined those cows would not stop me. After all, the tiny sign had said that this was indeed the path to Camelot. So I walked toward that barbed-wire fence with confidence, knowing I had been an expert at climbing through them as a teenager.

What I did not anticipate was that… I’m old now.

I thought I had cleared the barbed wire when, in fact, I had not. The wire caught my favorite jacket—down-filled, black, beautiful, and perfect.

Rip.

Now there were feathers flying out behind me, and my favorite jacket was ruined. And not only that. The cows began to bunch tighter and tighter together on the path in front of me, totally blocking the trail that ascended the hill.

Cold, damp, frustrated that I was scared of a few cows—my younger self would have slapped one or two on the butt and hollered for them to get out of the way. But my older, more-polite-even-to-cows self was too shy.

That honestly sounds soooooo dumb. What a chicken I was.

So I walked back to the car, and we drove down the lane looking for angles to get pictures of the hillfort, all the while my jacket was bleeding feathers.

Down feathers. Fine. Floating. Get-in-your-hair-and-up-your-nose feathers.

Thankfully, we found a lovely parking place that was actually meant for the hillfort and walked up the opposite side.

When we reached the top, it was glorious. I had not settled on an ideal location for Camelot, but I had done my research online. Everyone says that this is the spot, and it’s for a reason. As I ascended the hill, I knew the road to Camelot was perfect for my book. But when I reached the top of the hill fort, I was stunned. It truly looked like I had imagined my Camelot. It was more authentic than all the other sites we had seen so far. And it remained the undisputed perfect site, even after hiking all over Southern England.

But the most important moment for me was when I walked toward the northern wall and realized what I was seeing.

Avalon.

Camelot and Avalon are only 11 miles apart.

I determined to spend the rest of my research efforts on the history of the hill fort, specifically the Iron Age. I knew a lot about Cadbury Castle before I arrived. But after seeing it in person, walking it over and over—we went back three times—I knew this was the place.

I also knew something else. I had to include reality in my books. Feeling the air, the wind, the smells… Camelot had become real, and I had to make that reality part of the series.

My coat was destroyed. I tried to repair it with a sewing kit. My first attempt—the feathers kept peeking through. My final attempt—the feathers stayed inside, but the stitching was visible. I was sad. I gave the coat away.

Honestly, though, I still miss the coat.

BUT… would I do it again? Sacrifice the coat to find Camelot?

Absolutely.

Last August/September (2025), my husband and I went to England to do research for The Forgotten Queen Trilogy. We rented a car, knowing that driving would be a bit of a challenge.

That was an understatement.

I could not get the hang of driving in England, which I did NOT expect to happen. Thankfully, my husband was a good sport and did all the driving for the weeks we were there.

It was like a dream to see things in person that I had only researched online. And the English love their history, so there’s a lot to see.

We drove all over the southern half of England, literally hitting as many villages and historical sites as possible. Which, by the way, there are no fast roads to get from Stonehenge to Cadbury Castle anyhow. Some of the roads are so narrow that barely one car can fit through at a time—and yet they’re two-way roads.

Don’t ask me how the lorries manage.

It was an intense trip, but so worth it. The people were kind, the places were fascinating, and the weather didn’t bother me a bit—except for when I got caught in a torrential rainstorm while hiking the cliffs near Tintagel.

Three miles in sheets of rain. Needless to say, I was soaked clear to my bones, and it took me several hours to get warm again.

However, I grew up in Seattle, so I’m quite at home in the rain. I was even glad of it. And it did rain a lot, especially in Cornwall.

Another reason England was so fascinating to me is because this is where many of my ancestors lived. More than half of my DNA ancestry estimate is English; the rest is Danish and Swedish. Going to England felt a little like looking through my ancestors’ eyes.

I found myself feeling totally connected to the land, as if long-ago grandparents were pointing out places for me to see, saying, “Don’t forget to look over here.”

Perhaps that’s part of why I’ve always been so fascinated by English history.

It wasn’t our first trip to England, but it was different this time. We were out walking, hiking, searching for Camelot… for Avalon.

Glastonbury Tor was everything I hoped it would be.

What surprised me was discovering that you can see Avalon from the top of the Cadbury Castle hillfort. I didn’t realize that until I was there.

I had hiked to the top of Cadbury Castle and turned around.

And there it was.

Avalon.

The home of my main character.

The place everyone has heard of, but no one realizes was named after my heroine… until you read the books.

Avalon is the forgotten queen, but once you read her story, you will never forget her.

And I will never forget England.

I would very much like to go back.

In the meantime, I frequently revisit this image that I took while walking the Road to Camelot.

Note: The keyboard songs are copies from the original show (2003). They may or may not have the correct titles labeled on them.

ACT ONE

1. Overture – following this song, the orchestra immediately begins “I am Laman/I am Nephi”

5. Scene Change 1 to 2

8. Scene Change 2 to 3

10. Scene Change 3 to 4

15. End Act One – play with the orchestra

ACT TWO

16. Up Act Two

21. Change Scene 6 to 7

24. Change Scene 7 to 8

26. Change Scene 8 to 9

28. Scene 9