MY LIFE · My Thoughts · My Writing

The Woman Behind Hair on Fire: Celebrate Christmas in July

Larada Horner-Miller's Nine books - woman
Time Measured Out! - woman

Meet the woman, Larada Horner-Miller, behind ten books, especially Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir, as we celebrate Christmas in July. Hair on Fire is her eighth book. This article reveals the woman and her journey behind all of her books.


THE ARCHITECTURE OF

HEALING

AN ANALYTICAL PROFILE OF AUTHOR LARADA

The journey toward becoming a published author is rarely defined by a singular epiphany; more often, it is an accumulation of experiences that gradually erode the barrier between the act of living and the act of creating. For the writer known as Larada, this process spanned decades, rooted in the classroom and nurtured by the quiet observation of the world. Her transition from a middle-school language arts teacher to an independent author was not merely a change in profession, but a shift in orientation. It was a realization that the stories she had been guiding her students to uncover were, in fact, the same stories she had been carrying within herself.

To understand Larada’s approach to prose, one must understand her background as a literature instructor. For years, she operated in a pedagogical space where she wrote alongside her students, utilizing techniques popularized by authors like Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones. This was not a passive practice. By engaging in the immediate, raw act of writing, she watched her students’ attitudes shift from obligation to discovery. This experience taught her that writing is not a destination; it is a discipline. It showed her that the act of bringing thought to paper has a tangible, transformative effect on one’s worldview.

This history of teaching informs every aspect of her narrative structure today. Her prose carries the clarity of an educator who understands how to communicate complex emotional states to a broad audience without resorting to intellectual gatekeeping. She treats her books as environments where the reader is invited to explore alongside her, much like the students she once guided.

Larada’s bibliography defies the traditional urge to categorize an author by a single medium. Her work flows fluidly between reflective prose and moving poetry, a duality she treats as a natural extension of her internal state. She does not make a conscious decision to write in one format over another; rather, she allows the subject matter to dictate the form. For Larada, poetry acts as the bedrock of her creative output. Her first book, This Tumbleweed Landed, set the stage for a trajectory that would eventually lead to the extensive five-book poetry series, Time Measured Out.

In these works, she treats poetry as a vehicle for transparency. Where long-form prose might require the slow buildup of a narrative arc, her poetry captures the immediacy of a specific moment. It is a method of making the ephemeral permanent-a way to freeze a feeling or an observation so that it can be examined and shared. This poetic sensibility bleeds into her longer prose as well, giving her writing a rhythmic, measured quality that is uncommon in contemporary fiction.

A global perspective permeates Larada’s work, influenced by a lifestyle defined by travel and an active resistance to the sedentary nature of traditional writing routines. Her immersion in Spanish language studies at the university level provided her with a gateway to magical realism, a framework that has become a recurring motif in her aesthetic. This was solidified during a trip to the Mayan ruins of Coba in the Yucatan Peninsula in 1986.

Walking the jungle paths, she observed the scene with a writer’s eye: an iguana on a ledge, the ruins rising out of the dense jungle foliage, and the buzzing of bees around orchids. This was not merely scenery; it was a catalyst for temporal collapse. When she later captured this in poetry, the lines felt less like a recollection and more like a ritual. She was no longer a summer traveler; she felt as though she were participating in the history of the site in 900 A.D. This realization-that words have the capacity to make a moment transparent and alive-cemented her commitment to the craft of imagery.

When Will Papa Get Home? - woman

In her historical fiction, such as When Will Papa Get Home?, Larada engages in a delicate act of invention. The narrative was rooted in the oral histories of her childhood, yet she introduced a protagonist, Maria, who was entirely fictionalized. The work’s success is defined by how easily the line between fact and fiction was blurred for those closest to the author. When a family member, who served as a primary reader, questioned the identity of Maria, convinced she was a real person from their past, the success of the project was solidified.

This anecdote underscores Larada’s objective: to construct worlds that feel inevitable, even when they are built from nothing. She does not aim to recreate the past with academic precision; she aims to recreate the *emotional truth* of the past. By doing so, she invites the reader to project their own experiences onto the page, making the story a collaborative effort between the author’s construction and the reader’s memory.

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of Larada’s current output is her commitment to the genre of auto-fiction. She approaches her writing as a vehicle for healing, not merely for herself, but as a roadmap for her readership. Her advice to aspiring writers is urgent: do not wait. Having published her first book in her late 50s, she speaks with the clarity of one who recognizes the finite nature of time. She is currently deep in the process of her 11th manuscript, an auto-fiction project that she characterizes as the most grueling of her career.

This manuscript fictionalizes a deeply vulnerable part of her own life story as an incest survivor. It is a project she began in 2016, allowed to rest for a decade, and returned to only when the emotional distance was sufficient to navigate the material. This commitment to the most difficult subject matter is the core of Larada’s philosophy. She argues that growth is always possible, even in the center of deep loss or trauma. Her work is an invitation to resist the pull of negativity and to find spiritual grounding in the midst of hardship. If a reader closes her books and walks away with nothing else, she hopes they carry the conviction that transformation is not an event, but an ongoing, accessible process.


The woman behind all ten books is exposed here. Hopefully, you view this woman differently after reading this article.

Larada Horner-Miller, the Woman
Larada Horner-Miller, the Woman

Professional Reader

Alliance of Independent Authors

My Newest Books

Time Measured Out!: Navigating Life’s Journey Through Poetry, Book #2 e-book

ISBN – 9798989688654

$3.99 for limited time

is my truth universal? book cover

Is My Truth Universal?: A Woman’s Poetic Odyssey e-book

ISBN – 979-8989688623

ALWAYS FREE

Was It a Dream? book cover

Was It a Dream?: Navigating Life’s Journey Through Poetry, Book #1 – e-book

ISBN – 979-8989688630

 $3.99


Buy My Audio Books:

This Tumbleweed Landed

Let Me Tell You a Story 

Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Memoir Audiobook


[mc4wp_form id=3447]

Uncategorized

Meet Larada Today!

My name is Larada Horner-Miller and I decided it was time to do a blog.  I have been techno-savvy for years but never done a blog.

My life today after retirement rotates around my different volunteer commitments:

Secretary – Branson-Trinchera Reunion – Annual reunion in Branson, CO every year the last Saturday in June

President & WebMaster – Albuquerque Square Dance Center (ASDC) – http://www.asdc.org

Treasurer & WebMaster – Duke City Singles & Doubles Square Dance Club – http://larada.wix.com/dukecitysingles

Chairperson & WebMaster – Duke City Singles & Doubles Spring Fling Square & Round Dance Festival – http://larada.wix.com/dcssinglesfling

Chairperson & WebMaster – Hot August Nights Square & Round Dance Festival – http://larada.wix.com/hotaugustnights14

Promotions Chairperson – Single Square Dancers USA (SSDUSA)

Volunteering was a big part of my life before I retired.  What is your experience with volunteering?  Make a comment below and let’s talk about it.

 

 

My Books · My Thoughts · poetry · Ranching

Would You Like to Taste One of My Books?

            Taste one of my books, sample it, savor it! Here’s samples from three of my books. Enjoy!

Excerpt from This Tumbleweed Landed

“She Was Born Dancing!”

 On June 26, 1953, my folks left
their thirteen-month-old son with Millie,
the family babysitter,
to go to a square dance in Trinidad,
fifty miles away.
 
Mom danced one tip that night—
She was nine months pregnant
with me.
They left the dance early
feeling something was about to happen.
 
Early the next morning
Mom had labor pains
that made her stagger across the floor.
It was time!
 
The fifty-mile trip back to Trinidad
and the hospital
was made in record time.
 
At 10:30 a.m. I was born.
 
Dad went downtown
to buy celebratory cigars
and ran into a fellow dancer
from the previous night.
 
Dad announced his good news—
a new baby girl!
 
Remembering Mom at the dance
the night before,
the only comment the stunned friend
had to make was,
“She was born dancing!”
 

Copyright © 2014 Larada Horner-Miller


Excerpt from When Will Papa Get Home?

Chapter 8

Halfway through our delicious, but modest meal, the much-feared event happens. Horses approach our house in a rush of noise from men and animals. The dreaded moment arrives and catches us all clustered together in the dark corner of our small kitchen. Three unfinished meals cover our deserted table.

            Several loud men on nondescript sweaty, panting horses ride up with shouting and cussing. A brisk pounding at the door sends us further in the corner. Before Papa can open the door, this mob forces the door open. What a violent invasion of our home! Six gringos fill our small, modest house of stone and adobe with their foreign language and foreign smells. One of these invaders is the sheriff of Las Animas County.

            Peering from behind Mama’s protective full skirt, I see the sheriff, now our enemy, argue with Papa in English. Papa pleads. I don’t understand the words, but I do understand the tone of his voice and theirs. Grabbing the sheriff’s hand, he begs, pleads, and cries! And then, they laugh, a communication that crosses all languages. Their laughter overflows with power, ridicule and anger. And all this is aimed at my Papa, my hero! That laughter bounces off of our adobe walls and crashes into my head.

            The sheriff and one man get on each side of Papa and push him outside towards the corrals. The others move back to their horses, light cigarettes and stand talking. Mama and I move closer to the closed door, listening and trying to understand what is happening. I don’t understand their words but I know they feel they have won.  

            In a loud voice, Papa continues to argue with the two men who take him to the corral where the horses are. I hear English words that I do know: “The Rose horse ranch” where we bought Smokey as a colt. From the conversation, I see in my mind the two gringos surveying our two horses, especially Papa’s horse. Papa continues his litany of innocence with his voice growing louder and shriller with each statement, but they ignore him. Laughter is their only response.  

            I hear Papa beg about something. The two ruffians bring him back to the house for our tearful good-bye. The last thing I remember hearing is his screams as they drag him from our house. “Mi hijita, mi esposa preciosa–esperame, esperame!” His screams for us to wait for him echo through my mind. I must have fainted because the next thing I remember is waking to Mama and our neighbor and friend, Pablo, standing over me with worried looks on their faces.

            “Where’s Papa? Where’s Papa? ¿Dónde está mi Papa?” I scream, demanding to know and trying to shake the cobwebs of uncertainty from my mind.

            Mama falls across me on my small bed, crying and sobbing out of control, “Papa, se ha ido! Papa’s gone! He’s gone. Se lo llevaron. They took him away.” The weight of her body and sound of her wails almost suffocate me.

            Pushing Mama aside, I scramble out from underneath her, search our two-room home and explode. Uncontrollable anger rages from deep within me and I attack and destroy anything I can get my hands on. My doll crashes against the hard rock wall; my marbles fly out the door in all directions.  

            Mama tries to console me in the midst of my savage tantrum, but I push her away. I shove open the front door and collapse on the front step. I scream, I cry, and I wail! Finally, I take a breath and open my eyes—Paco is staring at me a few feet away. He seems apprehensive about coming any closer. My tantrum has lost its power, so my little friend ventures near and I scoop him up in my skirt. I gingerly hold him in my hand while my sobs are subsiding. He seems to know that I need him close to me. I sit there with him consoling me.  

            I look around and see my marbles strewn around our front door; I don’t pick them up, but go inside, leaving Paco outside. Mama and Pablo stop their conversation, and I slide into my bed fully dressed. Pablo touches my brow with gentle rough fingers and whispers, “Adios.  Hasta la mañana.” I appreciate his good-bye and the hope of seeing him tomorrow. Mama walks to the door with him and says her good-byes.

            She returns to my bed and repeats what Pablo did; she touches my brow with her long slender fingers and whispers, “Buenas noches.” I sigh my response and turn to the wall, heart-broken because the most valuable person in my life has been taken away.

Copyright © 2015 Larada Horner-Miller


Excerpt from A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir

I Want you Back! Or Do I?

January 27, 2014

I stand at that mysterious wall
between life and eternity
                     and scream,
"I want you back!"
 
I pound my fists.
I scream!
I cry,
but nothing changes.
 
You slipped
through my finger tips.
I grasped.
You were here one second
and
gone the next!
 
Nothing I could do
would hold you.
Where are you now?
Sitting next to Jesus and Dad—
              smiling
              youthful
              relaxed
              happy!
 
I hope so!
 
I am earth bound—
held in place
  by time and
              my human existence!
 
I now know more,
realize there's more.
There has to be!
 
A small peephole
opened into eternity
              at your death bed.
Surprisingly, a small kernel of hope was born that day for me.
 
Life ended here for you
so quickly!
Your shell of a body
lay limp and lifeless
in that hospital bed.
I saw your last breath,
but I also saw something else
              slight
              faint
 
Relief for you!
A passing
A knowing
              that you are gone
                          from here,
              but will wait for me
                          there.
 
In my solemn, desolate space,
I will still cry,
"I want you back!"
 
But today I know
that
I don't want you back—
I want to join you
              there!

Copyright © 2017 Larada Horner-Miller

Maybe one of these samples makes you want more. Visit my website at: https://laradasbooks.com


~ Visit my Etsy Shop, Larada’s Reading Loft, for digital or paper copies of all my books: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LaradasReadingLoft