Meet Cathy Feemster
Welcome, fellow readers! I’m on a journey, and I hope you will come with me. I know how fun it is to read, but it is also a lot of fun to write. I live in Wichita, Kansas, a wonderful, friendly city. We Wichitans are a varied bunch. Some love to read; everyone follows our sports teams; we have our opinions. Education is a priority here. We have three universities, an eclectic art scene, an Air Force Base, and many workers in the aerospace industry.
My background is in journalism. While attending the University of Tulsa, I was awarded a Tulsa Press Club Scholarship. After working in public relations for a company in Chicago and freelancing, I purchased a monthly newspaper, East Wichita News. My team focused on community, local politics, business, and feature articles. During the 21 years I owned the newspaper, it won several awards, including the Small Business Administration Media Advocate of the Year, Health Recognition Award from the Center for the Improvement of Human Functioning, and two Arc Community Connection Awards.
When I retired, I thought my writing life was over, but the bug was still with me. Not long after my husband of 49 years died and my 46-year-old daughter died, I knew I had to move forward or drown in my memories.
That’s when I remembered a story that my grandmother told me about her dog, Shep, who saved her life. I turned that memory into a children’s book, My Friend Rachel by Shep, the dog. The experience of independently publishing a book seems to have spurred me on.
I’ve recently finished my first novel, a historical mystery, which I hope you can see on bookshelves and online soon. Two sequels and another novel are buzzing around in my head for the future.
Cathy’s plan was to read and write.
Her newspaper was cheery and bright.
But when the paper was sold,
She had to go bold.
Now she hopes that her books bring delight.




My journey started before I could read. My brother and I constantly begged my mother to read from The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. I still have that very book, all tattered and aged. The book was given to my mother in 1924 by her aunt and uncle. She was eight at the time. But she kept it, and I’m keeping it.


