From time to time my husband and I have been known to indulge in our Scrabble addiction in public places — restaurants, coffee shops, hotel lobbies, park benches. Unlike conversing or reading a book in public, a Scrabble game seems to be everybody’s business, always...
The other day someone referred to me as “creative”, and that got me thinking. Most of the time, I’m grateful for my imagination. It’s gotten me through many a meeting without having to spike my ubiquitous water bottle with something clear, strong and...
I’m not easily creeped out by bugs or rodents. Cockroaches rarely give me the heebie-jeebies, and the willies generally avoid me unless the spider is especially large. Sightings of mice bring on nary a shiver — I think they’re cute. And bats? No big whoop....
Each morning, my abundant houseplants glower at me as they begin another day with many of their basic needs unmet. When I return from work, they weep for attention. And when I shuffle to the kitchen for a midnight glass of water, I hear their jealous whispers above...
Yesterday afternoon I reached the sixty-first page of my newest manuscript — and the point at which I was officially sick of calling it by my protagonist’s name. Honestly, where’s the inspiration in Winifred—Book? Since I’d already written my daily allotment of six...
Let me just save you a big, long, whiny post about the Great Migrating Cold of 2008 and sum it all up for you. The best part of being sick: The worst part of being sick: This public service announcement has been brought to you by The Book Lady. Now back to your...
In a far-away land many years prior to this, a statement such as, “My dear, I fear we must soon secure the windows with tapestries, as a storm approacheth” would mean something along the lines of, “Even though I’m a king, I myself will go close that window because my...
After sailing through weeks of holiday cheer, we’ve chugged straight into that awkward phase of winter when the Christmas lights remain hung but not shining, the presents have been carted home but not forgotten, and the tree still lurks in its corner, unlit but...
I think I’m losing my mind. Even at the best of times my inner narrator provides an occasional play-by-play of my existence, but my current level of running commentary is reserved for the times when I’m almost exclusively absorbed in my writing, as I am...
