Too Many Ifs


I’ve spent the last 90 minutes finding ways of cutting down the gazillion times I use the word, “if” in my manuscript.* To reward myself, I’m going to spend the next 5 minutes looking at this.

*Don’t get me started on the “ands, ors, buts,”

You Can Write On Vacation!


I can’t believe I managed to do three wine tastings and still sit on the porch at the b&b in Canada and write for two hours today.

Or possibly, I just imagined I was writing when I sat on the porch because…wine tastings.

Highlights of Highlights


I was reunited with my manuscript at the Highlights Foundation Summer Camp, where I had my very own cabin to write as much as I wanted. Thanks to my fabulous mentor, Kathy Erskine, I also finished my last set of revisions. I managed to acquire more words than ounces, despite the incredibly fantastic food they served us.* That, in of itself, was a singular accomplishment. Just ask anyone who’s been there.

*Imagine a writers workshop where the chef announces that night’s menu before dinner.

Separation Anxiety


I’m going to the Highlights Summer Camp next week and I’m suffering from severe separation anxiety. Sorry husband, it’s not about you*

I’m suffering from separation anxiety, because part of the deal is once you turn in the first 20 pages of your manuscript (June 1), you’re supposed to put it away and not touch it until you get to camp. And my manuscript and I have been a thing since last year, and I miss it. I hope it doesn’t think I don’t care anymore.

So I’ve been filling the void by editing another novel. Writers, raise your hands if you think you can fill a void with editing. Anybody? Anybody?

*Not really sorry. It would be very neurotic to be anxious anytime I didn’t see my husband for 6 days, don’t you think?**

**That’s a rhetorical question. No need to ponder it.

Prepare to Cry


If you will be in DC anytime between now and January, you must see the David Best installation at the Renwick. In fact, let me put it this way: you must come to DC or find another David Best’s Temple installations somewhere. Below you’ll see a very small portion (it fills an entire huge gallery) of the work with people writing memories of lost loved ones on pieces of balsa wood and on the work itself. They also leave photos. Prepare to cry.

Dear Young Woman


It’s time for another installment of everybody’s favorite blog series*

Dear Young Woman in my coffee/writing place,

You just announced to your friend as she approached your table, “I don’t want you to get near me. I’m very sick.”

I believe”Why are you here” is one of life’s great philosophical questions. In this case, I mean it literally.

*everyone meaning me