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Physical Books v. E-books: A Few Completely Subjective Thoughts

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In 2000, I went on vacation alone for the first time. The prospect of a week on Captiva Island, reading and swimming and reading again, was delicious. Of course, the dilemma was what to read: mysteries, literature, general fiction, essays, or something else. Who knew what I’d feel like reading on a given day? So I did what any reasonable person would do: I loaded up my suitcase with books and tucked some clothes in around them. At the Fort Myers airport, as I tried to lift my suitcase into a rental car, I found myself wishing there was an alternative to hauling a library around.

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How to Live in a Hotel

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(Photo credit: bellablissclothing.wordpress.com)

Remember Eloise, the little girl who lived at The Plaza in New York? Granted, Eloise was a six-year-old who lived in the penthouse at a luxury hotel, not a temporarily-displaced writer with five cats who is trying to juggle a day job, regular day-to-day minutiae, and all the calls and texts and emails and errands that accompany crisis management. Still, I can’t help thinking that her experience is ever so slightly different from mine. Continue reading →

Interim

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The thing I miss most in a hotel: fresh air.

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Life, Interrupted

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Two weeks and four days since the fire. Another four to six weeks until I move home (a fact I learned on Friday, when I thought I was on the cusp of returning).

When you’re not in your own home, your own workplace, your own world, one of the first things you discover is that everything takes five times as long to accomplish. At home, rituals and shortcuts and routines that can be executed without thought. Away from home, there are all sorts of steps: Continue reading →

Off the Wagon (a/k/a Tales from the Fire)

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falling off the wagon

As the old saying goes, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

Two weeks ago, I posted with great satisfaction about my 100-day challenge and how I’d established all sorts of routines to make it work. At that time, I felt confident I could see this through.

Yesterday, I fell off the wagon, so to speak. Continue reading →

One Hundred Days of Writing

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I first heard about the 100-day project on September 1, when violinist Hilary Hahn posted that she had practiced the violin for 100 days straight.

Apparently, there are all sorts of 100-day projects and challenges for everything from developing your creative side to reaching personal goals. The true purpose of many of these challenges seems to be building good habits (such as “Floss every day for 100 straight days.”).

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Jennie

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Jennie Baldrin Burgh

September 14, 1987-May 26, 2009

She was special.

 

Resources for Writers, Part 1

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Whenever I talk with someone who’s venturing into the weird and wonderful world of writing, I inevitably get this question: “Do you know of any books that would be good for me?” As a matter of fact, I do. The bookcase in my front hall houses dozens of such volumes. Some are essays about writing and creativity; some are about the writing life (such as Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life); some focus on craft; some are resources on specific topics I’ve written about or intend to (Deborah Blum’s The Poisoner’s Handbook is a gem for those writing about murder); some contain writing prompts or odd facts designed to stir up the muse (The Book of Useless Information, by Noel Botham and The Useless Information Society). Continue reading →

Perspective

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To say this morning did not start well is an understatement. Two days after the promised response time on a submission, I received an email informing me the story had been rejected.

But this wasn’t just any rejection. First, it was a group email, with everyone’s addresses showing. (Don’t even get me started about that. Words like tacky and insensitive come to mind.) Second, this rejection came from the same people who published my award-winning story last year. It seemed like a guaranteed acceptance. Instead, this was the literary equivalent of a high school senior not getting into her safety school. Continue reading →

Writing to Cope

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writing through the storm

Back then, when it was all happening, I didn’t know about Barbara Abercrombie’s book, Writing Out the Storm. But somehow, that’s what I did. It was the summer of 2007, the storm was cancer, and I wrote through it.

Rewind to May, 2006. A dear friend—we’ll call her Sarah—called me at 10:00 on a Saturday morning and upended my world with the news that had already upended hers: she had ovarian cancer. Stage 3. Metastatic. She’d found out the day before. She knew ten o’clock was early for me, but she didn’t want me hearing it from anyone else.

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