If there’s a way to dissect an issue, I’m there. Maybe it’s the lawyer training, or maybe it’s the writer instinct. Either way, I can meet practically any statement with “but what if . . . ?” (Not everyone loves this about me.) Continue reading
Today is February 14. Valentine’s Day.
There are probably couples who will have a magical, romantic, Hallmark-style holiday. Good for them. Enjoy. Godspeed. Continue reading
For some writers, stories spring into being, fully-formed and populated with fascinating, well-rounded characters. The act of writing is little more than taking dictation from the Muse, with perhaps a bit of sprucing up here and there to ensure that the foreshadowing is properly balanced with the revelation and the metaphors sparkle.
We do not like these people. Continue reading
A year ago, I went to my very first protest march. Around the world, on all seven continents, millions of women, men, and gender-nonconforming people marched for a number of causes: women’s rights, pay equity, reproductive freedom, justice, equality, civil rights, disability rights, voting rights, LBGTQIA rights, immigrant rights, environmental protection, and others. Continue reading
We’ve all heard of setting ourselves up to fail. It’s what happens when we’re gung-ho about doing something right now even though any remotely rational person would say, “Um, honey? Maybe this isn’t exactly the right time.” Continue reading
So I said to myself, “What better time that New Year’s Day to begin a writing challenge?”
Forget the details, like the fact that I didn’t actually start writing this until after midnight on January 2. As far as I’m concerned, until I go to sleep, the calendar doesn’t turn over. (An exception exists when I work all night, but I didn’t do that with this post. Instead, I reached a stopping point and went to sleep, and now I’m back again on the “second” day of the month.) Continue reading
After last night’s debacle, I found myself curious about how a solo female diner might be received elsewhere. It was time, I thought, to experiment.
Half a block from my hotel are a pair of sibling restaurants, Max Fish and Max Amore. A mere quarter-mile from the now-infamous Bertucci’s, they sit comfortably at the other end of many scales, including quality (higher), price (ditto), and service (ditto ditto). Continue reading
For years, Bertucci’s was one of my go-to places. Among its attributes: good food, reasonable prices, and an environment where a person who didn’t feel like getting takeout could dine alone and feel comfortable.
So much for #1 and 3.
November 22, 5:22 p.m. I have already changed into flannel pajamas and slippers, thus proclaiming that I have no intention of leaving my hotel room tonight. I sip chardonnay from a drinking glass, munch baked potato chips, and luxuriate in the twin blessings of silence and indolence.
P. Jo Anne Burgh 