All the signs were there.
As a teenager, when I pictured my someday home, I imagined a cottage in the woods. Peaceful and serene, with a typewriter, a piano, and a cat. No children running around; no husband interrupting my concentration. Just me, on my own, writing books. Continue reading
Yes, friends, it’s true: I shall reach the exalted age of sixty soon. Very soon. Very.
Recently, I watched an episode of “Sex and the City” in which Charlotte announced that she was not going to turn 36 on her birthday because “I’m just not where I thought I’d be at 36, so I’m sticking at 35.” Granted, she was in a tough spot: her marriage had crumbled under the stress of infertility, and her efforts to resume the career she’d paused for babymaking had proven fruitless. Still, it set me to wondering: am I where I thought I’d be at 60? Continue reading
Those who haven’t celebrated this holiday before may have a few questions. While I am not a bookseller and I have no affiliation with any bookseller, I do have a teensy bit of experience in buying books.
So, let’s consider a few basic questions: Continue reading