
I've spent a fair bit of time lately on this here blog showing you around the places I hang out, like my front yard, my favorite new cafe, and my favorite place to go for lonely walks along the shore.
Past editions of Voice Mail, Beth Dunn's newsletter on writing and voice.
I've spent a fair bit of time lately on this here blog showing you around the places I hang out, like my front yard, my favorite new cafe, and my favorite place to go for lonely walks along the shore.
It's become a tradition with me since I started working from home to end my day in the warmer months with a walk around the yard. Poking my nose into flowers' blooms. Checking on shoots who show signs of faltering. Cheering on buds whose time has not yet come.
I am a night owl. Everyone knows this about me. My preferred hours of top activity are somewhere between 10 pm and 5 am, which sort of explains my well documented need to sleep until noon on a regular basis.
I spend an awful lot of time in coffee shops. I work mostly from home, telecommuting to my job, which is based in Cambridge. And, as you know, I write romance novels in my spare time.
The women in my family have always been pretty hardcore bookworms. From my great grandmother on down, every single one of the females of the line has been known for staying up until all hours of the night, devouring books like they were goddamn candy.
The second half of our recent trip to the UK was spent in Bath. You may recall that we fell very much in love with Bath on our last, brief visit.
A long time ago (in internet years), when I was first discovering that there were other people online like me, who loved and wrote about period drama and the deeply satisfying 19th century literature much of it is based on, I stumbled across a site called The Egalitarian Bookworm, written by Sarah Seltzer, also known as @fellowette.
One of the things that influences me so strongly when I actually leave the house to watch a movie in the theater is the experience of being at the theatre itself. And I don't just mean the chatting, popcorn chewing, unclean masses with whom you are forced to share oxygen, either.