2010: The new year begins in the deep snow of Vermont. I stay in the dorm, wear my first pair of snow boots, and vow not to waste any more years writing novels that don’t sell. I will go shorter. And I start something new that has hold of me rather than the...
2009: Barack Obama is sworn in as the 44th President. After a visit to Bobby in Scotland, Cal comes with me to Sirenland. It’s the only writing conference I know that is spouse friendly. In Italy we make a daily habit of climbing all those steps and then...
As you might guess from the length of yesterday’s and today’s posts–the squares turning into rectangles–writing these short is getting more difficult. The years feel unwieldy now rather than obscure. I’m working to contain rather than to...
So the music is back… 2007: Turning 50 gives me pause but not much. To celebrate, I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before. Cal and I plan a trip to a private island in Belize where we have a one-room villa with walls that can disappear to make it...
For the past few years and for a few more to come, I don’t remember what music I was listening to, and I wonder why that is. I’m sure Dave Matthews still, and Jackson Browne always. James Taylor always. And the Eagles’ Hell Freezes Over....
2005: In January I attend the San Diego State Agent Conference. Ten minutes with each agent. Speed dating. Bobby’s a junior and thinks he wants to go to the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. We plan a visit for spring break–all of us except Kathleen,...
