National Books, Books, Books Festival

National Books, Books, Books Festival

Saturday marked the 15th National Book Festival.  I remember going to the first one, which was held on the National Mall, in massive tents, with chairs that tilted more than a little on the grassy lawn. The Festival was a brain-child of Laura Bush, and it brought thousands of readers to a common space, where they received brightly colored cloth bags, listened to dozens of authors, and had a chance to buy books by those speakers. I wasn’t...

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Grumble. Grouse. Complain. (Restaurant Edition)

So here’s a situation…  What would you do? You and a companion spend a long morning traipsing around a national battlefield in near-100-degree heat. Around 1:45, you realize you’re ravenous. At 2:00 p.m., you enter the Tavern, the only restaurant visible on Main Street of the town nearest the battlefield. A sign says, “Seat Yourself,” which you do. About five minutes later, a waitress comes over, brings menus, and...

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Another RWA Nationals Bites the Dust

I spent the majority of last week at the Romance Writers of America annual meeting, in New York City. When it came time to register for the conference, I almost chose not to go–I don’t have any ongoing traditional contracts right now, and I parted ways with my agent earlier this year, so there weren’t those all-important dinners, lunches, and other meetings to attend. As I dithered about whether or not to attend, the slots...

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My Not-To-Be-Read List

I have a to-be-read list that stretches on for about a mile.  (And I’m about to add to it, as I’m typing this post from an Amtrak train that is carrying me to Romance Writers of America’s annual meeting, where free books will be in abundance…) Of course, the mere fact that I have a TBR list implies that there are vast hordes of books on my not-to-be-read list. But I don’t think about the majority of those books....

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A Lost Weekend

Wow, is it Monday already?  I feel like I’ve been living in a warped zone of time, where days mistakenly drop away from my calendar, without explanation or warning. In other words, I’ve had a cold for the past week. We spent Presidents Day weekend up at Gifford Pinchot State Park in Pennsylvania, huddling inside a modern cabin as the temperatures dipped into the single digits.  (One morning, we woke up to the textbook definition of...

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