My wife had to have a minor (we hope) procedure and *chose* to have it yesterday rather than a weekday. She was offered the option of the Sunday appointment and we had supposed the hospital would be quieter and so it might all be a bit less stressful. “Quieter” turned out to be, well, an understatement.
A bit of history. A bit of romance. In my humble opinion, it doesn’t get any better.😊
Occasionally the American featured celebrity tracing his/her family tree comes across as – much as I hate to say this – worryingly clueless about wider history and lives lived prior to the present.
I always think when I see such a meme or assertion: “If you actually do believe that rubbish, you’ll learn that you can’t do it. I have.”
As they say, Oh, My, god. I have a new novel I want to finish. This is not exactly great.
So change is happening. We are moving. My posts this week, possibly into next… well, there may not be any.
I will always remember what I was told after I revealed in 2013 I was writing Passports and showed the initial draft first to my (English) Mrs., and then to an English woman friend. Having read it, separately they both noticed that I was inadvertently mixing American-English language forms and British-English.
In my early-middle twenties, I thought much that same way as he writes. It all seemed hypocritical, absurd, and unnecessary. Then I met someone who suggested a perspective I had never before really considered…
Don’t groan. I know you find that all rather obscure history stuff. But I find it fascinating, okay.
And you never know when you might find it useful knowledge…
How DO I write? This way: I write cover to cover in a style that I enjoy reading…
As I sat at the man’s desk, my father-in-law next to me, as she stood a couple of feet away she asked next: “Really? What are you doing here?”
I have said here previously that I don’t count words when I write. (I disagree with the idea of measuring “progress” by daily “bean counting.”) I don’t even really look at page numbers. Early on in a manuscript especially, I just write and write and write.
Ladies, your man may want to say something extra-special to you today, but he may not be able to find the right words. Be understanding, please. It has always been such with many of us men.
When a relative – the same one I’d mentioned last week – messaged me yesterday through Instagram that she wanted me to suggest which of my novels she might read first, I had no choice really. I had to talk about them directly…
I recall being assigned it in graduate school (too long ago now) in a course on Russian government/history. (There’s a real shocker, eh?)