I Know I’m Not Wrong

Another gray morning in New Orleans. I don’t have to be at work until later; a short day in store for me, so I am going to run a couple of errands this afternoon and diligently work away at my computer while also trying to straighten out/clean the kitchen/office. Seems like every day, doesn’t it? Ah, well.

The best of lists are coming out now, and as expected, I am seeing some books that I absolutely loved this past year (Laura Lippman’s Wilde Lake, Alison Gaylin’s What Remains of Me, Megan Abbott’s You Will Know Me, Alex Marwood’s The Darkest Secret, Alafair Burke’s The Ex) showing up on many of them; as well as many other books in the TBR pile I’ve not gotten to yet. The awards season for crime fiction this next year is going to be something, methinks. I’ll do one at some point this months of my favorite books that I read this year; I don’t limit myself to books published in the current year, of course. I love to read, really. I’m always amazed when people tell me they get bored, because it’s mystifying to me; how can you be bored when there are so many wonderful books to read, so many that even as voracious a reader as me will never even get close to scratching the surface of every book I want to read?

Reading is so satisfying. I’m very glad I have a passion for it. I only wish I had more time for it.

My vacation week was actually rather lovely; I would get up in the morning and drink my coffee and answer emails, write a blog entry; edit what I wrote the day before, go run some errands, come back home and write for four or five hours until the well went dry; and then curl up with a book in my easy chair while I waited for Paul to come home. This, I thought, is the life. Now that I am going back to the office every day, my timing is more tight and thus I have to juggle my time a bit better. There isn’t the time, for example, to laze around because any wasted time is time taken from my writing or editing; usually what this means is I have to cut out my reading time. I try to create a balance between work and relaxation; if I don’t I get stressed and tired, have trouble sleeping, and that affects the next day.

Which is why I get behind.


My office is such a mess I feel claustrophobic.

All right, I need to get back to the spice mines.

Here’s another French farmer:

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