ROYALTY, ROMANCE NOVELS, AND A LITTLE RUCKUS
When I get flooded with recommendations for new books, everyone is reading books, you can’t join the convo without having read This Now … I counter-program. Grab for the tried and true. Like last night it was back to the past with Linda Howard’s Death Angel – really a departure for her. The sex in the opening chapter is practically faceless: it’s certainly nameless but of course, since it’s a Howard hero, it’s impactful. There’s a death experience (nope, not near death but death -> life) and quite a sweet story of the journey from mistress/whore to full-fledged member of the human race. A little woowoo but that’s OK. I could use some woowoo in my life!
Why do I want to call Arthur de Soultrait Mr. Soul Train? So what does success mean in the bespoke, high-end world of never discounted fashion? I think it means storefronts in NYC, London and Paris. But maybe there are other cities that also need to be considered. Will think on what they might be.
An online friend, Katiebabs, was told at BEA she was a “sort of” author. What’s a sort of author? I begin to wonder if perhaps print is not as dead as the proverbial doornail. To be considered a bona fide author, do you have to have books on a bookstore shelf? Well of course not, e-authors are authors too — but to be a successful author (whatever success means in June of 2012), do you have to have books in dead tree form?
Sleep, elusive butterfly wings sleep. I know why I can’t grab sleep and wrestle it to the ground (or the mattress). I won’t let my papal white crackberry leave my bedroom. With it on my bedside table, waking up means plugging in. OK, that’s the problem — do I have the fortitude to institute the cure? We shall see, as they say.