My secret thought, exposed on a public web site. This is what keeps me up at night (and far away from my keyboard):
The physical act of writing a book may not be difficult, but there’s a big difference between smacking away at a keyboard and writing something that anyone who doesn’t really love you wants to read. — from The Shocking Truth About the Slush Pile
Question: If a blog post is posted and nobody reads it, does it make a sound?
Am I the last person to know about this site? Cool.
Summer unofficially starts this weekend. The most “summery” book I remember reading was called Seventeenth Summer by Maureen Daly. Since it’s a teenage love story written in the Fifties, I can’t believe it’s still in print (I can’t believe people would find it relevant!). So I ordered myself a used copy, just for nostalgia’s sake. If only I had an apple tree to read in, with a tall glass of lemonade …
Do people really read at the beach? I think it’s a marketing myth. Sort of like hair conditioner that can actually make your hair look shiny and not greasy. I always found the beach far too glarey for reading, what with the sun reflecting off every surface: sand, sea, lavishly-oiled bodies. Then you get all hot and sweaty and the pages stick to your hands and then the wind ruffles the pages too much and then when you try to hold them down with your hot, sweaty hands you get sand in the bookspine. And then you lose your place after watching the young men play shirtless beach volleyball, and then you realize you have a blazing headache, the kind you get from too much sun and not enough water and squinting and laying on a hard surface too long and sucking in your stomach to make it look somewhat flattering in front of the shirtless volleyball players.
But I digress.
Everyone enjoy a safe, happy Memorial Day weekend (even if you’re not in the States). And, if you get a minute, let me know what your favorite summer reading involves.