I did nothing last weekend. Nothing. And it was hard. I am fully serious when I say that. I’m not used to doing nothing. I kept jumping up,ready to do laundry or pay bills or check email or blog. For me, doing is a visceral thing.
Barbara Delinsky
The Official Site
January 19, 2012
My racy past
Type my name into Amazon, then sort by publication date, and you’ll find books of mine that you’ve never heard of. Take First, Best and Only. Originally published in 1986, a first-ever hardcover edition is coming in March. I didn’t know this until I checked the Amazon list myself, which is often the only way I can find out when my early books are being reissued. Once I sell pub rights to a publisher (as I did First, Best and Only to Harlequin), they don’t have to ask my permission. They don’t even have to let me know.
January 8, 2012
What is a stash?
My dictionary defines a stash as “a secret store of something,” and when it comes to yarn, that’s pretty accurate. Knitters hoard. They buy yarn they have no business buying, then they bring it home and put it in a place where no one will see it. They have paper bags stuffed with yarn, closets stuffed with yarn, trunks stuffed with yarn. Me, I have bins in my basement, neatly stacked and out of my husband’s keen sight. Other yarn I store in the open in huge (two gallon) glass jars. Since these are for decoration, no one questions them. I stuff in another skein, then another until the lids won’t close.
January 4, 2012
Starting 2012 with a good book
I’m going to sound arrogant here, trusting that you all know me better than to believe it. But here is a truism about writers. Writers write the kinds of stories they like to read.
So I started 2012 by rereading the first 125 pages of Sweet Salt Air. And it wasn’t only that I wanted a sure bet. To the contrary. I wanted to make sure it was a sure bet! One of the most embarrassing things is when you write something on, say, page 110 that contradicts what you wrote on page 50. Or when you inadvertently change a character’s name. Or when you make a big deal about revealing a “secret” after it’s already been revealed.
December 29, 2011
The best and worst of 2011
Christmas was barely done when the media began rating 2011. Best movie of 2011, best health news of 2011, best business moment, best style trend … you name it, there’s a list. This was pretty much what inspired my survey this week – the one I post every Tuesday on my Facebook page. “My 2011?” it read. “I’d give it a 9 out of 10. SPEEDY BD SURVEY #85 asks, how about you? What’s your rating for 2011?”
December 21, 2011
A knitter never sleeps, but she dreams
I’m so bad when it comes to afterwork, like weaving in ends and making pompoms. So I had six hats, all done but in need of finishing before I could send them off for the holiday. After procrastinating much of last weekend, I ran out of time. I had to mail them, or they’d never arrive on time!
The Patriots played Sunday. What better time could there be? I’m an avid fan, but I can’t bear to watch the game in progress. Hey, I read the ending of books first, because I can’t stand suspense. If you could tell me the outcome of a game, I could watch. Since you can’t, I don’t.
December 19, 2011
Meatloaf recipes, anyone?
Eating has been a challenge, what with the oral surgery I recently had. Finding things that work has been sheer trial and error. Puréed soups work; oatmeal does not (too many little pieces). Jello works; ice cream does not (too cold). If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve already heard me mention fried eggs, which just kind of slither on down the throat without much effort at all. But second to that comes meatloaf, which DH bought ready-made at the market in part because he likes it but, yes, also because he thought it would satisfy me. It did. It was just soft enough, smooth enough, hearty enough. Was? Try is. I’ve been on a meatloaf kick all week.
December 12, 2011
My post traumatic weekend
I had oral surgery last Thursday. I wish I could say that I’m an adoringly appreciative patient, but when I’m not feeling well, I just want to be left alone. So here I had an army of friends and relatives wanting to help, and there wasn’t much they could do. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat. I slept mostly at first, until I switched from prescription meds to Tylenol, at which point I could think again.
DH was actually away with the grandkids for the weekend, a date arranged long before my surgery was scheduled and one that couldn’t be changed, since it involved tickets to the Patriots’ game. So I was (dum da dum dum) home alone.
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Suddenly is vintage Delinsky, hitting stands on January 17 in a first-ever
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