Veteran journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall riffs on life as she knows it.
Art. Bouquets. More art. More bouquets. My idea of a good time. I spent the day yesterday at the annual Bouquets to Art show at the de Young Fine Arts Museum in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park — joined by two friends who enjoy flowers and art as much as I do. Read more.
You get an idea for a book. You like it a lot. You think people are going to want to read this book. You’re stoked. Then you fret for months and years over how to transform this idea you like so much into a 250-page manuscript that people will actually read. Read more.
I went away for the weekend, and when I showed up in my writing room on Monday morning my laptop had crashed. “It’s not your fault,” said the computer repair guy. “Computers are machines. Machines break.“
Basically, there are two kinds of Californian. Those who are delighted by a sunny February day. And those who are dismayed. Jon is one of the latter. You can chart the weather by Jon’s moods. Read more.
At 6:02 p.m. yesterday evening I hit the send button and sent the manuscript for Wrestling With God off to my publisher, Patheos Press. To tell you the truth, I’m very proud of this book. Read more.
There he was. In the flesh. Tall and slender and muscled and oh-so-handsome. Sigh. It was Superman. The Man of Steel of my girlhood fantasies. My dream man. Read more.