When you’re riding the River of Life, buckets of ice cold water will hit you in the face, splash all over you. Leak in at your feet where you’re not expecting.
Have you ever met someone you’ve known, via the wonder of the Interwebs, for a while, and you’re a total fangirl of their work and you worry, when you do finally get to meet them, that you will either babble like a brook or be totally tongue-tied? Welp. I met August McLaughlin, for an interview…
I was going through the motions, but I was a hot mess. I couldn’t write, I could barely tie my shoes, but was trying to get through the day, every day.
You don’t need a reason to come to the LA Times Festival of Books – but I’m offering FIVE.
Joyce’s father, now deceased, had also attempted a novel, a Western, back in the day. She thought that Uncle Ralph might enjoy reading it, so she dug into the boxes she’d been hauling across multi states for decades, took it to FedEx/Kinko’s, and had them bind it into a real book for him.