Friday, February 28, 2014

February 2014 Books

I'm a book geek. I admit it. (My Twitter profile proves it.) And I read EVERYTHING. Blogs + on-line articles, magazines, newspapers (WSJ is a Sunday favorite), and books. Not as many books as I once did due to the proliferation of online information, but still, books. Books fill my home. I've often got at least one hard copy on me plus more at the ready in my iPhone's Kindle App.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014


I'm a big fan of saying Thank You!  (Preferably in writing).  So I would like to thank The Writing Whisperer for featuring my piece on blogging as a journal on her webspace! 

Thank you! Gracias! Merci! Grazie! Danke!

It's amazing, humbling and scary to see my words in a different space. Below is a small excerpt of the piece I wrote.

My mother’s family is loud. Large. Ethnic. Full of smart, opinionated women. And the club house sign says “Introverts not allowed.”

I took refuge in books.

I devoured them. Any kind. All kinds. And if books were not available, any written word would do. Perfume  bottles. Cereal boxes. I read everything. But I wasn’t a writer. Writers never wrote less than perfectly or scribbled out lines. Writers also always had a clear idea on where a story would go.

Journals seemed too lovely to be desecrated by my barely legible handwriting; then, paper and typewriter ribbons were resources not to be wasted; and finally computers lacked the personal feel of a journal. There was always a reason to keep my inner voice unheard, even by me.

To read the full piece, please click over to The Writing Whisperer's blog.