Do you like to get the old fashioned, luddite version of mail?
Fossil-fuel burning. Ink and paper. Lick and stick.
I confess to ardent worship of the antiquated practice of letter writing. It's one reason I send handwritten postcards to numerous children on every trip. Why I mailed over 100 letters in advance of the release of my novel. Why the proprietress of the local stationery shop turns cartwheels every time I darken the door.
Lately, though, I've been thinking about letter writing for another reason.
I'm sick of being online.
It was a close one, Dear Reader. Quiet people drifted over here yesterday. To leave a comment for something free? Or to support an author’s new book?
In this community, I’d say the latter.
The winner of a signed copy of Jessie Bishop Powell’s The Marriage at the Rue Morgue is…….
Congratulations, Karen. I know where to send your prize. I hope you’ll read it and write a review.
Meriwether Lewis’s birthday month is coming up, and what a surprise………it’s the same as my dad’s. If you want to be ready to celebrate Merry’s birthday on August 14, I suggest you read To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis. Here’s a screen grab of the latest Amazon review, from a complete stranger I don’t know/am not related to/didn’t pay to write a review. Get your copy by clicking any link below.
I blame my father for my third spider bite in July. Same leg. Thigh. Back of knee. Front of thigh, just above the knee.
Dad distracted me, the third time.
A wedding. A monster-in-law. Two orangutans. And porn. Jessie Bishop Powell's debut mystery The Marriage at the Rue Morgue doesn't disappoint.
When does a girl become a woman? Develop those fabled feminine wiles? Is it during wide-eyed, chub-cheeked infanthood? Her inaugural surf of the red wave? Maybe it happens the first time she, um...........logs her First Time. Or maybe it's the first time she enjoys it.