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Saw this quote over at 7-Imp. Jules posted this quote from a 1939 letter from E.B. White:

I started to write a book for children about two years ago, and have it about half done...I really only go at it when I am laid up in bed, sick...My fears about writing for children are great---one can so easily slip into a cheap sort of whimsy or cuteness. I ( Read more... )

Enraptured as I am with my new project, which I am calling (for the time being, and without saying much more about it) the Shakespeare poems, it's no wonder that I found myself dialing up Sting's The Journey and the Labyrinth on my iPod, listening to the music of Elizabethan composer, lutenist and possible treasonist, John Dowland, accompanied by ( Read more... )

Thus far, I've had a quiet morning at home alone, the buzzer on the dryer just now notwithstanding. Soon, though, I must fling myself into the outer world, to the world of post offices and shops and the like. And since there is cloud-filtered sun today, I don't mind in the slightest that I didn't get some of the shopping chores done on Sunday, when ( Read more... )

First off, I should note that I set out to write a Poetry Friday post related to it being National Wear Red Day here in the U.S. (an initiative designed to raise awareness of heart health issues that causes everyone to wander about looking like a Target employee). And I'll get there, I promise. Just stick with me for a few minutes ( Read more... )

Calm down, now, there's no publishing-related news to report today. Or rather, none that's mine.


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