Did you ever hear that question? You must have. I'm sure you did. Or if you didn't hear this exact one, you must have encountered a variation of it: Why are there no famous women writers in history? Why are there no famous women painters? And so on, you get the idea.
Buzz, buzz, buzz simplify, minimize, reduce. Buzzz!You know, this is what everyone is talking about these days. It seems that we live lives that are generally overwhelmed by information and stuff, and we need to escape that if we want to lead a fulfilling existence.
So when it comes to books, how do you do it? I am not talking about how you shelve or get rid of physical books. I have solved that dilemma for myself: I don't buy paper books anymore: only digital. It suits me and I'm very happy with it.
A while ago it got into my mind that my days would suddenly become a beacon of productivity and happily accomplished tasks if only I would find a way to keep a list of all my varied activities so I have a clear image of what I need to do in a particular day, week, etc. I do prefer digital technology to paper mostly because it is less wasteful and because I'm in front of the computer most of the time anyway, so I wouldn't need to have another thing to keep track of.
Some will say that this is a battle that is over and that we won: feminists can wear as high a pair of heels and as red a lipstick as they want and still not be excluded from the club, the membership to which is awarded to them at birth. (Yes, men feminists have more to prove before they are allowed entrance. Tough luck!) But I don't know if this perceived freedom is a real one or one projected to us in our slumber pods.
My love for reading fiction is slowly recovering after almost a decade of suffering from an unknown yet terrible, life-threatening disease. I'm relieved. It's been so strange to be a writer of fiction who doesn't actually enjoy reading fiction much at all. I know, right? Well, I've been an unsuccessful writer of fiction (understandably!), so it's fine.
I am convinced that many of us go through this: at some point all fiction seems pointless, the product of someone feverish imagination, not worthy of our time since it doesn't seem to enrich us in any way, either intellectually, spiritually, or emotionally. Especially after a lifelong complete, almost religious devotion to reading, it's a bad place to be in. 
I thought I'd do something fun today and show you the evolution of my cover art and book titles throughout time. I have talked many times on this blog (a good blogger would now go back through the archives to actually link to said posts, but I, well, you know) about how I enjoy taking breaks from writing to work on cover design.
So, with what should I bore you, nice people, today? I am a bottomless fountain of nothing-interesting-to-say every time I log into my blog's admin page to write something for my hoards of one or two readers. I bet you're on the edge of your seats right now. Let's see how it turns out.
The morning air it turning slightly crisp, evenings spent outside call for sweater and scarf (yippee!), and our meals consist mostly of watermelon and corn on the cob. This summer has been the best one in recent memory: not too hot, but not cold, not too humid, not too rainy but not dry. Just perfect. But it's coming to a close and I'm not too upset about it.I just finished been reading Margaret Fuller: A New American Life by Megan Marshall this weekend, because my family allowed me an evening at home by myself while everyone went to the lake for a swim and play. I don’t…