I don’t know what to do with myself, Squiders. The husband and the no-longer-that-small, mobile one have gone on a father/son sort of trip, so aside from some contract work (~4 hours worth) and taking care of the very small,
Oh, Squiders. Let’s talk about cars. I have a 2011 Subaru Forester and, in general, I am very happy with it. In fact, I have been so happy with it that my sister-in-law, mother-in-law, and father have all gone out
If you’re like me, Squiders, (and I suspect you are to some extent) you have a ton of books sitting around, waiting to be read. Physical books, ebooks, books you were super excited for and yet have not touched, books
IT BEGINS I’d like to preface this by saying I did not pick this book out myself; my husband noticed it while paying for our bag o’ books and stuck in the bag because he thought it sounded ridiculous. First,
I learned something the other day that I’d never realized before. Before we get into this, watch this short clip from the Simpsons. Anyway, what I learned was that what we consider editing is not really editing. It’s really two
Ah, Squiders, library book sales. Dangerous, dangerous things, aren’t they? One of our local ones, in celebration of Western Welcome Week, is having a week-long one where you can fill up an entire bag of books for $3. Three. Dollars.
Oh, Squiders. How do we writers ever get anything done? We cannot concentrate on any one thing. We certainly try, don’t we? We pick a project and say “I am going to work on this until it is done.” Meanwhile,
We all know that writing is a solitary process, one where a writer stereotypically locks themselves away somewhere and bangs on a typewriter (keyboard) until brilliance comes out. Your story usually is between you and your brain (and your muse,