literary break-up letters. This fascinating article in The Atlantic features excerpts and background information from eight different writers penning their parting words to lovers, spouses, more-than-friends. Luminaries include Simone de Beauvoir (whose line I used in my post title), Virginia Woolf, Edith Wharton, Oscar Wilde, Mary Wollstonecraft, and more. They are wistful and so very real. Just the kind of real I needed at this time of cold, quiet beginnings. I hope your year is full of possibilities. And if there must be partings, let them be well-written.
It seems a long time ago now that I first read Shiver -- the first book in the Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy. But looking back I started it on the plane ride to BEA and finished it there in the conference center, fingers gripping the cover tightly, while sitting on the floor in one of the many autograph lines. And now it's May again and BEA is right around the corner and I emerge from my recent and nasty reading slump stupor to find a copy of Linger sitting in my mailbox like a glove thrown down in the dirt. "I will be the one to pull you out," it whispers to me slyly. "Just open me up and take a sip. I promise--one sip is all it will take." And I look at it with fear and longing written all over my face. "You promise?" I ask intently. "Because it's been a long walk in the cold and I'm not sure I can take another disappointment." "Just open me up," it says, confidence written all over its cover. And so I do. And everythin