Hmm. Eleven already. That year went fast.
This time cake is just about the only thing I can think of. I suppose if thinking about it is all I do, there is no harm. Just don’t bake, Witch!
I have achieved my February tradition of reviewing the latest Front Lines novel by Michael Grant. And I frequently think of all the wonderful authors out there. That hasn’t changed over the years. Nor have they. It would seem authors don’t grey as fast as some of us.
But the publishing world is not the same, and I miss the ‘olden days.’ I really do. My desperate thoughts no longer wonder whether to give up, but more ‘how can I change the way this works, so that it will continue working?’
Because when I have read a really, really great book, and I know that there are plenty more of them, I feel terribly reluctant at the thought of reading some of the ones sent to me, at the cost of a better reading experience with some other book. I am selfish enough to feel my time deserves the best. And the publishers don’t. Not as much, anyway.
I’m sure it will work out. I have heard of libraries. Maybe I can find books there?
Meanwhile, I do have some cream in the fridge. What if I baked just a little cake? I have the tulips already, courtesy of Helen Grant. Two kinds of purple, they are.