After reading Deborah Heiligman's delightful Charles and Emma, I realize why. Those two lovebirds often wrote each other several times a day.
A long time is relative.
But I understand why people feel a need to excuse their silence. I feel the same about this blog. In hindsight, I should've put up a sign in my absence that said: BUSY WRITING AND LIVING. Or perhaps pulled out a few of my old posts to entertain you. But I trust all of you have been BUSY WRITING AND LIVING as well. (Or whatever you do that makes you happy.)
I posted about three of the major events of my summer: the ALA Convention here in D.C., my week at Shakespeare Camp, and my jaunt to the SCBWI Conference in L.A.
I left out my peaceful and productive writing retreat on Lake Champlain (organized by the dynamos Kate Messner and Marjorie Light) during which I found the way back to a revision of my long-wrestled-with YA novel, HOLLOW. (Still under revision, by the way, with a tentative due date of mid-October and one of the main reasons for my blog silence.)
|Lake Champlain, NY|
I left out the agony/joy of drafting an entirely new middle-grade novel before the ALA convention, which is now sitting, a quiet mess, on my desk, patiently waiting for me to attend to it after the HOLLOW revision is due.
I left out my trip to New Mexico to visit my daughter, Rebecca, who was working at the National Laboratory in Los Alamos. (She was doing particle physics research as an intern. Her project involved sound-proofing a detection instrument. And she did a spot of writing for the Lab's internal newsletter.)
I left out making root beer float cupcakes. Picking up my golf clubs again. Finally seeing the precision drama of the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery. Getting a new author picture made. Swooning in the stifling heat of Wolf Trap National Park to hear Lyle Lovett. Celebrating twenty-six years of marriage. Discovering I like iced coffee. Painting my toenails every color from Russian Navy to Diva of Geneva.
Each of those might have been a blog post. Sometimes, I hoard my words. I don't exactly know why.