Preparation for my upcoming trip was littered with travel expectations and extensive, more like obsessive, planning. France owned me. The kids made it clear they were over it. “All you think about and talk about is France,” my oldest repeated, deservedly irritated with a lack of parental attention. “What will you do when you don’t have…
My ancestral family name is de la Rivière, Of The River. When I traced those ancestors back to the time they arrived in Canada, more than four centuries before this moment, I hardly understood. Of The River. A very straightforward translation. Land owners in Burgundy and further north. Farmers in France at a time when…
The dead month of August is just that, dead silent. Just about every writer who submits their work to agents knows that there is one month every year when nothing happens. Don’t prep a manuscript, write a query letter, reach out on Twitter, or check in with an agent who has your partial. It’s not…
So, I sat down fifteen mornings ago with the intent to pen a tome on being distracted. The reality that I’m about as focused as a light breeze meandering through the desert these days is evident. Just getting to it. I’m exhausted. My head is spinning. I’m almost late for everything (on time is late…