With apologies to dear Oscar Wilde. And of course I mean “reading” and not “Reading” as in “Reading, Berkshire.” Although I would love to visit Reading, Berkshire one day. Barring the gaol, of course.
Anyway. Starting today I am on a reading vacation for the rest of the month. No writing, just reading. This morning I collected, from library and bookstore, a stack of eight beautiful books to start me off—seven novels and 1434 by Gavin Menzies, subtitled “The Year a Magnificent Chinese Fleet Sailed to Italy and Ignited the Renaissance.” Who could resist that?
Stay tuned for reviews and comments.




Okay, I am officially bright green with envy…a week to just read? Heaven!!!
TWO weeks! There are books everywhere. Although I’m already having a hard time with the not-writing part. I keep thinking, “Oh, maybe just a little.” Heh.
I love a reading holiday, although I have a sneaking suspicion you’ve been told to take a vacation from writing just to MAKE you WANT to do it. You know how that is–the allure of the forbidden.
And you know, it’s working. Would probably be working better if I weren’t so miserably sick. Tomorrow. I’m can just jot down ideas, I’m sure. Wouldn’t want them to get away from me…