My office.

I have a nice office.  My large brown corner desk has plenty of room for a computer on one side and my mountain of research books and notes on the other. Everything is a chair swivel away. There is even an outdoorsy scented candle for inspiration. When the window is open I have a great view of my neighbors dining room, it’s especially entertaining at times. I am not a fan of their taste in music and I am sure they aren't impressed with mine. Most of the time I don't even notice any noise as I am immersed in some great adventure between the pages of my latest read.

Every interview, article and book says a writer must also be a reader.  I am a reader. A big reader.  Some call me a professional reader though others use words like obsessed, addicted or just nuts.  I often hear talk that I need to get a life.

Not only do I read books I review them, I follow other blogs, I connect with other readers. That's where the real problem lies, you see we have the same tastes so I purchase new books, how can I not when they sound so enticing. Then word started to spread, emails flooded my inbox ‘hey want to read this book? It’s right up your alley, I'll send you a free copy'.  How can I say no to that?

Am I making progress with my own book?  Progress is in the eye of the beholder.

My state of peculiar embarrassment is my TBR pile, which is growing in leaps and bounds. If you are a reader I don't need to explain what this means.  If you are a writer you should already have your own TBR pile.  Everyone ought to have one.  Houses should be built with a special spot for a TBR pile. My special place is a closet, I removed the doors to make more room.  Now I get to look at these gems, to sit back in anticipation but for the time being I can touch them, open them up and breathe in their scent.

But eventually I realized that if my 'great Canadian novel' was ever going to be written I had to stop buying new books, stop glancing and running my fingers over those yummy spines.  I needed to not only go on a book diet but also put the closet doors back on.

It didn't help. I can't see them, but when it's really quiet I swear I hear voices.  Could they be talking amongst themselves? Are they thinking I've abandoned them? I will peak in every once in awhile, leave words of reassurance promising that one day each of them will make the transition to the ‘read’ shelves.  Yes I am a reader with weird reader quirks.

I am getting some writing done these days, usually I i can be found with my iPad, a cuppa tea at my side and a puppy at my feet sitting in the kitchen.

*originally published in Crime Scene (Sisters in Crime) April 2017 issue.