Category: My Writing Practice

You might think I’m racing to finish my latest book because there’s a publication date looming or a publicity campaign to manage. Wrong. I’m racing because I’m seventy-three. At this stage of my life, the home stretch has less to do with deadlines than with not wasting time. The irony, of course, is that I’m…

Over a decade ago, I was taken to the ancestral home of British playwright George Bernard Shaw. There, tucked away in the garden, was his writing hut. Ever since that visit, I’ve wanted one of my own. Like Shaw, I want to escape the noise of a troubled world. My own hut would serve as…