My husband is a (British) historian. Inevitably, his students will ask if dates will be on the tests. On the occasions he is forced to teach American history, he tells his classes that the most significant dates in US history they should know are July 4, 1776; July 3, 1863; Dec 7, 1941; June 6, 1944; and Feb 9, 1964 (this final one being the first appearance of The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show).

Alas, I am not one of my husband’s students (anymore), and thus must keep track of a seemingly infinite array of dates, which I suppose is to be expected considering the infinite nature of time itself. Because of this, I have calendars and reminders and Siri on my iPhone to ensure that I remember appointments, meetings, publishers’ deadlines, and blog dates. The problem with this, however, is one must enter the correct date in order to be reminded! And here, I must beg your forgiveness: I missed my scheduled blog date today.

For whatever reason, I noted the date for my Austen Authors post on the wrong day. Perhaps those tiny little buttons on the iPhone foiled me again or it was some insidious plot by Siri to turn the other Austen Authors against me. (If you were to see some of my dictated text messages, you would understand that Siri is out to get me – probably because she thinks I prefer the lady who speaks to me through my Prius over her.) I chock it up to being poor with numbers. Continue reading →

When I read reviews, either for my books or for those written by other authors, I’m struck by the individuality of everyone’s reader personality. Our reading styles are as different as our reading tastes.  And I’m not just talking about the Real Book vs. E-book debate.  (In case you’re interested, most of the time, I come down enthusiastically on the side of the paperback book–I love the tactile nature of reading.) A reader’s personality is defined by so many other things.

If I had to use one word to describe my reading style, I’d probably say ‘laid-back.’  For one thing, I am not an urgent, desperate reader.  Even if I’m loving the book I’m reading, I do not, under any circumstances, stay up till 2:00 a.m. to finish the book.  When it’s bedtime, I settle on a stopping point, and look forward to reading a little more the next day.  As a result, busy days mean a single book might take me a week and a half or two weeks to finish.  But that means I have that many more days to enjoy that particular book.

I often tuck a book in my purse on the off chance that I’ll have an occasion to read while away from home.  But I’ll only read if I think I can give the book my full attention. Voices distract me–my conscious mind tends to follow a conversation going on beside me, making it difficult for me to maintain my concentration.  I have to be completely wrapped up in a book in order for my mind to block out the world around me, and that doesn’t happen very often.  So I tend to save my reading for quiet, unrushed moments. Continue reading →

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”   – Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

In the grand tradition of Mark Twain, George Eliot, and Dr. Seuss, I have chosen to use a nom de plume. I did so not only to preserve some modicum of privacy in our Instagram world but also so as not to embarrass my grown daughters, who might not want their friends to know their mother could write a love scene. (By their estimation, I have had sex exactly twice since two of them are a set of twins.) Often I am asked how I chose the name “Colette,” so today I will tell you how the name was bestowed upon me. These events occurred over twenty years ago, and I promise, they are all true.

As with most stories, mine began when my ex-husband went to a party. He called me early the next day in a highly excitable state, which in and of itself is not so unusual except in this case he wanted to tell me about the psychic he had met the night before. By this point, I had known the man for several years, and although at times he could slide into mild paranoia – and I never have been able to convince him that Oswald acted alone – he had never struck me as someone to give credence to fortune tellers, horoscopes, or the like. In this case, however, he insisted that the woman had been spot on with everything she had said about him and me and our girls, although he refused to elaborate. Instead, he said I would have to go talk to her myself. I took her information more to get him off the phone than for any interest on my part of actually seeing her.

A day or two later, I mentioned this in passing to the guy I was seeing – No, he was not my “boyfriend” because, for one thing, he was a DKE, and for the purposes of this story, I shall refer to him as “Leo Bolt.” Well, Leo listened in rapt fascination and was quite keen to meet the psychic; so the next thing I know, I’m calling and making an appointment for a “reading.” Continue reading →