There’s a certain kind of stillness to an animal that’s trying to be invisible. When you startle a squirrel or a rabbit, before they decide that it’s safe to run, they’re so immobile they almost shimmer.

“Am I ever really going to properly be a writer? Or will I just pussyfoot around it for the rest of my life and then die?”

I haven’t been good at friendship.

A couple of weekends ago I was lying in bed in the afternoon, just awake from my customary nap and thinking about what to do next. I decided I should make those peanut butter squares, the ones with the shortbread crust and the kinda fluffy peanut butter layer on top.

In January I read one novel about a European vacation, and four non-fiction books, only one of which made me very angry.

The older I get, the more abstract my new year’s resolutions are. I used to make lists of things to accomplish. Now the new year spread in my notebook is not much more than a floating cloud of nouns: community, ease, trust, bread.

In December I read four books: two novels, one non-fiction and one illustrated advice book. I loved three of them.

Capitalism, mothers, death, and robots. But I didn’t finish a single book in October.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been part of a group of women, convened by coach Sara Smeaton, who are reflecting, connecting, and embracing our next chapter. One of the exercises we’ve worked on is to figure out our values.

A couple of weeks ago I almost died.

These reviews were originally posted on StoryGraph.

In June I only read two books! What? I don’t know.

“Is this what you wanted? Really?” I asked myself as I heaved the heavy bike over a root, steadying myself as my boots slipped in the silty mud.

In May I read four memoir-ish books: Goodbye, Again by Jonny Sun, Do Better by Rachel Ricketts, Older Sister, Not Necessarily Related by Jenny Heijun Wills, and The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson.

I’m in the process of writing a few different things right now, and I noticed they all have something in common.

In April I read The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing by Melissa Bank, and 28 Seconds by Michael Bryant. Same initials! Weird!

These reviews were originally posted on Goodreads.

These reviews were originally posted on Goodreads.

I learned two things about myself today.

Once upon a time I posted all my book reviews on my blog. Now I review books on Goodreads, but I’m going to try and collate them here as well.

“I’ve always wanted to live in…” I’ve heard it a hundred times. Japan. New York City. Dubai. Tuscany. Greece. Australia. Los Angeles. Costa Rica. The Shire. A big city. A village. A cottage by the sea.