On a recent flight to New York City, my seat mate asked me what I did for a living. Still high from the release of my first book, I was all too happy to tell him I was a bona fide, true blue, working American writer. Two days post-release, I’m not afraid to say I …
We were in Richmond, BC in January our guides (the stellar ladies of Richmond PR, thanks Kristen and Stacey!) took us to Mrs. Ma’s bubble waffle stand in the Parker Place food court. Mrs. Ma was quite the waffle show-woman, delighted to show off for us gringos. Plus, the waffles? Yummy. Warm, a little eggy tasting, …
When the plane starts to head for the ground, I crane my neck to see what’s ahead. Seated in the co-pilot’s seat of a six-seater bush plane, all I can see is the same thing I’ve been looking at for the entire 45 minute flight, a vast pincushion of endless green forest canopy. We skim …
An emerald sedan sped past with a black man standing in the passenger seat—the yellow feathers of his headdress streaming out the sun roof. “Follow that Indian!” Glen swung a quick U-turn on Rampart Street, the northwest division between the French Quarter and the Tremé—the nation’s oldest African American neighborhood. The car now headed east …
It would be wrong to say I’d done nothing in January. We went to Vancouver and to Richmond for my birthday and to do research for a story. I have been jamming, hard, with the band, and doing my share of woodshedding, and learning how to say things like “jamming hard and woodshedding” without sounding …