Oh, hi Friday. It's you. After last week's shenanigans, I haven't been up to much of note, but I've kept up with my new writing schedule (more or less) and have high hopes of getting into the Long Room this weekend, to gape at the gorgeous architecture and books galore! (We also might go to the Guinness Storehouse, but that's not very literary, so pretend you didn't hear that.)
★ I love that some pediatricians are prescribing books to their patients.
★ And on that note, digital dementia might be a thing... and that's scary.
★ Gender in writing (and life) fascinates me. What do we accept as the norm? It's usually the male perspective, but hey, it's not personal. Is it?
Thus the “I” in a woman’s writing has the alchemical effect of converting it into traditional women’s work–personal essay, memoir–whereas the “I” in a man’s work is a rhetorical device, a detached or quirky or “gutsy” narrative decision. It’s a wily craft choice for men, a solipsistic indulgence for women.
★ I may have posted this before—I can't remember!—but it's so nice let's check it twice: Diagon Alley via Google Street View. YEAH.
★ Nature's love letters. ❤!
The only other majorly exciting weekend plans I have are: playing around with my Bamboo and buying a new coffee grinder. (Due to the differences in US/EU electrical, ours looks like we keep a tiny, nuclear-mad scientist in the bottom every time we use it. He's about to explode.) Fancy plans, eh?