This year on PBS a documentary about books is playing that is near and dear to my heart. It started last May with a two part episode of the 100 favorite books in America as voted upon by hundreds of thousands of people. The show is hosted by the wonderful, smart, and wickedly witty Meredith Vieira .
The premise is easy. From these 100 books listed, PBS watchers will vote on the #1 favorite book to read.
I have several favorites in the list, including, but not limited to, these:
Then there a few books that I question. I won’t list all of those but I will tell you my least favorite book of all time, THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, is also on this list. Don’t judge me. I just think this book was a waste of my sophomore year in English in high school. And why in the name of all that’s holy is 50 Shades of Gray on the list???
Okay, enough ranting about the ones I don’t like.
You should view the list and see if your favs ( and not favs) made the list. Then, I recommend you watch the show and on your favorite!!! I’ve even been toying with the idea to start reading the 100 books ( even the ones I hated!) in 2019. Many of the books I’ve never read before and I think – at this advanced age (heehee) – I should broaden my reading horizons.
Just a thought for now, but I’m giving it thoughtful consideration.
Seriously, though…if you like to read, this is a great show to watch. Each episode digs deep into the category of books they are doing. For instance, there’s a show about debut books from first time authors like Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind. Did you know that was her first and only book ever published?
There’s a show all about the romance genre ( a personal fav for me!) titled WHAT WE DO FOR LOVE. It includes books like Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice.
Again, this is a great series to watch if you love books, love to read, or are just trying find out a little more about the authors and why they wrote the books they did.
So, if you’re looking for a change from all the negative stuff on commercial television nowadays, this is a really nice way to spend a few hours. You won’t only be entertained, but you’ll learn something along the way as well. Make it a family watch and gather up the kids, grab some popcorn, watch and DISCUSS the books with one another!
Reading and the Great America Read. They’re good things.
After grace, my father turned his attention away from the conversation my brothers were having about the Jets, and toward me.
“What’s going on with you and that Irish guy?” he asked without any preamble.
Luckily, I hadn’t taken a sip from the water glass I’d lifted to my mouth, otherwise I knew I would have choked on the liquid.
“Nothing.”
“Regina Maria.”
“Really, Pop. Nothing. I made a cake for him. That’s it.” I could hear the angels in Heaven tsk-tsking me.
I’d been in church less than two hours ago, and now I was committing a sin by lying to my father. I could see a visit to the confessional before the end of the day was in order.
“Guys you make cakes for don’t usually spend the night in your apartment, little girl.”
My brother knows a guy named Tony Cartieri. Everyone who knows him agrees that if Tony didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck.
Right at the moment Pop made that statement, I knew exactly how old Tony felt, because the conversation had slowed and ebbed, Pop’s words spreading around the table loud and clear. The kids were set up in the living room, so I don’t think they got wind of it. But everyone else did.
Ten pair of eyes glared at me from all corners of the table. Some were wide-eyed; some were narrowed. All of them were filled with varying levels of emotions ranging from shocked (Ma) to suspicious (my brothers) to pleased (my sisters-in-law).
“Regina.” Ma threw her napkin on her plate and slammed her cutlery next to her plate. “What is your father talking about? What man spent the night at your apartment?”
“It’s not like it sounds, Ma. It was late and we were talking, and then we both just fell asleep—”
“Holy Madonna.” She made the sign of the cross and closed her eyes, hands clasped together as her lips moved silently in prayer.
“Where?” ’Carlo asked.
“Where what?”
“Where did the two of you fall asleep? In your bed?”
Another finger cross from Ma. This time she kissed her fingertips afterward and threw a prayer up to the Lord.
“I don’t think you get to ask me that question, ’Carlo. I’m thirty-two years old, and you’re my brother, not my father.”
“What I am is suspicious,” he spat back. “How come we didn’t know you were seeing a guy? Why you keeping him a secret?”
“First of all, what I do in the privacy of my own home”—now Ma was rocking back and forth as she prayed—“or don’t do, is none of your business. Second, I’m not seeing anyone, so the fact that it’s a secret is null and void. Stop with the third degree, GianCarlo. Use it on your own kids, ’cause like I said, you’re not my father.”
“But I am,” Pop said, his tone hard and filled with anger, “so answer it. Where did Irish sleep last night?”
“Irish?” Petey exclaimed. “What the Hell kinda name is that?”
“Language, Pietro,” Ma said, awaking from her spiritual coma to chastise her son.
There are so many things I simply adore about my family. The unshakeable connection and love we all have; the fact that we live close to one another; our shared faith and sense of tradition. But the one thing I do hate is the antiquated morality system they adhere to. Girls don’t have sex with men before marriage, plain and simple. Of course since the one and only time I’d done just that, I’d wound up pregnant and forced to get married, my parents’ concerns made sense.
To them.
I was almost fifteen years older, much wiser, and a full-fledged adult now, but I was still treated like an ignorant bambina who had to be protected from wolves and scoundrels. If my father had his way, I’d be married right now to one of his goombahs, eight months pregnant with probably our seventh child, and in the kitchen making gravy.
So many times over the years, I’d wanted to smack him on the back of the head much the way he smacks us, and say, “Wake up! It’s twenty-first-century America, not eighteenth-century Sicily.” Wanting to do something and actually doing it, though, are very different beasts.
So.
I don’t get mad often, especially with my family, but I was tired, overworked, emotionally drained, and royally pissed off right now, so the anger bled through my usual calm.
I rose from my chair and threw my napkin down on the table like my mother had.
“You know what? I’m done. I’m done with you all treating me like a child. I’m not one of your underlings, Pop, who needs to be kept on a short lease and told what to do every minute of the day because you don’t have enough trust to let them act on their own. And”—I glared at my brothers— “I’m not five years old and unable to defend myself against bullies and bad guys. You don’t have to hold my hand so I can cross the street and not get hit by a car.” I grabbed my plate and walked to the kitchen. “I’m done with you all thinking I can’t make a wise and appropriate decision with my life,” I added over my shoulder. I placed the dish in the sink and called out, “I’m done with the checking up on me, the second- guessing me, and the way you all think you have a right to manage my life.”
I yanked my coat off the hall tree and yelled, “I’m a thirty-two-year-old grown-ass woman who owns and manages her own business and her own life. I don’t need protectors, handlers, or any of you telling me what to do, who to see, or how to conduct myself. I’ve been on my own a long time, and I think I’ve done a great job with myself, even if you all don’t.” I shrugged into my coat and wound my scarf around my neck. “If I want a man to spend the night or not, it’s none of your damn business. Deal with it.”
I may have screeched that last part.
I slammed the door behind me and sprinted down the stairs of the brownstone, my ungloved hand waving in the air for a passing cab.
As an exit line, I think it was a pretty good one.
I’ve been doing one of those Facebook challenges this week where every day you post a book cover of one of your favorite all time books and no explanation of why it’s a fav.
So, these are the ones I’ve put up:
This is a pretty eclectic bunch of reads, no? All of these books MEANT something to me and changed me in some way.
Books: they’re a good thing!
Upload covers, or tell me, some of the books that have influenced you the most over your life. I love to hear how books have challenged people and changed them.
Today we’re talking about AUDIO Books. Since I’m relatively new to the process I wanted to get the advice and wisdom of some authors who have gone through the process of converting a book to audio, so I sought out one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs, Linda Nightingale, to help me out. Linda’s a prolific writer, not to mention a lot of fun, as evidenced by this picture of her at a recent signing. ( she’s the one on your right!)
I wanted to know how daunting this process was, what she had to go through, and if it was worth the effort that it seems to be. Her advice has been invaluable in helping me make the move from print to audio! Here’s Linda in her own words:
(ME) How did you feel about your books going to audio?
I was thrilled! Bowled over even! When my publisher announced that it was possible for our books to go to audio, I immediately signed on.
My experience with audio books was very pleasant with two of my four. I was lucky enough to snag this young Englishwoman with a lovely voice and accent perfect for both Love For Sale and Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody. Her delivery was impeccable. I was thrilled, even though Morgan D’Arcy is told in first person male.
The second two were not as successful. With Gambler’s Choice, though the girl, again an Englishwoman, had the book well dramatized, she didn’t change with the characters, which could be forgiven, but she sounded as if she were in a well. I received many comments on this fact in reviews.
The second, Gylded Wings, was a dark fantasy. However, the narrator read it as if it were a fairytale—has tone and sing-song way of telling the story.
Writing for audio books is different from writing a book seen on a page. Maybe it shouldn’t be but when the reader is looking at the text on a page, they can follow ‘untagged’ dialogue for a time and understand who’s talking. With audio books, this isn’t the case. The listener can become confused if the dialogue isn’t clearly tagged as to the speaker, but when the book is already published, it’s too late to change it. Just something to keep in mind if you are writing for audio.
The process itself, ‘proofing’ your book for errors, can take hours of listening and then listening again to the corrections. I enjoyed every minute. I loved to listen to my characters coming to life.
As to sales—not record yet, but still hoping. If you aren’t a member of Audible, they are quite pricey, and promoting an audio book takes just as much effort and savvy as promoting your eBook or print version. The first thing I did was to sign up for a blog tour, and that worked out well. Unfortunately, many of the hosts couldn’t use the audio files, and I had to come up with an alternative: refer them to my website and hope they hang around while they’re visiting.
Will I do it again? Oh, yes. It’s exciting to hear your book read. Also a confirmation in a way. Look, what I did! Self, listen this isn’t half-bad!
Linda has lived a interesting life—from breeding and showing horses to working for a Circuit Judge—and won some prestigious awards for her writing. Find out more about her on her website and various social media, and she’d love to hear from you via email.
Christine’s debut YA Novel, Dickensen Academy, is out and doing fabulously with readers and reviewers alike.
Today, she’s brought along two of her characters from the book, Autumn and Ben, for a sit-down to get to know them – and the book – better. Let’s eavesdrop on their interviews for some insight into these two and the mysterious Dickenson Academy…
Tell us a bit about yourself, Autumn.
My name is Autumn Mattison. I’m from Seattle, and I just started my freshman year of high school at Dickensen Academy.
Why did you choose to attend Dickensen Academy?
Who wouldn’t? Almost no one gets in the place. So when I got in, it shocked us all. And it made my dad so proud. It’s got this great writing program, which I’m really excited about. And the art classes sound fun too. And I’ve got it admit, it was great to move out of the house. My dad is a control freak and sometimes I feel like I can barely breath around him.
What do you like about boarding school so far?
It’s so amazing to be off on my own. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, and I’ve already made four really good friends. My roommate, Aditi, is so sweet. And then there’s Hannah, this girl I run cross country with. Ben and Ryan usually hang out with us too.
What about the classes?
I’m really liking school so far. The classes are small, and the teachers are super-passionate. Especially Mr. Robbins. He teaches Creative Core which is this art class that is supposed to be the backbone of the fine arts program. To me, it just seems like drawing and art. But the faculty says it’s much more than that.
Anything you don’t like?
Well…there’s something weird about this place that sometimes gives me the creeps. It’s almost like I’ve been here before. I keep having these déjà vu moments. But it’s probably all my imagination. My dad would say I have too much of that. But there are also all these rules. Like freshmen can’t leave campus until Thanksgiving, and we can’t hang out with the upperclassmen. There’s even this huge fence hidden in the woods. It feels like we’re locked in. But the teachers say it’s because up here in the mountains there are lots of wild animals. But it seems a bit overkill to me.
Do you have any goals for the year?
I’m hoping to get good grades. I don’t think my dad believes I can hack it on my own. But I want to prove him wrong. No way will I ever do as well as my brother, Josh. But hopefully I can do well enough to get my dad off my back.
Anything you’d like to add?
Well, there’s this guy, Ben. He’s really cute. We hang out a lot, but usually in a group. Aditi thinks he likes me. He even dreamed about me before we got in. Weird, right? But I doubt he’s interested in me. I’m sure he’ll end up with someone more like Hannah, who is model gorgeous.
(Peggy here: Mmmm… something a little creepy, eh? Sounds intriguing!) Christine sent along a picture of Dickenson Academy to share.
All those tall trees surrounding it and the way the mist eerily is winding around them and the buildings…..wow!
And now, let’s listen in on the other student Christine has brought along with her…
Tell us a bit about yourself, Ben
My name is Ben Coleman. I’m a freshmen here at Dickensen and turn fifteen next month. My family lives in Seattle.
Why did you choose to attend Dickensen Academy?
This place has a great reputation for academics and fine arts. I’m a focused student and like the challenge. But I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to leave home. I’m really tight with my family, especially my mom. It was just the two of us for years until Jim came along. And then there’s my brother, Calvin. He’d just five. The kid looks up to me like crazy, and I do a lot with him, so my mom can get stuff done. I was worried about leaving them alone, especially because my brother has some medical issues. But then I had this vivid dream where my family was at Dickensen Academy, and I woke up feeling I needed to accept and that everything would work out.
What do you like about boarding school so far?
It’s great. I’ve got an awesome roommate named Ryan. He’s a bit of a goofball. But he gets me to let loose—something I couldn’t do much of at home when I always had to be responsible. Then there’s this girl, Autumn. We have the deepest conversations. But as I’ve gotten to know her, I realize she is beautiful in this I-don’t-even-try sort of way, always wearing jeans and hoodies. But I’m sure she sees me as just a friend, and I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now.
What about your classes?
Love them. The teachers are fantastic. Most are really strict which I actually like. I’m here to learn. But then there’s Robbins. He teaches Creative Core which is this art class that is highly praised. He’s super laid back, so we get to chat with our friends while we work. It’s a nice break from the academics.
Anything you don’t like?
The rules. I’ve made some friends with some of the older guys playing sports after school. I’d like to hang out with them after practice, but supposedly we’re not allowed to “fraternize” with the upperclassman. What kind of a dumb rule is that? I’ve talked to this sophomore, Gabe. He basically said we could be friends later in the year, but not now. I feel like there’s something big they are hiding from us freshmen. Autumn gets the same vibe as me. She suggested it might be some form of hazing. But I don’t know. It feels bigger than that. Ryan tells me I’m paranoid, so I’m trying to let it go. But sometimes I really wonder if this school is more than it seems.
Do you have any goals for the year?
Good grades. Make friends. Just the normal stuff.
Anything you’d like to add?
Can’t think of anything.
(Peggy here- I can relate, Ben. I hate rules, too!)
Dickenson Academy by Christine Grabowski
This secluded high school may be her dream come true…or her worst nightmare.
Blurb
Dickensen Academy isn’t a typical boarding school. The faculty is hiding an unbelievable secret within their fine arts program. When Autumn Mattison receives an invitation to attend the high school, she yearns to escape her overbearing father yet remains reluctant to leave her mother and brother. Her doubts fade away when a vivid dream convinces her she belongs there.
Away from home, Autumn discovers a unique school environment that awakens her creative potential, and her new friends become like a second family. However, as she uncovers more about the dark side of the school and struggles with its curriculum, she questions whether Dickensen Academy is truly where she belongs.
When tragedy strikes, Autumn must learn to believe in her own power and stand up to her greatest fear or risk having her memories destroyed to protect the school’s secrets. Caught between secrets and dreams, can she find her true self?
Excerpt
“I feel like there’s something big we don’t know about. Something those students were protecting. I mean, really, why are we here?”
I thought it was just me who was confused. “Well…the recruiters said we’re creative and focused.”
“Yeah, that’s what Principal Locke said too.”
“And we have the right personality.”
Ben looked up at the sky, sighed then turned toward the forest. “What did he say…something about how it will soon become clear why we’re here, and there’s some ultimate purpose for our creativity?”
“I know. That whole creativity part was a bit bizarre.”
He shrugged. “It seems everyone is going with the flow. But I have so many questions.” Then he touched my arm to stop me, so I turned toward him. “I’m thinking they’re isolating us for some special reason,” he admitted in an embarrassed tone.
I tried not to laugh—he was acting paranoid. But I didn’t know Ben well. Maybe he was joking, trying to freak me out. Or was he hitting on me? The flutter in my chest moved to my stomach. I was already anxious about being away from home and whether or not I could hack the academics. I didn’t need to obsess about anything else. But I still had to know about Ben’s dream.
“So…I also had a dream about Dickensen before I accepted the offer.”
Dickensen Academy is Christine’s debut YA novel. After graduating from the University of Washington, she earned her MBA at the University at Albany. She honed her technical writing skills in marketing and consulting but attributes the creative part of the process to her passion for reading.
When she isn’t reading or writing, Christine can often be found running, skiing, or hiking. She lives in Newcastle, Washington, with her supportive husband, two avid teen readers, and their energetic wheaten terriers.
(Peggy here – Christine, thanks so much for dropping by today and bringing Autumn and Ben with you. I have to say, Dickenson Academy sounds like the kind of place I’d definitely want to visit.)
I figured I’d get your attention with that title! Did it work? Hee hee.
So I decided to stop sending out a newsletter. It never really took off, subscription-wise anyway, and it was a lot of work for not a lot of return on the work involved. The other reason I decided to render it defunct had to do with a workshop I attended over the weekend on writing newsletters.
I’m pretty sure the person who gave the workshop didn’t have as one of her objectives that the writers in the class will kill their newsletters! But that was my decision.
Let me ‘esplain.
There are a few new privacy rules involved in sending emails with newsletters to people. The reason is for something called GDRP.
This rule requires you to show proof that a person actually wants you to send them your email/newsletter, plus you have to give them an easy out if they want to unsubscribe, all to protect the privacy of person you are sending stuff to. It’s kinda like publishing HIPPA. Today, with the surge in blogs, and internet sites, protecting privacy is a huge factor in how companies deal with their customers. I put my newsletter together before this edict came down and when I tried to rework the form to sign up to include all the new GDRP verbage, I screwed it up six ways from Sunday and it became a huge pain in the a** to fix.
Then, when I did fix it, I was worried I hadn’t done it correctly, which led me to trying to fix it even more, and the whole thing snowballed into an afternoon spent frustrated and now afraid I was going to be sued by the GDRP powers-that-be.
In addition to this dilemma, the workshop speaker had a list of things you should and shouldn’t be doing in your newsletter.
Can I just tell you I did every single one of the things you shouldn’t be doing? Yeah. Who knew??
Any hoo.
The newsletter was just one more thing I thought – and kept getting told by other writers – I needed to connect with readers. Well, you know what? I blog 4-5 times per week, I tweet dozens of times daily, I share Triberr feeds, I live on facebook and my Instagram is burning up. I don’t need a newsletter to connect with people because everyone knows everything about me anyway from one of those other sites. So, bye bye newsletter and GDRP worries, hello more time to….do everything else!!
heehee.
When I’m not worrying and obsessing, you can find me here:
I’d better clarify that title in case people think I’ve gone circus-mad!
No, I can’t toss things in the air with the greatest of ease and catch them in a synchronized pattern of flawlessly timed manual dexterity. ( how’s that for a sentence? Hee hee) But I can — and do — juggle things in life every single day. Of course I do, because I’m a woman in the 21st century with a career, family, personal life, dreams, and desires.
Let me ‘esplain it, Lucy.
Like so many woman nowadays, I not only have a family I care for – which includes my husband and daughter but also now my rapidly aging and health diminishing parents – I have a career that depends on me and me alone to -literally – get the job done because I’m a solo writer. If I don’t put the words on the page, no one else will. I have a personal life and circle which includes people outside my family whom I love getting together and socializing with. I also have hobbies, those things I do for my self, my sanity, my creativity, in the privacy of my own home during any free time I can spare.
When my daughter was a wee bit younger and still living at home, I was her chauffeur to school, after school activities and everywhere else she needed to be or wanted to go. Even when she started to drive, I was still the one who did her laundry, cooked for her and made sure she was healthy, balanced, and happy.
My husband has a demanding career and is often gone up to fourteen hours a day. Even when he is home he still has to take phone calls and manage problems, so that leaves little time for him to do the things that he’d have to do to run his life if he were single. That means I am tasked with cooking, cleaning, shopping, paying bills, and doing all these sundry other tasks that require our home to run. I draw the line at mowing grass and taking out the garbage though. Those things – my little feminist heart aside – I classify as man tasks. Don’t judge me!
My writing career depends on my getting my stories on the page in a coherent, concise, and quick manner. At this point in my career when I am still an unknown in the publishing world I can’t take up to a year to write one book. Luckily, I write fast, so I’ve been able to average 3 books in print a year since I began my journey in 2015. In order to do this effectively and in a timely manner, I need to juggle the time I spend on everything else so that I have enough time to write.
In the purest sense of the word, my life is a juggling act.
Those of you who know me know I don’t sleep much. Chronic insomnia rules my life. I utilize this sleepless state to write, put together book promo marketing, and do other sundry writing things ( like this blog, for instance. – it’s 2 am EST right now as I type away.) Most days I write between the life stuff. I’ll go to the gym ( because my a** has gotten larger since I sit most of the day) then write for an hour. Grocery shop, then edit. Visit my parents to give my mother a shower, then bang out a blog post. Once I actually finished a scene while I was at the dentist office waiting for a cleaning.
I’m not alone in doing this. Every female writer I know juggles every single day just to carve out time to write, exist, and keep the family happy, fed, and healthy. The key is to find that elusive balance needed so that no one – especially the juggler ( Moi!) feels like they’re missing out on something.
They kinda go hand in hand, don’t they? Juggling and Balance.
Here, for the first time, is the cover to my upcoming Holiday release CHRISTMAS AND CANOLLIS, a San Valentino Christmas Love Story. Don’tcha love the cover!!! Hee hee. Here’s a little sumthin’ sumthin to whet your holiday reading appetite:
“You seeing anybody these days? Like, dating?”
Trixie was the oldest of all my brother’s wives and the one who routinely asked after my love life. Or lack of it.
“No free time,” I said. “The bakery takes up all my hours. When I’m not working, I’m planning, paying bills, ordering supplies. Throw in a few much-needed hours of sleep each night, and months can change before I realize it.”
Trixie shook her head, her over-Aqua-netted hair staying perfectly in place while she moved. “You’re too young, Reg, to be sitting alone at night in that apartment. You’re gonna shrivel and rot before your time. A girl’s gotta”—she lowered her voice and moved a little closer to me—“get some sometime, you know?” Her raised eyebrows underscored her meaning as her intent glare lit on me. “Don’t use it, you’re gonna lose it.”
“Lose what?” my mother asked in her usual thunderous voice at just the moment the entire table’s conversations screamed to a halt.
“Nothin’ Ma. Trixie and me were just talking about the bakery.” I hoped against hope she’d let it go, but it wasn’t my mother I needed to worry about. It was Trixie.
She leaned forward and cocked her head so she could see my mother across my chest, the few glasses of pre-dinner vino showing their effects. “I was just saying to Reggie that she should be going out, dating. Trying to find a guy worthy of her. Not one like her loser ex.”
Remember when I said there were times I’d wished I’d been a foundling? Yeah. This was a prime example of one of those times.
“She’s still young and beautiful,” Trixie continued. “She’s got needs like any young and healthy woman does.”
Forget about being a foundling. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never been born.
“Hush with that kinda talk, Beatrice Guilia,” my mother said, sharply. She made the sign of the cross over her chest. “We don’t talk about things like needs and such at the dinner table. There’s kids present. Madonna mia.”
Once Trixie starts on a subject, though, it’s hard to stop her. Not even ’Carlo pulling at her arm can sway her when she wants to make a point. “All I’m sayin’ is Reggie shouldn’t let the tragedy of her past prevent her from finding lasting happiness. She deserves to be happy. In every way,” she added, nodding. “Penny, you get me, right?”
I shot my gaze to my other sister-in-law across the table and sent her a silent, wide-eyed plea to keep her mouth shut.
Penny wasn’t tuned into my telepathic appeal, though. I assumed the vino had something to do with her inability to read my mind and eye signals.
“It’s true, Reg. You got no life outside-a work,” she said. “You need to get out. Meet people. Find a boyfriend. I know a couple-a single guys at work. I could set you up with one of them.”
“Nobody’s setting Regina up with nobody.” My father’s booming voice shot through the dining room. “She wants t’ meet a guy, I’ll introduce her to one. Last time, she went looking on her own, and we all know what happened.”
He looked pointedly at me, and I said a silent prayer for the dining room floor to open up and swallow me. The only guys my father was every going to introduce me to were the ones he associated with. None of whom had modern notions of a wife as a life partner, but more the old-fashioned and archaic ones of thinking of a bride as an unpaid domestic, a carrier of the next generation of sons, and a cook. In essence, a woman who was perpetually pregnant, barefoot in the kitchen, and subservient.
Yeah, I know. This is the twenty-first century, and we live in one of the most progressive cities on the planet. But we’re talking about a lifetime of shared social mores and cultural dictates that were infused into my family since birth. Maybe even before they were born.
Change was not gonna happen.
Coming 12.12.18 from The Wild Rose Press. Pre-order links coming soon!
So it’s no secret I like to read. And cook. I also like to read cookbooks. Hee hee. See what I did there?
I have over 130 cookbooks in my house, some dating back to the early 1900’s – old church-sponsored cookbooks with recipes like Lard Pie and Potato Treacle. Weird, no? Some are from famous celebrities – Trisha Yearwood’s and Rachel Ray’s are my fav – and some from the likes of Betty Crocker, Southern Comfort Magazine, and Weight Watchers.
I’ve read all of them – really. I have my own recipe books with written copies of the recipes I’ve read about impressed into them. I’m always up for a new cookbook gift. (Hint Hint)
I’ve got cookbooks devoted solely to chicken, meat, veggies, pasta, desserts, cookies, pies, hors d’ouveres, appetizers, munchies, smoothies, cupcakes and cakes. I have entertaining cookbooks with complete meal selections in courses from soup to nuts. I’ve got holiday cookbooks galore – of every holiday, not only Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Valentine’s Day, Easter, and even the Fourth of July.
I’ve got cookbooks with the titles “the best of American Cuisine” “The Number one recipes in England” “Fifty way to serve hotdogs”. Hubby loves that one!
I think my cookbook collecting is a little addictive, no?
Hi, my name is Peggy and I collect cookbooks.
Lets see what some of the other authors in this blog challenge collect. MFRWauthorBlogChallenge
