Another Huffington Post piece by me (but titled by them). About cocaine this time.
What I really need to do--but am afraid to--is reread Midnight Picnic and get started on the edits. (What I also need to do is sell this other manuscript, but that's another story.)
Last night I read Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island. Despite a great title (creepy, no? and strange), it was boring. I read it in like two hours. Now I'm beginning Therese Raquin by Emile Zola. I'll reserve judgment until I've read further.
Tonight I'm off to a photography class, where as a favor to EJ I'm to be the photographed, not the photographer, even though my whole face is peeling off as a result of the Miami beach weekend. But maybe I can get a good author photo.