In a transparent bid to build anticipation and heighten interest, various elements of the web site are currently under construction, and won’t work when you expect them to.  This means that if you’re trying to post a comment here on Mutterings, you’ll have to try again later.  Maybe even tomorrow. It is all a part…

What, oh what to give for the holidays?  Something that demonstrates economic responsibility but doesn’t feel repressive; something fun yet with substance; something personal but not icky. A book?  Maybe even a signed one? If that’s your choice, here’s for you: bookplates, of three flavors: with the cover of The Language of Bees or The…

This is a test message, sending smoke signals into the blue…

British Airways and Europcar between them transported me from Bay Area California into the farms that are the heard of central England. Now I’m retracing my steps to Heathrow to pick up the rest of the family, driving through the sweet English countryside in late summer. More later.

I would like to thank Alice and Merrily again for this great series of posts about their trip to England on the footsteps of Russell and Holmes.  One minor problem is that Alice has left nothing for me to post about this September when I’m there, but I’m sure I’ll think of something… Great work,…

Well, friends, perhaps I should apologize for urging you to sign up for Booked for Breakfast, what with that real downer of the lady’s dead mother on Tuesday and the oddity of my most recent book being Folly, followed today by my most recent book being The Art of Deception. I agree, a much better…

[There’s supposed to be a nice cheery book cover here, but those of you who read my last post won’t be surprised that Blogger won’t let me post it. Sigh. But you can see it and some other nice stuff at http://www.elaineviets.com ] Back in December, some of you may remember a essay by Elaine…

My name is Laurie, and I am a dialup connector. This is a shameful state of connection, I confess. And I swear, it’s not entirely my fault. I have honestly tried to connect in a more up to date fashion, but the world doesn’t want me, certainly not enough to lay its high-speed cable to…

The Wednesdays of Edgars week are for the symposium, when people shell out money for a day of panels and an interview with that year’s Grand Master, in this case, my distant (very, very distant) cousin, Stephen King. And although it’s intended for writers new to the business, I often shell out my own ninety…