Waiting on a delayed plane and a late connecting flight, so hey, I’ve got time.
The very last thing I did before leaving my second Bouchercon was shake Walter Mosely’s hand and thank him for being him. 359 more words
I admit I majored in English Lit, and somehow I managed to miss wide swaths of literature: 1984 (we read Animal Farm instead), anything by Dostoyevsky (technically not English Lit but still on that list of Things You Oughta read if you’re a book person), and more than the slightest bit of Southern literature. 267 more words