Remember earlier in the week when I wrote about my grandmothers' paintings as if they were time traveling messages from beyond?
Well friends, Nana is back with more messages from the grave! So dim the lights, grab a cup of coffee spiked with Bailey's and get ready for this tale of ghost writing.
Here's the scoop:
My Peloton bike is next to one (of six) floor to ceiling bookcases that line the walls of my office/den/peloton/guest /dump things here because people are coming over room. Often, I get distracted while doing a ride (hard to believe, right?) and I find my attention drifting to all those books I own.
My husband, who is the organized one, has put all my books on writing together. Last night, I noticed a very midcentury modern looking book nestled between my Writer's Market from 2000 (turn of century!) and "Effective Public Relations" (which I believe I stole from a library in Fairfax, Vermont. That library was right by the covered bridge my Nana painted!).
Anyway, everyone knows that everyone TOTALLY judges a book by its cover. And I love midcentury--so I thought: THIS BOOK WILL BE AMAZING.
Titled "Handbook for Writers," I assumed this was a book I purchased when on a book purchasing spree in the past 5 years. BUT then I opened it and VOILA: