This Rosenblat fiasco is still a story, but it is becoming less about the genre of memoir than about the character flaw of this one man.

While I generally find e-mail forwards irritating, redundant, occasionally insulting, and often totally fabricated,

Today my writer-buddy, Jen, asked me if I was scared of a blank page. I told her that I am scared of the pile of dishes that towers over the dishpan in my kitchen,

When there is so much to do, why add another thing? Especially when so many others do it so well. The same can be said, I suppose, of anything.

An expert in the field has enlightened me to the concept that one perhaps cannot/should not be a “Press” without in some way being, well, a press, a publisher, of some kind.