My apologies, dear friends and readers, for being so absent. I was not the most frequent of communicators before Covid-19 sent all our lives into a tailspin, and now, well … we all know what now is.
My creative life has been stolen from me like a thief in the night. Snatched away like a tablecloth by a magician. Drowned under a sea of maternal and spousal and householdal (yep, made that one up) obligations.
Speaking of DRAMA, it’s William Shakespeare’s birthday. Or, at least, when historians and scholars think his birthday was. Or her birthday. Really, the theories about Shakespeare’s origins are endless. They are as fascinating and as full of infinite potential as Shakespeare’s unparalleled imagination. Frankly, when it comes to Shakespeare’s biology, I just don’t give a damn.
In honor of Will’s birthday, here are photos of some of my treasures: two volumes of The Dramatic Works and Poems of William Shakespeare, edited by Samuel Weller Singer and Charles Symmons, published in 1839 by Harper & Brothers; and, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, 4th edition, edited by David Bevington and published in 1997 by Longman. The former I used through a career as an undergraduate English major at Clemson University, during pursuit of my MA in English at the College of Charleston and The Citadel, and whilst earning my MFA in Writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts–a span of 17 years. My handwriting has changed quite a bit, my penchant for writing in books only exacerbated.
If you’re anything like me, books are part of what’s getting you through this time of physical distancing and quarantine. Every night and day my prayers contain a variety of different thanks, but always include these: for the health of family and friends, our mountain home, coffee, and books.
I hope you all are well, safe, and smart. If you want to keep in touch, the best place to find me is on Instagram, where I post almost daily (and not so wordily). Everything else has gone to the dogs.