the best reads
This month, I read a total of seven books. Of those seven books, I only really loved three of them—which isn’t a terrible ratio, all things considered. Two were romances, and one was…contemporary fiction? I don’t know, but there was a little bit of magic, a touch of romance, and a lot of heart. Clare Gilmore’s Love Interest was the sole earner of a five star rating this month. She gave me all I’ve ever wanted: off-the-charts chemistry, almost too-good characterization, and the most realistic depiction of a twenty-something night out in NYC that I’ve ever seen.
half-baked gatherings
Throwing dinner parties is an art. One that I practice quite regularly. It’s also the only piece of traditional domestication that I participate in. This month’s gathering wasn’t as elaborate as my typical affairs, and relied simply on a bottle of vodka and a gluttonous amount of fries—the two ingredients of what’s affectionately known as a New York City Happy Meal. We ate off of paper plates and sat on my living room floor in sweats. It was glorious—and a timely reminder that not everything has to be perfect and An Event in order to be a great time.
drafting
This month, I did a lot of writing from my boyfriend’s kitchen. We’d come home from work, he’d make dinner while I poured us a glass (or two) of white wine, and then he’d retreat to the living room to do whatever twenty-something men do while I set up shop at the island. I’ve learned that I can’t write from anywhere. Correction: I can’t write well from anywhere. My commute (an hour and a half both ways on the train) is not conducive to smart or emotional words. Neither is a room full of people close to me (not to be confused with a room full of strangers—I write some of my best bits in a crowded cafe or in my notes app at a bar). I need a surface—an expansive one that I can dump my pencil case out on—and no screens in my line of sight other than my laptop. I’m partial to music and the ability to have a beverage. Learning these things made this month a great one for writing. It’s gotten me to the end—or the almost end. I have eight chapters to go instead of the twelve that loomed thirty-one days ago. Considering the slog that has been the entire middle of this novel, taking up almost all of 2023, I’m taking this as a very important win.