A Favorite Book (Listening)
Born a Crime by Trevor Noah
I love listening to books. I'm usually "reading" a book on my Kindle, a physical book, and listing to another. There are people who complain that listening isn't really reading. But, humans were consuming stories by listening long before the written word existed.
While listening to a book is usually a similar experience for me as reading, there are few books I've listened to over the years where the experience was phenomenal - beyond that of reading. Born a Crime, by Trevor Noah is one of these. He reads the memoir himself, and his humor (and amazing South African accent) bleeds into the audiobook and makes the experience truly outstanding.
It's conference season in my writing world. In early September I attended the Rocky Mountain Writers Conference, where my novel Tequila Midnight was one of three finalists for the Gold Rush Awards in the Women's Fiction/Romance category. While I didn't take home the grand prize, I
met some great people including two agents who took an interest in the book.
Also in September, I travel to Albuquerque for one of my favorite events of the year the Women's Fiction Writer's Association Retreat. I've made lifelong friends at the event, and write online with them every week. I can't wait for the friendship, fun, and education this retreat brings.
A Travel Story
Iceland: Driving Like a Badass
In the summer of 2022, the family rented a station wagon and drove the ring road around Iceland. My nature-loving son set the itinerary based on places he wanted to hike and photograph, and there were more than a couple times where we left the "highway" to explore.
The main road around Iceland is, in most places, a narrow two-lane road with no shoulder. While there are plenty of places where we were the only vehicle in sight, other times we jousted with giant tour buses for space.
Breaks from the tight squeeze of bi-directional traffic came at almost every bridge in the country. There, the already slim road narrowed to a single-lane bridge. Rather than play chicken, the first car to approach the bridge had the right-of-way, while the other car pulled to the side and waited just before the lane narrowed.
Single-lane bridges were nothing compared to the terrifying single-lane tunnels. Now, these tunnels are long, a quarter of a mile or more. You can’t see the end of the tunnel when you enter. The first time I went through one of these, I spent four minutes white-knuckling the steering wheel and scream praying. Luckily, we were the only car in the tunnel for the duration. At our next stop, I desperately Googled how to drive through a single-lane tunnel and learned about the little carveouts you are supposed to pull into when you encounter an oncoming vehicle. This knowledge came in handy half an hour later when we traversed an even longer single-lane tunnel with plenty of traffic.
Driving around Iceland isn’t for the faint of heart. But man, is it a blast.