Dear Diary, I Don’t Read Harry Potter

Hello Francis,

I went to a place called Forked River yesterday that the locals pronounce Fork-ed. I suspect they say fork-ed road as well. The boat was lovely, the food and company were great. Once again I got dehydrated, but all in all, a great time. Slept for 11 hours last night. Yep. Woke up and the news was still about Harry Potter. So were loops and blogs.

Harry Potter I says to myself I says. I just never got around to it, and probably never will. Someone wrote me that I should be careful, because Wizard of Time (at Ellora’s Cave) might seem like a ripoff, what with an academy of wizards and such. Uh, don’t think so. Visit Terry Pratchett for that, and he’ll tell you he wasn’t the first.

Anywho, don’t care much for those wee wizards. Saw one movie. Kinda cute.

I’m always out of step. A fantasy writer who hasn’t read Harry Potter. It draws gasps of horror and disbelief at work. A romance writer who hasn’t heard of 90% of the names of best-selling romance writers. I do read, honest. Just not as much as I used to, and mostly nonfiction.

Do you remember that land of broken toys, or whatever it was called? Part of the Rudolph animation from the 60s? I don’t think I’m broken, I’m just not sure I want anyone to come and rescue me just yet. Need a little more time to figure where I fit in. I think I may visit a bookstore tonight, and pick up books that intrigue me, in any genre.

Okay, maybe not tonight. I have the sequel to Mayan Nights to finish. It’s full of genre bending, and I really like it that way. Square peg and round holes all around me.
Your pal,


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