About 12 years ago, give or take a year or so, I was reviewing books for an independent website out of Texas. I loved it, even when I didn't like the book. I am opinionated, love to read, like to write. It was fun. It didn't pay; I did it for the enjoyment. My now ex-husband did not enjoy it. He didn't actually care about the reviews I was writing, never read them for that matter. He was bothered by the amount of time I spent reading. I was still in my twenties, and instead of standing up for what I wanted to do with my free time, I just stopped. Just before this I had had a review picked up by Reuters, which the website I reviewed for told me was a BIG DEAL. It was exciting to see my name on a news site, and to read comments on my review. An independent publisher had used another review on the back cover of the author's book when it went to print. It was maybe the start of something bigger, but I folded to someone else's desires. Last year I started a blog to tra...
Just a bibliophile in Maine reading, and writing about, one book at a time...