Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “reflections”

The Writer’s Life: Got the Room to Write


April 23 is Shakespeare’s birthday, which falls around the time in my blog schedule in which I voice some thoughts about the writing life. I’m in the midst of reading different biographies of Shakespeare, while juggling a few writing projects. In the middle of all this I feel fortunate I have a room of my own in which to write, unlike some women writers my reading has uncovered.

Man in historical clothing smiling at a birthday cake with candles and inscription 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY W.S. - 1599' in a warmly lit tavern.

First of all, what I’ve uncovered about Shakespeare:

My reading has added to what is known about Shakespeare with some additional sidenotes. For instance:

Robert Greene casts a snide asperity upon Shakespeare by referring to him as an “upstart crow” in 1592. This is supposedly the first verified appearance of Shakespeare in London. Greene died shortly after that verbal attack. Hmm.

Prior to his London debut, it’s well-known Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway in 1582, became a father in 1583 and again in 1585. His only son, Hamnet, died at age 11. Several facts came to light about his family, such as his father sliding into financial ruin, several of his siblings dying young, his shrewd real estate purchases. Sifting information held within the plethora of tomes about Shakespeare, a few nuggets come sparkling forth. 

  • He was a profound businessman, buying houses and acreage to pad his retirement funds. Let alone that he went from a nobody London hopeful to a respected playwright, actor, and part owner of the most popular theatre in London.
  • He visited Stratford more than people give him credit for, allaying the idea he forsook wife and family for the glittering lights of London. It’s recorded he stayed at The Crown Tavern, an inn owned by the Davenants. He became so close to the Davenants that paternity rumors swirled about, mostly by the Davenant’s son who (it is thought) wanted to grab a bit of Shakespeare fame.
  • He helped arrange a marriage between his landlord’s daughter, and her father’s apprentice, and later appeared in court concerning a domestic matter, namely the nonpayment of the daughter’s dowry.
  • His acting troupe performed at both Queen Elizabeth I’s and James I’s court numerous times, becoming the most successful among the numerous players in London.
  • With his success Shakespeare was able to purchase a coat-of-arms, something his father had wanted, which made him a gentleman, earning him the title of “Mr. Shakespeare.”
  • He outlived all his brothers, and regarded his last surviving sister, Joan, well enough to provide her and her family the means to stay in the cottage he owned after his death. 

As fascinating as Shakespeare is, how interest in him continues, as in the adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet, there is a new focus on the Stratford bard through his sister Joan. It has recently come to light that a religious tract was found hiding in the rafters of Shakespeare’s family home. Signed “J. Shakespeare” it was once attributed to John Shakespeare, the father; however, new research is learning towards Joan, Shakespeare’s younger sister, being the probable author. This indicates the following:

  • She was literate during a time women did not receive a formal education. 
  • She felt strongly enough about her Catholic beliefs to put them to paper in an era when papists (as they were called) could be severely persecuted.
  • More attention is needed in learning about Shakespeare’s sister who lived to be 77 years old, quite a feat thousands, since so many died of ailments ranging from simple infections to the devastating plague.

    As for my recent thoughts about writing, as prompted by the recent discovery about Joan Shakespeare Hart:


    Virginia Woolf created an interesting premise about Shakespeare’s sister with her classic feminist essay “A Room of One’s Own,” exploring the relationship of women and creativity. It did not end well for Shakespeare’s sister in Woolf’s story; on the other hand, it did for the real sister. Joan married, had four children, lived a long life, and was favored by her successful brother. More than that, the discovery that she authored a tract, and is receiving notice some 400 plus years after it was written, shows she has earned a name for herself as a writer.

How many other creative works of sisters, wives, daughters will be found that have just been waiting for credit and discovery? In the meantime I will plonk away in my own little room, thankful I don’t have to hide my efforts in the roof timbers.

Woman in historical clothing writing a letter with a quill pen at a wooden table

April Is…


As sayings go, I don’t think April is the cruelest month as much as I think it fickle. The indecision of committing to either a rainy day or a sunny one is a tad frustrating.

Rain is lovely in many ways—giving life to the winter weary garden for one, instilling a domicile coziness, and the ion freshness, that petrichor essence.

Alas, too much of a good thing happens after the third day of drenching, not trickling showers. My newly planted bulb garden is now a swamp. The sink backs up due to the overfilled septic field. Coziness has become house damp.

In a teasing reprieve April will suddenly decide to gift us some sun and all is well. Except for those days of sporadic the rain and sun combo. Taking a walk requires extra thought, such as packing an umbrella, just in case. Tending to those fresh weeds that feed upon rain-infused-with-warmth days initiates fortitude, that determination of whether to stick out the few raindrops and hope the sun comes back out.

But April is more than fickle weather. It’s Easter, that joyful recognition of resurrection. It’s assurance winter is receding (never mind those hiccups of occasional snowflakes). It’s poetry month. Shakespeare’s birthday. And it’s Library Appreciation Month.

So-

While April is not my favorite month, I do recognize it is fairly special. In tribute to all the happenings in April here are a few poetical offerings that capture the varied essence of this month.

Dedicated to libraries, librarians, and library workers :

There is no Frigate like a Book (1286)
By Emily Dickinson
There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul –

Dedicated to poets and poems with a nod to April, with a nod that rain isn’t that bad after all:

An April Rain Song (1921)
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night.
And I love the rain.

Ah, yes–Shakespeare, who celebrates his birthday on April 23, recognizes the melancholy of April’s spring:

Sonnet 98
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud pied April dress’d in all his trim
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

An Easter Prayer
by Helen Steiner Rice

God, give us eyes to see
the beauty of the Spring,
And to behold Your majesty
in every living thing.

And may we see in lacy leaves
and every budding flower
The Hand that rules the universe
with gentleness and power.

And may this Easter grandeur
that Spring lavishly imparts
Awaken faded flowers of faith
Luing dormant in our hearts.

And give us ears to hear, dear God
the Springtime song of birds
With messages more meaningful
than man’s often empty words.

Telling harried human beings
who are lost in dark despair
‘Be like us and do not worry
for God has you in his care.

Word Nerd: Guilty of Definitions


There are novels that are infused with such a delightful new-to-me words that I end up frequently interrupting my reading to look up the definitions. I am guilty of word collecting. I cannot do the Linus quirk of skipping over words I am unfamiliar with upon discovery.

Some authors like Mcall-Smith of The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency are quite adept at inserting the occasional stumper. It’s par for the course to come across a rich lexicon when reading classic novels such as Jane Eyre (I kept entire page dedicated to collecting her vocabulary).

Collecting words is what makes a Word Nerds heart go skippety skip and so it sheer delight to discover Susie Dent’s Guilty by Definition. The setting is a renowned dictionary establishment in Oxford (yes, it does ring a bell). It isn’t long before this band of erudite editors start sleuthing. Amateur detectives are not unique. What makes Dent’s book standout is her ability to surreptitiously weave in weighty words and archaic delights not only as chapter headers but within the text. They impressively serve as foreshadowing while providing a witty lexicon lesson.

Here are a few textual examples I jotted down while reading:

  • falsedict: an untrue utterance 
  • mountweazel: fictitious entry in a dictionary 
  • vellichor: the musty smell of old books 
  • apricity: the warmth of sun on a winter’s day
  • respair: recovering from despair 
  • kything: the recognition of old friends in a crowd 
  • bellywengins: a small beer
  • dallop: the missed patch of ground by the plow
  • rackups: consequences of ill-doing
  • sonder: the realization other people have rich and complicated lives we will never know
  • susurrus: low soft whispering or low rustling 
  • mubble-fubbles: eve of something unpleasant dose of the blues
  • tidsoptomist: a time optimist
  • finifugal: not wanting the story to end; stalling the ending; drawing it out

Aren’t they delightful?

Words by Definition absolutely created a feeling of finifugal. Fortunately, the dictionary detectives are rumored to appear in a sequel.

Can’t wait. My Word Nerd heart awaits in anticipation.

Reading Roundup: March 2026


Tooting my reading horn 🎉I am amazed to report having chalked up 55 read books already! That is impressive, isn’t it? March picks were better than usual with 7 really good reads.

My reading habit has increased tremendously since retiring. It’s gone beyond being a bibliophile. ’m a book junkie, it’s true. I need at least one book to read, two waiting, three I couldn’t resist from the freebie cart, and at least four that I have requested. Fortunately, volunteering at the library, subscribing to newsletters and blogs about books continually feeds my need to read. And since the books are free through the local amazing library I save so much money. That is my PSA toot because April includes Librarian Appreciation Day.

Here are the five 🌟reads for March:

Home by Nightfall (Charles Lenox #9) by Charles Finch

A well-rounded plot that has two separate challenging cases that keep the pages turning as Lenox travels between London and the English countryside trying to solve them. A few inserts of humor, plus updates on family matters, make this one of Finch’s more engaging entries in his Charles Lenox, gentleman detective series.

Shakespeare: The Biography by Peter Ackroyd

Many available biographies approach Shakespeare’s life either in supposition or upon a platform built on a focus, such as a certain year or event. Ackroyd supplies facts about Shakespeare through research involving the life, times, and people surrounding him, rarely straying into conjecture, rather building his biography of Shakespeare through context.













The Light on Horn Island by Valerie Fraser Luesse

A likable, easy-going story with magical realism leaning towards inspirational romance that ticks all the boxes when it comes to a story set in the South: characters with nicknames as unique as their personalities, picturesque landmarks attached to childhood memories, regrets of the past, and promises for the future.

The Old Woman Who Named Things by Cynthia Rylant, illustrated by Kathryn Brown

An endearing picture book of an elderly woman who is willing to take a chance to move out of her set way of life to find companionship. The soft illustrations capture the whimsy and joy within the story.











Guilt by Definition by Susie Dent


Having a team of dictionary detectives is brilliant. The premise is reminiscent of Anthony Horowitz’s Susan Ryeland books, where readers follow along as a book editor tries to solve the mystery in her amateur but determined manner. In Dent’s book readers get the behind-the-scenes of a dictionary publisher that sounds oh so similar to the OED (and that is perhaps not a coincidence).

The Book No One Wanted to Read by Richard Ayoade, illustrated by Tor Freeman


Both versions, text with its clever illustrations and fonts, and the audio with author-narration, are clever and witty. Not for kids only.

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis

Based on the author’s family background and his personal interest in the Depression, the story of young ten-year-old Bud, searching for his father is definitely deserving of the Newberry.

How Cliché: Va-Va Voom


Though the end of the cliche alphabet draws near, there are still plenty of tired but true phrases to explore. Today’s focus is on “V”

  • Vanish into thin air: to disappear suddenly
  • Variety is the spice of life: experiencing the new and different can add meaning to one’s experience
  • Vent your spleen: keeping anger held inside can have physical consequences
    NOTE: way long ago, the spleen was once considered the center of emotions. Valentine’s Day would be quite different if that thought had remained.
  • Nothing ventured, nothing gained: giving something a try is a consideration
  • Vertically challenged: a polite term for short
  • Vested interest: personal stakes are involved
  • Vicious circle: going right back to where it all started, and not always in a good way
  • A hollow victory: sometimes there is an unexpected cost to winning that can seem to be a loss
Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com

Any other “V” clichés to add?

Bard Bits: Spring


Having grown up in a town surrounded by the country, William Shakespeare was comfortable and familiar with the onset of spring. Since the 20th marks the beginning of spring, according to my Dollar Store calendar, here is WS’s tribute to spring in a poem appropriately titled “Spring.”

When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo:
Oh word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are plowmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo:
Oh word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

For those interested in analyzing possible intent in his words, click “here.

Being Shakespeare, it is par for the course that he would mix in references to country life, marriage, and the season. There are times I wonder if WS would have found a niche as a country western singer had he traveled in this era.

Bookish Thoughts: Reading Fast Asleep


For me, reading a book involves holding a physical copy (preferably a hardcover) whilst sitting in my cozy window-side lounger or pillow plumped in bed. First preference is lounging in my hammock on an agreeable summer’s day.

THE way to read a book

The point here is I’m doing the work of assimilating the words, turning the pages, creating character voices as I progress through the book.

I’m not a fan of e-books as they are not as friendly when there is a need to flip back to consult a passage. All that flipping and scrolling feels like I need to hurry. Admittedly they are useful on trips as they are device ready and more convenient than packing two or three books.

The option of audio books is popular and a form I’m trying out as a sleep aid. Many readers I know gush about the book they are listening to, discussing the reader’s narrative brilliance (or complaining of their incompetence).

I’ve relied on audio books on long car trips and to me that’s their best use. Lately though I’ve taken to downloading audiobooks through Libby because, true confession, they lull me to sleep. No worries, I don’t sleep if I’m driving. It’s that time of year when sleep routine is disturbed.

Waking too early due to time changes means staring into the dark hoping to back to sleep. My soothing sounds app of ocean, wind, or bird song sometimes works.

Yet, the best solution so far to drift off to sleep is downloading an audio book. It must be that ingrained childhood somnolent of being read to, that conditioned reflex to relax into sleep land.

One problem is waking up and realizing I have no idea what is happening in the plot, creating some concern and confusion. Another problem is taking a liking to the story and wanting to read it, only to discover the library does not carry a physical copy.

I tend to download children’s books as they are brief, usually clocking in at five hours. I spent on weekend afternoon listening to the Penderwicks at Last, having read the other books in print.

But unless I’m driving, or trying to fall back asleep, I can’t just sit and listen to the story—I need to be active. I know some people do housework while listening, or they plug in while exercising. Those activities aren’t on my first-pick list. My solution is to take up crocheting. One needle is about all I can manage.

Photo by wal_ 172619 on Pexels.com

I still prefer my books in print, yet a good story being read to me is a win win situation—I either get some shut eye or get a few more rows done.

Thoughts on audio books?

Word Nerd: What’s New?


Words are commodities that come and go in any language. Old words can take on new meanings. And some words get dropped, while others get inserted into the everyday lexicon. Below are some new entries to the dictionary. How many do you use? Or for that matter, how many do you see having validity?

For ease of assimilating the words are corralled into categories:

FANDOM

  • Trekkies: fans of the Star Trek universe (and has been around since William Shatner flexed his gold shirt)
  • Swifties: all those Tay-Tay fans proudly acknowledge this term
  • Janeites: those who favor Jane Austen

SCIENCE

  • nanoplastic: unfortunately, this is a reality because plastic really never goes away

FOOD

  • smashburger: plump is out and squashed is in

BUSINESS

  • purple squirrel: the ideal person employers are looking for, obviously hypothetical in existence

Apparently over 1,500 words have been added to the dictionary. If interested how a word earns that coveted placement read here.

What words have you heard being tossed about that you deem dictionary worthy?

Reader Roundup: February 2026


Winter flung its last fling in February providing enough snow to cause much joy and celebration for those seeking a skication. No longer a slope aficionado sought solace by reading a few decent books with only a couple rating a good read.

It’s difficult to find a book about Shakespeare that isn’t a good read. Having no remembrance of where I pick this up, I am glad to have found it on my Shakespeare shelf. Yes, I do have one bookshelf dedicated to Shakespeare.

Anyway–

Ann Donnelly provides a slim yet expansive guide providing an informative overview of Shakespeare. The title aptly reflects what is covered and the accompanying illustrations complement the text well. It nudges me closer to flying across the pond for a Shakespeare-driven holiday.

The other good read is once again a volume of The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Beth Brower. This one was volume 8 and unfortunately it is the last volume until Ms. Brower provides further entries to Miss Emma’s life. I have to admit I became somewhat distraught upon finishing this book knowing there are no further Emma journals to peruse. They honestly are addicting.

Apparently, in some reading circles, these slim excursions have become quite popular, and at my local library there is often a waiting list for them. The plain cover belies the wit, the wink of wordplay, the hint of Austen that is present in each entry. I am truly having a difficult time finding other reads that I enjoy quite so well.

The truly odd thing was that they came to my attention via my husband, who began reading them upon the recommendation of another fellow reader. I usually recommend books to the hubs, not the other way around. His snorks of laughter as he read them initiated my curiosity and I confess I would have ignored the non-descript little books on the popular reads shelf otherwise.

Has anyone else discovered Emma M. Lion?

Absolute Lunacy


Solar eclipses seem to garner all the attention, yet lunar eclipses are so much easier to view since no special glasses are needed. The one downside is the lateness of the hour required to experience them.

No problem. I had a plan in place.
I was especially determined to watch this lunar eclipse because a)I only caught one planet out of the six from the previous night planetary alignment and b)this eclipse was purported to be “blood red.” Ooh, intriguing.

I camped out in my office knowing I didn’t want to get too comfortable as I was now on my luney adventure (see what I did there?). I thought I would go to bed around 8 pm and get up at 1 am, when the moon show would be starting. I made a mistake. I started reading The Award and the plot tension got me so wired I stayed up and finished the book, which resulted in a cat nap not the five-hour sleep time originally planned.

1am-ish
Coat on, Uggs on, blanket wrapped I set out.
Just a sliver of dark on the left.
Back to bed reset alarm.

1:45 am
About a half window shade covered the moon.
Too cold to stick around: reset alarm to 3:05

Back to bed. Deep sleep dreaming about watching eclipse woke me up before the alarm.

2:55 am
Back in moon watch mode I peek outside. It’s happening!
It’s so silent. No cars trekking up and down the road. No train whistles blowing through their six crossings. I spot a couple of browsing deer in the neighboring yard grazing. They winkle their ears at me with a “Whatreyoudoingup?” look.

Time to commit. I grab another blanket, position my chair. It’s not easy to avoid the light glare from the nearby parking lot and commercial buildings—so much for the city’s new Night Sky ordinance. I zip up my winter jacket and decide to grab the binoculars–not much of an enhancement, actually.

After setting down a chair cushion (plastic Adirondack chairs are unforgiving at 35 degrees) I observe the moon is now just about covered and the bottom is glowing with just a crack of light, reminding me of the peek of light under the bedroom door when everyone is supposed to be sleeping and someone is reading past their usual bedtime.

The moon wasn’t exactly the touted “blood red”– it’s not even looking like a nocturnal tomato in the sky. It’s more like a shadowy Sunkist orange.

3:23 am
The moon at this point is a dusky peach and according to the moon news, the eclipse is at its maximum.

And so–
How much more of this fabulous night sky event do I want to embrace?

Waiting. Watching. Fairly warm. More waiting. More watching. Still cozy despite fingers freezing from typing my thoughts (because I know I will not remember much in the morning). This camping out reminds me of when I went snow camping in college. I didn’t feel the need to repeat that experience. Cold is cold no matter how many surrounding layers try to convince otherwise.

I do confess of liking a cold bedroom when sleeping. Sitting out in the cold is different than a chilly room with a warm comforter. It’s brisk now–the 34-degree night air is invigorating—for the moment. I could use my old down sleeping bag. Note to self for next eclipse (3 years?)

I’m kind of warm. I’m watching. And getting a little bored of waiting. Time to go in and get a quick snack. It’s not like the moon is going anywhere. Fig bars, applesauce, and quick swig of protein drink later I’m ready for more lunar eclipse experience.

No matter how I settle I am cold. That one-degree dip really is a different story now in comfort because I can’t get comfortable. The moon hasn’t changed much, and the lunar news says the entire process is about 5 hours, meaning by 6 am the show is over. I don’t have another 2 and a half hours in me. I don’t even have two minutes.

I relinquish my moon watch and retreat inside. I shed the Uggs, my coat, my hat, my gloves, and the blankets. I nestle under comforter on the spare bed in my office.

I awake at 5 am and rush outside to see if there is anything left to see, but the moon has slipped near the mountain and is naught but a pale round gleaming behind a veil of cloud.

Epilogue:
I saw the moon and the moon saw me. I tell the hubs all about in the morning as he had wisely stayed in bed asleep.

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