I've been hard at work on a new writing project, which is turning out to be both satisfying and demanding emotionally. I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but I did preview the opening pages at the reading in Cape May on Sunday night. I'm describing it to myself as a memoir of eruption and joy, as odd as that might sound, and it seemed fitting that Mark and I read during an hour-long thunderstorm. (An hour-long thunderstorm, in January, in a Mid Atlantic state? You heard it here.) I'm sure I'll have more to say about what I'm writing in the months ahead, but in the meantime, I wanted to pass along these pictures of Wildwood and Cape May, which looked soulful and dreamy in their off-season starkness.
Cape May (Congress Hall, the oldest resort hotel in the U.S.):