Friday pudublogging: Stalking The Wild Dik-Dik

Still away and handling some personal stuff, not to mention trying to get my next book started on a fairly breakneck schedule.  But gotta share this.

I still haven’t spent any time in South America, which I’m dying to, and I’ve joked that if I ever do and write a book about it, the playful title would probably be Stalking The Wild Pudu.  But it would really be more about the journey and surprises and the wild variety of people and cultures I’d meet in a long, slow lap around the continent.  That’s the sort of dream gig I’d like to try someday.

So imagine my surprise when I was in a bookstore last week, and I came across this:

Stalking The Wild Dik-Dik

A writer named Marie Javins has already crafted the book I’ve dreamed of writing — only in Africa, which she crossed solo a few years ago as part of a long, ground-transport-only trip around the globe you can read about here.  I’m only about forty pages into Stalking The Wild Dik-Dik to be honest — been a little busy — but I’m just loving it so far.

(I’m sure the little supermodel dik-diks think it’s entirely about them, of course.  They always do.  Then they spend another hour checking their eyelashes in the mirror and wonder dimly why they don’t have more friends.)

It’s a fascinating read.  If you dig this site, you might just love this book.

Book Soup… not so much

Well, crap.

Nothing to worry about, nothing’s on fire, no need to cue any sad music.  But it doesn’t look like I can make it to Book Soup this weekend.  For the 0.6, six, sixteen, or sixty of you who would have been there, my apologies.

I encourage you to imagine that I am entering rehab after a long descent into drug-addled oblivion.  If my publicist announces that I am "dehydrated," well, wink wink, nudge nudge.

Book Soup… not so much

Well, crap.

Nothing to worry about, nothing’s on fire, no need to cue any sad music.  But it doesn’t look like I can make it to Book Soup this weekend.  For the 0.6, six, sixteen, or sixty of you who would have been there, my apologies.

I encourage you to imagine that I am entering rehab after a long descent into drug-addled oblivion.  If my publicist announces that I am "dehydrated," well, wink wink, nudge nudge.

Book Soup… not so much

Well, crap.

Nothing to worry about, nothing’s on fire, no need to cue any sad music.  But it doesn’t look like I can make it to Book Soup this weekend.  For the 0.6, six, sixteen, or sixty of you who would have been there, my apologies.

I encourage you to imagine that I am entering rehab after a long descent into drug-addled oblivion.  If my publicist announces that I am "dehydrated," well, wink wink, nudge nudge.