OK if I just watch this over and over in the meantime?

Good morning, Bluesky. “And now my favorite part of the writing process . . . Print!” —Carrie Bradshaw— (Actually, it’s “Send” in 2026.) Love being a novelist, but it’s a job where one is really ecstatic only 2, 3 times a year and BTW pub date is never one of those times. But today is!

Novel #27 and it will come out in ‘27, which happens to be my 30th anniversary as a published novelist. (I published my first book at age 5.) (No, I really did, but it was self-published and written in “dinosaur language.”)

Good morning, Bluesky. Drank my last Topo Chico with breakfast just now. I have a case waiting for me in New Orleans, but I guess I’m switching to Mineragua for the duration. All my sources here have dried up. But at least I finally caught this morning morning’s minion and photographed a crane.

Made my daughter the “Sunburn” grilled cheese today, which is the first thing Adam makes for Polly, chopping the bacon into small pieces so that every bite has the perfect amount of bacon. Possibly the most erotic thing I’ve ever written and I’ve written actual erotica.

Oh, I forgot that I took a photo of last night's dinner for @pizzacook.bsky.social. This is the linguine alla cecca from Heartburn, a family favorite.

Good morning, Bluesky. So close to the finish line for my revisions, with two big scenes to rework and then some small bits of housekeeping/continuity. Plan to submit Wednesday and then — let the wild rumpus start.* *Dinner at Hersh’s. Fingers crossed that the truffle fries are on the menu.

Good morning, Bluesky. Still trying to absorb the Lindsay Graham news, which is that he was only four years older than I am.

I found this today while cleaning and I, the least sentimental person alive who is very anti-hoarding, could not bear (!) to throw it away.

Pooh is a huge figure in our household. HUGE.

Your periodic reminder that I’m a witch.

This screenshot of my camera roll gives a sense of what a gorgeous morning it was.

Good morning, Bluesky. Today’s sunrise was not unlike me: It just kept getting better. (This is something people say to me all the time, BTW, usually beginning: “I hope you don’t mind if I say that you got better as a writer.” My reply is in the alt text.)

Good morning, Bluesky. “You keep replaying conversations that never happened. The stories in your head are more compelling than reality, but they’re keeping you stuck in place.” Phone pocket-dialed my seldom used horoscope app this morning and, well, accurate. Eerily accurate.

4th of July

If I’m dressed like a kindergarten teacher with a trust fund, I must be docent-ing. And today I had kindergarteners. We ended with a K-pop dance break to get all the wiggles out before their workshop. (They chose the song.) Am EXHAUSTED.

Good morning, Bluesky. There are so many reasons to read (listen to) The Perfect Moment by @isaacbutler.bsky.social but one bonus is learning how to pronounce words — synecdoche, oeuvre — I’ve long been confused about. (Phonics ruined me.) Photo from 7/9/2025 because it continues meh here.

This is a (partial) graveyard of my computers, 1993-early aughts. I think I’ve had a total of 7 or 8 since I started writing on that Mac Classic II. Yeah, I wrote 3 books on a Mac Classic II and printed them out on a Daisy wheel printer. Man, I loved that clamshell.

Good morning, Bluesky. Normal Baltimorean: I have a few days in August for a solo getaway, where can I go that’s cool and breezy? Me: I have a few days in August for a solo getaway, New Orleans here I come.

Good morning, Bluesky. Newsletter is up and it’s a summer “rerun” — a first-person piece I wrote 27 years ago for The Sun about how hard it is for me to give up on broken things. open.substack.com/pub/lauramli... Photo from 7/7/25 because it’s just so meh out there. Got 3.4 miles done, though.

tfw you and your ex-husband share the same anecdote on social media, but at least I did it first?

My love language is FatBoy Juniors.

Good morning, Bluesky. “I hide the fear and I dig.” —Danny, the Tunnel King, The Great Escape— I want this in needlepoint over my desk. It’s as good a description of the writing life as any I know. Danny’s dug 17 tunnels. I’m revising my 27th novel. I hide the fear and I dig.

Settling in to watch one of the great romantic melodramas of the mid-20th century — The Great Escape.

Good morning, Bluesky. “I’m your average ordinary Kind of woman Competent and neat Making life a treat Others as nice You meet often I know At least once or twice Every decade or so.” Taking kid to see Pippin today, can’t believe this musical has eluded me for so long.

Oh wow someone just broke up with me over voicemail.

Here’s a photo of the recipe from my email, it’s so basic as to be ridiculous. (The email, sent to a writer friend from the South, also discusses my long-standing fascination with Red Sky at Morning, which I suspect has aged poorly.) The entire thing is in the alt text, where it’s easier to read.

So happy I don’t have to turn on the oven again today. Haven’t had a 4th of July party since pre-Covid, but my daughter is having a few friends over tonight (we have a prime view of the fireworks) so I was commanded to bake this beloved Coca-Cola Fudge Cake. (I can freeze the second one.)

WE USED TO HAVE TEA PARTIES I’M GOING TO MAKE HER HAVE A TEA PARTY WITH ME BEFORE THE WEEKEND IS OVER.

Good morning, Bluesky. Not to brag, but I made it almost two minutes into Toy Story 5 before I started to cry. (It hits hard when you’re watching with the 16-year-old with whom you’ve watched 1, 2, 3, and 4.) Photo from 7/4/2025 but not because of heatwave. Walked 4 miles, but it was blah.