where the writers are
Hurray for Red Room!
Naked bicyclists at the Fremont Solstice Parade, my 'hood in Seattle, WA.

The oft-over-quoted Virginia Woolf (you see? I didn't even have to go there) would love Red Room. Insert the word "writer" for "woman" for our 21st-century PC society, because surely even Virginia would want all writers to have a place to express themselves. With the strike in Hollywood highlighting the age-old plight of we who write (with few exceptions, we are NOT getting rich on royalties), it's lovely to have a Red Room, a cyber parlor in which to say, "Hello, welcome. Come in and let's talk about books."

 I love my readers. They are smart, funny, deep-thinkers. They value art in the schools (along with sex education, for goodness sake), an intelligent sane person in the White House, and a good belly laugh every so often. Family is important to them, love, justice, truth--the occasional nap. A long walk in nature, a kick-ass song on the car radio. A perfectly roasted chicken and a nice glass of wine at the end of the day. Dancing, digging their feet in sand now and again. Perhaps even bicycling naked . . . though I'm not so sure how that can possibly be comfortable.

 Welcome to my Red Room. Let's chat. Tell me what books you love, and what's important to you. Then go wander around--there are tons of amazing authors here! Enjoy.

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A Room Of One's Own

Thanks for the great shout out, Jennie. I think this place does provide a little of what Woolf meant. That's our hope!

Huntington Sharp, Red Room