Posts under ‘Guest Posts’

So, I got an email tonight, with a book review attached to it. Here’s the full text:

Dear She Reads Books,

Ur not posting enuf. We need more reviews. Heres mine i hope u like it n u can use it.

I guess that I can’t argue with that.

Well, actually this wasn’t an unsolicited review (please don’t send me those). This was an email from my mom, who is both funny and highly literate. And please enjoy her review of Faking Grace, by Tamara Leigh, which I won from Tami.

Guest post! Because I am flitting about town doing secret surprise date things. You know how it is.

This post was written by the ever-helpful Lisa Roe, whom I met through her capacities as the Online Book Publicist. She lives in Wisconsin, writes guest posts, and likes to send excellent books to people. You can learn more about her publicity services here, and contact her here.

Recently, I emailed a blogger friend, thanking her for a book review she had posted. Her response caught a breath in my throat. It was 4 lines. She used the word ‘down’. She mentioned ‘shambles’. It was so lost and empty. She’s feeling overwhelmed and lost in life.

I was going to write up a little blurb to introduce my friend Glumpuddle, but if you read on you’ll see that she’s done it herself. Ah, well.

Hi. I’m Glumpuddle. If you read the comments on this blog regularly, you’ve probably seen me around. I don’t have my own blog, but I like reading what others write. I’m an academic - in fact, a job-hunting academic, a partial reason for anonymous postings - and so I’m a professional reader. I do also write, and occasionally get paid for that, which makes me a professional writer as well I guess.

Guest post! Everyone, meet Anna. Anna, meet everyone. You can read Anna’s regular thoughts on reading, writing, and knitting on her blog, Diary of an Eccentric.

I’ve been a writer since I learned to string a few words together to form a sentence. I remember clearly that the first poem I wrote was about cats, and I proudly gave it to my fifth grade teacher on a drawing I made as a gift to her. (I still remember the poem, though it’s not written down anywhere. I won’t repeat it here, but trust me, it’s embarrassing!) A couple of decades later, I’m still writing.