Here, in this final week of August (looking ahead to Atlanta, GA, and San Francisco, CA)

I welcome the quiet of working hours and the chance to revise a book I believe in. It's taken me a while to wrestle this Florence novel into something continuous, riveting, but also calm. It's funny what adding several scenes can do, while shuffling others to the side. It's funny, too, how I learn again (and again) that plot is dictated by tone, and how every time you write a novel, it's like the first time you write a novel; you have to give yourself a lot of long and hard talking to's. And yet, it's wonderful to be with these characters again, to be back in Florence, and to know, at last, that I can do this.

I welcome the chance to look ahead to Decatur, GA, where, in a few days, I'll be teaching a memoir workshop, and (the next day) joining Stacey D'Erasmo in conversation on a stage. She'll be talking about intimacy on the page. I'll be talking about truth. In between the workshop and the conversation, I'll be seeing old friends, learning from others, giving the dear Jessica Shoffel a hug.

The following week, I'll take off for San Francisco to conduct three Handling the Truth workshops (each of them different) and to meet with my friends at Chronicle. I'll hold the galleys of Going Over, my Berlin novel with that gorgeous cover, for the first time. I will thank, in person, the team that so believes in that story, and see the talented Tamra Tuller again. (Also, Lara Starr, I will not eat dog biscuits.) San Francisco is a city I love and frequently turn to. A place where I'm happy to walk the hills.

If I am less a presence here than usual, forgive me. If you are in Georgia or Northern California, I'll look for you.