Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighborhood? You may have seen what look like oversized birdhouses or dollhouses on posts, filled with second-hand books. The idea is that you take a book if one catches your eye and leave a book if you have one to pass along. I love the idea that neighbors share books.
A bunch of Little Free Libraries sprang up in my neighborhood during the pandemic. There are six that I know of in one square mile.
A year ago, author Armand Rosamilia celebrated a Little Free Library Author Day. (Armand is a crime writer who hosts his own Little Free Library in Jacksonville, Floria.) I was inspired to participate, but wasn’t feeling well that day.
Still, I loved the idea of writers giving back to their neighbors and neighborhoods, so I’ve been inscribing copies of my books with behind-the-scenes trivia and leaving them in the neighborhood Little Free Libraries. It’s been surprisingly fun!
The first book I gave away was a first edition of my cemetery memoir, Wish You Were Here. I put it in a library that I passed nearly every day on my walks, one that had a charming book-shaped cut-out on its door. I inscribed it with a little historical tidbit about our neighborhood and sent it on its way with my best wishes. 
Since then, I’ve gotten a lot of pleasure out of trying to match my books up with the books in the libraries. The library crammed full of strange San Francisco history got a copy of Lend the Eye a Terrible Aspect, the anthology I co-edited in the 90s about society in North America at the end of the century.
The library filled with thrillers got a copy of my space opera, Kill By Numbers. The library with science fiction got No More Heroes, another book in the space opera trilogy.
I’ve gotten my teenager involved in the adventure now. They really like picking through little libraries, so I’ve gotten them to come along to spot for me as I drive farther afield. We’re discovering neighborhoods we’re not family with, enjoying people’s gardens and marveling at how different the little libraries can be. We’re even getting in a little Mom/offspring time under the guise of doing something good for the neighbors.
And we found a beautiful new mural taking place in a neighborhood nearby.
The project is a win in every sense. I’m passing along books with bumped or creased covers that I couldn’t sell. They’re going into the hands of readers. I’m doing what I can to pass along the encouragement that real writers live and work in our neighborhoods, the inspiration that anyone could be a writer. I’m hoping some of my neighbors take up a pen or keyboard.
And if they get hooked and want to pick up another of my books? That’s the best!
One night during a writers’ group meeting, Lisa Morton (former president of the Horror Writers Association and multiple Bram Stoker Award winner) was telling us about a series of horror anthologies she’d taken part in with four other authors. Each author edited one book in the series and contributed a story to each of the other four books. It sounded like a really fun premise.
By the end of the meeting of potential editors in January, we had titles, a publishing schedule, and various roles all sorted out. I was amazed how easily everything was coming together.
My morbid memoir This Morbid Life brought home a gold medal!
I’m dipping my toe into in-person programming again this weekend at BayCon, the Bay Area’s major science fiction/fantasy/horror/gaming/costuming convention.
Afterward, I’ll be at the Liminal Fiction table in the Dealers Room, if you’d like to pick up a copy of Tales for the Camp Fire, Tales of Dread, Morbid Curiosity Cures the Blues, or one of my novels. Come say hi!
Then I met Lex from 
The first book in the series, Alondra’s Experiments, is now on sale at Amazon. In this book, Alondra discovers in San Francisco that vampirism requires sacrifices she doesn’t expect. She solves the Philosopher’s stone in Prague. She searches for the perfect valentine in Oslo.
