Step Into My Parlor

Welcome, dear reader. I write to you from my cubby on the 25th floor of a Manhattan skyscraper that overlooks the East River one block north of Bloomingdales. I am supposed to be editing articles for a women's fitness magazine, but magazines are kind of like film sets—you wait around, and wait around, and then everything happens all at once. So I have paid my phone bill, updated my Facebook page, and now I am writing to you. A few facts to help us get acquainted: My first big-ass job was at Cosmo. I worked in the copy department; my tools were a manual typewriter, boxes of Rolling-Writer pens, and bottles of White-Out. Since then, I've worked for almost every magazine you can think of. I am currently photographing all the items in my mother's house, the one where I grew up. There are six bedrooms and it's a big job. My nickname (one of them) is Sadie. Speaking of Cosmo, the title of this post was the name of Helen Gurley Brown's column when I used to edit it, back in the 1980s. You've probably figured out by now that I am older than dirt. I will be posting here about my works-in-progress and the life of a semi-nomadic writer who divides her time between Vermont, New York, and France. I am happy that we have found each other. I hope that we will have a long acquaintance. Yours sincerely, Sadie