Que Sera Sera

Surprisingly FAQ

1. How are you?

I’m good. Enjoying living in Brooklyn, being married to Nick, reading books, making plans, doing some online shopping where I carefully select several items, put them in my cart, and then close the browser window.

2. Are you still writing?

Not nearly as much as I’d like. There’s been some stuff here and there, and some stuff coming up. If there's something you'd like me to write, email me.

3. I miss your blog!

Thank you, that’s a really nice thing to say. Sometimes I miss my blog too. But I can’t see myself being a part of how blogging is now, in 2012. That’s not a judgment call, it’s just my personal feeling. If you miss reading my half-cocked rants or enjoy reblogged photos of the northern lights, I do update my Tumblr on a regular basis, so there you go.

4. What are you going to do with this site?

I don’t know. I like keeping it here because once in a blue moon I go through the archives and remember fun stuff from the past, and that’s worth the hosting fees to me. Maybe someday I’ll write here again more often.

5. Do you still do Cringe?

Yes, I very much still do Cringe. Cringe happens once a month in both New York and in London. Ana McLaughlin hosts it in London in my absence as she is the only person I’d trust with its safekeeping, and it was such a hit in London, I'd feel bad taking it away. (Ana is the stellar publicist for the UK Cringe book, and shares my love for things like teen angst and Tudor history and Monday night tequila shots.) Next month I’ll get to attend both Cringes, which makes me very happy.

6. Are you going to have children? Here are my opinions on that.

That’s not something I want to share with people I don’t know.

7. Can I email you to say hi, reminisce, or ask questions?


8. Do you know your site still says “Copyright © 2001–2010 by sb” even though it’s 2012?

Yes. Isn’t that annoying?

9. What does your hair look like now? That picture on your About page is from 2005.


10. Who’s the number one rock band in the world?

Blue Oyster Cult, put your dad on the phone.

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