The best thing about books is that they transport you to another realm. And in this crazy time when we can’t travel, escaping in books is one way to get through these quarantine years. Okay, so it simply feels like years, but I was grateful to be writing a book set in my home state of California. San Francisco to be exact. I didn’t write the San Francisco of today, though it’s a contemporary. I am a fourth-generation Californian, and I wrote the San Francisco that I remember. A magical place with lights and brilliant energy, but also quiet, reflective moments at the beach and crab at the wharf. A place where you didn’t have to be a billionaire to own a boat and spend the day on the Bay.
Escaping to my home base when I’ve started a new life elsewhere was truly cathartic because I chose to only remember the good things. I once met Tony Bennett at the San Francisco Fairmont. I mean, how iconic was that?
I know that living in the past is a sign of getting older. I know that I probably remember it better than it actually was, but for this time in history, going “home” was the best gift of all.