In the spring of 1994, I spent four months living in Toledo, Spain. Every day, during siesta, I used to walk through the cobblestone streets of the historic district to a little cafe I had discovered there. It was at least a mile away from the school where I was studying -- too far for the other students to bother with -- so I was always assured of anonymity and a solid dose of local atmosphere.

I would while away the afternoon drinking the house specialty -- a preternaturally sweet concoction of coffee and condensed milk -- and, of course, writing.

I have always loved writing. I love everything about it. I love books and bookstores and libraries. I love old typewriters and sheets of blank paper piled in an expectant stack. My love for pens and journals borders on the absurd.

When I was in Spain, I allowed myself to indulge profoundly in the luxury of writing for the first time in my life. For four months, I was free of all responsibility. I had no car, no job, no errands, no bills. The classes I attended were purely voluntary. I had nothing but time... time to dream, time to contemplate, and time to write.

In honor of this special chapter in my life, I've introduced a new category to the blog: The Cobblestone Cafe.

Here you'll find interviews with some of my very favorite people, both real and fictitious, sometimes even side by side. Authors and characters alike will show up for a friendly chat and perhaps a cappuccino, and we'll find out first-hand how these folks feel about each other, and about their mutual projects.

From time to time, I might even post an excerpt or two, or an original story or poem. You never know what's around the corner.

So come enjoy a quiet Spanish siesta in the Cobblestone Cafe, where life slows down and the mind can drift away...