Claire Bidwell Smith

I spent most of Tuesday down in Orange County, first in Long Beach and then later in Laguna Beach to be part of the Pen on Fire Literary Salon, which was just fantastic. (Side note: I’m so happy to have had the opportunity to get to know the two other writers I was a panelist Read more…

This post is mostly going to be just images since we are rushing out the (hotel) door to meet up with Greg’s brother for the day. Although I have a couple more events and readings coming up, this is the last official stop on my book tour and I’m a little sad! Despite being hugely Read more…

So much has been going on lately and it’s been hard to keep up. Most of it just has to do with juggling my normal life as a pregnant mom with all these books events and publicity. It’s a lot. I’m faring pretty well though. To illustrate, here are a jumble of thoughts, images & Read more…

It’s Thursday in Santa Monica. Vera is at school. Greg is at the coffee shop writing, and I’m home alone in the house with the cats. I just got back from getting a pedicure — a pregnancy indulgence I have a hard time denying myself. It’s gorgeous out — sunny, high 70s — and I Read more…

The past twelve months have truly been some of the most exciting of my life. Book deals, cross-country moves, second pregnancies. It’s been a lot, and it’s been more than I ever could have asked for, in every good way possible. Along every step of the way I took photos. I recently revisited 2010′s Year Read more…

It’s Thursday night in Santa Monica and I’m reclined on the couch, laptop propped on my knees, while I half-watch Bridget Jones’ Diary. I just put Vera down and Greg is out with a friend in West Hollywood. We got back from a week in Ohio the night before last and, as usual, I have Read more…

It’s Wednesday night in Los Angeles and the Santa Ana winds are blowing. If you’re not familiar, the Santa Ana winds are the stuff of LA legend and folklore. Mystical and strange things are said to happen, the murder rate supposedly goes up and people go missing. The Santa Anas have appeared in countless novels, Read more…

It’s Monday morning in Santa Monica and I’m still waking up. It’s 8am-cool outside and I can hear a small plane taking off from Santa Monica airport. Greg is feeding Vera mini-waffles and I’m trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing this week. A million things, I think. Greg’s brother Brad just Read more…

Four months into our new life in California and we’re making small attempts here and there to fit in with the surfers and skaters and balmy weather. Over the summer Greg bought his first pair of white jeans, Veronica has remained endlessly tan and I’ve kind of fallen in love with the fact that there Read more…

Dear Vera, I am long overdue in writing your monthly letter. Apologies. This summer has been a whirlwind. One day you’ll be a college freshman somewhere and will casually answer someone’s question of where you grew up. I was born in Chicago, you’ll say, but we moved to Los Angeles when I was two. And Read more…