The West Coast of Florida is lovely and the weather, during the time I was there, was marvelous. I relished the bright colors of the plants: ixora, plumbago, bougainvillea, hibiscus.

It was my great pleasure to be the houseguest of several kind and lovely ladies: a former friend and colleague, Ulla, from my years in Boca Raton. Fl., Bev, the dynamic president of my Florida Fan Club, and Carmen, a close childhood friend from the Islands, whom I had not seen in a very long time.

In nine days, I spoke and signed at seven, well- attended events starting with lunch and signing at the Bookworm bookstore at the Villages in Central Florida, followed by four libraries, a red hat gathering, and my fan club (see photo) where I had the opportunity to meet the members for the first time.

I deeply regret having had to cancel three additional events and to those of you who were expecting to see me, I apologize. I simple gave out. As the days passed, I realized that I had taken on, physically, too much too soon after my back surgery.

The drive home was exhausting. I stopped often to shift position and get out of the car and walk. When, after passing Spartanburg, SC, the mountains rose ahead of me, tears came to my eyes. Up, up into the hills I went and turned a corner. The mountains closed around me, embracing me. An hour later I was home, where my little dog, Daisy, went nuts with excitement.

The Southern Appalachian Regional Theater (SART) is a non-profit repertory theater located in the Owen Theater on the campus of Mars Hill College in Mars Hill. Each year a half dozen or so plays are performed, mainly by professional actors, including several new plays by new play writers.

Amelia joined the SART Guild and volunteered to become one of those members who read new plays by new play writers (as many as a hundred may be submitted). The plays were narrowed down, first to thirty-five and then to five from which two were selected to be performed at SART. On May 20, 21 and 22nd Amelia, other guild members, and anyone from the community wishing to come, hurry to Owens Theater to hear professionals read these five plays.

"Come with me" Amelia asked Grace. "The playwrights will be there, and after each reading the audience has the opportunity to ask them anything at all about their play, like why they wrote it, or about the characters."

"You sure I can come? I'm not a member of the guild."

Amelia wagged a finger at Grace. "You can come, but shame on you. You ought to be a member. It's a wonderful theater and deserves your support."

Amelia's eyes glistened with excitement. She loved the theater and, with Mike, had attended all of SART's performances for the past several years. "And there's going to be an Usher-in-the-season barbecue at the theater on May 25th . Hurry up and become a guild member and we'll go together, you and Bob, and Mike and I."

"Do you plan to ask Hannah to join?" Grace asked.

Amelia flipped the soft blue scarf about her neck. "Of course I do. The more the merrier."

Amelia went on and on telling Grace about several other upcoming events: A picnic for the Sart crew and cast on June 5th, a program called, Songs of SART presented at a dinner theater held at Wolf Laurel Country Club on June 26th.

"I'm going to everything." Amelia did a little jig. "It's going to be such a fun year."

I dislike traveling and stopped flying years before it became so tedious, should I say stressful? So why do I travel? When I was younger, I did fly to photography workshops in Santa Fe, NM and several times to the coast of Maine. When I was much much younger, I traveled to and in Europe because of my husband's work. But it's always been hard on me. My stomach never tolerated the change of food and water well. My body aches for my own bed.

Today I travel by car only for book tours and to speak at Red Hat or Woman's conferences, or to Friends of the Library special events. I don't sleep for nights prior to leaving. I worry about my dog, Daisy. About what I might forget, do I have all my medication and enough of it?

Motel beds are never to my liking. I lug foam pads, strip motel beds and lay down foam, and since it's too bulky, I leave the pad on the bed, which means I take pads for as many nights as I am traveling. I travel with my own pillows, several of them. With the pads, pillows, suitcases, and outfits on hangers it's cumbersome getting all of this from the car to the motel room. This last trip, I had a booklet the physical therapist gave me with exercises to strengthen my back muscles. I lost it somewhere along the way.

Some people bemoan the fact that America is one vast mall, repetitious, same businesses, same look. For me, this is a plus. Familiarity is comforting. I am assured that at the next exit, or the next, there will be that restaurant where a club sandwich is not loaded with pepper or other spices that my stomach cannot tolerate. I know which fast food places have clean bathrooms. My preferred brand of gas station is bound to be close by, and there's that motel chain I prefer.

I gage the length of my driving based on the location and availability of that particular motel, then settle in to watch the House and Garden channel, and if it's a Saturday night, the BBC comedies: "Waiting for God", "As Time Goes By", "Are You Being Served?".

So, at night when I snuggle into my own bed at home I am grateful to be here, and to be comfortable - so very grateful!

I was thrilled to be included in this wonderful article by Marilyn Gardner. This led to a call from ABC TV Internet news and while I was in Tampa, I went to an ABC station there and was interviewed by a newscaster in NYC. They could see me, while I smiled and talked into a blank screen.

This excerpt from an article on Matron Literature, by Marilyn Gardner, appeared in the Christian Science Monitor in early February.

IN THIS NEW GENRE, NO HEROINE CAN BE YOUNGER THAN 48

Joan Medlicott never expected to find herself in the forefront of a new literary genre. But six years ago, as she relaxed in the bath one evening, three characters suddenly appeared in her imagination. All were widows of a certain age.

Over the next few days, as a plot began to develop, Medlicott sat at her computer, recording essential details of her story. Although this was her first foray into fiction, "my fingers just flew over the keys," Medlicott says.

The result was The Ladies of Covington Send Their Love, the first in what would become a popular series of novels about women in their 60s who begin new lives together at a North Carolina farmhouse.

Since then, other novelists have also realized the fictional potential of this age group. They are creating a growing cast of midlife and older characters who serve as counterpoints to the hip young singles romping through popular novels.

Move over, chick lit. Make room on bookshelves for matron lit, the latest literary category to catch publishers' - and readers' - interest. As baby boomer women reach their 50s and approach their 60s, many are eager to read about women like themselves, Medlicott says.

"Women need to connect," says Medlicott. And in Matron Lit, those connections revolve around "women who find themselves, who build new lives, who accept the possibilites that life offers and are willing to take risks.

Still no one really loves the term matron lit. "There doesn't seem to be a perfect word that describes this demographic," says Micki Nuding, a senior editor at Pocket Books, which in March will publish Medlicott's next novel, The Three Mrs. Parkers.

email: jmedlicott@mindspring.com

web: http://www.joanmedlicott.com