I also realize I've been rather remiss in linking back to the BookEnds blog that explains Bookmas. You can find it here.
I had to laugh when I saw the answer to Lauren's clue. I was an English major, and frankly I think it set my writing back years. I went to college thinking books were magical, that they conveyed some sort of truth and emotion and meaning. And then I read Lost in the Funhouse (John Barth), Trout Fishing in America (Richard Brautigan), and The Crying of Lot 49 (Thomas Pynchon). I just didn't get it. Even Vonnegut left me cold. I guess I was always meant to be a genre writer, though I don't believe romance had yet been "discovered" as a genre.
But I did like this author that Lauren doesn't. I don't believe I ever took a class in this person's work, but I do have a few of his/her writings around here somewhere. and I certainly smile when I read his/her name. Just goes to show, I guess, that so much of literature is taste. We all like different books for different, good reasons.
So here's my clue: Actually, I write on the living room love seat.
Oh, and please pardon my typos. I seem to be all copy edited out.