kate rothwell

the lemur again because he is so unnaturally cute I'll give Candy and Sarah til tomorrow and then I'll mess around and make an online button or something using the lemur with 'tude. It'll have something to do with a bitch of a writer/reader in honor of the long week of snark, antisnark, metasnark and antimetasnark. What a long week. And then I'll give the button away to some deserving person. Probably the one person who bothers to be blogging on a holiday weekend. The one OTHER person, I mean. Or maybe I'll forget to do it and eat too many hamburgers. Oh, hey, I still have a whole lot of beer, too. UPDATE : FIVE minutes later Sarah SB posts . FIVE MINUTES. Clearly I have the bitches running in fear. Heh, fear me, bitches.

Share your worst email moment. Chances are it was the wrong person seeing the wrong email, like the time you wrote a letter complaining about your editor and sent it to your agent without noticing you'd cc'd it to the editor in question (this did happen to a friend of mine.) So what the heck--your newly-ex-boyfriend already saw that note about the size of his penis you meant to send to your best friend--why not tell us about it? The note, not the penis, although feel free to discuss that. I decided this could be interesting after reading Lauren Dane's comment a couple of posts down . My moment: the goopy note I sent to my husband . . . and everyone else on my email list. My bosses. My family. Everyone.

why did I put this picture here? Because I flipping like it. The picture exudes major cuteness and attitude from a newly discovered lemur that just wants to be goddamn left alone. You don't like it then go click on the exploding head video or something. [ Blast you, Doug--you're the one who posted that stupid video, right?] the article about the newly discovered lemurs.

No, I don't know the release date. Yes, I actually do like this cover. the goober story: I got the cover yesterday while I was on the phone talking to another writer about her story, which is part of an anthology I'm working on. Oh sweet jeeebus, as we talked, my stomach sank. Her story features a heroine who occasionally disappears, literally. The heroine in Invisible Touch also has intermittent visibility problems. I hadn't made the connection because frankly, the stories are so very different. It didn't occur to me that it could be a problem. I mean I've known about her story for months now, and this Summer story for even longer. It never crossed my mind that maybe she should know . . .ummm. I errrr. probably should have told her about my story? Uh oh. As soon as I hung up from the conference call, I composed a long apologetic email about how I really should have said something, but it didn't occur to me and oh, I'm so sorry. The email was headed "b...

1. I didn't really want girl babies. Good thing too. 2. I should have visited the parental units more often. 3. I should have gone to Israel with Joan instead of going to Camp Rim Rock. 4. The article I wrote years about a murderer could have rocked if I'd overcome my wimpiness and interviewed the 88-year-old surviving girlfriend. 5. I should have written up the notes from all the interviews of D-Day survivors. The article was canceled so I didn't and now I can't figure out where I put the notes. 6. I should have interviewed my dad the way I did my regular interviews. 7. I should have kept up the dang piano lessons. 8. That test I took about 30 years ago--shouldn't have cheated. 9. I should have insisted Gretchen sell me her John Lennon and Yoko Ono signatures (with scrawled drawings) that she got from the Moskowitzes when we were 10. She lost it, but that's her list. 10. I'd done more spectacularly stupid things in my life so this list would be more interes...

The newly published author thinks** Yowza!! I Have Succeeded As a Writer! But then she quickly discovers that people expect her to write and sell MORE books. Okay, that's nice dear; what's next ? says the unimpressed world. And so she goes on a search to discover what on earth constitutes success. Using her knowledge of the published person's secret handshake, she goes straight to those who know these things. "Five books," is a standard answer. "Once you've got five books out, you're considered established." "No, more like ten," a well-established author corrects. "Hell, I've got 25 out and I'm still struggling to get contracts," grouses another. I think I got my answer today and it's out in the open for anyone published or unpubbed to see. When your worries match PBW's, you can consider yourself a success: Paperback Writer worries about a legacy . ------------------------------- **I vaguely recall thinking thi...

To a local columnist: Every day and (in nearly) every way I love you more and more. You are teh bomb and I think West Hartford needs to put up a "Proud Home of Colin McEnroe" sign. Maybe instead of those flowers at the end of the Park Road exit? Actually you might live in Avon or something, but I still say we should claim credit for you. It's not raining.

by way of doug, by way of erin, mr. toast shows us the downfall of Western Civilization . Playboy women = Barbie but with even less crotch definition. I'd say "not work safe," but you tell me: what part of this picture applies? Click on the picture. Make it larger. There is NOTHING DOWN THERE.

I was going to go on about Mary Balogh's tendency to have a character pretend to be two different people and sleep with their clueless love interest as both people which is a plot device that nearly makes those books wallbangers (and I love MB. She respects her characters, even the ones that don't really deserve her kindness). As a device, it's even more hellacious than the Misunderstanding that can be cleared up with a good long conversation. but oy, the only writer I can snark is myself. Omifreekinggaaaaack. I do not respect this current crop of inventions. My characters! The people are dull! They are putting me to sleep! I don't know how to get away from their evil boringness! ACCkkkk. Even if I put them in danger, and then double the danger and triple it--boring! Here's how bad it is: the anonymous passionate whiney writers are far more interesting than these civilized people in my story. I hate them! (The characters) I want someone to tell me how to make them l...

1st thing I did wrong: not follow my own advice and avoid blogs that make me roll my eyes. 2nd thing : pay attention to people who are clearly in pain and venting. 3rd thing: answer them with anything other than "I'm sorry you're so upset." 4th: use my own name. [ stupid author behavior! STUPID] 5th: expand here: Listen. I know from unpopular girls. I was one right through 11th grade (when I figured out I didn't really give a damn. Who cares what other people think? And suddenly I had some friends.) Cliques don't acknowledge the presence of non-members. Here's the test in person: You see some people standing in a circle talking. You walk up. If they drift away, or if they keep on talking even after you say hello--without saying hello or smiling--you're dealing with a clique. Hello to all you chic playground moms! See you in the fall, although you probably won't see me because I'm invisible. Here's the test in a blog: You disagree the ...

How come Doug gets all the interesting reader mail?

I did it yesterday at RU about rain . Goes double today. There's some earnest rain at the moment--none of this piddling meh drizzle. What's the weather like where you are? And don't tell me You're One of Those People who hardly notices the weather and it never affects your temperament. I'll snarl and rip your head off. Unless you live in southern California where there is no weather to notice, and where I couldn't reach you anyway. mike is in kitchen making pancakes. He just shouted out the door oh for crying out loud, stop, STOP.

For most of the last decade, the "s" word for our kids has been "shut up" not "shit." But then, to prove a point about something, two of the kids did the "you shut up, no you shut up, no you shut up" back and forth for a wicked long time. They get into again occasionally so now I don't hear those unheated doofy exchanges any more. Shut up is no longer a phrase that ellicits a gasp around here. Is that good? bad? mixed, probably But maybe we should follow that "no you shut up" example and take this guy's advice about one word ** that is never spoken here by any of us, old or young, human or dog. The N. Word. We do not say this word. We will occasionally say fuck and shit (accompanied by an absentminded "no, stop saying that" from an adult) and other sorts of nasty words, but rarely insulting words and never, never, never the N. Word. Maybe we could render it less potent by using it? That's the guy's advice: I...

m&ms magarita mix tequila triple sec reddi-whip chocolate sauce blender Yup. Got the supplies for the Last Day of School party. The final bell of the year rang (actually more of an annoying buzz) and the screaming kids could be heard a block away. . .

If you can't be like Kim take these steps instead: 1. Write your response. Delete it. No, it doesn't matter that you think your response is funny. It will contain at least a seed of bitterness that makes you look like a goober. 2. Focus on one of Monica Jackson's Author Calming Visualization s. Hmmm. Can't see it at that link but there should be references to it all over the place. I chose to go outside my species for my visualizations. Here's my favorite: I call it "Messageboard/Blog Regulars Go Wild and Stampede Because of One Teeny-Tiny Stupid Remark by a Newbie Author." 3. Remember one of the basic author's truths as revealed by PBW: The words "Your constructive comments are truly appreciated" translate to Oh, blow me.

I never have high expectations. This summer I hope my boys: 1. buy at least one (but no more than two each) ice cream things from the truck that plays "It's a Small World After All." Way more obnoxious than the Good Humor truck of my heyday, but it's still tradition. 2. play Ghosts in the Graveyard in the Flander's front yard at least four times. 3. at least try home-grown tomatoes and other summer fruit. All three of them are terrible about fruits and veggies. 4. wave sparklers, writing their names in cursive, and not put out anyone's eye or drop the hot sticks on the grass. 5. swim more than 13 times using the over-priced pool passes we got. 6. not get splinters in their bare feet. 7. sit on the porch and read by their own volition--and remember to put the books inside when they decide to eat popsicles and sit under the sprinkler instead. 8. see a summer matinee movie and exclaim about how they forgot it's still daylight as they come out of the air-condi...

and you want a goopitty** sweet bit of food. put a half handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips in a bowl. nearly melt them in the microwave. add one sliced banana to nearly-melted chips put back in the microwave for 5-60 seconds, depending on your idea of banana-moosh heaven. remove from microwave, stir. optional: add frozen trader joe raspberries for their contrasting cold firmness and slightly tart flavor. Do not thaw them or they get everything too wet. If the resulting dish is too ugly for you (and yes, it is ugly) use spray whipped cream to cover it all. If you want to get ultra-sophisticated, you can splash in a bit of some kind of fancy-ass liqueur. I haven't done that but sounds good, doesn't it? And if you don't think this dish contains enough calories, I bet a spot of butter or heavy cream heated with the chips will remedy that problem as well as add un peu richness. Et, VOILA! -------------------------- ** gloopy for you cogniscenti out there

image stolen lifted from the internet. But it looks like the stuff I make, only mine doesn't usually flip out of the pan as nicely. Yowza, flan = easy and good--the world's best comfort food. Hardest part of the process is carmelizing the sugar. Preheat oven to 400 F Mix these things in a bowl: 3 eggs 1 can of sw. condensed milk. NOT EVAPORATED MILK, ya goobers! You can use the skim version of SCM, by the way--if it makes you feel better about yourself. Makes no difference to the taste. 3 cups regular milk (we use skim because that's all we have) 2 tsp vanilla which I always seem to forget but it tastes okay anyway. Melt 1 cup sugar til it's brown and way too hot. You have to stir it the whole time! Don't walk away! Just put the cup of sugar in a heavy sauce pan, turn on heat and stir, stir, stir. If there are any lumps? You're not there yet. Be patient. Stir, stir, stir Pour molten lava sugar carefully into a mold (I spray-fat the pan first), coating the...

1. I'm getting sick of the dumb active x thing on my blog page. What's with that? Why won't it just take my word for it and let the issue go? 2. the bushwa over at Karen Scott's place ? Not a lot of interesting arguments put on the table, mostly just indignation. But Karen in a huffy snark is fun. A couple of the nicer writers I know (and that's not snarky, Charl) are worried about the whole sense of writers vs writers or vs readers--the whole kerfuffle feel of it--but I don't think these flare-ups leave a bad taste longer than a week or so. 3. I don't buy the argument put forth that e-books all have rotten covers. Check out I Nefertiti at Loose Id, pointed out by Bam. Yummy! And I like my Learning Charity cover even if Bam thinks she's got a big head and weird hands. I think that was also Bam. I'd go look but I'm too lazy. Threaten me if I got it wrong, okay? Better still, leave a lot of posts about what a bitch I am. I want some traffic to th...

So tell me. Should I worry? The Start To a Short Story by Alex (who is bored) and Andrew (who is avoiding studying for a test) Let me get one thing straight. I always wanted to be a potter. I’ve always thought that I could do much better in that vocation than say, oh, a tyrannical sorcerer. I’ve always enjoyed the quiet life. True, I’ve also enjoyed inflicting serious pain in others. There was that time I bit that other boy’s ear off in fifth grade. He gave me a look that I didn’t like. So I bit his ear off. When I was young, my mother died in a tragic accident. I was aiming the goddamn crossbow at my father. But I got him with the second bolt. This kind of thing just comes naturally to me. As a result, I was cast out onto the street, with no job and no parents. They broke my crossbow, too. My name is Nathan Hands. If I had friends, they might call me Nate. Or, perhaps Handy. Until I would have killed them for being unsatisfactory companions. If I was in a good mood, I might...

We have another contender for the Authors Behaving Beautifully category (standards described here, sort of) The review of Kim Holt Whitlock's book was not complimentary, but read down to her low-key fine responses. And then there's a mention in her blog, too . Authors who interact with the Big World and get burned**? Read, learn, remember. (okay, okay, now please shut up, say Kate and Summer) ___________________ ** in other words, all of us.

An earlier draft of Mr. Bush's radio speech that was delivered 6/16/06: Bush: New Orleans Iraq must know it won't be abandoned It was important for the Iraqi people of New Orleans to know after three hundred years of existence war that "America will not abandon them after we have come this far." I traveled to New Orleans Baghdad to personally show our nation's commitment to a our precious heritage free Iraq, because it is vital for the people of Louisiana Iraqi people to know with certainty that America will not abandon them after we have come this far," Bush said in the radio address. The challenges that remain in New Orleans Iraq are serious. * * * * * OKAY, to BE FAIR, President Bush flew into New Orleans on 6/10/06 and promised to help them. He vowed to rebuild the levees and not let those nasty congresspeople cut the monies. Actually the speech was similar. ** That's his schtick: show up for 1-6 hours and vow not to allow anyone to cut the support...

Wait, wasn't everyone like that back then? I keep having those moments. I figure everyone about my age--the people who hit twenty or so just before AIDS, and that's key, really--had the same experiences as I did. Turns out there are fewer of us than I thought. Or maybe many of us are now pretending it didn't happen that way because we have kids and don't want them to know the truth. Didn't everyone my age buy good humor bars when we were kids? Didn't we all capture fireflies in bottles to send to NASA only to find out that if they ever did buy fireflies it was a decade earlier? Didn't we all try pot at some point? The RA at our dorm had a bong chart on his door, dang it. Didn't we all hitchhike at least once? Didn't most of us lose our virginity when we were fourteen or fifteen? Weren't we all involved in at least one unenthusiastic orgy? (Defined as three or more people, I guess.) We all had to try something like 'shrooms at least once...

I have my fingers in my ears and I refuse REFUSE, do you understand??? to get depressed about this biddy getting a contract to write erotic romance. Thanks, I don't think, Ms. SBTB bitches. " They offered a huge deal and I like the idea of seeing my book on a shelf. The plot's top secret so far but let's just say I have a wild imagination." I am so NOT LISTENING . . .

they make me damn proud to be an American--a "mint-powered version of the Bellagio Fountains in Las Vegas." The music is fun. 500 Mentos and 200 liters of Diet coke. . . = a fast snap back from misery

Didn't even take til Thursday. I locked myself in the bathroom for a while but I'm better now, thanks. Looking at pictures of cute Livvy helped. So did reading this commentary from my local paper.

I swear to God, I'm filled to the brim with the misery of refugees and at my busiest I only work a couple of days a week. Meeting the shells of people who've lived through wars and terror--these are the healthiest of survivors, too--would turn anyone into a pacifist. Anyone. Maybe even Dick Cheney, after some drug therapy to turn him into a human first. Every few months I've had enough. I'll be fine on Monday or I'll quit--but I'm always fine on Monday. I don't know how Doina and others can do it 60 hours a week. I don't understand how people who do it full-time for years and years stop themselves from marching to the White House and handcuffing themselves to the fence until some idiot in charge makes it stop, or at least tries to make it stop. Every politician who doesn't actually make an effort toward peace should be forced to meet the damned collateral damage they're responsible for and apologize face to face. No press allowed. Oh, and polit...

Stephen did pretty well on his guesses! He wrote 1. Moby-Dick by Hermann Melville 2. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton 3. One of the Left Behind books by Tim Le Haye (they all seem to be the same to me) 4. The Well of Loneliness by Radcliffe Hall 5. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf 6. The Virginian by Owen Wister 7. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner 8. The Ballad of the Sad Café by Carson McCullers All from the unexpurgated versions, of course ALMOST Stephen. It was actually The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by McCullers. I went for authors' most popular works, see. Oh and seven? Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Or maybe Godless by Ann Coulter, which is number one at Amazon, God help us all. (talk about real pornography . ) Anyway, no way anyone can do better than Stephen's guesses. So the other set of real answers are. . . . 1 Joy Nash--romance 2 Bonnie Dee--erotica (I think. Could be romance.) 3 Robin Schone--erotica (it's the woman's 10th? 11th? orgasm th...

me: Talk like a gypsy. boy: Huh? me: I want to enter this guy's contest on his blog and have to talk about gypsies. boy: What about gypsies? me: I have no idea either. [I was going to mention the Singing Tree and how annoyed I was by it when I was a kid because of the way-too-perfect heroine who had my name, but she was Hungarian. Not Rom (or is it Roma? Is that plural only).] boy: Yeah, so? Why bother? me: So how about you say something that makes you sound Rom. Or maybe like that guy in the movie we watched. Everything is Illuminated. I do this, we might win music from that movie. boy: That music ROCKED. me: Yup. I have to discuss gypsies in my blog and-- boy: Menny gurlz wish to be carnal with me. me: Okay. Good enough. boy: On account of my premium dancing. Haff jew seen my seeink eye beech? Hey beech! Do you know I am carnal with many gurlz? I disseminate much currency so as to be carnal with many gurlz. me: Enough! boy: Hey leetle broozer, do you know many gurlz-- me: ENOU...

Until at least two people post their guesses about which writer wrote which orgasm. So don't even bother to ask. Just Guess, dammit.

Doug did that search for orgasms a while back--not enough people found good samples for him. But back then I went looking for some on my bookshelf. Jeepers, how many ways can you describe a glorified sneeze? Anticipation, growing awareness, the inability to retreat, the body seizes control. The body seizes . . . ah ah ah ahaaah TCHOO. Stars! Falling to pieces! Seeing heaven! (Stars!) I think I'm going to go find some books, and write the orgasms. You guess who wrote which. And guess if it's marketed as erotica or romance. I'm taking out proper names in the writing selections--in case some of you have actually read some of these. Except for the Kate and Summer stuff, I didn't actually LOOK. I just grabbed some books I had on the shelves (or on this computer). Turns out my shelves are filled with long, breathless descriptions of Basic Reproduction: Step One . Here are some of the shorter ones. 1. She clung to him as the final shattering crash of pleasure broke over her. ...

Liddy Midnight's right. These crabby cows are addictive.

I figure I should put on a dress and behave like grown up every now and then. A professional grown up! With that in mind, I'd signed myself up to go to the Long Island Romance Writer's Luncheon, a rhaaather nice event. Been two or three times and it's always interesting. But . . . Earlier this week the grunge hit us and I'm still recovering. And okay, there's panic/phobia/whatever involved. I have to do penance, otherwise I'll worry that I'm slipping back into full-blown agoraphobia. [It's phobia! It's an excuse based on panic! Not real! Prove you're capable of doing it or you'll end up housebound with cats! Lots of cats!] To ward off the evil walls closing in, I'll drive to a RWA meeting about 30 minutes away. I'll probably wear a dress, too. I almost always force myself to go despite the panic. Today I don't feel like indulging in too much self-pity and self-disgust. Turns out it's kind of a nice break to let the panic win ...

1. I already forget to return formal wedding invitation refusals. Do I really need more of those shoved into the wrong drawer and forgotten? And when I do remember to show up to the weddings I say yes to, how will I know which side to sit on? Bride side? Groom side? Nuh uh. 2. The bridal industry and its magazines are already bloated and this is only going to make it worse. They're going to crowd out the mass-market paperbacks in the drug store. I write m-mpb so...I'm particularly worried about this one. 3. The rental halls and hotel ballrooms—there aren’t enough to go around…I mean it’s bad enough trying to book events for baby dedications, family reunions and straight weddings. (I overheard this argument on a train) 4. Wedding showers. Who receives them? Do both people get to register for two showers? Jeepers, do we really want Pottery Barn to rule the world? 5. I got nothing but boys. I like the idea that the BRIDE’S family pays for the wedding. But what if one of my guys...

Forget the champagne, even though tomorrow our marriage is old enough to drink. Rather than just let it pass like last year, I took steps . We're going to celebrate by taking the kids to see Pilobolus next week. but honestly? I'm in love with husband again because he's just a Really Good Guy. His automatic response to crises that involve disease is to do research. Fire up the old internet and start reading those scientific papers. A kid friend was just diagnosed with one of those newfangled problems** and he's already on the net. The kid's Mom thinks it would help if Mike would talk to the family about what he finds, so he will. It's just nice that he's helping them, is all. I like my husband a lot***. No matter what he does or says on this particular anniversary, including forgetting it entirely, I'm still glad*** that I married him. _________________________________ ** celiac disease. ***this week.

A contract from Ellora's Cave. Summer's got another novella coming . . . no idea when, but good to know it's in a queue somewhere.

I enjoy this part. There's still a sense of potential and excitement. And suspense, too: will the printer finally crap out? I like the fact that I'm advancing My Career without actually having to do brain work. I have to keep an eye on the crotchety printer, I have to bustle around looking for the right envelope. With epublishing, sending a submision means nothing much. Click. Click. Done. No ritual of tapping papers on the surface of the desk or hunting through drawers for good binder clips. No wasted trees either. Okay, printing's done. Printer survived and didn't run out of ink. Good luck to you, The Accidental Earl, a Regency title for a non-Regency book -- but " Little Lord Fauntleroy He's Not " doesn't work either. (I'm not good at titles. The other one still making the rounds in the print world is called Ratcatcher . As Emily pointed out, not a particularly romantic name.) Now I have to do the ritual of waiting in line at the post office. T...

You cynic. You probably think President Bush is pushing the gay amendment to boost rotten Republican numbers, to regain the trust of his homophobic base and to get our minds off the war. No! It's because of the War On Terror that he's trying to take this important step now. He's figured out why things are going so badly in Iraq. I wish I could remember where I stole this...dang. update: I got it here! And their rant is better, so no wonder I didn't want to link.

So the big controversy continues to rage elsewhere. No, nothing about covers. Not the "forced loving" one either. Not the Hershey highway of love--although that's coming close to the issue because no one mentions the santorum factor. Or the sanitary problems. Wash well, boys and girls! here's the Big Controversy : What does the writer do about characters' bodily functions--other than those related to sex? Are they mayflies with no exits built in? Or do we know exactly when they feel the need to excrete? The condom issue is pretty clear: in the age of AIDS writers are supposed to at least mention them whilst characters are gearing up for sex. If no condom shows up, somebody's got to murmur something about disease or pregnancy. Less clear is the condom, post-use. Is it okay for the used condoms vanish magically? And hey, why doesn't anyone ever mention the fact that condoms are not much fun to use? Although that's sort of silly--how many ways can it be d...

Remember my neighbor who wins Emmys? (it's on that page somewhere. I can't figure out how to link to old articles directly) Anyway. He won again and is going to get the statue this time, along with the "goody bag." I'm planning on bribing him with a beer -- I'll go to his house with a camera and take a picture of me clutching the statuette. Then I'll post it somewhere on one of my webpages without comment. That way it won't be a lie, you know? I also hope to paw through his goody bag and take an inventory for us. It's SBD. I'm feeling ickety so if I post I'm sure it'll be a whine. Oh boy! Something for all of us to look forward to. As Grouchy Marx says, I have to be here but there's no reason you have to stay.

I've been ranting for people to read her damn books . RANTING . And at last Bam did--she read Bone Deep and got it. Whew. I can relax a bit. Yes, duh, I had nothing to do with it. But every now and then you find a book that you take under your wing and feel personally responsible for. Okay, maybe you don't--and I'm the only person who does this. Cue creepy fangirl music. (What was the tune in Misery ?) I want a big name publisher to grab Bonnie Dee and pay her lots of money and make her write lots of books for me. I've liked everything of hers I've read--some I love better than others but. . .. that's not the point. Hey, her latest one, a series of novellas is great, by the way. I think they go together just fine, thanks, a criticism I read somewhere or another. (I like the way one character from one story drifts into another story) It's funny but I feel that strongly about writers like Teresa Bodwell, Paula Reed and Flo Fitzpatrick, and some of the other...

My royalty statement for Somebody to Love tells me TWO THINGS: 1. Not enough of you people are buying the book. 2. Some publisher in Italy did. Mondadori publishers. Anyone heard of it? Oh boy! Another great cover?! I immediately started cruising around looking for it, but either it's already come and gone, or it's not up yet. As per usual, if anyone can find and buy a copy of the dang book for me, you win not only the cost of the book (duh) but a pair of Bosnian socks. The hunt is still on for a copy of Portuguese Somebody to Love and the Dutch Somebody Wonderful . Notice I say "the hunt" rather than "my hunt" -- I gave up months ago.

Summer's doing well, so she can maintain the course. Steady as she goes, Summer. Kate, on the other hand, is feeling as if her day came and went. TPTB are not returning calls or emails. Kate, always paranoid, feels that she should do something. She** is considering the standard author trick of pretending to be someone new. She likes the idea of being A Rising New Star , A Fresh New Voice , someone Filled With Grand Potential . She'll probably slip up and reveal The Truth because she is something of a blabberer. Pshaw, it's win-win. She gets caught pretending to be a Neophyte Awther, she can count that as publicity, right? There will a raging argument in a few blogs, she will send out her friends to defend her while remaining mysteriously silent on the subject. The message? Wrongly accused but not bitter, Kate cannot allow this to interrupt her writing. Escalating nasty fights will break out, but she will look professional because she remains above the fray. She's too bu...

Andrew Tobias wrote it. You should read it.