summer's new cover and the story of a goober


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 "bless her heart, she's sweet but not that bright." (The author is Southern and had explained the proper usage of the "bless her heart" during the conference call yesterday. )

I waited.
I fretted.
Silence.
Not a word from her yesterday. Nothing today. NOT A WORD of response.

Oh, no, she is so pissed off, she can't even bring herself to write to me. What have I done? A fine writing relationship broken up because I was an airhead!

I finally went to see what could have been offensive in the email. and saw. . .I'd sent it to the other writing partner but hadn't sent it to her. Oh heavenly crackers, just what I need: more proof that I really am a goober.

Bless her heart, she's sweet but just not that bright.

Right. Maybe it's not that funny, but my stomach still hurts from laughing, okay? Or maybe you had to be there with me, waiting, fretting, constantly checking the email for her answer.

Comments

  1. Egads....I have an invisible lady story as well. There is such a thing as a collective conscience, while I'm sure that all of our stories are different, isn't it amazing. Like...runaway bride. Who would have thought of that, oh, the "Bless her heart, she's sweet but just not that bright" who reported her abduction in order to be a runaway bride. LOL...yes, sometimes you have to be in your own skin to get the utter deliciousness of laughing at yourself.

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  2. I am so glad I'm not the only person who does stuff like this. Once I sent Anna Genoese my bio I meant to send my editor at EC. I'm sure she was like, "WTF?" although she was nice about it when I explained to her later.

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  3. Will that runaway bride ever be able to laugh at herself? Hmmm. Bless her heart, she really did botch that up.

    And ha, Lauren. I think I out goobered you more than once. Like the time I sent an email to someone I thought was an intern at Kensington asking a ditzy new author question about some trivial detail(I think I even labeled the letter that) Turned out I'd emailed the publisher.

    Of course there was the time--back when email was easier to screw up--I sent a sort of gooey email to my husband asking him when he was going to get home and "git to bed" and it went out to everyone on my mailing list.

    Oh gawd. That was years ago and I can still get that sinking feeling when I think of the replies I got.

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  4. heh, although knowing what I do about Anna G (not much) she probably got a big kick out of your bio appearing out of nowhere.

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  5. Well I guess I should just stop writing my invisible woman story right now. Kidding, of course.

    I am forever sending things to the wrong people. The worst was the time I sent the really off color joke to my eighty-one year old grandmother. Two days later, she finally responded with a dirty joke of her own. Whew.

    As a brunette I call them my blonde moments, but I suppose that isn't very politically correct. Ah well, you can't please everyone.

    Best,
    Kim

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