Honest to pete, you people don't follow directions any more. Go on over and read the tarred old same old, same old (an excerpt and an interview with me. You can win a book. You will win a book since no one else has tried. Linda doesn't count.) Comment enthusiastically, why don't you? Go on and then we'll call it a day. I promise not to do any more promo until the book comes out in . . . . a while. A couple of weeks.
Oh wait. Nagging isn't done yet.
Are you signed up to go hear me next weekend? I was asked (yes, you read that right. They asked me) to do a presentation at the Mark Twain house's Writer's Weekend. I drafted Toni Andrews to help because she's noisier than I am and does good talk. I do tangents, muttering, and wandering. She does loud and on topic. She and Mike have the habit, when interrupted, of ignoring the interruption and just plowing along. Good for a talk.
Speaking of tangents, let's get back to that interview you're supposed to look at. I added some of you to the mix. That list you made is the business. The five words are amazing and I have had fun walking around thinking of stories to match as many as possible. I've started writing again but not with any of those five words.
In other news, this morning I wandered off into the bowels of the internet past and remembered the huge kerfuffle about the cute costumed writers at RWA from a few years ago. That was when I had NORA goddamn ROBERTS comment on my blog. I'd link to it, but it has plenty of hits already. I still don't get how anyone could get offended by my fear. I was scared when I thought dressing up and presenting us with our writing was our future.
I was scared for me of course, and my fear has only grown. If I wanted to present me along with the writing, I would have been a broadcast broad and I definitely would have stopped aging.
UPDATE: Bugger. That 19th century Punch cartoon doesn't seem to be translating well. Here's a link so you can read the text.
Also I should point out that I lifted it from Cat's Meat Shop -- a great site!
***UPDATED Yikes, no. I'm not really disgusted--I'm just being a goober. You don't owe me squat, okay? Good. Maybe I've had a rough day because for some reason, and I really don't understand how this happened. And DO NOT tell anyone. Anyway for some strange sub-conscious reason, last night I dreamed I was having sex with Bill O'Reilly. Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrghhhh.