me! me!
Lookit! An article about me!
I do like the fact that at least I share similar work-habits with Kristan "Actually an Extremely Nice Person" Higgans. And we live in the same state.
Don't mind me. I'm in the post-release funk--the kind that comes when the book doesn't immediately climb onto any best-seller list and you realize that this one didn't get there either. This one isn't going to sell like hotcakes and why not? Whose fault is that? Mine. It must be me. This results in a low-grade self-pity that manifests itself in snark and the decision to quit writing forever.
The snark will be gone by the time I finish this post. The decision to quit writing might last a bit longer, at least until tomorrow when I go to Barnes and Noble and Linda rolls her eyes and me and tells me to STFU. (This treatment must be applied in person. I'd ask Mike to do it, but he [with one eye on the bills] asks 'why don't you get another job?' a reasonable question that has me looking and even applying for work every now and then.)
In other news, my oldest graduated from college. No really, I'm not lying. He is that old. So far his gifts on achieving this great milestone are a chocolate cake and letting him sleep in today. I'm thinking the dog (see below) might be mostly his if they bond.
Can't do better than a dog, eh? He suggests naming it Molly, after Molly Bloom, which celebrates his other huge accomplishment: he read all of Ulysses.
Any suggestions for gifts for college graduates--gifts that don't actually cost any money? I can't come up with many either. Maybe I'll do his laundry for him. Once, anyway.
Kate Rothwell/Summer Devon, a romance writer, tells how she does it
I do like the fact that at least I share similar work-habits with Kristan "Actually an Extremely Nice Person" Higgans. And we live in the same state.
Don't mind me. I'm in the post-release funk--the kind that comes when the book doesn't immediately climb onto any best-seller list and you realize that this one didn't get there either. This one isn't going to sell like hotcakes and why not? Whose fault is that? Mine. It must be me. This results in a low-grade self-pity that manifests itself in snark and the decision to quit writing forever.
The snark will be gone by the time I finish this post. The decision to quit writing might last a bit longer, at least until tomorrow when I go to Barnes and Noble and Linda rolls her eyes and me and tells me to STFU. (This treatment must be applied in person. I'd ask Mike to do it, but he [with one eye on the bills] asks 'why don't you get another job?' a reasonable question that has me looking and even applying for work every now and then.)
In other news, my oldest graduated from college. No really, I'm not lying. He is that old. So far his gifts on achieving this great milestone are a chocolate cake and letting him sleep in today. I'm thinking the dog (see below) might be mostly his if they bond.
Can't do better than a dog, eh? He suggests naming it Molly, after Molly Bloom, which celebrates his other huge accomplishment: he read all of Ulysses.
Any suggestions for gifts for college graduates--gifts that don't actually cost any money? I can't come up with many either. Maybe I'll do his laundry for him. Once, anyway.
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