So I’ve been writing and writing and writing and gosh-dammit, I want some instant gratification! Not that I don’t love writing and not that I don’t totally go crazy everytime I check my readership numbers (I do…I’m addicted), but how about a check in the mail people? Hello, publishers? Are you listening to me? I’m ranting. I’m raving. I’m ranting and raving and chewing gum at the same time. Can you write me a six-figure check now?
The update is this: I must either be completely messed in the head (true) or a masochist (didn’t think this was true, but am not wondering now if I should buy a leather mask and some whips just to be sure) or maybe I really do love writing about nothing to a captive audience (uh, what audience???) because the conference has proven ineffective. All of those agents who were screaming like Beatles fans and trying to tear my clothes off…never heard a word again. It must’ve been something I said? Anyway, at least I have you guys. And by you guys I mean me. I’m not sure anybody else really reads this crap.