I had to face the painful, bitter, heartbreaking and just plain annoying fact that the structure of the first 75 pages of a novel I have been working on since shortly after the Louisiana Purchase, sucks and must be totally reworked.

After two weeks revising revisions of revisions, I bit the bullet* and sent my manuscript to the very nice editor who requested. I feel bereft,  like a mom on the day her kid leaves for college. At least my manuscript won’t come home with a duffel bag full of dirty laundry or ask me to send money**.

*I’ve never bitten a bullet. I feel certain it wouldn’t be good for my teeth.

**Actually, I was planning to ask it to send me money.

While playing Tuptim in King and I  I once made an entrance not knowing a longline bra was stuck on the sleeve of my beautiful bejeweled robe. Terry Saunders, who played Lady Thiang in the movie*, rushed onstage, pulled it off my sleeve and threw it into the right wing. I had no idea what had happened, which is fortunate, because you can’t play a sad scene if you’re shrieking with laughter.

The Yul Brynner/Deborah Kerr, not the Martin Vidnovic one, because, seriously, why would you watch any other version?

I toured with Jan Peerce twice. When he found out the cheapskate producers weren’t throwing an opening night party, he threw one* in every town we played.

*And not your beer and pretzels kind…the “Sumptuous Buffet’ type.

I was relieved to discover that you can get from Bennington Vermont to northern NJ in 3 hours, not that I plan to make the drive.* It’s just that my characters would be moving to a new house at 2am if it was  much further. These characters are odd, but in a Magical Realism sort of way, not a “Hey, let’s get up in the middle of the night and drive a moving van down a mountain” way.

*I have nothing against either state, but we** are talking about my book, not my vacation itinerary.

**Ok, technically we aren’t talking at all. It’s a figure of speech. Get over it.

I am very proud of myself. I wrote an entire novel, and no character ever rolled his eyes. I’m not even sure what that means. Is it like rolling dice? Or rolling down the river?

I got an email from the above mentioned entity. I was deeply disturbed to discover you can’t take sitar lessons there*. It seems like a fine institution, nonetheless. You should probably check it out.

*Not really. In college I went to a Ravi Shankar concert. I think it’s still going on.

At this past weekend’s writers conference, I  realized one of my dreams in life: I made an agent laugh.*

*Ok, that’s a lie. My dream is to be published, and by someone other than myself. She really did laugh, though, and it was a “Hahaha, that was funny” laugh, not an “Are you kidding?” one.**

**Have you noticed my footnotes are often longer than the main part of the post? You hadn’t? Then I’m sorry I called your attention to it.

So I’m on my way to a writers conference in Purchase, NY and I leave my laptop in the cab from Penn Station to Grand Central.* I do not have the cab driver’s medallion number. I am in the last ring in Hell. An hour later I get a tweet from a wonderful man.**

Found your laptop in cab.

And he gave me the driver’s medallion # and phone. I got my laptop back.***

Of course the destination is irrelevant. I just added it for local color.

**I would tell you his name, but then you’ll expect him to find your laptop, too.

***Which you already guessed, because I don’t tell sad stories, unless they’re also very funny.

Bad news: There is no quiet car on the 8:03 to NYC. Good news: Everyone’s asleep.