And speaking of bullet biting…


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.

The terror of hitting ‘Send.’


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.

More from the world of theatre


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 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.

Eye rolling


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?

Sitar Arts Center


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.

Unicorn Conference


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.

The Power of Social Media


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.