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.



One of the problems with doing revisions is sometimes* the timeline ends up totally screwed up, as in, Thursday becomes the day before Tuesday, and a character enters 8th grade at age 3. So I’m working on timelines this week, which is hateful, but essential, as none of my novels involve wormholes.

*Meaning always



Why is it some of the worst shows I’ve ever seen had no intermissions? It’s almost like the playwright said to himself, “If I put in an intermission, everybody will leave at the end of Act I.” Some people will leave anyway, but not me. I’m afraid I’d hurt the actors’ feelings, unless I yelled, “It’s not you. IT’S THE PLAY.”*

*I have excellent theatre manners, so I wouldn’t, tempting though it might be.