At first I bristled when an agent said, “I think this novel is actually a Chick Lit/Cozy Crime mashup.” Then my first beta reader (also known as my husband) said, “This is supposed to appeal to women, right?” Ok, Chick Lit.
I do not wish I’d written the Harry Potter series. I do, however, wish I’d written Outlander. Then I would know what happens in book 9.
A day of giving thanks with friends and family. Also known as “The day Carol will not be writing.”
About an hour ago in my writing spot the emergency lights started flashing. Once a minute a robotic voice announced that everyone should leave the building. Not a single person got up. Hardly anyone even looked up, though this went on for ten minutes. We were writing. We were drinking soy mochas. We were standing our ground.*
Now two guys at the table next to me are having a loud conference with a disembodied voice on speakerphone. They are discussing addiction clinics. If they don’t leave soon I will need drugs.**
*Please note the restraint I exhibited in avoiding an obvious pun.
**Thank God for headphones and Chuck Mangione.
Spent 30 minutes of valuable writing time trying to figure out how I could reasonably have three high school seniors in a standard junior year class. AND I DID IT. And nobody cares…*
*Except possible my fellow #amwriting friends.
It is a sobering thought that the little girl who played Bielke, or one of the five other Tevye girls in the first Equity show I did, is now a totally grownup woman. So I’m not going to think about it. Hi, Jane.
The agent who requested my full manuscript asked if I thought there was potential for a sequel. So I’m writing one. Even though she hasn’t said ‘yes’ to the first one, yet.
Some people might say it was unwise to stay up until 2:30am when I had to be at the airport at 8:30am for the flight to Lansing to do a show Thursday night. Those ‘some people’ would not be Cubs fans.
Most people would say I, unlike some cast members, was wise* to skip “$2.99 Margarita” night at the restaurant next door to our hotel after the show was over.
*Ok. It wasn’t wisdom. I didn’t have the energy to walk the 50 feet.I would have loved a margarita.
What I learned from last night’s show in Lansing, MI.
Central Michigan U. students are very nice.
My troupe does not understand the concept “I will interview you one at a time,” so our interview for the local TV station was more like the sound equivalent of a photobomb.
You can ask for a cart at O’Hare and they will drive you to your connecting flight, which someone* has stupidly booked you with a mere 15 minutes to get there.
If you’re going to launch a loud staccato diatribe about your incompetent boss, and mention his name, it’s probably better not to do it in a public place.