So I just went to Bob’s blog and found this post:

“Yes. Been back for several days. Maui was fun but tiring. Back in the real world now and really need to finish Lost Girls.
Also am roughing the outline for the next Crusie/Mayer, my working title HIT PARADE. Or DON’T LOOK DOWN THERE but that might be redundant. Had to cut one of my favorite characters, Dakota Lake, the ex-bimbo girlfriend of the mobster who becomes a stripper who moves to Sweden and becomes a sex therapist. At least in my version. But Jenny said: No sex therapists in the book.
No trips for a while. Just writing. Which is the hardest part of being a writer. If we could just not have that pesky part this is the best job in the world.”

The part that caught my eye was that accusation that I made him cut Dakota because she was a sex therapist. (Well, right after I puzzled out the misplaced modifier about the mobster who became a stripper). For the record, I loved Dakota. I actually don’t remember her being a sex therapist, but I loved her. We cut her because the plot was getting too complicated and Bob didn’t want to deal with her. But now sex therapists all over the world are going to think I discriminate against them which is so not true. Although I don’t quite see why Dakota had become one in Sweden. You’d think Sweden would be the last place they’d need sex therapists. Not an uptight country, Sweden.

So I would like to correct this on his site but his webmistress, per his instructions, has not enabled comments. Inkgrrl, where are you? I think it’s only fair that you enable comments on Bob’s blog so that I can right this terrible slander on my open-mindedness. And before sex therapists start showing up here to complain.

Oh, and as Bob rightly pointed out, Hit Parade is his working title. Mine is Agnes and the Hitman or, my real fave that nobody else likes, Cranky Agnes. God knows where he got Don’t Look Down There. I remember him saying in Maui that we should write Don’t Look Up and Don’t Look That Way, but Don’t Look Down There is just crying out for ridicule and innuendo. Geez. You know that whole working title thing is probably worth a blog. I remembering having a terrible time writing Charlie All Night, so I kept referring to it online as “that damn Charlie,” which became “f**king Charlie,” which then became “f**king Chuck,” which had a nice ring to it. Every now and then somebody from back then will refer to it as “F**king Chuck.” The good old days. Where was I?

Right. Bob’s blog is in error. I would never discriminate against sex therapists. Thank you.