Addendum: Double Dog Dare Accepted

It must have been the double-dog-dare: Susan zapped me a picture of her office. I’d just like to point out that I didn’t have fast food styrofoam anywhere in my office. Mostly because the fast food places I frequent are too cheap to use styrofoam. What’s wrong with a plan old paper bag, Miss I’m-Too-High-Falutin’-For-A-Cardboard-Box? And she’s kept her poinsettia alive past Christmas, which clearly means she’s made a deal with the devil.

Susan writes:

“Okay, Missy, here’s my office as of this very minute. Thank God you didn’t challenge me to take a picture of myself because the office looks a heck of a lot better than I do. I am cringing, however, at the fast food container on my desk, but I just had my very nutritious lunch of leftover salad with no dressing. (As long as I’m making you mad…) In total fairness, I cleaned up my desk 2 days ago, but even at it’s worst it never looked like— Never mind. My headache is coming back.”

“Here’s the thing. Your godawful mess of an office looks like the inside of my head ALL THE TIME, which is why I have to keep my workspace reasonably organzied. Otherwise, it would all just be too painful. That mess you work in is a credit to your amazing brainpower.”

See, THIS is why she’s my pal, even when wearing an electric bubble shirt and lying to Rod Stewart about me. Of course, then she ruins it by adding:

“By the way, I love your new cover for DON’T LOOK DOWN. Still angry that you only gave me that first amazing chapter to read. So unfair to keep me dangling like this, but then that cruel streak of yours does have its way of sticking its head up, now doesn’t it?”

So of course I’m sending her an ARC. How can I not?

I love Susan Elizabeth Phillips, bless her classy little heart.

1+

Mare 2: Kind Of

Well, it’s been one of those days, what with Susan answering my double-dog-dare, and the new tile going in my bathroom (and it’s GORGEOUS, too) and about twenty million e-mails coming in, including one with the first review of Don’t Look Down: “This is the first collaboration between best-selling and award-winning romance writer Crusie and adventure-thriller writer Mayer, and it is a rare and original delight. Mayer’s delectably dry sense of humor perfectly complements Crusie’s signature brand of sharp wit, and together the two have cooked up a sexy, sassy, and smart combination of romance and suspense that is simply irresistible.”

God, I’m so happy, I’m doing the Snoopy Dance all over the house.

But I didn’t get to Mare this morning. Or this afternoon. When it got to be 8PM and I was still handling business stuff and e-mails, I realized I wasn’t going to get to Mare or Baby (the scene from Agnes) today. I also realized I have to get a grip on my life. I truly typed from 9:30 this morning until 8 this evening without writing one word of fiction. I did four blog entries, though. And I proofread the newsletter and did a bunch of editor and agent e-mails and an agent phone call (except we talk about everything so that’s not exactly all business) and a partner phone call (except she’s my kid, too, so it’s not exactly all business), and then e-mails with Krissie and Eileen about the anthology and the trip next week and promotion, and then there were the lists I have to keep up with, and the call from the vet because Lucy has a double heart murmur even though everything else about her is fine and I swear to God she knows it because before she went to the vet she used to jump up on the bed just fine and now she sits on the floor and looks up at me with those big eyes and does everything but clutch her heart until I pick her up . . .

Clearly there’s a lack of focus here. As if you didn’t already know that from my desk.

But I did think a lot about fiction today, including writing long e-mails to Bob about what Agnes would be doing baking six kinds of cupcakes while Shane grilled her until Bob wrote back, “TMI,” plus yesterday, I was out because of the vet et al and stopped by Home Goods and looked at their Christmas markdowns and there was this angel that marked down from $38 to $5 (“as is”), and I am not an angel kind of person but the face on this one was so amazing, plus she was holding her halo in her hands as if she’d just decided to take it off, plus there was something about an “as is angel” that really appealed to me, plus she was five bucks, for cripes sake, so I bought her and she’s sitting on my desk and I keep looking at her fascinated. I know she’s going to fuel a book. Maybe Charlotte. Maybe the one I’m going to do a couple of years from now, my verson of The Turn of the Screw. I don’t know. But since I have nothing to show for my day, I thought I’d show you the As Is Angel instead:

Isn’t she something?

Tomorrow, tomorrow I must write fiction. Argh.

0