dcp, nice one.
No Relation, 1973
The cardiac unit waiting room at SF General is always full of people. Men still get heart attacks more often than women do; most of those waiting for news are women. They share the drawn worried look, the twisting together of hands, the bands on the same finger.
I wear no band. I have no right to be here, except that the woman with the ring is definitively elsewhere. I'm here because I'm who he asked them to call.
I fold my ringless hands in my lap, hoping the drawn worry in my face will hide my lack of status.
Damn, deb.
Also, crap, 'cause I know what mine needs to be about and I don't wanna.
Damn, deb.
Yeah. Add to that, I was a few weeks short of nineteen years old.
Also, crap, 'cause I know what mine needs to be about and I don't wanna.
Ouch, ouch, OUCH. No fun when they make you bleed.
flail, flail, flail
So, I, um, have an agent. I'm about to start working on a book proposal; by April 1st, I need to have a chapter summary finished.
I am, as Pete would say, gobsmacked.
Damn. 2006 is starting to look pretty damned good to me. WHOOHOO!
(looks at book files, contemplates a goal of having something presentable by year's end)
Congratulations, Jilli! That's wonderful news!
Jilli, that's fabulous, and not before time, either! Go you.
Now, Connie, get busy. The iron seems to be hot...
Success begets success. Get on it!
fails to take own advice
You know, Strega has a theory that Buffistas secretly control the world through literary means.
I think she may in fact be correct.
