I could wildly exaggerate some of the real horrificness, but not while my mother is alive. She'd out me in a New York minute.

I could write a gritty memoir, but I don't think the royalty check would be worth the awkward conversations I'd have to have with my mother.

oops

Susan - you can do the Laurie King - Mary Russell thing where you can say that you found the memoir in an old trunk in the attic.

How annoying.

Nah. Published writer, directly relatable experience. This is ruled appropriate me-ness.

Allyson, I hope you do punch her in the face.

I have a sudden hankering for deviled eggs. Do you suppose anyone does deviled egg delivery?

According to my librarian-schooled roommate, there are actually LoC categories for past life memoirs, and novels dictated by dead people. Because you're going to have to cross-list them somehow.

we could certainly do 'life enhancement services'

"Okay, so, here's our pitch; you are the half-breed spawn of a demon and a Puerto Rican junkie prostitute. You were raised in Bogota by a cult of cyborg monks intent on bringing about the Apocalypse, but your half-human nature meant you have a soul and a conscience. Having met and befriended a bisexual mage over the Internet you fled the cult and formed a group of heroic second-raters, a 'Dirty Dozen' kind of thing, that includes a pixie-ish schizophrenic otaku with whom you have a torrid affair while angsting over your unresolved attraction to the techno mage. At the end you defeat the cult using a mix of cobbled together technological wizardry, ancient Babylonian mysticism and pure gumption."

"Isn't this supposed to be passed off as 'non-fiction'?"

"Yes. Why?"

Probably not the kind of deviled eggs that go in your belly, tommyrot.