Thursday, July 29, 2004

Yes, I do want to cry like a little baby...for about five minutes, then I'm fine.

Michelangelo kitty 99% most likely has what the vet calls Litterbox Aversion, which means something happened to make him not like his litterbox anymore, which means we hew-mons get to play detective to figure out what he does want in a litterbox. Which may be as easy as having one his pesky sister can't get to, or having a different kind of litter, or a lid instead of an open box, etc.  He's fine, but if he could speak English for thirty seconds, the whole process could go a lot faster.  Or if we could speak cat.

Then, I got a very very very good rejection from the first agent who had my full ms.  She loved the book, but had some reservations about marketing, and asked for something else. Which I will be very happy to send her as soon as I finish Simon and Jonnet's book.  I find it ironic that the hard-to-market book is the one I already sold . It is a different sort of a book, but I'm still liking the irony here.

Then there's an email from a friend about a joint venture and miscommunication, yada yada yada.  Short form, I didn't know something had gone a certain way, which gave friend an impression that was false, that resulted in consulting another party I don't know, which blah blah blah...let's cut to the chase and say I don't have time for this sort of stress.  In general, please, please, please check with the other person before assuming.  It can save time and blood pressure.

At least I'm reading a wonderful historical romance by Colleen Faulkner, which definitely reminds me what I'm in the romance fiction business for.  Though it doesn't make up for losing the head skin for a favorite Sims character in the I got it from is gone, head vanished, and can't change the appearance of Townies.  Grumblesigh. 

I'm going to go take my hormonal self to the kitchen, fix some lunch and then write.

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