2005-03-24

Well, I'm trying not to wallow anymore. I think that walking around the house and sniffling isn't as good an idea as doing something proactive.

So I started dirtytrashysecretnovel #3. A quarter of the way in. No title yet. The title for the first came to me a month after I wrote it. I knew what the second would be called before I started it...

Wallowy Grandpop flashback:
G: What's you book called?
A: The Lady Pursues
G: Who's she? The wife of Lord Pursues?

The first is getting a bit closer to being published. But I have one little complication. My chosen pen name of Gillian Duffy is taken by some cook who writes recipe books. Okay chef. No need to denigrate her work just because she happened to be born with my chosen pen name. I wonder if I should publish under my actual name. I kept thinking that I wouldn't be caught dead writing a romance novel. How can I be legit as a comic? Sorry, another one coming...

Wallowy Grandpop flashback 2:
G: What's so shameful about your novel?
A: It's not like it's fancy shmancy literature.
G: (glowering) It doesn't have explicit sex and all that, does it?
A: Uh... No. They put all that stuff in later. Like if they think it needs it.
G: You'd allow that stuff in there?
A: (shrugs) It's not my name on it.

What an awful, baldfaced lie. As if I don't write my own smutty interludes. I used to imagine myself if the book came out. "Oh, geez, Grandpop. You better not read this. They changed everything to filth. If they weren't paying me, I'd be so hacked off right now."

It would be crazy if my name was taken as well.

Anyhow. I have one publisher reading it and one literary agent reading it. The agent said she wanted sole viewing rights till the end of the week. That sounded good. Then I realized it meant nothing more than me waiting and not sending to any more agents. I don't mind waiting when there's something to occupy me that I feel is advancing my cause. But right now, I'm stuck. There are no other publishers to submit to (not ones that take unagented submissions) and My hands are tied on agents.

Can't write for the last few days because my designated reader isn't reading right now (My own sister. Having her own life. The nerve). Also, I get blocked when I don't feel encouraged. Having an email, phone call or mail from anyone involved in publishing me would really help me out.

Anyway, saw my visit counter. I found some more ways people find me:

April Parker
---From when I was seeing how my name matched up with Trey's. I still think Trey Walsh sounds better. If we ever actually meet, I'm going to insist he stop being so pig-headed and traditional and just take mine. Men.

Preteen sex
---And there have been similar searches by lots of pervos and I really want to say again: There are so many women your own age who are better looking than you are. Furthermore, YOU ARE A TWISTED ICKY PERV!!!!! Then again, maybe it's fellow preteen. In that case: You get to bed right now, Mister! And don't you think your parents won't hear about this!

My bladder was full to
---Still trying to figure out the reason for a search for that exact phrase. Lots of kidney, prostate and proper catheter removal sites, though. It's an honor to be in such company.

Diane Raiburn
---This must be one of those things where someone searches for their name. Is it the same one? If so... Ahem...

You probably saw the entry where I denounced adolescent cruelty patterns and saw that you were named as a villain. I won't apologize completely for the entry. I won't delete it. It needed to be written even if it came from the whiny fourteen-year-old in my head.

But I will say that the girls I mentioned, the girls in general, were more rude and dismissive than truly mean. The boys were the main thing that kept the weird, chubby girl in the piano room at lunch. The girls were just... Very obvious about the fact that they didn't like me. And wanted to make sure I was absolutely clear on that.

I don't really think you were one of the worst. You just imprinted yourself on my memory. When you say something mean to someone, something they play over and over on their internal TIVO because their neurotic subconscious won't let go, you end up sticking in there. The name, the face, even the voice. They stay. I'm sure you're now old enough to have done with that kind of behavior to your peers.

Don't feel all guilty. You didn't really "kill Piggy." Hey! All of this self-loathing has made me an almost-published writer. So... cool. Because some people become serial killers of Columbinial proportions. It could have been worse. I actually got off pretty easy.

Yeesh! Now I'm afraid I'm giving complexes to the people who gave me complexes. I am so crazy paranoid over everything.

Anyhow, am back to where I was with Weight Watchers before Grandpop fell and turned my life into this dreary thing you see before you. Ten pounds down. Only two-hundred to go.

Kidding.

Just thirty more till I'm at my goal weight. But it's fifty more till I'm at the "perfect size" thing they set for me. I don't really want to be the perfect size. My weight is a part of me in a way. I want to be a little chubby. I have an hourglass shape, even fat. I want to be around Jane Russell size, not Calista Flockhart. Their goal wieght would be Calista. Mine's more Bridget Jones.

But maybe when I get thinner, I'll want to be even thinner, though. As of now, the idea of being classified as thin by those who see me... It makes me sort of mournful. April's not skinny. Where's April if she's thin? I don't know. Maybe that makes no sense. As you all know, I'm neurotic. I'm probably just trying to make sure I have something left to complain about in the event that I pursue my new career as a Trim-spa spokeswoman.