Kate Rothwell's Blog, page 33
July 6, 2011
It's a Summer Devon day at The Romance Reviews
Here's part of their review of Powder of Love:
Are aphrodisiacs real? If they are, what happens when they affect various members of a Victorian era household? POWDER OF LOVE is a funny, spicy and at times, downright graphic story of a woman who inherits a box full of aphrodisiac.. . . . The growing relationship between the dour Gideon Reed and the outgoing and strong willed Rosalie is delightful to read. Rosalie's interactions with the various secondary characters are well written.
The presence of this aphrodisiac provides for some pretty hilarious comedy as various people fall under its influence. It is also the cause of some of the steamy action that occurs. At just under 200 pages, this book is a wonderfully complete read. It's a story that stays with you long after you finish reading! This book isn't for the faint of heart! The sex is graphic; it involves group sex, public sex and M/M sex.
--the rest is here.
And here's the Mad Baron review--it got a Top Pick!
Wow! What a nice surprise! THE MAD BARON is a wonderful treasure found. This is no disposable
romance. It is an instant classic to be kept "on the shelf" and read over and over. . . . The story flows smoothly from start to finish. Great characters and story. The secondary characters are all wonderful and the dynamics seem to work. Although there's so much happening, it doesn't overpower the main plot. Much more depth than the usual romance. Excellent emotional element. Highly recommended!
--and there's more.
Are aphrodisiacs real? If they are, what happens when they affect various members of a Victorian era household? POWDER OF LOVE is a funny, spicy and at times, downright graphic story of a woman who inherits a box full of aphrodisiac.. . . . The growing relationship between the dour Gideon Reed and the outgoing and strong willed Rosalie is delightful to read. Rosalie's interactions with the various secondary characters are well written.
The presence of this aphrodisiac provides for some pretty hilarious comedy as various people fall under its influence. It is also the cause of some of the steamy action that occurs. At just under 200 pages, this book is a wonderfully complete read. It's a story that stays with you long after you finish reading! This book isn't for the faint of heart! The sex is graphic; it involves group sex, public sex and M/M sex.
--the rest is here.
And here's the Mad Baron review--it got a Top Pick!
Wow! What a nice surprise! THE MAD BARON is a wonderful treasure found. This is no disposable
romance. It is an instant classic to be kept "on the shelf" and read over and over. . . . The story flows smoothly from start to finish. Great characters and story. The secondary characters are all wonderful and the dynamics seem to work. Although there's so much happening, it doesn't overpower the main plot. Much more depth than the usual romance. Excellent emotional element. Highly recommended!--and there's more.
July 4, 2011
ta da!
getting this felt good
this felt even better!Bonnie and I won Historical first place for The Rogue and the Gentleman.
July 2, 2011
Seeing a drawback to those craft workshops
I'm sitting, waiting for a bell cart**, reading one of the approximately 1000 books from the conference (Linda and Lori collected many, many books) and I keep seeing examples of What Not To Do. This is an author whose stuff I love. And now I'm doing the dissection thing again. I forgot about that part of thinking Craft all the damn time.
I want to go back to being a reader and only apply this nit-picking to my own work. After years of being a way too critical reader, I'd reached that happy balance.
In other news, the lobby still smells like spray paint. Last night the artists lined up on Times Square just outside the hotel with the easels or tables and started drawing the passersby for $5 a pop. Maybe thirty people, mostly Asian, drawing astonishingly fast, good portraits.
Then there were other guys who used krylon spray paint cans (sounds outer space) and paint scrapers as blockers as they painted outer space scenes. The spray paint wafts around the place like nobody's business.
______
**L or L called and asked for a luggage rack and the guy just showed up with a luggage rack--you know, the kind that sits in the closet and no one uses. He tried to leave it here even though we don't need the one we already have.
I want to go back to being a reader and only apply this nit-picking to my own work. After years of being a way too critical reader, I'd reached that happy balance.
In other news, the lobby still smells like spray paint. Last night the artists lined up on Times Square just outside the hotel with the easels or tables and started drawing the passersby for $5 a pop. Maybe thirty people, mostly Asian, drawing astonishingly fast, good portraits.
Then there were other guys who used krylon spray paint cans (sounds outer space) and paint scrapers as blockers as they painted outer space scenes. The spray paint wafts around the place like nobody's business.
______
**L or L called and asked for a luggage rack and the guy just showed up with a luggage rack--you know, the kind that sits in the closet and no one uses. He tried to leave it here even though we don't need the one we already have.
July 1, 2011
My RWA
Here's what I loved this year:
Craft workshops. When I took a craft workshop, even the ones that are full of familiar stuff, I got sparks again. They used to bore me because I'd overloaded on them, BTDT and didn't want to get preached at and I didn't want to learn jargon for stuff that doesn't need freaking jargon.
Yeah, some of that's still true. But the good ones, man, I'd forgotten how cool they can be. Michael Hauge, Toni Andrews, Jenny Crusie (of course) -- those were a few of the ones that gave new words to something that I needed to hear again. As I listened, I'd relate them to my life or books and feel my writerly brain expanding, if only for a moment. As I listened, instead of doodling or jotting down jargon, I wrote notes for books. I won't be able to read the notes I wrote about the books or the jargon, but it was good stuff.
And the craft workshops gave me that message over and over, yo, dude, you are a writer. You write. Yup, you can do it.
I need to hear that. Anyone who wants to write does.
Therefore -- and pay attention, because this is the thesis-- I'm convinced you should go to craft workshops even if you have written (hold on, I'll be right back, gotta count) .....hell, the page doesn't open.
....... even if you've written a whole lot of books and are a RT Readers Choice Finalist, a 4 time passionate pen finalist, one time winner, a golden rose winner, a RIO winner.
Craft workshops. Yes.
Here's what else I learned:
I am not a party animal so all the great party reports aren't here. In fact the minute the last RITA winner was announced I raced upstairs, as fast as possible. There will be crowds of people down there. Yikes.
The crowds of successful writers talking about craft--I feel like a writer. The crowds of successful writers talking about anything else? I feel like the opposite of a writer, whatever that is. It's too bad, and I hope to get back the ability to hang around in bars or hotel rooms because that's what I loved in previous years. Craft this year, schmoozing another time.
RITA report:
When Rita winners thank their dead relatives and start sniffling I join them. Also when they thank their husbands I think, yeah, got to remember that one when I get my Rita. Yup. Don't forget to say, I'd like to thank my meal-ticket, Mike.
When Rita winners are funny, I want to read their books. For instance the inspie Golden Heart winner? Whose name I've forgotten? One of the funniest people of the night. I don't read inspie but IF she gets a contract and IF I remember her name and IF I run across her book, I will buy it immediately. She was that good.
When people I know don't win the Rita, I feel cheated, which is significantly less gross than feeling cheated when I don't win things. What's the sensation of second hand envy for someone else? It's an almost but not really an altruistic sort of a feeling.
Okay, I'm going to go try socializing again. I'll let you know if I learn anything new about the secret success handshake so popular here in New York, New York.
Craft workshops. When I took a craft workshop, even the ones that are full of familiar stuff, I got sparks again. They used to bore me because I'd overloaded on them, BTDT and didn't want to get preached at and I didn't want to learn jargon for stuff that doesn't need freaking jargon.
Yeah, some of that's still true. But the good ones, man, I'd forgotten how cool they can be. Michael Hauge, Toni Andrews, Jenny Crusie (of course) -- those were a few of the ones that gave new words to something that I needed to hear again. As I listened, I'd relate them to my life or books and feel my writerly brain expanding, if only for a moment. As I listened, instead of doodling or jotting down jargon, I wrote notes for books. I won't be able to read the notes I wrote about the books or the jargon, but it was good stuff.
And the craft workshops gave me that message over and over, yo, dude, you are a writer. You write. Yup, you can do it.
I need to hear that. Anyone who wants to write does.
Therefore -- and pay attention, because this is the thesis-- I'm convinced you should go to craft workshops even if you have written (hold on, I'll be right back, gotta count) .....hell, the page doesn't open.
....... even if you've written a whole lot of books and are a RT Readers Choice Finalist, a 4 time passionate pen finalist, one time winner, a golden rose winner, a RIO winner.
Craft workshops. Yes.
Here's what else I learned:
I am not a party animal so all the great party reports aren't here. In fact the minute the last RITA winner was announced I raced upstairs, as fast as possible. There will be crowds of people down there. Yikes.
The crowds of successful writers talking about craft--I feel like a writer. The crowds of successful writers talking about anything else? I feel like the opposite of a writer, whatever that is. It's too bad, and I hope to get back the ability to hang around in bars or hotel rooms because that's what I loved in previous years. Craft this year, schmoozing another time.
RITA report:
When Rita winners thank their dead relatives and start sniffling I join them. Also when they thank their husbands I think, yeah, got to remember that one when I get my Rita. Yup. Don't forget to say, I'd like to thank my meal-ticket, Mike.
When Rita winners are funny, I want to read their books. For instance the inspie Golden Heart winner? Whose name I've forgotten? One of the funniest people of the night. I don't read inspie but IF she gets a contract and IF I remember her name and IF I run across her book, I will buy it immediately. She was that good.
When people I know don't win the Rita, I feel cheated, which is significantly less gross than feeling cheated when I don't win things. What's the sensation of second hand envy for someone else? It's an almost but not really an altruistic sort of a feeling.
Okay, I'm going to go try socializing again. I'll let you know if I learn anything new about the secret success handshake so popular here in New York, New York.
June 30, 2011
mini RWA report
overheard at the conference:
I can forgive a lot, but no dessert? That's not negotiable. I paid good money for this.
Agents are absolutely necessary--you're not going to want to try to sell your books in Russian, French etc. Let us do it for you.
I've always believed that anyone who claims to know where the market will be in a year is a liar. Now I know they are. Add to that anyone who claims to know how we'll be reading our books in two years. Except it'll be some kind of hand-held device like a iPhone. That's no lie. Really.
seen at conference:
coming in from publisher parties: Lots of fascinators. MANY OF THEM. Most with net and feathers.
Also corsets--a fair number of them (many of them at the Passionate Ink party I crashed at the very end, then paid full admission for. What can I say? I'm a crappy party crasher) Most corsets are dark colors and worn with no covering.
Lots of blue jeans and teeshirts. And I don't see as many fancy-pants decked-out types, and except for the corsets, nothing over the top. (And some of the breasts are over the top, if you know what I mean. But not really--in slutwear world view, these are fairly tasteful and subdued) Now I feel sort of guilty for coming down on the "Look PROFESSIONAL" side of the how to dress for the conference debate. I miss the fun clothes. I miss the swan hat.
I've only done one official event--the Samhain breakfast. It was good food (standard continental but better than most.) in a pleasant venue. I didn't meet anyone new, but that's my own damn fault. Wait, no, I met Jennifer the editor.
won at conference:
I did--Bonnie and I did! We won the Passionate Ink Historical first prize for Gentleman and Rogue.
There are a lot of people winning things, but I don't know who they are. The big event is tomorrow night and we're rooting for Lori to win the Golden Heart. She's Alexa Loran this year.
I can forgive a lot, but no dessert? That's not negotiable. I paid good money for this.
Agents are absolutely necessary--you're not going to want to try to sell your books in Russian, French etc. Let us do it for you.
I've always believed that anyone who claims to know where the market will be in a year is a liar. Now I know they are. Add to that anyone who claims to know how we'll be reading our books in two years. Except it'll be some kind of hand-held device like a iPhone. That's no lie. Really.
seen at conference:
coming in from publisher parties: Lots of fascinators. MANY OF THEM. Most with net and feathers.
Also corsets--a fair number of them (many of them at the Passionate Ink party I crashed at the very end, then paid full admission for. What can I say? I'm a crappy party crasher) Most corsets are dark colors and worn with no covering.
Lots of blue jeans and teeshirts. And I don't see as many fancy-pants decked-out types, and except for the corsets, nothing over the top. (And some of the breasts are over the top, if you know what I mean. But not really--in slutwear world view, these are fairly tasteful and subdued) Now I feel sort of guilty for coming down on the "Look PROFESSIONAL" side of the how to dress for the conference debate. I miss the fun clothes. I miss the swan hat.
I've only done one official event--the Samhain breakfast. It was good food (standard continental but better than most.) in a pleasant venue. I didn't meet anyone new, but that's my own damn fault. Wait, no, I met Jennifer the editor.
won at conference:
I did--Bonnie and I did! We won the Passionate Ink Historical first prize for Gentleman and Rogue.
There are a lot of people winning things, but I don't know who they are. The big event is tomorrow night and we're rooting for Lori to win the Golden Heart. She's Alexa Loran this year.
June 28, 2011
why am I going to this conference again?
Dear Person to whom I Babble:
I don't know who you are yet, but some unfortunate is going to come across me after I've self medicated and she's going to say hello and that'll be it. I'm not sure what the topic will be but I will talk. A lot. Let me just say now that I'm sorry and all the opinions I expressed aren't really my own. It's the lemon sour speaking.
Seriously what will I get from this conference? Time to hang with friends, yup. And the chance to hear that editors and agents are looking for fresh new voices. No, really?
I'm supposed to make new friends (influential important friends preferably....) but that's not likely to happen. When you look like you're as desperate as the ancient mariner, people try to veer away from you. He's coming off years of crazy on the becalmed sea with a dead albatross. I don't have good excuse except I hate crowds and have forgotten how to interact with adult humans. Why am I going? I should remember the important lessons learned at Paper Back Writer's knee and stay away from these things. Why?
Okay, time's up.
My whine schedule's over. Now my calendar says I should suppress the bitter hissing crone for a few days, except after a couple of beers or lemon sours. No one forced me to sign up for this thing (Linda and Lori?) so it's time for the big girl act. First I have to go find the key to the crap car and hope it doesn't break down on the highway.
I don't know who you are yet, but some unfortunate is going to come across me after I've self medicated and she's going to say hello and that'll be it. I'm not sure what the topic will be but I will talk. A lot. Let me just say now that I'm sorry and all the opinions I expressed aren't really my own. It's the lemon sour speaking.
Seriously what will I get from this conference? Time to hang with friends, yup. And the chance to hear that editors and agents are looking for fresh new voices. No, really?
I'm supposed to make new friends (influential important friends preferably....) but that's not likely to happen. When you look like you're as desperate as the ancient mariner, people try to veer away from you. He's coming off years of crazy on the becalmed sea with a dead albatross. I don't have good excuse except I hate crowds and have forgotten how to interact with adult humans. Why am I going? I should remember the important lessons learned at Paper Back Writer's knee and stay away from these things. Why?
Okay, time's up.
My whine schedule's over. Now my calendar says I should suppress the bitter hissing crone for a few days, except after a couple of beers or lemon sours. No one forced me to sign up for this thing (Linda and Lori?) so it's time for the big girl act. First I have to go find the key to the crap car and hope it doesn't break down on the highway.
June 25, 2011
Um. Oh. Letter to the agent
Dear Agent to Whom I Promised That Manuscript,
I didn't exactly lie when I sent you those 3 chapters and synopsis. I said I had a complete manuscript and that was not a lie. But I'd kinda left off part of the truth. What I didn't tell you was that the end of the story -- okay, much of the plot -- was an unholy mess. We're talking Eugenics and Victorian breeding programs and it was just...no. It was icky. I had 80K words but I'd say maybe 40K of them ranged from questionable to dreck.
Why didn't I follow standard operating procedure? I know what to do. Even fledgling writers know how it's supposed to work. So? Why didn't I wait until I had a polished finished manuscript to send?
In part because I was pretending I'm a professional.
I blame my "business plan" (See? That's a majorly professional sounding word right there.) My BP is to get back into the NYC world. That means that every now and then, I make the effort. I don't actually believe that it'll happen--I do it just to feel like I'm keeping to a schedule that is otherwise not in my control**. I've gotten used to producing 3 chapters, a synopsis and then, after I send out the little bundle, I check it off my to-do list and forget all about it. I go back to writing what I know will sell to the non-NYC world.
So when you sent back the "sure! Let's see the rest" note, I was mildly surprised. And then when you sent the "hey, I'm really interested, where is that ms?" note, I was petrified.
I can work fast -- I usually do. But that note about your interest. Man, it scared me. External pressure? Really? I vaguely recall that, but whoa.
Okay. Now it's about a month later and I have the finished manuscript (again) Do I send this letter to you? Are you still interested? Am I a loser for not being entirely honest up front? When I see you at RWA do I confess my sins?
So what do you think, rest of the world and maybe you, too, agent. Is it standard for everyone to allow a month or two to lapse between request and submission? I'd really, really hate that if I was an agent or editor. Sure, you guys always make writers wait, but that's the way of the world. There are a gazillion of us and a few of you.
____________
** out of control part is what happens once I'm done with my bit:
plan:
write a best-selling novel.
action:
write novel
outcome:
Best selling? Sez you. Try selling--Not, responds agent, editor, booksellers, novel-reading public
I didn't exactly lie when I sent you those 3 chapters and synopsis. I said I had a complete manuscript and that was not a lie. But I'd kinda left off part of the truth. What I didn't tell you was that the end of the story -- okay, much of the plot -- was an unholy mess. We're talking Eugenics and Victorian breeding programs and it was just...no. It was icky. I had 80K words but I'd say maybe 40K of them ranged from questionable to dreck.
Why didn't I follow standard operating procedure? I know what to do. Even fledgling writers know how it's supposed to work. So? Why didn't I wait until I had a polished finished manuscript to send?
In part because I was pretending I'm a professional.
I blame my "business plan" (See? That's a majorly professional sounding word right there.) My BP is to get back into the NYC world. That means that every now and then, I make the effort. I don't actually believe that it'll happen--I do it just to feel like I'm keeping to a schedule that is otherwise not in my control**. I've gotten used to producing 3 chapters, a synopsis and then, after I send out the little bundle, I check it off my to-do list and forget all about it. I go back to writing what I know will sell to the non-NYC world.
So when you sent back the "sure! Let's see the rest" note, I was mildly surprised. And then when you sent the "hey, I'm really interested, where is that ms?" note, I was petrified.
I can work fast -- I usually do. But that note about your interest. Man, it scared me. External pressure? Really? I vaguely recall that, but whoa.
Okay. Now it's about a month later and I have the finished manuscript (again) Do I send this letter to you? Are you still interested? Am I a loser for not being entirely honest up front? When I see you at RWA do I confess my sins?
So what do you think, rest of the world and maybe you, too, agent. Is it standard for everyone to allow a month or two to lapse between request and submission? I'd really, really hate that if I was an agent or editor. Sure, you guys always make writers wait, but that's the way of the world. There are a gazillion of us and a few of you.
____________
** out of control part is what happens once I'm done with my bit:
plan:
write a best-selling novel.
action:
write novel
outcome:
Best selling? Sez you. Try selling--Not, responds agent, editor, booksellers, novel-reading public
stuff
Oh, honestly. The people in this book are crying so often they need to rehydrate.
My son's southern accent might be worse than my midwestern accent. We need an expert to listen to us both and decide who's more dreadful.
Does instant coffee taste better these days or am I less discerning?
Twitter has ruined my ability to write paragraphs or think of any subject for more than a minute or two.
Hey has Charlene Teglia had that baby yet or is she on the roof taking out people with a bazooka like she threatened?
My son's southern accent might be worse than my midwestern accent. We need an expert to listen to us both and decide who's more dreadful.
Does instant coffee taste better these days or am I less discerning?
Twitter has ruined my ability to write paragraphs or think of any subject for more than a minute or two.
Hey has Charlene Teglia had that baby yet or is she on the roof taking out people with a bazooka like she threatened?
June 20, 2011
is whining ever attractive?
Probably if it's done by Tim Minchin or a good comic. Or maybe an emo indie band that makes listeners feel as if its despair is the pain of the universe and isn't just first world angst.
Most of my whining is preschool resentment of what I have to do next. I wonder what percentage of the grownup population gets that feeling that they'd rather do anything but [ blank ] at the very moment they should most be [ blanking ]?
Blank can equal "stop drinking" "exercise" "get the hell out of bed" "drink enough water" I suppose blank can reach all the way to "stay alive."
I'm not at that whatthehell point, thank you. Have been before, will again, I'm sure, but not right now. I've just noticed in the past that one of the first things to go at the start of the whine and rinse cycles are the stories and uh oh, the pleasure is sliding away.
And the sad thing is that even though I now have pleasant stripes in my hair, I am no longer attractive enough for this sort of malcontented mood to be mildly interesting to outsiders. Now if I could carry a tune like that singer in Low, maybe I could get some mileage out of this.
Okay, almost nothing I do is interesting to outsiders, but I'd finally gotten to the point when I usually couldn't care less about that. Wait a moment!
. . . the gears are grinding. . .
All right!
Yes.
I've decided I don't care now, either, again. Gotta love the human mind's ability to adapt and I think I've just adapted. Maybe I'll go try to write a story and see if I'm better yet.
Now if only I could get the pleasure from stories (mine and others), I'd be all set. Second-hand passion is better than none.
Most of my whining is preschool resentment of what I have to do next. I wonder what percentage of the grownup population gets that feeling that they'd rather do anything but [ blank ] at the very moment they should most be [ blanking ]?
Blank can equal "stop drinking" "exercise" "get the hell out of bed" "drink enough water" I suppose blank can reach all the way to "stay alive."
I'm not at that whatthehell point, thank you. Have been before, will again, I'm sure, but not right now. I've just noticed in the past that one of the first things to go at the start of the whine and rinse cycles are the stories and uh oh, the pleasure is sliding away.
And the sad thing is that even though I now have pleasant stripes in my hair, I am no longer attractive enough for this sort of malcontented mood to be mildly interesting to outsiders. Now if I could carry a tune like that singer in Low, maybe I could get some mileage out of this.
Okay, almost nothing I do is interesting to outsiders, but I'd finally gotten to the point when I usually couldn't care less about that. Wait a moment!
. . . the gears are grinding. . .
All right!
Yes.
I've decided I don't care now, either, again. Gotta love the human mind's ability to adapt and I think I've just adapted. Maybe I'll go try to write a story and see if I'm better yet.
Now if only I could get the pleasure from stories (mine and others), I'd be all set. Second-hand passion is better than none.
June 13, 2011
remembering Somebody to Love
I mentioned Someone To Love in a post at a blog, and just thinking about that book gave me enough PTSD symptoms. Wait a sec. I have to get up and find some chocolate.
Okay. Back again. If you look at the dedication (which I won't) it says something like thank you to Mike for that January, aka the January from Hell.
I signed the two-book contract in October and it wasn't until sometime around Christmas that year, after finishing grueling edits on the first book. (Hilary's fault for buying a partial) that I pulled out the contract to see when the book was due--as in the next book (Title To Be Decided) as in the book that I hadn't started yet as in the book I hadn't really planned out.
The due date? February first. This was my very first book contract and I was already about to blow it. I thought about trying for a later date, but Hilary said the book had been put in the schedule already and if I dropped out, well....they'd cope, but. . . . I so did NOT want to get a rep as one of those difficult authors.
I couldn't really get to work until the holidays were over; we had company part of that time. January 2, I started in.
This was back when my boys were small-ish. I guess 2003? Yeah, that's right. So I had a 12 year old, 9 year old and 5 year old. And I had to write a book in a month.
Luckily it was the month Mike didn't have to teach, so he basically became a full-time Dad. I sat in our bedroom hiding from the kids, my butt on a rocking chair, my feet propped on our bed -- and I wrote. It had to be about 88K words, so you do the math. I know I did at least 15 pages a day, usually more like 20.
Hilary got the book, pointed out it wasn't romance and sent it back to me to rewrite. So I did. (With a lot of help from people like Julie and Bronwyn...maybe I should send them some flowers right now.)
I still can't open that book. I still can't think about it. I'm off to get more chocolate.
Okay. Back again. If you look at the dedication (which I won't) it says something like thank you to Mike for that January, aka the January from Hell.
I signed the two-book contract in October and it wasn't until sometime around Christmas that year, after finishing grueling edits on the first book. (Hilary's fault for buying a partial) that I pulled out the contract to see when the book was due--as in the next book (Title To Be Decided) as in the book that I hadn't started yet as in the book I hadn't really planned out.
The due date? February first. This was my very first book contract and I was already about to blow it. I thought about trying for a later date, but Hilary said the book had been put in the schedule already and if I dropped out, well....they'd cope, but. . . . I so did NOT want to get a rep as one of those difficult authors.
I couldn't really get to work until the holidays were over; we had company part of that time. January 2, I started in.
This was back when my boys were small-ish. I guess 2003? Yeah, that's right. So I had a 12 year old, 9 year old and 5 year old. And I had to write a book in a month.
Luckily it was the month Mike didn't have to teach, so he basically became a full-time Dad. I sat in our bedroom hiding from the kids, my butt on a rocking chair, my feet propped on our bed -- and I wrote. It had to be about 88K words, so you do the math. I know I did at least 15 pages a day, usually more like 20.
Hilary got the book, pointed out it wasn't romance and sent it back to me to rewrite. So I did. (With a lot of help from people like Julie and Bronwyn...maybe I should send them some flowers right now.)
I still can't open that book. I still can't think about it. I'm off to get more chocolate.
