Be Who You Want, Just Don’t Be Jenny Crusie

I was reading reader reviews on the net (I had a reason) and found one that said, “I want to be Jennifer Crusie when I grow up.” And I thought, “Oh, honey. You don’t.”

I’m typing this having just scrubbed the floors on my hands and knees–it’s mud season–while I’m putting off taking a shower because I’m going to have to take a dachshund and a poodle in with me because they have to go to the vet’s tomorrow and they’re grubby. It’s 4:45 AM (I love the nightlife), there are dishes in the sink that have been there for more than twenty-four hours (but still under a week, I think, so we’re good), I mowed the lawn today in pajama pants and a striped T-shirt (no bra) and didn’t realize it until my neighbor pulled up to talk to me (thank god it was Kathleen, she doesn’t judge), I’ve got eye surgery in my future and some issues from my past that are bearing down on me, and somebody just threw up in the next room. (I tell them not to eat grass, but do they listen? No.)

You don’t want to be Jennifer Crusie.

Actually, most of the time I enjoy being Jenny Crusie because most of the time I’m not Jenny Crusie. She’s that broad who writes the often-disappointing books (“Not enough sex!” “Too much sex!” “She uses bad language!” “She’s too tame!”). I’m Jenny who eschews underwear and discusses the meaning of life with dachshunds. It’s a good gig until reality intrudes. There’s something wrong with the front of my house, I think my septic tank is on its last legs (?), Milton keeps escaping from the yard, my medical insurance is still screwed up, and I missed the garbage pick-up yesterday which means I’ll have bears in my garbage all week. Also SMP is thinking about re-publishing “Hot Toy,” and I’m thinking about rewriting it.

Do you remember “Hot Toy?” It was a novella in the Santa Baby anthology (talk about your bad reviews), and I think it needs a rewrite. SMP is not so sure. So I went through the reviews to see what people objected to, and it was a little unclear. Well, lots of different people, lots of different needs. The big ones I found were “unrealistic” (I try not to be bound by reality, it’s just too demanding), underdeveloped characters (it’s a novella, I didn’t have a lot of real estate there), no heat/too short on romance (it takes place in one night and people are shooting at them, so . . . ), and “Nolan is an ass” (huh). All of which really fall under the umbrella of “Undeveloped.” Although, again, it’s a novella.

Yeah, that’s a cop-out. Do better, Jenny.

So I’m thinking about that and the follow-up novella that I have pieces of, and putting together my two lectures for RWA at the end of July, and trying to remember where the rechargeable battery for my weed whacker went (not a euphemism, it’s a weed whacker), and eating the last sugar-free brownie from the freezer. I’m a little unfocused. Okay, I’m a lot unfocused. But I really do think I want another shot at fixing “Hot Toy.” After I shower with resentful dogs.

Tell me you’re having a better week than I am.