Some of my writer friends are going barking mad waiting for their books to come out. Especially the newbies. I have decided the only solution is for the world’s mad scientists to drop whatever they’re working on1 and instead invent a brain patch that stops the thinking-bout-next-book-coming-out part of the brain.
Could you do it now-ish, please? Some of my friends are OUT OF CONTROL.
I, of course, am completely sane and rational as I wait for Liar to come out.
- Turning us all into twitttering pod people, taking over the world’s supply of mangosteens, turning the lakes of Canada purple etc. etc. [↩]
Arf? Arf arf arf! Bow-wow, snarrrrrllll…
And of course before the “waiting for next book to come out insanity” comes the “waiting for agent to accept book” which is followed by “waiting for agent to sell book” and then of course, you know the rest.
Authors. There’s just a lot of insanity going on.
How about “waiting to (expletive)-ing get my (expletive)-ing act together and write a novel?
Yeah, I know. It’s my own fault.
Ve are too busy with ze orbital mind control lasers at ze moment but ve vill give your clever idea consideration as soon as ve can.
Sherwood: Oh oh! Seems that the first experiment went horribly wrong. Thank you though for volunteering! We really appreciate it.
Sarah: Yup all writers = teh crazy.
Rachel: Quit procrastinating online! GO AND WRITE ALREADY!
Werner von Purple: Could you change Sherwood back to how she was now, please?
A small glitch in ze system. Sherwood is now a cat again. Sorry about that.
You’re over-thinking this. A shiny object or fun little puzzle should suffice. Show it to appropriate authors, wave it around a bit and soon life will be all “when is my book.. ooh, look… shiny!”
I think I’d be handling the whole thing better if I hadn’t had my date pushed back three months. because you see, there’s that whole…
Hold on a second. Doorbell.
**Whack!***Thump!***Hunnnnghh?***Bamf!****
Hi, Justine? What are we talking about again?
{{{Stepford Smile}}}
Malcolm: Don’t be ridiculous. That would never work.
Oh, look! Vivienne Westwood ballgown! Shiny!
I don’t know what you’re talking about, she says from the glitter-covered balloon where she sits in a daring 1870s frock having her face painted like a mime artist. I haven’t been having any funny urges at all.