Hi there. This is me, peeking around the corner, holding up my one finger.
No, not that finger!
The finger you hold up to say, "Just one second. Give me one little second."
Whatever finger that is.
The only fingers coming to me at the moment are the ring finger, the thumb and the pinkie.
But you catch my drift, the Just One Second finger.
And no, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth.
And yes, I know I've been a terrible blog friend. So much so, that someone sent me an email recently telling me, not only were they taking me off their Google Reader, they were essentially writing me off, giving me the boot. That one nearly sent me over the edge.
Like I don't have enough guilt in my life. I'm Catholic. My guilt is built-in.
So, along with my Just One Second finger, here's a curtsy, a deep-kneed curtsy, where I'm pressing my face to the floor, humbly asking for your forgiveness.
And now I'm probably stuck here, since my knees won't let me up. So, I'll just talk to you from the floor.
See, I've been rather busy in this other gig I've got, called my real life.
I won't go into any details today, but I will tell you in the past two weeks I have been doing all sorts of stuff. I celebrated my 25th wedding anniversary—yes, I was 14 when I married, a mature 14. My hubs celebrated a milestone of a birthday—a Methuselah milestone. And yes, I married a much older man. I journeyed to my motherland of Napa and San Francisco where I had some adventures that I will share soon. I devoured a book in one sitting, on my flight back. A book so beautiful and riveting and heart wrenching, I constantly had to keep closing the book to catch my breath, so I wouldn't burst into tears, alarming the passengers around me. I'll be sharing that book with you soon. I then came home and hit the ground running, because this week was my daughter's Homecoming week at high school. And as usual, the Homecoming dinner and party are at my house.
Tonight, 55 (and still counting) high schoolers will descend upon my house.
Along with their parents.
I have been busy preparing and cleaning and decorating and running to and fro and here and there and everywhere.
After tonight, I'm good. I'll be back. At least after I get my house back in order from the night before.
So, please don't kick me out of your Google Reader or your life, for that matter.
But today, I wanted to tell you, I'm over at my critique partner, A.B. Keuser's house, talking about the secret life of a critique partner.
What it's like to be one and more importantly, how wonderful it is to have one, a really good one, and I have a really good one in A.B. Keuser.
And for those of you who are asking, "What the hell is going on with your novel?"
It's set to go. It's done. This upcoming week, along with breathing again, I am spread sheeting all the agents I'm going to query, so I have an organized way of knowing who has already rejected me and who I'm still waiting on, to reject me.
I'm not being a Debbie Downer, it's just the way of things in the publishing world. So I'm bracing myself, putting on my writer's coat of armor for what I know is coming. I'll keep you updated.
I'll see you in a few days with pictures and stories and yeah, we'll catch up then.
In the meantime, head on over to A.B. Keuser. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to yell for my husband to pull me up off this floor.
See you later, gators.
Posted by Joann Mannix at 10:16 AM