Not much new on the writing front today. I managed to review a few novel chapters on The Next Big Writer. I'm the middle of two great novels right now-- NANCY BOY and FEELS LIKE HOME. The first is literary, the second mainstream romance/suspense. Both are very well executed and the kind that keep you turning the page (or link). If you get a chance, drop in and check them out!
Other than that, all I've managed to write today is this miserable blog-drivel, that is sure to come back and haunt me some day when I hit the best-seller list and head out to tour Italy.
Some American tourist (evidenced by the fanny-pack, bottled water, and sensible shoes) will approach me while I stare at the Sistine Chapel and blurt, "Aren't you that writer woman? What is it that you wrote...Something that I tried to read but couldn't get past the first page?"
And I'll reply, "Oh, you mean (insert stellar book title)?"
And the shriveled up old hag will say, no that nonsensical rambling on the web-internet thingy...whatcha call it? A frog.. log...dog...cog?"
Enough said. I'm heading to bed while I still have a modicum of dignity left.
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