Hi, Sweetie.

I want to confess something. I'm secretly in love with you.

No, not you. You.

No, him.


Yes, that cute English bulldog over there. I love English bulldogs. They're cuddly.


Thanks to everyone who sent me historical information about the malls of North Jersey. I didn't know I was being read by a bunch of mall rats.

Ned Vizzini has been writing up a storm in his blog lately. His new novel, It's Kind of a Funny Story, is great, so I should write more about it when I have a chance. And no, I'm not kissing up. He can't help me out of my literary stupor right now, nor can anyone else. I'm working on three things, and I have to get one of them finished already and out there.

I spent yesterday revising a few pages of Novel 3, then ended up realizing it was much better the old way. That's fine, though. Sometimes you just have to try all angles. It's part of the process.

This stupid, irksome process!

I have a bunch of stuff I'd like to improve about Carrie Pilby, but sometimes you have to let it go. Or as Dante Hicks says in Clerks, "Sometimes you have to let those hard-to-reach chips go." The VCR ate my videotape of Clerks recently, incidentally, so I'll have to get the DVD at some point. Especially since it's in my top 5 movies. I was watching it as I cleaned my apt. last month. Which I have to do again before my writing group comes over.

P.S. I really do think you're swell.

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