Friday, February 5, 2010

Too Tired to Write, but not too tired to read more of Under the Tuscan Sun

I'm really not in the mood for writing. I'm quite tired. I've started packing. Of course, I'm not leaving for months, but I do like to get an early start. I hate surprises.

My naughty cat, Jeevesie, was restless last night, pouncing around on my bed, burrowing under the covers, scratching, licking, doing all those noisy things to himself that are guaranteed to keep me awake. Perhaps my packing makes him feel insecure, but what can he know about packing? He was a stray I took in! Anyway, I hissed at him, batted at him with a foot, even took a swing at him at one point, but he was far too quick. Then, as soon as I was resettled for another shift of sleep, he slipped back onto the bed very quietly, and waited for me to be welcomed into the arms of Morpheus, so that he could start all over again.  But Morpheus had given up on me. In seven hours of trying to sleep, I figure I managed about five, all broken up into 3/4 hour lots.

I've tried shutting Jeeves out of my room. But then he begins a new game - trying to shred the carpet under the door. He figures carpet is what keeps doors closed. Baby is never a problem. Through all of this, she yawns, looks totally bored, and goes back to sleep.

So, exhausted from my packing, unable to get a decent night's rest, I am most definitely not in the mood for writing.  I can manage reading. You MUST read Under the Tuscan Sun, by Frances Mayes. This is one of the most delicious books I've read in ages. I know - you saw the movie. Believe me, the book is better. And the movie wasn't bad, after all.

I finally emailed my agent. Short, suitably polite, but a tiny bit grumpy if you read between the lines, but all it generated was an auto-response that they are on vacation, and, even if they weren't, they're not taking any new submissions until the fall.  Hmm. The auto-response didn't recognize that it was me, that I'm an insider, but it still hurt. A dear supporter, close to the industry, assured me that my agent is very reputable and I should be patient. Patience is my second name. Frances Patience Caldwell.  No, I lied. My second name is Grace.  I have a fair amount of that too, if you don't count the names I called Jeevesie last night.

Forgive the meandering. Ver' tired. Barely keeping my eyes open. Good movie on tonight, too. I hate when that happens.

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