One of the more fun exchanges in one of my more favorite movies, The Princess Bride, goes like this:
Buttercup: “You mock my pain! Never do it again.”
Man in Black: “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
That Westley’s onto something. Turns out I haven’t heard from dream agent because my manuscript arrived in New York, disappeared into the Manuscript Protection Program, changed its own title, and hid comfortably in plain sight as The Old Woman and the Sea until it was finally ratted out by rogue office supplies like Guido “The Sharpener” Boston and Luigi “The Stapler” Swingline.
Life is pain.
I’ve already whined about my waiting disorder. Now my cuticles face more shredding as I wait some more to find out if CRASH TEST and I have a date to the prom.
I’d surely like for someone to be selling something.
Hmm. Moose Tracks with chocolate sauce is looking pretty good for breakfast.
Damn! Jus’…well…damn! You’re a writer. A
good writer. Damn!