How on earth

do you know that you haven’t just written the dumbest novel ever?  

I’m reminded of the time I was praying to the dating gods to make this guy like me, and I was sitting next to him hoping he found attractive and clever and way too many other good things, and I almost believed that he did like me and that he was bound to, BOUND TO after our heady conversation to ask me out, when my friend leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You’ve got pizza stuck between your teeth.”

So, I think I’ve just written a scene that is the pizza stuck between the teeth of the novel, and, sure, I can delete it (and, hey, no cute boys have seen it), but the image is ruined. RUINED.

The guy ended up dumping me for his fiance I didn’t know he had, so shows what I know. Oh, that’s right–it shows I know how to waste my time on something that will break my effing heart!

Sorry. Novel endings tend not to bring out my best side.

2 thoughts on “How on earth

  1. I’ve been reading your writing. You can’t possibly write something dumber than the books already out there. Drat! That doesn’t sound like as much of a compliment as I meant it to! You’re fabulous. 🙂

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