Wake up. Feed cats, dog and goldfish.
Daughter has become obsessed with the Jacksons and breakfast is like a Bible study session: Joseph and Katherine begat Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, Randy, Michael, Rebbie, La Toya, and Janet. Tito begat Taj, Taryll and Tito Joe “TJ”… Rebbie begat Austin…Michael begat Prince, Paris and Blanket…
Her best friend has already banned any mention of the Jacksons in his presence. May follow suit, although it is still marginal improvement over obsession with Paul McCartney and his tragic death in 1966.
Now off to work!
In waiting room of daughter’s therapist yesterday, realized that my villain is the bastard son of the satrap and has blonde hair like the despised barbarians. This explains everything!
Manage to write a few hundred words in bed, where I have more or less relocated my office. Got promise from agent that he is reading middle grade manuscript this week. Still nothing on mystery. Massive error of judgment to set YA story in Victorian era? But it’s Sherlock Holmes (ish). No other choice.
Too lazy to get up so drink from same water glass as cat. It’s okay. Cat is probably cleaner than I am.
Decide to just do what my kid does and write #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR on the title page of every new story. Power of positive thinking!
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