- holed up in a hotel room with Brad Pitt (don't tell Angie!)
- on a fabulous winning streak in Vegas, so hot I couldn't leave the casino for two weeks
- on a romantic cruise to Tahiti
- with Brad Pitt
- holed up in bed with whooping cough.
If you guessed 1, I love that you think I'm still hot. If you guessed 2, I love your optimism. If you guessed 3, I love that you think I have money. If you guessed 4, you're really, really upbeat. If you guessed 5, you're right.
Whooping cough. Is God kidding? It just proves to me that life is, more often that I would like to acknowledge, an insulting joke of which I am the BUTT. But no matter, thanks to God and pharmaceuticals, I'm back on my feet and still writing. My book is uploading to the publisher...tonight.
- irrational belief that I will not have even one reader.
- or that I will have one reader who stalks me because he hates the book so much.
- a little more doubt.
- a few bad reviews
- that I paid for
- and a little more fear.
But...wait. I can promote a book. Hell, I promoted a behavioral health program that had six therapists and four clients and built it up to a booming enterprise....I promoted a grant program in a school and built it up to 80% success rate....I promoted a charter school and got it through a state regulations test....I promoted a "Mental Health Day" of all damned things on Santa Fe Plaza and got amazing attendance...why can't I promote a book?
I have an idea: in between negative thinking crises, I will use some of that PR pizzaz to promote Jane of the Jungle. I will talk it up; I will try to get local reviews so as to get national reviews; I will go on radio because I'm good at it; I will do whatever it takes. I usually do.
So here goes nothing from nobody. But a spirited nobody.
There's a dance in the old dame yet!