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November 2nd, 2004

The HC edition of The Temptation of Blood arrived today! WOOT! It's gorgeous - you all need three. (grin) Anyway...

Well, work was still there (lol). I had a good-sized pile of catch-up to play with this morning, but knocked it off pretty quickly. The USPS provided me its standard fare of entertainment, half from the staff, and half from the customers. How my visit to the Post Office turns out is tied to two factors. How many people are there in line, and which of the attendants is working. Today I got Bill. Bill is a very friendly older gentleman who likes to talk. He likes to talk, in particular, to his “special” customers, of which I am one. How I got to be one is anyone’s guess, but I’m betting it is because he noticed right off the bat that all of the others who worked there knew me by name, and that I had all my “i” dots and “t” crossings in place with my packages. I hate the USPS, you see, contrary to what one might think to see me there. I have made friends of those who share my pain – several years and several turnovers of clerks have filed through those poorly air-conditioned gates since I started going to this particular office, and they all know me by name. They know I sell on eBay – and they are full of questions. They know I write books – that is less interesting to them (lol). It is, in fact, less interesting to nearly everyone that I meet.

Anyway…Bill has other characteristics than just talking a lot. He is slow. He can drag out a single package for nearly two minutes, where other clerks would have completed two and be working on the third by then. He looks things up slowly – stops to talk some more – greets all of his OTHER special customers as they come through…and drives me freaking crazy. So…if I am manic this evening, it is fully attributable to Bill and his mind-numbing tendency to expostulate on life, postage stamps, and eBay.

In fact – going back to what I said about them not being as interested in the writing – I find this to be true of most people that I meet that aren’t part of some writing or fan community. They hear that you wrote a book, and there is a sudden flash of interest, but it’s kind of like striking a sulfur match. One quick, brilliant burst of flame, then a very quick slow burn, and then a fizzle. Most people don’t even seem to be able to wrap their mind around just what it means to be a writer. They consider it to be a little thing you do in your spare moments, not a real job, certainly – gosh, I have a book I’ve always meant to write and get published, they say – and they really believe that’s all that is standing between them and selling their book – the fact they haven’t gotten around to writing it.


I always want to ask them, for instance, if they are a lawyer, if I don’t just have to come up and ask a few people some common-sense questions and yell OBJECTION a few times, if I want to pass the bar. Or, maybe if I practice a bit, they’d let me remove their tonsils. I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon, you see, but never found the time to get around to it.

Better yet – they have a great idea for a book. I should write it and split the money with them. I, of course, have nothing better to do than bring their hackneyed plot to life…and surely there are millions to be had. Don’t you make tons of money for writing a book?

Anyway, wrote 3,003 words today on “The Mote In Andrea’s Eye,” and the action is starting to pick up. I’m in a very mainstream place with this book – and I hope I didn’t start with too big a snooze. Any of you who are reading along, feel free to chime in here with comments – just try not to give anything away to those not reading.

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