Diary of a Girl-Next-Door Heavy Metal Novelist

December 9, 2002

I was born to use the internet. I did almost all my Christmas shopping last night from the prone position. The only thing missing was a box of bonbons. Must publish book!!!

I am at the part in my revisions that I have to make major cuts. I'm going to axe a really boring part, but it's so boring I can barely stand to open it up to read it. Wish me luck.

My
wind ensemble conductor sent an email to the entire band telling them that we're having a special rehearsal just for the KISSfiction documentary! Not only that, he read my mind. I so much wanted to play a song called "Vesuvius" by Frank Tichelli because I get to play really loudly and make cool volcano-inspired facial expressions, but I was too meek to ask beloved conductor to contrive my ham scene. In his email, he told everyone that we would look at some new music and play "Vesuvius"! I love that man. Love him!

Tonight, I shared with
Curtis that my sister/editor and I once owned matching diaries in which we made up stories of our celebrity-filled lives. It took me all of 5 seconds to find the journal, which also contained the beginning of a riveting Hardy Boys mystery I had written (in which Joe is quite upset that a new case will quash his plans to go to a discotheque). My favorite diary entry so far? The one where I take Gabe Kaplan by limousine to the airport following a weekend visit (platonic, thank god - I was dating his Kotter co-star, Stephen Shortridge, afterall).

December 10, 2002
I went for my annual doctor's exam this morning and I'm healthy as, uh, whores (or at least that's how I feel whenever my doc delves into the details of my private life, which by all other standards is quite boring). Here's what I learned today: My blood pressure is low and my uterus is tiny.
"Tiny?" I asked.
"Yes. Tiny," she repeated. "That's good."
Okay then. I'm phyically fit to face the literary critics and rock 'n' roll non-believers for another year. Whew.

I've been typing in revisions while I watch my Ebay auctions tonight. I just bought my sister/editor the coolest Christmas present of all my family members (and since she's the only one who reads my journal, I'm not too worried about hurting their feelings). Heather, you'll love it.

Two more days until docu-filming starts again. I'm stoked. I've been having good hair days lately and I'm feeling cogent. (That was a word of the day on dictionary.com this week.)

Someone searched for me from French Google today. Do you think it's - um. Shoot. I can't think of a celebrity from France or even Montreal to complete the punchline. I'm losin' it.

Hey, don't just sit there. Click the link below and vote for me.

December 11, 2002
Ice ice baby. I was all showered and ready to go to work when I started listening to the radio and realized there was a terrible ice storm outside. I called the day job's emergency line, and sure enough my office was closed. I got over 60 pages of revisions typed in while it rained and froze outside my window all day.

During my editing, I came upon a chapter in which I had created a character called "Gap Man." It's true. I called
Kurt and told him he could have the role (it's a non-speaking part, unfortunately) when my book becomes a film.

Sister/editor
is convinced that Adrien Paul (tv's Highlander) was the mystery guest from Google Francais and she thinks I should invite him to my book-signing party. I'm not a fan, and if he doesn't take the time to sign my guestbook, he doesn't deserve an invitation.

Docu-filming resumes tomorrow. I sewed up the ripped seam in my favorite skirt so I'd look fabulous. Between that and the fishsticks I made for dinner, I might have established a new personal best for domesticity in the KISSfic years.

December 12, 2002

Busy. Tired. Great day. Randy came to film at the day job and again at wind ensemble rehearsal (which was packed!). My most interesting meetings were all top-secret so we had to film some relatively boring stuff. Rehearsal was a different story...
(continue)
Oo-oo-oo
Gotta choose - who's your baby?

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