DIARY OF A GIRL-NEXT-DOOR HEAVY METAL NOVELIST

December 18, 2004
So, if you're just joining our story, here's the deal:

• I am an author with a manuscript ready to go, except for one teeny tiny permission license that was allegedly handed directly to Mr. Gene Simmons by a mentor I call Koach KISS two weeks ago
• I am an eensie weensie bit of a nervous wreck waiting for the response
• Koach KISS said he was going to put in a phone call to the giant rock & roll office in the sky to see what's up
• If all the stars align, my book, Won't Get Fooled Again, will be released this spring
• If I get that one little itty bitty signature, I know I have the goods to make all my dreams come true

Can you stand the suspense? My novel is waaaaaaaaaay better.

December 19, 2004
If my life were a movie, the lead character would be contemplating a crazy radical life decision, and everyone around her would be begging her to take the safe route. In the end she would tell them all to stuff it and triumphantly go for her dream. In real life, everyone I know is telling me to release my fingernails from the cliff I'm clinging to and plummet into the unknown. Two nights ago, my sister/editor gave me the pep talk, and today two of my cousins said, "I think you should just quit your job." These are smart, reasonable people. Believers. Gene Simmons, if you believe (or even if you just sign my release), you'll never regret it.

I'm hoping to see proofs from my Dec. 17 photoshoot tomorrow. Tonight, I slithered through Ebay looking for a Hugh Hefneresque smoking jacket in preparation for my shoot with Kurt Doan. If Terri made me beautiful on Friday, Kurt will make me sexy.

December 20, 2004
I feel good. I feel great. Koach said magic words today that jogged my vision back into order. I've spent time recently dissing nonbelievers. Maybe I am the most guilty of all. Suddenly, I'm back on track with my tour bus dream. Everything else is a technicality. The Won't Get Fooled Again tour will roll this spring. To celebrate, I messed around with Gym tonight (actually, two nights in a row). He took it easy on me tonight because I was a little sore, but I was still a good sport when things got rough.

I got a peek at some of the pictures Terri Cooke took on Friday. The ones that I thought would be marvelous (me in a big furry coat) looked good, but she thought they hid my shape. The ones I expected little of (me crawling around on a piano) were very cute. For some reason, I think my trysts with Gym gave me a little something extra.

Speaking of art, I'm meeting tomorrow with the book's cover artist. Bring it on, baby.

December 22, 2004
Sick.

December 23, 2004
Woke up this morning and... No pain, no vomit. Pretty good day. I've haven't rolled out of bed yet, but after this initial assessment, I think it's time to go back to work. I have editing and final book prep to complete over the next 12 days.

If I was feeling somewhat helpless the last couple weeks, I had a lesson in what powerlessness really means. Maybe it was my own personal Christmas Carol. I had memories of stomach flues past. My family had a smooth shiny plastic bowl that hung on the wall of our laundry room and was reserved for one purpose. The bowl was lovingly called the Barf Basin. No one wanted to have to use the Barf Basin, but if you had to, an angelic creature called Mom who would bring a tray of saltines and Coca Cola™ to your bedside. The ghost of stomach flues present took the form of my novel's cover artist, with whom I had to cancel a meeting. Jeff used our meeting time to buy me Gatorade™. Later that night, my biggest fan from the day job, Ramsey, delivered 3 dozen little cups of strawberry jello to my door.

As I perfected the fetal position pose for two days, I gave thought to stomach flues yet to come. While physically helpless, I will have help. Just like with my book. To all of you who have generously believed and supported... I'm going to buy you the biggest goose at the market and we'll enjoy it with a giant dish of figgy pudding.

Oh God, I think I'm gonna yack again...

December 24, 2004
Okay, perhaps I overdid it a little yesterday, but cabin fever might just be worse than the stomach flu (which is neither the flu nor located in the stomach, I learned on the internet). My first clue should have been the fact that I needed a nap after taking a shower wore me out, but still I hit KFC for a 2-day supply of mashed potatoes sans gravy and indulged. Premature, granted, but they were wonderful. With my stomach gurgling like a volcano, I still managed to plow through 120 pages of re-edits, only stopping when I got to the food scene that my editor wants me to fill with smells and tastes. I'm a martyr for my craft, but I accepted defeat and sought comfort the best way I knew how. I curled up in a warm blanket and watched Part II of KISS: The Second Coming. My mom bought me the 2-video set and watched it with me on my birthday the year I fell in love with the band. That's a cool mom.

Gotta say, even as I shivered and ached last night, I still giggled at the dialogue in Won't Get Fooled Again and blushed at my affection for the powerful and attractive Jackson Hellam. Someone please tell the CDC, my book might just be the cure for the flu.

December 25, 2004
Ever feel like every song on the radio has significance? Two days ago, when I broke free of my condo, I turned on my car stereo and the Hallelujah Chorus greeted me. Last night, I was on my way to pick up solid food and the first song I heard was "Let's Put the X in Sex." "Awww," I sighed. "It's like KISS's version of an Xmas Carol." When I came home, Santa Bob (Kulick) had left a holiday greeting on my answering machine. Sounds like a magical coincidence only KrISS Kringle could set into motion.

While the rest of the Christian-speaking world was celebrating the holiday today, I was kicking ass on Won't Get Fooled Again. My family will celebrate Jesus's birthday next week in Florida, so I have guilt-free time to finish my manuscript. At this point, I'm not even questioning whether I'll get the permissions I need. In fact, I'm feeling so confident that when I updated my Acknowledgments page, I added the name of a certain dragon-booted bass player.

It wasn't all work, though. Tonight, I treated myself to two of my favorite films: Return of the Jedi and Part I of KISS: The Second Coming. Both brought me to tears - first because I had a genuine emotional reaction to each of them, then because I realized I'm the world's biggest geek.

Merry KISSmas, all.

December 26, 2004
According to GeneSimmons.com, while I've been slaving over my manuscript, Mr. Simmons has been at "health camp" eating salads and working out multiple times a day. I just finished up a round of editing, including work on a section in which I had written a character with a Staten Island accent. I needed to check its phonetic accuracy, and couldn't find a handy resource, until I stumbled upon this site. Imagine my delight when I scrolled to the bottom! It's like the whole KISS Army is helping me reach my dream, even if they don't realize it.

While Mr. Simmons is keeping my hot lover, Gym, distracted for a few days, I'm going to start an all-ice cream diet. I'm a little gun shy with Mr. Nasium this week, since the last time he and I romped together, I ended up ill, and since then, I'm afraid I may have lost a bra size. I'm looking forward to more rollicking with Gym, but until then, I'd like a cup of cheer.

December 27, 2004
Before I turn out the light tonight, I plan to have all my editing done. Beginning with tomorrow's brunch with the Won't Get Fooled Again cover artist, I'll be focused on all business.

Well, business and the long-neglected karaoke. Horn and I went to do some Sunday night singing last night and we both had people in the audience whistling for us. I can't remember whether it was my Manilow "Looks Like We Made It" or Air Supply "All Out of Love" that brought the house down. Mike's version of Bobby Goldsboro's "Honey" had me in tears. For a finale, we shook it to "Afternoon Delight." A dude named Stephano from the Bronx loved us, and dedicated "This Magic Moment" to us. Since Stefano had a thick New Yawk accent, I thought perhaps I could write off my tab as a book research expense. Cha-ching! (continue)