November 1 , 2004
Tomorrow's the day.

November 3, 2004
When my mother died, I stayed up late into the night and I wrote an essay about my dread of sleep. As long as I stayed awake, I was still present in a day in which I had a mom. When I put my notebook aside and went to sleep, I didn't realize I would not write anything of substance for a full year. Twelve months later, I picked up a laptop and pounded out 400 pages of a novel that will soon sweep the globe.

This morning, there was hope; a tie score, electorally. Tonight, there is defeat.

AND HOPE. I feel empty inside but ready to take on the world - perhaps with a pen. George Bush can kill the environment, our soldiers and America's reputation, but not hope. That ember burns deep inside me. There will be no hiatus of grief for me this year.

Or for you, either. Health care, eco-reform, education... If we don't fight, we will have learned nothing. I'm a big fan of irony, but I don't want W to be the smart one in this relationship.

November 4, 2004
There's nothing like a 7-hour car ride when you have laryngitis to get your head on straight. Since I couldn't put on my usual 7-hour rock concert for my rearview mirror, I clarified my ideas for activism. It would seem that scholars tend to vote for a more empowering, inclusive agenda. As my day job slides away from its learning mission, perhaps I can help a larger audience earn BAs. I'll explain later.

It's tough to think about my rock & roll aspirations when all I want to do is save the world. Still, I made time for some legal work tonight. Americans need health care, but I'm confident that Won't Get Fooled Again will soothe their hearts.

November 6, 2004
Is it true that your first love is the most enduring? For me, I think it's true. Old Dominion welcomed me home, and I couldn't help but return. Our split was amicable - I had to graduate, after all. ODU loved me enough to let me go and wish me well. Last spring, I saw the campus for the first time since I left. I resolved before I visited that we could just be friends, but I had a lump in my throat when I left. Yesterday's follow-up reunion convinced me -- I'm still in love. I tried to rationalize with the Vice President - "You know I'm a KISS novelist, right? I couldn't possibly be good for you or your image. It just wouldn't work."

"I'm a KISS fan, too," he said. "And I've been to your website."

"What?!?!" I was mortified.

"The Director of the Honors College gave me the link," said the VP. "We're proud of you, Colette."

You can't go home again, right? Lightning doesn't strike twice, right? You can't have it all, right?

Before I give my heart away completely (with no promise of reciprocity), I have to become a famous novelist. I put in good work last night and tonight.

November 7, 2004
I sent my assistant, Joe, the link for a 30ish footer RV last night and I followed up with a phone call today to make sure he knew I was serious about spending the summer touring like rock stars in order to sell the sh*t out of Won't Get Fooled Again. He's not ready to quit his day job yet. Yet. I'll hold off on making a deposit on said RV, but I'll be ready to leap soon.

If you've ever read the flyer at the Won't Get Fooled Again link, you might appreciate this picture from Halloween. In addition to the hottest tribute band in the world, I encountered my alter-ego. I couldn't resist a photo.

Speaking of KISS Nation, thanks for letting me steal the banner above, guys. As my author/Aunt Paula reminds me, we are one nation under the God of Thunder.

November 9, 2004
Thank goodness for KISSfiction artiste, Jeff, who is ready to start working on the cover of Won't Get Fooled Again. Someone has to be working on my novel, after all. I do not lack discipline. I'm just drowning in administrative ridiculousness. I had to turn down another drumming gig tonight, and you know I wouldn't say no to shameless attention-seeking unless The Man kept me down. Makes me wonder how much the average soul is going for on Ebay these days. (I've typed and deleted 10 different Colin Powell/John McCain punchlines here. In the spirit of reconciliation, I'll ask that you assume each was brilliant and yet sensitive.)

November 10, 2004
My sister/editor/caterer went through 50 pages of editorial notes with me tonight so I could get a second opinion about some of the changes. She focused on the food scenes and I tackled the characters' fashion choices. Just like in our real life histories, Heather remembers the entrée items at every major event in her life, and I can remember exactly what I wore. In my deliciously trendy novel, Suzanne Curtis has impeccable taste in clothing, but her refrigerator is a wasteland. If Heather and I were superhero siblings, raised on Amazon Island, we would fight fashion crimes and celebrate with a lightly glazed something-or-other kissed with a sprinkling of cinnamon. (continued)