Thursday, August 02, 2012


I wish the Olympics were over. I am so tired. I normally turn the TV off by ten o'clock because I have all sorts of sleep problems, and any sleep specialist will tell you that one step to a good night's sleep is going to be at the same time every night. And then there's that whole thing you learn when you have a kid that if they pass the point when they need to fall asleep, they may never fall asleep. I'm like that, too. But is there any point in watching the Olympics if you don't get to the part where you find out who wins? I am very much considering scrapping the Olympic-watching and going back to Battlestar Gallactica. Or not. I do love the gymnastics. Why do the American gymnasts look like they can rip all of the other gymnasts in half with their mitts? I also love the synchronized diving (who knew?). Those tiny bathing suits are cray-cray.

Sorry my posts are so blabby and random lately (lately, Julie?), but that's because I'm in book limbo. That's the period all authors write about when they have a book coming out, but not quite yet, and there isn't anything going on having to do with said book. Thank goodness for the awesome teen who sent me an email about HAVE A NICE DAY, the book in limbo (the sequel to GET WELL SOON, out October 16!). Remember the HAND ARC tree? That's how she read it. She (I'm not naming names, since I didn't ask if I could. And if I don't finish this blog post now, I'll never finish it) said the nicest things in her email, and it made me feel all warm and wonderful. Here's what she had to say, "Anna Bloom is my favorite. I just want to go up to her and hug her and ask if I could be her best friend, even though she'd probably think I'm crazy." Isn't that a great, quotable quote? She said a lot more, too. Thank goodness because being in book limbo is stressful and boring and makes me forget that I spent months writing a book, a process I completely enjoy, and instead makes me wonder why I write at all if nobody even knows my book exists. So, thank you wonderful, teen girl for emailing me and validating my existence. As an author. My actual existence doesn't depend on emails. It depends on whether or not I manage to go a day without my daughter arguing with me about wearing a jester costume to the grocery store. They should have an Olympic event for that.

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