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Friday, February 18, 2005

I had my annual performance review today at work, which drifted off point when my boss asked me what I was up to with the Great Publisher Hunt. She just wanted an update and a promise she'd be one of the first to know when.

She said the same thing last year while Sha-Shana and I were fine-tuning the manuscript. And she said a variation the year before when I told her I'd finished writing a book and was considering looking for an agent.

I don't think it'll be a big issue of remembering to tell her. Journalists are nothing more than college-educated gossips with a slightly higher ethical standard. If I didn't tell her within ten minutes, she'd know anyway. The little pod near my desk is invested in this process almost as much as I am.

Exampe: Sha-Shana called on Wednesday morning. I said, "Oh, hey, Sha-Shana."

Work stopped on three different desks, and I swear Gayle started bouncing up and down in her chair because the agent was calling me at work!

False alarm. Didn't change the fact I had a few people come up to me through out the day and ask what my agent had to say.

Newsroom life. Who can beat it?

www.SarahWolf.com is now live!

Of course, I still have to do things for it like generate content and, oh, generate content. But hey, I'm a writer, that should be easy, right?


Someone asked me if I'm excited about the NASCAR season starting up again. Really, my only reaction there is to plug my ears and hum the 1810 Overture for the next two weeks. Bless NASCAR, it comes right out of my mother's side of my family, but I have no interest.

Formula One, on the other hand, kicks off with the Australian Gran Prix in two weeks. I'd kill to be in Melbourne for that.

Well, I'd just kill to be in Melbourne. But that's another post.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

I'm not asking that every agent and editor/publisher involved in the book business run right out and see "Sideways." I'm demanding it.

Yeah! You!

Adam had run out of the theater to stock up on soft drinks when Miles was first asked about his book. I so desperately wanted to pause the movie until he got back so he could heard the anguished ums-and-ers of the answer.


Okay, except without the alcoholism and nebbish tendencies. Or the washed up actor best friend prodding me into uncomfortable, comedy-fraught situations. No, I have Adam for that.



One day, maybe.

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