porters

Well, I've been officially rejected. So, I scrapped the query letter and tweaked the new one to have a "commercial appeal while still maintaining literary quality". I'm pitching it as an adventure/suspense. Writing is so absolutely awesome and interesting that I dusted our heaters and cleaned the lips of our trim - that three inch painted wood that sets off the carpet- Yeah, 409 and elbow grease is the trick. And I wore a Pendleton (stetson type) hat while I scrubbed, which made me feel both ingeniously superior and morbidly pitiful - all to postpone staring at a blank screen.

I don't smoke.

I want a smoke really badly. I'm not even picky about what kind. I smoked Capri's once. It was like inhaling on a toothpick, baby puffs of nicotine teasing me. And I kept sucking in, thinking of those minty toothpicks they gave you at restaurants. If you stood next to the bar area and breathed in deeply, then twirled the toothpick in your mouth, it was exactly like smoking a Capri.

They say quitting smoking is as hard as trying to quit heroin. Now, you may say, 'see I told her, I warned her,' and you may shake your head...go ahead, I'll wait...but you could see smoking as a next-to-impossible-to-quit habit, that is cheap and drawn out in its health complications compared to heroin. And its still legal.

I bet if I took a drag, I'd move on to a new subject and inform you of some news of Porter life that would compel you to mow some old lady's lawn or plant a tree - plant a small one, a dwarf juniper right in a public ashtray.

Traci