August 26, 2004

The Mutant Chicken Child of Joyce Carol Oates

I heard from Warner. gods in Alabama is going to be an audio book!!! They are going to produce the audio version to come out at the same time as the hardback. I. AM. SO. THRILLED. I am practically melting with thrill. I cannot wait to find out who will read it!!!

Now let’s play a fun game of WHY HAVE I SQUATTED ON THIS INFO FOR WEEKS. Yes, that’s right. I have known for weeks, and yet I took this info and rolled it up into a little packet and then I squatted on it. but before we talk about WHY, I jhave to tell you that the phrase "squatting on packets" reminds me of a conversation I had with Lily James about novel writing. I was telling her about the book I am writing now (The Refrigerator Border Wars) and the book I want to write next.

Lily: YOU ARE LIKE A HEN. You wander around and every now and again you lift up your trailing skirts and say, “Oops. A novel fell out.”

Me: It doesn’t feel that way from this side of it.

Lily: If Joyce Carol Oates and a HEN had a baby, that baby would be you.

Me: *wets self laughing*

Lily: What are the chances someone else on the planet said those exact same words I just said at the exact same time. I mean, under what circumstances could someone say them?

Me: Maybe if they had a PRIZE WINNING ROOSTER named Joyce Carol Oates, but he was sadly sterile, and then one day, long after his death, they got a chick that was VERY like him, and it was a dream come true, and maybe they lofted the chick to the skies and at the very moment you were speaking they were screaming ecstatically to the chick, “If Joyce Carol Oates and a HEN had a baby, that baby would be you.”

Lily: Okay, but other than that.

But back to the WHY of it. Remember, the squatting? The packets? We were going to analyze WHY I told no one but my mom about the audio book info for so long. Except the word “analyze” reminds me of a conversation I had with Mr. Husband last night, after he read my latest blog entry. (DIGRESSION: YES OKAY I should make “latest blog entry” a link but COME ON I have already linked TWICE and it is the entry RIGHT BEFORE THIS you can just SCROLL DOWN, and anyone who feels like I should pause here and HTML yet another LINK when the entry in question is RIGHT UNDER HERE on the SAME SCREEN is a lazy baby-eating dingo. SO THERE.)

Scott: I was analyzing your last blog entry. I think your mental illness number is lower than you claim. If it was truly over 70, you would have calculated how many pounds you could expect to lose if you DID let the fan shear off the top portion of your head, skull, and brain.

I have two responses to this.

1) This man knows me FAR TOO WELL. And the fact that he still loves me EVEN THOUGH he knows me this well…there’s no word in English for how amazing that is.
2) YES I KNOW I should have made Mental Illness Number a link to the entry that explains Mental Illness Numbers BUT if you DUTIFULLY SCROLLED DOWN like a NON-DINGO, you see there is a “mental illness number” link right there in the entry below this. Which I know you did. Because you would never eat a baby. NOW WOULD YOU. *beam*

I have avoided long enough. Here is why I think I squatted on the information packet. I think because it felt like it couldn’t possibly be true. My agent told me. I waited a week hoping it was true. I mean, my agent, he doesn’t just call me up and say things because he is feeling SPRIGHTLY. This is a conversation I have NEVER had with him:

Agent: NO! HAHAHAHHAHAHA *click*

If he says it, it means it has happened. It is set. It is GO. But I waited a week anyway and then I checked it with Emily, my editor’s assistant.

Emily: Yes, Mental Patient, and PS your agent said he told you last week that this was happening?
Me: *mumbles incoherently*

Okay that conversation is a lie. Emily is actually ADORABLE and VERY NICE TO ME. But I FELT like a mental patient for calling her to make her tell me what I already knew from a highly credible source. The only explanation is that I AM the Mutant Chicken Child of Joyce Carol Oates, and I always think the sky is falling, even when it is bright blue and cloudless.

I hereby resolve to become a better person. RIGHT NOW. For example? See my coffee cup? Sitting right here beside me on the desk? Well. I officially declare it to be half full.

Posted by joshilyn at August 26, 2004 8:17 AM

*screams like a little school girl*

Congrats! or.. well, Happy Belated Congrats!

Posted by: Klint at August 26, 2004 9:00 AM


Posted by: Heather at August 26, 2004 10:04 AM

You know, I didn't believe the sonogram technician when she said the baby was a girl, even though I had felt deep down she was a girl, and then one day when she was born...she was a girl! Same thing, right? :D


Posted by: AGK at August 26, 2004 12:05 PM

You are soooo funny!! *going to change my wet clothes now* hehe

Posted by: Hope Wilbanks at August 26, 2004 1:23 PM

Well, um, congrats and all that... and for a chicken... you are amazingly prolific. I guess you take after your mom's side of the family.

Posted by: Mir at August 26, 2004 4:44 PM

Ok, this is NOT THE POINT (the point being you are a lovely, lovely offspring of chicken and JCO), but this entry? In twenty minutes? Hmmmmm? If you laugh as hard at yourself as I do (and GIRL, I suspect you do), this took longer than 20 minutes.

Posted by: Kira at August 27, 2004 11:12 AM

That's fabulous about the audio book! Do you believe it now? The reality of it? We'll keep congratulating you until it sinks in, ok?

(from a fellow Momwriter-love your posts there too)

Posted by: Marcia at August 28, 2004 3:05 PM

Why is it that when you edit me for your blog I always come off sounding like such a D O P E ?
PS the game is not figuring out if someone might say it simultaneously but can you think of an utterance, can you idenfity your own utterances, which are so completely specific that no one could POSSIBLY have said them before, and then the other person tries to deflate that, by suggesting another situation in which the utterance might be uttered. Which is, essentially, what you did, after I said the dopey thing that WASN'T EVEN REALLY THE GAME. Pie in my eye.


PS Just setting the record dogfood. Good thing you moved, your new pocket doors have been calling me up WHINGING about how you cometh not.

Posted by: WhyDaddyWhy at August 28, 2004 10:52 PM