The first time Peggy referred to me in her blog as "my Administrator", I said to her, with my voice to her ears, "That sounds a little cold and impersonal to me. I wish you wouldn't do that. It's not like you need to protect my identity."
She said, "You are my Administrator because I'm dumb and you take care of everything for me ...."
OK Peggy. Just like assholes, right?
Administrating is something I get paid to do, helping friends is not.
It's all like that. Makes me ....
Sad, really. I'll help anybody who deserves it; anybody I think is doing something worthwhile but doesn't know much about the
technicalities. I do it a lot. I live doing it. I can get to a problem more quickly than a fucking problem. Spare me the cadence; milliseconds add up. Be kind, rewind. Simple as that. Are we clear sailor?
Online group therapy might be a wonderful thing but it's not on the list of things I am interested in, nor on the list of things I think publishers are interested in. I think it de-values Utah Savage. I think Peggy just got a bad case of the jitters and, sadly, retreated down the path of familiarity. Here's how it goes Peggy: we might get 5 minutes on the novel. If we're lucky, a couple minutes on the rest. Make it a money shot. She was a lot closer than she is letting on. But you'll have to ask her about that.
Lapdogs are great. They build confidence. Peggy likes you because you are more than that. (I think). Do with that what you will.
You are welcome to shoot slings and arrows my way. Be the first. I'm all over the place. You can figure it out.
