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Shit Happens

The third flat-out, crawl-to-a-fence-to-hoist-myself-off-the-pavement fall occurred on January 16. This time I heard a snap. My left ankle immediately doubled in size. I could move my foot so I assumed I'd sprained it but by the time I got Daisy home I knew I was in trouble.

I have a World Class Sprain. It sounds so so-what but my podiatrist explained why a very bad sprain is worse than a fracture or some breaks: sprains involve ligaments, either tearing them or stretching them. Whereas bones have a great blood supply, ligaments do not. Therefore they are much slower to heal. I'll be in a cast for another three weeks but I get to take it off for therapeutic minutes and I can start to walk again.

I told my publicist that if Oprah calls, of course I can go. I just won't get to wear [both of] my beautiful new shoes.

Luckily, I've only had a couple of radio gigs in the last ten days. I did them in bed with my Frankenstein foot elevated. Unluckily, I've only had a couple of radio gigs.

I wasn't with it enough last week to do more than piddle around with Twitter. Today I read some blog posts that mention me and AFG, one based on the book, one on the Marie Claire abortion. I answered each, clarifying a little on the issues the writers were concerned with.

It's interesting to see what triggers people. One blogger (http://fashionablyfit.wordpress.com/2010/01/13/weighing-in/) wrote, "I would never follow a diet that cut out all of the foods that made me fat — the pizza, the jalapeno poppers, the french fries, the ice cream – because I know it would be destined to fail."

People are enormously afraid of what they might have to give up. This involves not only specific foods, but the fear of parties, holidays, rituals that revolve around food. But I speak mostly for myself or in the collective when I've made it clear that the collective is of a certain kind of make-up.

Merry Perennial (http://merryperennial.blogspot.com/2010/01/perseverating-no-i-dont-mean.html) writes that, "I fear the reason is something mentioned in Frances Kuffel's book: we eat because that is all we have."

I LOVE the Holly Cole song, "I Am the Onion Girl". We have layers and layers of family, friends, work, hobbies, interests, chores and occasions. But -- again, for some of us -- when all those layers come off because we find them flawed or unusable, the core can be eating.

When I published PASSING FOR THIN seven years ago, I wasn't sure what a blog was. It wasn't a book mention I depended on.

Publishing had changed. Every blog helps; every misreading or laud helps. But I have to be active about participating...which is, luckily, a hell of a lot easier than opening up the Word document for the essay I'm writing... Read More 
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Forward March

I went to Fort Lauderdale on Thursday to tape an interview for BALANCING ACT, a morning talk show on the Lifetime network. I was out of the Bat Cave at 7.30 a.m. and got home around midnight but it was fun to be in a...h'mm, how to put it: national studio? It's not that doing Phoenix TV was unprofessional, but BALANCING ACT had the accoutrements of the networks: a dress code (jewel tones or pastels: I went with coral and a print skirt), a hair and make-up person, PASTRIES IN THE GREEN ROOM, two takes for the final version.

And a town car at my door and at the foot of the airport escalators -- such luxury.

Daisy stayed with her Uncle Gerry and it was wonderful to sleep in a little on Friday, then get up and do some of the chores that haven't been done in a while. One of my tasks was to speak with my agent. I think I'd rather scrub the kitchen floor than go through that conversation again.

I love my agent. When she was editor-in-chief of Little, Brown and I was a peon assistant in a literary agency, she was always kind and encouraging. She's stuck by me and she's a fabulous cheerleader. But we're at a new turning in my career.

No more fat books, or thin books. I want to write a collection of essays about the rest of my life, the sillier, more lighthearted life that's not all bound up in Issues. My editor agrees and my agent spoke to her while I was eating rugalach, hoping for the beginning of a negotiation, but my editor wants a sample essay and table of contents. I came home to an email that made me feel as though I'd failed in some way.

All of this, while it sounds like complaining, is actually PART of publishing a new book. The iron is hot and we strike for a new contract. Essays will keep my audience better than whatever other nonfiction I could make a hash of suggesting. And I see no reason to feel disappointed in Berkley's wish to see a table of contents (which is done and which I'd sent my agent back in December) and a sample essay.


Sometimes having been an agent is tricky that way.

We disagree on the subject of the essay, which will be comic, and, probably, on the theme of the collection. My agent tends to push for perky and sexy; my nature is more phlegmatic and sly. She's Piglet (or possibly Tigger) and I am Eeyore.

But we belong in the same book and I'm writing the essay I want to do because I'm trying to listen to my instincts this year and because I have a passion for that particular topic.

So now I'm being bother Author and Writer and trying to stay away from Adversary even while I do what I bloody well want to do. Read More 
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I'm flying to Florida for a minute on Thursday to tape an interview with BALANCING ACT on the Lifetime Network, then borrowing a friend's living room to tape an interview with LX New York on Friday morning. This means that each day this week I have to do some spiff-thing. Hair yesterday. Face today. Manicure tomorrow. I hate having my nails done. They are more responsibility than I am capable of.

I seem to gotten back into my life however, which feels good. Finally put my suitcase away, as well as rain boots, which I won't need until March. Small things but proactive because they're one-offs. I don't have to do them again.

What doesn't feel good is the profile that came out in Marie Claire yesterday.  Read More 
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Promoting a book at my level of (ha ha ha) fame is a matter of an adrenaline rush followed by lots of down time -- a lot like my father's description of anesthesiology ("long periods of boredom interspersed with moments of panic"). Today is a down day. That means it's internet housekeeping day.  Read More 
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Like everyone else, I wear many hats. The Author Hat, however, is a rarer one, that lasts for about six months after publication. I put on that hat back in December when I was interviewed for a feature in MARIE CLAIRE and went on to do some television and radio interviews in Phoenix and elsewhere.

How is the Author Hat different from my other roles?

I'm a dog-walker in between advances. My vocabulary is studded with words like, "Out!" and "Wooza-wooza-wooza." My wardrobe is even more limited. I let my hair go, struggle to shower, my fingernails are a wreck and my nose looks like Bozo's.

As a writer, I'm quiet. My words are dedicated to getting them on my computer and get used up by the end of a day's work. I let my hair go, struggle to shower, my fingernails are a wreck and my house, which I call the Bat Cave, is even worse.  Read More 
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