Want to know what gets my goat? Here is what gets my goat: A little over two weeks ago, Panni mentioned Writer's Block to her agent, told him about the rave from Scarlet Street and the theatermania Christmas pick thing. He was very intrigued. He said he was going on vacation and it would be perfect timing for him to read it (Panni's agent is at the William Morris office, as is mine, but mine just won't deal with novels). So, sent him a copy on a Tuesday via priority mail. Shockingly, it hadn't arrived by Friday. Panni called me and told me she thought it would be worth my while to messenger him another copy before he left the office that day, which was three hours away. I didn't want to - I was annoyed that a priority envelope could possibly take longer than one day to get from Valley Village to Beverly Hills and I was also down to my last few books and orders were still coming in because of theatermania. I was assured that he really wanted to read it and that it would really be a good thing. I finally said okay, we found a rush messenger, it cost me fifty bucks. The agent was back on Monday. Monday wasn't a good time to ask him, I was told. Tuesday went by, topic forgotten. Today the agent was spoken to. He didn't read it. He didn't take it. I doubt he even knows where it is. He now has two copies of my book, unread. I ask you, dear readers, is this right? And when I get upset about it, I'm just treated like a little kid.
