1. It’s February, which means the approach of Valentine’s Day. The Tart likes chocolate (Godiva), gift certificates to Chapters/Indigo (not the A monstrosity, thank you very much), and cowboys.
2. The last item in #1 doesn’t ship very well through Canada Post. They get stuck in the mail slot, and waiting 2-4 weeks for delivery tends to piss them off. I might be going out on a limb here, but I’m quite certain no one likes to receive a pissed off Valentine’s Day cowboy.
3. You’re going to need my mailing address if you choose to follow through on broad hints #1 or 2.
4. If you’re female and you skimmed over broad hint #3, you’re gonna be sorry. If you’re male and gay and you skimmed over broad hint #3 you’re gonna be sorry. And if you’re male and straight and you sobh#3, you won’t know what we’re snickering about. Will you?
4. My inbox is lonely, MP. My carpal tunnel worsens each hour. *refresh refresh refresh*
5. The hours of 0600-2400 are the most convenient ones for muse visits. I’m tying to be flexible; I’m even willing to start at 0417. But 0316???? Come on, Musie. Fight fair!
6. Should any zombies decide to gain access to me by cleverly impersonating a Valentine’s Day cowboy, a heads up: I will know you in advance by your fetid breath and the foul stench of your putrid, rancid boils.
Also, in a Tart/zombie cage match, I’d last 1 hour and 11 minutes before becoming infected! The curvaceous Oatmeal says so.
7. I honestly don’t know what I did different from other snoopy people interviewers in the Laura Kinsale post, but someone — who I believe will become famous in her own particular genre — has been generous with her praise. So much so, I pitched her an Ishouldneverhavethoughttoapproachyouinathousandyearsotherwise idea, and she agreed. 🙂 Details to come in about…five months.
8. The second after she said yes, I started worrying I’ve already peaked as an interviewer.* That would be just sad. But I can do eet, right? Right?
9. No matter how you tease and torment me about the identity of the writer in #7, I will not break, even if you slice into one of my favorite citrusy fruits, and squeeze it over a pulpy hangnail. (The kind that almost reaches your knuckle, and which you secretly believe will result in death by exsanguination.)
My policy is to under-commit and over-deliver.
Also, she might regain the power of rational thought.
10. My anxiety, as reflected in hints numbers 1, 2, 3, — ah hell, all of them — can best be assuaged by one simple thing: fill my empty comment box with a broad hint of your own. At the very least, let me know if I’ll have comrades in the human/zombie standoff.
Oh, and please don’t take it personally if I can’t respond for a while. I got hijacked with an idea for a YA novel last night and I’m going on a writing bender.
*Or would that be “piqued”? See broad hint numbers 4 and 5 for clarification. “Peeked” shouldn’t apply either; with the exception of man-candy threads, I’m not guilty of leering. Usually.