As of approximately ten minutes ago, I’m tweeting.
You can all blame Hal Katkov (see previous post, “I LEFT MY ICEBREAKER IN SAN FRANCISCO”), who reminded me tonight that although I have this blog and a Facebook author page (and if you have a moment, please “Like” me on it if you haven’t already), I am not on Twitter.
So I bit the Twit bullit (I know it’s spelled wrong) and signed up. Ironically, I just got a new phone and insisted I be given the “dumbest” phone they had. Which means I can’t tweet from my phone. But I’ll tweet to keep the mojo going, and I’ll tweet when I have a notion you might be interested in, but not a notion that’s worth a whole blog post.
I’m feeling so much like Paris Hilton now, I can’t even stand it.
In the spirit of Twitter, I’ll keep this short. Plus, I have to get back to cleaning off my dog Galley’s, crate, which has been an improvised storage area lo these many months. It’s been fun to look at all the romance novels I had stacked there, ready to read. The books are mostly by Susan Elizabeth Phillips (susanelizabethphillips.com—check out her new video letter, and be sure to wait until the end. She is funny), and my friend in nearby Cheyenne, Joanne Kennedy (joannekennedybooks.com). I’ve been meaning to clean this thing off for AGES. It drives me crazy, but obviously not enough to sacrifice my precious weekends when I could be napping or riding Brooke or…well, let’s face it, eating. Or writing.
And just in case I don’t make it back on here before Saturday, Merry Christmas to those of you who do the Christmas thing. And as always, thank you for reading!
