And anyone who doesn't think so is just kidding themselves. Why would anyone assume that another person wants to read their story, unless they have some high-falutin' confidence floating around somewhere?
This is what I remind myself when something happens in the writerly world that makes me shake my head and wonder if someone got concussed when I wasn't looking, and now has amnesia about the dirty little things that happen in the publishing world.
See, I never forget anything, and a lot of times I never forgive. If you screw me, I don't smile at you later. Maybe that's arrogance, too. Or maybe there are folks out there who are bigger souls than I am.
In other news, I finally get more bullriding this weekend. Just one night, but I'm so hungry for something that has nothing to do with business that I can hardly stand it. I need my quota of cowboys and leather and bulls.
I wish I had something personal to add for those folks who actually, you know, read this to keep up with me, but I am having my period, so I have terrible cramps, rage, and a lot of whine, so I'll keep it to myself. I just need to go watch my boys