I had another biopsy yesterday with a different method, which was awesomely, eye-stingingly painful--shockingly so. But it seems they got a robust sample of cells, and if it all goes well, I can skip the hospital deep dig version of this test. It was no picnic, it took several practitioners to excavate, but it's over now and on Monday the cancer answer will be revealed. (By the way, the mathematical odds of my having cancer are very, very slim. I mean, super slim.)
So I'm not worried, and I'm already moving on.
You may think this is a cavalier attitude to take, given my lack of luck in most matters lately, but look at it this way, my chance of having cancer is even slimmer than my chance of publishing a novel in this climate. So, for now, I'm putting them both away.
You can be happy to think of me quietly working on my juicy cultural memoir Daddy Dearest. (Just kidding, that's not the title.) My book is more of an attempt to figure out how disinheritance became my fate, a surprise delivered via a secret will. (Who does that crap?) Did you know that only in this country is disinheriting a child a protected right? The rest of the world finds it unthinkable.
BTW, in regard to all this, I've been thinking about asking an agent friend, whom I call SECRET AGENT MAN, to represent the memoir. I'd much rather he get any money that might possibly be made on my career than any of the douches I've met over the years. Plus he's a super good guy, he knows about my blog and all my douchery, including stupid past decisions and dumb impatient ways. He represents very big memoirs, and he just started his own business.
The question is: Will he take me on knowing what he knows about me? I would promise not to post anything he writes to me on this blog, unless he posts it himself. Maybe we could have a totally blog-worthy public relationship, communicating only via LROD, so others can see what an author/agent relationship is like. Well, maybe that goes a step too far. But I do think this book at least stands a better chance of making some dough. It's got commercial appeal, it's got hollywood starlets, and it's got...me.
So, what do you say, SECRET AGENT MAN? Will you take me on?
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