So tomorrow I'm going to a writer's conference here in Kansas City.  It's for the Missouri Writer's Guild.  We're going to write about deer and moonshine.  No, just kidding, though I know, I KNOW that's what some of you on the coasts think we are all about here in the flyover states.  See?  I caught you.

Actually, I have a fifteen-minute pitch with a fancy-pants NYC agent who will probably wear black, sniff disgustedly down her hipper-than-thou glasses at me, and reaffirm my deepest-held conviction that my writing does actually suck.  However, I've spent hours upon hours upon hours on my proposal and have some really, really, REALLY cool people working on the project with me, so I'm hoping at the very least to get some decent feedback I can then use to target the superstar agent who will catapault me and mine to fame in two years or fewer.

Hey, baby, everyone's got a dream. Wish me luck!