Maybe I won't move the blog. I don't know. Maybe I'll just blog in both locations. Wow, wouldn't that be interesting? A dual dose of my thinly-veiled complaints about the genre that barfed me up and left me for dead, even more moaning about my complete psychological meltdown as a writer and double the tales of my apartment horrors. Speaking of which, it's pretty fucking awful that I now consider roaches to be a normal occurrence, or at least the lesser of two evils...now that I have spiders, that is. Seriously. My apartment may look, on the inside, like a civilized residence...but soon there'll be mosquito netting over my bed and a machete hanging on the wall by my bedside.

Now, if you're as depressed as I that the date of August 1 is looming and there won't be a new release by Amanda Hill available at your local book retailer as was the original plan, at least you may be able to comfort yourself by reading some of my dad's journalistic genius (and that of the many talented writers he works with) over at the Washington Post Writer's Group Blog. Just don't comment back to me, "Gee, why didn't you go into journalism?" because that's one of those questions I fear I'll still be asking myself years and years from now, when I've spent 340 nights of yet another year writing yet another novel that may or may not become published.

But hey, the good news is that if Only the Lucky were coming out next week, I'd probably be pretty embarrassed about it because it is actually set in Las Vegas and I've come to realize that prior to living in Las Vegas, I didn't really know crap about what it's actually like to live here. So I guess there's a positive slant to everything--even having your confidence as a writer crushed beneath the cruel heel of today's publishing market--such as now, I am at least able to go back and rewrite the story from the perspective of a native. Oh, and native I am...because just don't be forgetting about the mosquito netting and the machete.