Well, I don’t know where to start with all this mess. The blook business is ramping up and my publisher and I have been emailing each other every five minutes. The professionally edited manuscript is on its way across the ocean to me and I can’t imagine the time it’s going to take to craft something fit to sit on shelf at Chapters. Never mind, I’ll get there. I’m not worried about a little hard work (says the woman who lounges for a living).

Here’s what I am a little concerned about. I got one email, a very cheery email, informing me that I will be doing interviews, print, maybe the CBC as part of the promotion effort for the blook. Oh my, interviews. I hadn’t really thought about that. So after Neil talked me off the ceiling, I began to be convinced that it might be possible to not stuff my foot in my mouth for 3-5 minutes. Okay, I can do that, I’ve done radio before. Granted I found it easy to talk about adolescent depression and suicide; at least then I had some expertise to fall back on.

Then I got another email, even more cheery than the first (the words used were Woot! Woot!), informing me that I will be doing another interview. On live television. Oh. My. Holy. Jaysus. What if swear? What if I throw up? Can I wear sweatpants? If not, then what? WHAT?! I have nothing to wear, NOTHING. I have a pair of cool boots. So far, my only solution is to wear nothing but boots so nobody will pay attention to what I’m saying. The good news is I’ll have a couple of months to imagine every disaster scenario possible.

So here’s the dilemma, apart from my potential wardrobe malfunction and a tendency to say whatever pops into my head whenever I feel like it, these interviewers will all ask me the same question: What is your book about? The obvious answer is my arse. But seriously, some of you out there are writers. And if you’ve been reading this blog, you have the gist of the book. Give me a one liner. What’s Finding Me In France about for you?