Knowing It All Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry

I know it's hard to believe, and I hate to disappoint y'all, but the rumors are true. I'm not as smart as I seem. I hope you didn't just go into a tailspin on that illumination—like all my children—but the fact is smarty pants is the term that more accurately describes my I.Q. Mizz Smarty Pants if, as Miss Jackson says, you're nasty.

I'm sure you're asking right now: What sort of shenanigan is Fragrant Liar trying to pull? Everyone knows what a fountain of wisdom she is. Right?

It's just that I wonder when I will know everything there is to know so I can stop stumbling into walls, spinning around, and bouncing off the same walls again. If there's a date certain for this event, I'll ink it on my calendar and just keep hitting the snooze button till the day arrives. That way I can quit wearing the neon sign around my neck that reads, "I meant to do that."

See, if I knew everything, I could talk myself out of stuff and, therefore, never have to apologize. More importantly, people (you know who you are) would be compelled to speak these words to my face: "Yes, I was wrong and you were right." I'm giddy just thinking about that.

Lately I've considered that the roominess inside my noggin is akin to a three-car garage with a pink Barbie convertible in it, and nothing else. Of course, this makes my point that I'm absolutely NOT full of it. Cuz if my brain was truly chock full of wisdom and knowledge, I'd be my own personal Wiki. And I'm not—yet.

I confess. I rely on Wikis to fill in the gaps—pretty much a whole garage full of 'em. I'm talking about Wikipedia, Wiki.answers, Wikimedia, Wikibooks, Wiktionary, etc. Did you know you can create your own Wiki? Oh yeah! I could totally make my own Wiki. In fact, I aspire to it! I'd call it Wikishit. Or better yet, Fragrant-Wikishit. Imagine all the stuff I could put in there with the input of the masses. That's you, peeps. You are the masses and, together, we could feed the world our collective Fragrant-Wikishit. Images included.

People, now under construction: http://fragrant-wikishit.wikispaces.com/

Seriously. Check it out. www.wikispaces.com.
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Let's Get Reacquainted

I just finished my novel. Yay!

You'd think, right? But anybody who's ever written a novel in hopes of publication knows that I'm only at the halfway point. Kind of like laying an egg. Somebody still has to get it from nest to market, so you can buy it and get it on your breakfast plate. Yes, I just compared my writing to something I shoot out my ass. 

Bon appétit!

The writing of a novel is only the first part of the process—and I'm not sure it's even the hardest part, given the rigmarole yet to come my way, including agent hunting, contracts, publication, and marketing. Wait, what am I saying, of course writing is the hardest part! I birthed a romantic comedy, for god's sake, and the rewriting labor alone took three months with no numbing agents or mind-altering substances—though I do feel hung over and, frankly, I think I tore. 

The only cure is more hair of the dog, so while I'd like to celebrate my big finish, I have bigger eggs to fry. (Hey, poaching metaphors is my specialty.) I'll keep you posted on things. Meantime, let's get reacquainted. Leave me a comment and I'll pop by for a visit.

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