Again, I’ve received a wonderfully complimentary email from Larissa:
Subject line: You are a disease
Yes, you are.
I’m about to write a scene out of order. (Hate you)
Well, not this minute (the writing part, not the hating you part) because I have to leave in a few, but I have an idea for a scene in my mind. Will write it when I get back.
I ask – what is the problem with that? It’s about time she started writing out-of-order. I knew it was only a matter of time.
Also, please note the way she slips in the fact that she’s basically deserting me for hours in my time of writing need. Again. I mean, granted, it’s to go to the store or something, and not like, Germany, again, but still.