Here lies the body of our Anna,
Done to death by a banana.
It wasn't the fruit that laid her low,
'Twas the skin of the thing that made her go.
Like poor Anna, it often isn't writing that kills writers; it's what comes along with it.
Yesterday I was trying to plan a book tour, composing letters (personalized, of course) to booksellers, librarians, festival vendors, and various places where we mig…
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