“Logy” means “dull and listless,” and I gotta say, that’s me. Clive Owen could appear at my doorstep holding a big-ass bottle of Pinot Noir, a pair of silver hoop earrings and a not-yet-released Loretta Chase book, and I’d just hold the door open and stare at him.

No loge. None at all.

I am trying to work on a synopsis of something I’ve written a chapter and a synopsis for; obviously, the synopsis I wrote originally isn’t working, I know it’s weak. So I gotta write a better one. The chapter is all kinds of fun, I laugh aloud when I read it, but it needs to be doing somewhere. I took notes yesterday, Carolyn Jewel-style, but I haven’t nailed it. I hope to tonight, when perhaps I will have more lists (i.e. not be listless) and full of more vim, less loge.

Meanwhile, tell Clive to give me a few days. I’ll be perky again.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 at 4:44 pm and is filed under Clive Owen, Faux Critique Partner. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.