First, I’d like to thank my loyal fans (all three of you) for the outpouring of support during my “Sarah Ockler Has 0 Friends” MySpace ordeal. Thanks to my campaign of desperation and your tireless efforts, I now have 24 friends, most of whom I actually know, and I’m no longer ashamed to sign in to MySpace.
In the mean time, I’ve gotten rather creepy about the whole thing, checking incessantly (for example, in the time you took to read this far, I’ve already checked seven times), locking myself in the bathroom stalls at work until the cold sweats and the shakes pass after I’ve been denied access by the corporate firewall police. But that’s neither here nor there. The important thing to remember is that it’s YOUR fault I have a heroin-like affinity for social networking. Thanks for making me feel so loved.
Moving on to today’s post… Pato (pronounced pah-toe) Fries.
A while back, my mother-in-law wandered into a Chinese bakery in Flushing, NY, looking for cookies. She asked the woman at the counter what kind they had.
“How about pato fries?” The woman asked.
“Pato fries?” MIL asked. Since MIL’s native language is Spanish, in which “pato” means “duck”, she thought she misunderstood. “Pato? Like, pato?” She asked again.
“No, no,” the woman said. “Pato fries.”
“PATO FRIES!” She finally procured a sample, holding up a brightly-colored, frosted-winged cookie.
“Oh!” MIL laughed. “Butterflies!”
*Insert seamless transition*
This whole week I’ve had pato fries in my stomach. Why? Because on Sunday I sent 160 pages of my novel-in-progress to the editor-slash-instructor-slash-mentor I’m working with for critique. And after that… I wrote. And I wrote. And I rewrote.
And now I’m in the final two chapters, less than 20 or so pages to polish up! I can’t believe I’m almost done writing a book (she says, basking humbly and bewildered in the spotlight like Melinda Doolittle)! I’m anxiously awaiting feedback, and frantically wrapping up the last few pages, and trying not to think to far into the future (and if you think picking out colors, books, and antique writing instruments with which to decorate your newly remodeled writing studio that you’ll newly remodel once you’ve quit your corporate job and moved into a new place that has an extra room for said writing studio is thinking too far into the future, well, then you probably don’t want to come to my reading and book-signing at Barnes & Noble, either!).
It’s strange to be in the home stretch like this. I’ve spent so much time with these girls… well, now is not the time for mushy goodbyes. It’s not over yet. The editor-slash-etc. might have a lot of rework for me. But that’s a good thing, right?
Okay, back to the writing. The next time you hear from me, I hope to be done!