Tag Archives: Andrea Brown Literary Agency

Ten Years of People

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For the past ten years, I have been so blessed to travel all over the country, but stop!

Better than travel?

All the people I’ve met.

I have been so lucky to meet so many people! Who have helped me. Who have loved me. Whom I have loved. Writers are strange creatures, part dreamer, part warrior, neurotic, powerful, but so wonderful. And so I’m going to haphazardly jot down some of my favorite people (not all mind you).

Before I started seriously down the path? Before 2006?

I only had three fans: Peter Chittum, Don Bauman, and Steve Jankowkski. But they were lovely fans, and they read my books before I knew what I was doing. Peter emailed saying Disney would buy up the rights to one of my books just ensure a scene never, ever saw the light of day. I took that as a grand compliment.

Don, ever the idea guy, gave me enough ideas to write stories for the rest of eternity.

And Steve, oh Steve, one time told me I gave just enough information to fire his imagination into a frenzy.

Becky Hodgkins read every word of my epic 500K epic about every person who had ever lived and every place possible. She was nice enough to critique me, and when I fought back, she said, “Fine, don’t change it, but you’re going to bore your readers.” She was right.

And then, 2006.

My first critique. A cold night in January of 2016. A Monday night. Afterwards, I couldn’t sleep. Tuesday morning, I had to call someone because I was so shattered. And who did I call? Lucinda Gerlitz. I haven’t spoken to her for ten years, but Lucinda was so kind. She said, “Aaron, sometimes people have to say something, so they talk about stuff that really doesn’t need to change.” And she said, “You are going to be published. The quality of your writing will ensure you a future in publishing.”

Lucinda Gerlitz. Thank you.

Well, Lucinda and bunch of the Evergreen Critique group split off and left me alone with Diane Dodge and Jan Gurney.

And they made me a writer. Lucinda thought I was good, but undisciplined. Diane Dodge put me on a leash while Jan Gurney cheered me on.

“Aaron,” Diane would say, “you only get to say something once. Not three times. Pick your favorite, I don’t care what it is, but write what you want to say once.” I’d glance at Jan, who would nod and wince and say, “Sorry, Aaron. But Diane’s right.” She was.

And then I went to Big Sur in March of 2006.

Andrea Brown told me the publishing world is always on the brink of utter ruin. Always. It is today. It was ten years ago. It was a hundred years ago. It will be in a thousand years.

Barry Eisler told me I needed to study story structure. He was right.

Laura Rennert was chosen by God to be the hammer of destiny. It was bound to happen to me. I’m glad it was her.

David Spieselman, told me he wasn’t going to stand around and watch me talk shit about my writing. I was saying how shitty of a writer I was, and he said, and I quote, “Why are you fucking yourself? I don’t want to stand here watching you fuck yourself.” It was the Holy Spirit talking through him. It was the divine voice of the universe trying to jostle me out of my selfish self-loathing. Sorry, Diane, but I just said the same thing twice.

If Laura Rennert was the hammer of destiny, Linda Rohrbough was the valkyrie who delivered my broken soul to Valhalla, and to the houses of healing there. She gave me her rules of writing. She told me the secrets of the game. She literally taught me how to dress to be a writer. Now her name is Linda Houser, and it’s a better name. Linda is safe, as safe as houses. She has been my mentor and will always be my friend.

At the Evergreen II critique group, I met Andrea K. Stein. She became my roommate, my road dog, and now my co-author. I thought for sure she was a vampire because she has packed in several lifetimes of adventure in this one. And still we room together. And still we walk this road.

Since I was in an RMW critique group, I needed to go to the RMFW Gold Conference. There I met Chris Devlin. Sister. Comrade. Cheerleader. Task master. I use her for all my copy-writing. I don’t feel right if Chris Devlin doesn’t usher a book out into the world. If I had to choose one person in this world to watch over my soul, I would give it to Chris Devlin. She would take good, good care of it.

RMFW changed my life in a lot of ways, but it really started with Jeanne C. Stein. She is a very patient woman. Every year, I would ask to join her very illustrious critique group. Every year, she would smile, shake her head, and shrug. Sorry. And then? In 2011, at RMFW, I asked, and she said, “Maybe, send me your stuff.” I sent her the first chapter of The Never Prayer and that was it. I joined the PSG Critique Group, where I hung out with Mario Acevedo, who’s like the wise-old uncle, who taught me there is only one rule to be a writer, and that is to be gracious. He’s right. And Warren Hammond. I’ve been with the PSG Critique group for five years. For five years, I’ve had access to the one of the sharpest minds in Colorado. I am awed by Warren, and I feel lucky to have him look over my writing.

While being a part of that critique is amazing, it’s because of Andrea K. Stein and Chris Devlin that I got published. I entered into a contest with each of them. Whoever got to fifty queries first won. I won. Crescent Moon Press found me.

Christine Ashworth talked to me on the phone all about CMP. She wanted me to make sure I knew what I was getting into. Out of all the authors I approached to talk about CMP, Christine was the one who agreed to talk to me, a total stranger.

Lin Browne – she was the first editor to take a chance on me. She loved my book. We would rejoice in each other as we went through drafts. I loved her comments. She loved my writing. It was the best possible first editing experience. And she wrote to me, “Of course your book is going to do well. You’re such a good writer.” We never talked on the phone. We only emailed. To think, one of the most pivotal people on my writing journey is someone I’ll most likely never meet.

Marlene Castricato and Steph Murray, the women behind Crescent Moon Press. Thank you.

So my first book ever was coming out.

And who did I meet at Pikes Peak Writers? Bree Ervin. She was my first publicist, my only publicist, and she is my friend. And she is now editing some of my Indie stuff. She has helped me with every aspect of my writing life. I feel so blessed and lucky to know her. If you haven’t met Bree, look to Longmont, Colorado. That light you see? That is Bree.

In 2012, at the RMFW Conference, my ribbons nearly reached to the floor. I got a Pen award. First sale. I was a finalist in the RMFW Gold contest. It was a night of miracles. And there I met Giles Hash, Emily Kay Singer, and Michelle Graham. You know them as the Beyond the Trope podcast. But for me, I’ll always think of them as new authors, on a mission, to pull down the stars. Giles and I would go out to breakfast, early morning on Colfax, eating grease and talking about publishing. Emily took a turn as my personal assistant, which is a wretched job. And Michelle, man, I hope when Michelle becomes reach and famous, she’ll return my calls.

I was out in the world. I had my books being read by like, real people. I started doing events and starting speaking, but you know what? I wouldn’t be speaking at all, anywhere, it if hadn’t been for Linda Houser and Sue Mitchell.

Linda talked me into submitting my Writing Success through the Twelve Steps workshop for PPWC, but it was Sue Mitchell, faculty director for PPWC, in 2011, who, agreed to give me a try. I got a precious Friday afternoon slot, and it was probably one of the best days of my entire life. I killed it. Then Karen Albright Lin gave me the ultimate compliment. She said, “You were one of the best speakers I’ve ever seen. You could totally be a keynote speaker at a writing conference.” I was flying. Karen travels all over the world teaching classes, she knows about such things.

Through another gig, I met Cody May, a young man publishing books and selling them by any means necessary. Basically, he’s a good-looking guy, and so he stands by his books, young women flock up, buy his books, blush, and fall in love. Cody May and I started the Colorado Author Interview Circle together, and man, I can’t wait to see what he does next. He is a firecracker, that guy.

Kara Seal and Leah Parker? Yeah, they are crazy librarians who I met at PPWC along the way. We have breakfast. We dream entrepreneurial dreams. And we are fellow Penny Dread Tales authors.

So I’d been doing events all over Colorado, but I needed to expand. I needed to go to the show, the Romantic Times Reader’s Convention.

If I talked about the all the amazing people I met at the Romantic Times Convention, I’d be here all day and night. Again, I have to do a few.

Karina Cooper taught me steampunk. It has very little to do with the color brown.

L.A. Witt reduced me to tears, telling me a story about someone who is transgender who read one of her books and it changed their life

Elizabeth Cheryl. The minutes I’ve spent with you in this life have been so precious to me. You have no idea.

And then, hold it. Kendall Grey, Heather Savage, Jenna Barton, and Rie Warren. Hold on a minute, you slags. I’m getting there. We met in the spring of 2012 (most of us), and I’ll get there.

Angie Hodapp. Also in the spring of 2012, with my book about to hit the world, Angie Hodapp joined Chris Devlin and I at a Village Inn off Wadsworth, and Angie said, “Everyone is afraid. At the three in the morning, if you’re awake and terrified, you are not alone.” Those Tuesday nights at the Village Inn, flirting with the waiters, will live forever in my memory. And one of the best classes I ever taught at RMFW was with Angie. We talked about theme. She brought all the content. I brought the color. It was epic! She is one smart cookie and a great teacher.

So my first book was out. Now, I needed a second one.

Deb Courtney and I talked at PPWC in 2012, and she asked about a suicide book I’d talked about years before. I asked her if she’d like to take a look. She’d opened Courtney Literary, and I thought she might help me get something published. She loved the book. She gave me brilliant edits. Long Live the Suicide King lives (pun intended) because of her. Thank you.

But first…but first, Quincy J. Allen happened to me. Thanks to Rose Beetem, who has been so kind to me, got me on a panel at Mile-Hi Con. She let me do a talk with Jason Heller about the movie and music of Heavy Metal, and she let me do a god panel. I love talking about Him, Her, It, They. God(s) that is.

Real quick, first, that talk with Jason Heller about Heavy Metal will be one of the high points of my convention life. Without a doubt. It’s a one way ticket to midnight…

Quincy J. Allen showed up to my God panel, and he said I did a good job moderating. We talked. And though I was scared of his success and Mohawk, I had the idea we might become friends. What happened? We became not just friends, but road dogs.

His girlfriend, Kathryn S. Renta, gave me another break that changed my writing career. It was a Sunday night, and I was checking Facebook, when she messaged me. She suggested I write a story for the Penny Dread Tales III, which Quincy edits. I wrote “The Dirges of Percival Lewand” which garnered praise and solidified my standing in the local Colorado writing community. It’s because of Kathryn, who quotes the exact same lines of Shakespeare that I do, that I wrote that story. And Quincy loved it. He wants to write a screenplay. I’m open.

In 2013, Jenna Barton, one of my RT friends, reached out to me and suggested in 2013 I write a story for Fiction Vale, a new fiction magazine. So I wrote two stories and the pay was good. Jenna Barton is a true artist, a wonderful writer, and an adventurer into the realms of the soul. And while I didn’t have a book come out in 2013, I did have several short stories thanks to Jenna and Quincy.

I gotta say, 2013 was rough. Odd-numbered year. In 2014, Long Live the Suicide King was released and I did a little book tour. In Minnesota, I signed a contract with Staccato Publishing, run by another of my RT friends, Heather Savage. Heather Savage has a passion for writing and books, and once again, I had a great editor to work with. I loved our phone calls. Elizabeth’s Midnight is such a good book because of her insights.

Wait a minute, 2013 wasn’t such a bad year. At Mile-Hi Con (thank you, Rose Beetem), I talked with Peter J. Wacks in the smoking section. I told him about a new series I was working on. It was this crazy idea about cowgirls with machine guns on a post-apocalyptic cattle drive. He told him to send it to him. In June of 2014, I signed a six-book contract with WordFire Press. I used to go over to Peter’s apartment, bring him Thai food, and we talked and planned. He told me that as an editor, you want to make the smallest changes that will give you the biggest results. He didn’t believe in re-writing whole books if you didn’t have to. One sentence can change a book for the better.

Which swirls us around 2015 and my first Superstars conference and my foray into a new adventure. I started working local booths. And I have to say, when I think of working a show, I think of Travis Heermann. He’s in New Zealand. He’ll come back. Colorado will be better for it.

Working shows, going to Superstars Writing Seminar, I met Lou J. Berger. More about Lou in a minute.

In 2015 I also went to South Carolina to hang out with Kendall, Rie, Heather, and Jenna. Working there, watching Rie work, it’s so nice to know there is someone else in the world who writes like me. Rie doesn’t just write, she bashes words until they beg for mercy. She writes like a force of nature.

While I was enjoying some success, three books, and a series on the way, the terror and sorrow I felt on a daily basis threatened to crush me.

And so I started doing something magical. If I was hit with an emotional bomb, and the writing/publishing world drops bombs often, I would call three people and talk about it three times. I would feel better and sleep that night.

Who are the first people I call to get my three? Kendall Grey is one. She is my sister from another mister. She is so much like me, but more brave, and far stronger. You don’t want to mess with Kendall Grey. And yet, when we talk, she understands me, and I understand her. Together, we are Kendaaron. She’s the better half.

Lou J. Berger is another person I call to talk through my feelings. And he is so esoteric, in the best sense. People tell me my mind works differently. No. Lou’s brain works differently. Wonderfully different. I call him and he helps me see things in a new light. He wrote me a wonderful note that I read every night before I go to bed. It has become a kind of mantra to me. Thank you, Lou.

Mile-Hi Con also gave me David M. Daniel (I’m seeing a theme here, Rose Beetem). I meet and read a lot of new writers, but David’s writing actually made me search for more pages to read because I couldn’t get enough of his Sebastian story. And his editing eye is sharp and merciless. I don’t like to talk on the phone. But with David, I can talk with him for hours. Generally, we talk and I’m either on a stormy highway going seventy or I’m in a King Soopers, so afraid, so tired of the despair. And David says, “Every writer has a sucky part of their story. You’re just in the sucky part right now.”

The Penny Dread Tales anthologies gave me Kathryn and Quincy, but it also gave me Jason Evans. We wrote a story and sold it. We wrote another and got a rejection. We eat breakfast. We talk. He is a wonderful beta-reader and an even better friend. And he’s Catholic. When I’m down, he says, “All suffering is redemptive.” We are both going to heaven. We’ll write books there.

Another new friend, a writer, a seeker, is Jennifer Rose. I met her at the Pikes Peak Writer’s Conference and we hit it off. Then we saw each other, again and again, and we had breakfast at Breakfast on Broadway, which is the best breakfast around. I look forward to us working together.

Again, Mile-Hi Con. I met Sheila Hartney, though we are also Pikes Peak Writer friends. Sheila beta-reads, but more than that, she gives me such hope. There is something about Sheila that makes me believe in the dream. And sometimes believing in the dream is hard. Real hard.

And so, in a few weeks, Dandelion Iron will be released, book one of The Juniper Wars series. It won’t have an acknowledgement section, but the second book will. And dang, a lot of people will show up there. People like Melissa Jankowksi, David Myers, Leah Cary, Mia Kleve, and of course Vivian Trask.  All were vital in helping me shape the book. And of course all the folks at WordFire.

I’m at three thousand words. I’m at fifty people. Ish. And again, this isn’t everyone. I have so many more beautiful friends I could talk about. Ian Thomas Healy. Deanna Knippling. James Sams. David Boop. Betsy Dornbusch. Natasha Brown.

Two more.

Dave Butler. I’ve spent three days in your company. I’m hoping this is the start of a beautiful relationship. Anyone who sings my name, well, I dig that.

Laura.

I told my wife I was going to quit writing forever, one day, one of many. And she stopped me. She said, “You have lived most of your life in a fantasy world. Writing and publishing books is the most real thing you can do.”

She didn’t let me quit. She believed in me. She is my partner in crime, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner.

To bring it full circle, I told Becky Hodgkins I was going to quit, one day, one of many. She said words that still haunt me. She said, “You can’t quit writing if you haven’t really tried.”

I’m trying, Becky. And the thing about the writing game, trying means for the rest of my life. Trying means until they throw dirt on me.

That’s fine. I got my road dogs. I have a path, and I got lots of books in me.

Let’s keep trying together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Get Intrepid and Educated with Author and Writing Coach Eric Elfman

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I used to be a junky. I know, shocking, but I was addicted to the Big Sur Writers Workshop put on by the Henry Miller Library and the Andrea Brown Literary Agency. I’d go every year. If I missed a year, I’d start jonesing. I’d read Henry Miller and spend hours on Andrea Brown’s website, but I still got the shakes.

And it was at Big Sur that I met Eric Elfman, an intrepid writer and brilliant writing coach. Intrepid. You wanna know the definition? Fearless, daring, bold. Eric has been writing and publishing for at least sixteen years and has been helping other writers do the same. You can find his author website here and his coaching website here.

I roped him into talking with me about all things writerly and so here we go.

Aaron: So, Eric, you’ve lived in L.A. pretty much your whole life. Do you think that’s affected what you write, how you write, how much moisturizer you use, and how you coif your hair? I mean, it’s L.A. Image is everything.

Eric: Ha! That’s so true about L.A.! Image IS everything — my wife even made me get Crest White Strips because everyone in L.A. has such white teeth! But has living in a major city affected my writing? I’d never really thought about it before, but nearly all of my stories do have urban settings. For the YA horror novel I’m working on, I reconstructed in my mind the high school that I went to, near LAX. And I bet living in a place where image matters so much has led to my interest in fantasy, which is all about poking beneath the everyday surface of things. Thanks, Aaron, for making me look at my own work with fresh eyes!

Photo: Snake311 on Wikimedia Common

Aaron: Let me set up a scenario. On a Tuesday, you work on someone else’s manuscript for four hours. The sun is shining, the waves are rolling into the Santa Monica pier, the hot chicks are roller skating down the bike path. Then on Wednesday, you spend four hours working on your own manuscript. Will you feel the same on Wednesday that you did on Tuesday? More tired or less? More creatively satisfied or less?

Eric: The writing and coaching, although related, are essentially two different skill sets, and while they are both satisfying, they do use different parts of my brain, and different levels of energy. Working on my own manuscript, coming up with the story idea, executing it, developing and maintaining the narrative voice, pacing the scenes, motivating the characters, increasing the tension, keeping the conflict front and center, etc., etc., all the things you have to do when writing a story — can be exhausting! It’s great, but it can really wipe me out. As I always used to say (and then I found out Doug Adams said the same thing), “I don’t enjoy writing, I enjoy having written.” The coaching, on the other hand, is almost always fun! Think about it: I get to read someone else’s pages and tell them all the work that they need to do. (And the best part is that I can bring their manuscripts and my pencil down to the beach and sip a latte near the bike path! Harder to do with a laptop!)

Aaron: I know one writing coach that thinks all bad writing can be boiled down to P.O.V. problems. Would you agree? If you had to choose, which one aspect of bad writing do you think all bad/newbie writers have in common?

Eric: POV is a big issue, but the main problem I find again and again in the manuscripts I read are passive main characters. While every manuscript is unique, and each has its own unique set of issues, very often I find protagonists who float through their story, observing what’s going on, but not going after anything. If they do want something, they get it without much fuss. There’s no drama, no tension. Writers have to remember their main character isn’t a passenger being carried along by events — the protagonist has to drive the story. The essence of drama is this: your protagonist wants something, and somebody — or some thing — stands in their way. How your character tackles that obstacle and the others that follow — is the story.

Aaron: Magic wand time. If you could take a magic wand and magically give yourself ultimate mastery over one part of the writer’s craft, which would it be? Chose an aspect (for example, character, or plot, or diction) and explain your answer fully. Inquiring minds wanna know.

Eric: If I could magically make one change in the way I work, I’d like to write stronger first drafts. Usually, my first draft is a mess — I’m thinking much faster than I can type (and I type pretty fast!), so I’m just throwing down huge swaths of “telling” — first this happens, then that, using Word’s “Comment” feature to jot down my intention for the scene. My dialogue is very rudimentary, I’m just trying to get down the core ideas and not worrying about the words. (Have you heard the phrase “placeholder dialogue”? I’m the master of that!) When I’m done, I go back and revise revise revise, throwing away entire scenes, rearranging sequences, rewriting pages of dialogue — which is fine, a lot of writers work this way. I see my first draft as a lump of clay — much easier to face than a blank page! But when I think of all the time I spend revising, I know I could use my time more efficiently.

Aaron: Okay, let’s say you could wave your magic wand over the writers you coach. What aspect would you want your newbie writers to master first? I am showing remarkable self-restraint by not answering my magic wand questions. Maybe I’ll sneak in an answer at the end.

Eric: Well, as I said above, the biggest issue in most of the manuscripts I read is a passive main character — but that’s actually pretty easy to explain to writers, and show them ways to make their characters stronger, more active — mainly through the choices the characters make. Even pacing issues, probably the second most common weakness I see in manuscripts, can be resolved by going through the story beat by beat and discussing the structure.

But by far the most difficult issue to help writers get a handle on is a weak narrative voice. An agent I know once said the first thing an editor looks at is the narrative voice. If it’s a first person pov, the reader can fall in love with the character through the voice; if it’s in third person, the strength of the voice can make up for a multitude of sins (or at least weaknesses) in story or logic. I always like to give my coaching clients specifics, and this is by far the trickiest problem to coach a writer through, because it pervades the writing. In the absence of a magic wand (which would be so nice to have), I work with writers to develop their voice — usually it means providing more than mere description of the action, it means taking the writing to a deeper level — showing us what the character is feeling, not just what they’re doing. Often it means imagining the scene more fully before the writer writes it. Sometimes it means raising the stakes, or sometimes it just means adding more sensory information to the scene — what does the room smell like? What does the glass feel like? What does the wine taste like — and how does it make the character feel?

Aaron: Okay, so suddenly I have a magic wand and I cast a spell on you. I curse you to only write novels or screenplays, but not both. Which would you choose and why? And my curse is pretty nice, given that you have a choice.

Eric: Curse you, Aaron Ritchey! What a dilemma that would be, to choose only one. But since I write both, it’s only fair to ask. Okay, so here’s how it breaks down — screenplays and novels are very different animals, and they have different challenges. Writing for the screen is all about the surface — what the characters say and do. Writing novels is all about the internal lives of the characters — what they think and feel. (One of my favorite writing assignment came some years ago, when Harper Collins hired me to write novelizations of three X-Files episodes. Breaking them down gave me a great insight into the stark differences between writing for film/TV and writing novels.)

I do enjoy writing screenplays — but one of the challenges in screenwriting is telling a complete, and completely satisfying, story in a mere 100 – 120 pages, the conventional length of a screenplay these days. And there’s a lot of white space on each page. I sometimes compare screenwriting to writing haiku — what’s important is often left unsaid. Another challenge, since the writer doesn’t have the luxury of revealing the characters’ innermost thoughts and feelings in words, is to convey character through the action. On the other hand, there is so much freedom, when your main character crosses the room, to be able to simply write, “He crosses the room,” instead of describing, in intimate detail, how he feels about crossing the room, his motivation for crossing the room, what’s going through his mind every step of the way, the coolness of the doorknob as it touches his palm, etc., etc.

Of course, there’s also the business side to consider — as hard as is to get a book published, that hurdle is much, much higher when trying to get a film produced. (I’m speaking of Hollywood films — nowadays anyone can get their hands on professional filmmaking equipment and produce a low-budget film on their own.) My writing partner and I sold an original pitch based on a true story, CLASS ACT, to Revolution Studios. We wrote the screenplay and the project was set up at Dreamworks with Halle Berry attached to star. However, now it’s completely out of our hands, and we’re still waiting to see if it gets made — and that’s one of the dilemmas of being a screenwriter. As a novelist, you own the copyright to your work. As a screenwriter, even if it’s your idea (as CLASS ACT was), you turn over all rights to the studio that purchases it.

Aaron: Okay, Eric, I am envious by nature. I mean, I envy everyone. Do you ever get jealous when one of your authors scores a big deal with a large house? Just thinking about someone else scoring a big deal with a large publishing house has me green.

Eric: Absolutely not! When one of the writers I’ve worked with actually sells their manuscript, that’s one of my proudest moments! It means that my feedback helped a writer achieve their goal. One of my clients recently sold a three-book series to one of the big publishers, and when she told me, I was delighted that her hard work paid off, and mine as well! And at her book launch party, she thanked her husband, her sons, and me. There is no feeling more satisfying. (Having said that, I wouldn’t object to being hired to write the screenplay when the film rights are sold!)

Aaron: You sold a trilogy of books to Hyperion, the Tesla’s Attic trilogy, with your writing partner. That whole writing partner thing astounds me. I’m not sure I could do it. But with you, how does your work as a writing coach help you deal with having a writing partner? Do you think it helps or hinders you?

Eric: I think the most important thing when working with a writing partner is to be on the same wavelength. Neal and I have similar approaches to story and character and pretty much the same sense of humor (our one inviolable rule: if we can make the other person laugh, it goes in the book or screenplay). Sometimes we divide up chapters, work on them alone and swap them — but more often we’re in the same room, with one of us talking while the other is typing. We work out the story beats together, and then let it flow. I’m sure my coaching experience helps me when I read through pages we’ve worked on together — I can pick out pacing issues and story holes — but the most valuable thing I’ve found in working with a partner is that you’re not in it alone. Writing is generally such a solitary pursuit. When I’m hard at work with Neal, it feels more like we’re goofing off! Sometimes we’ll spend four or six hours together, just laughing and talking — and somehow 12 pages get written.

Thanks so much, Eric!!!