William Morris Entertainment
9601 Wilshire Blvd, 3rd floor
Beverly Hills, CA 90210
(I know my 3rd grade teacher Mrs. Nelms wouldn’t approve of that beginning salutation for a formal-type letter but since you and I are the same age and, after reading your book, I feel like we are best friends—or at least former college suitemates—and since Mrs. Nelms always made me so nervous that I ate those rubber grippy things you slide on pencils so that you won’t get calluses, I really think that it’s okay.)
I finished reading Bossy Pants and I wanted to let you know my one and only criticism: It was too short. I read it in the evenings while my husband read less scholarly tomes like biographies about Teddy Roosevelt or the History of Cancer. I would giggle and chuckle at the close of each of your anecdotes and observations and he eventually stopped asking me what was so funny. (Come to think of it, he never actually asked me what was so funny.)
Since your book has done so well, I’m assuming there’ll be a sequel (Bossy Pants II: Electric Boogaloo? Bossy Capris: Spring Edition? Bossy Elastic Waist Band Pants: Stories from My Forties?) Here are some ideas for your next book:
Kids are so literal.
My 6 year-old son Knox saw the cover of your book and asked me why your arms looked like that. I told him that those aren’t your arms. He said, “Whose arms are they?” “I don’t know,” I said. “Does she know?” (meaning you) “I guess” and on and on.
I got those darn flappy things in the weirdest places when I was pregnant. It’s the scariest thing to snip them off with the fingernail clippers and see the little gray blob in the sink but it’s all a part of the great Circle of Life. If we don’t get rid of them they’ll slowly overtake us…
I always feel guilty when I see a couple that are physically-mismatched and I find myself thinking “Boy, she must be reeeeally nice.”
See you at the college reunion!