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It really is a wonderful life.

True, I’ve done my share of sulking this week. I’ve felt jealous of certain other authors who seem to be getting some of *my* attention. I fielded one very hostile e-mail from a former next-door neighbor of 15 years, who said she’d bought my first book — and that was her intended level of support. I started to feel that it was all banging my head against the wall, this trying to get people to do things. To buy my book, review it, come to a book signing. It’s a very hard thing, trying to move the outside world. It felt this week like I was trying to move a huge boulder with my little toe.

But sulking does have its rewards — at least if you sulk to the right people. Like Soprano Sue, who has decided to take me on as a cause, making me a MySpace page, doing her best to harness all the forces of Google in my favor. She’s working every angle. Trying to get me on the radio. It really is amazing sweet. Seriously, I think she’d try to get Tony Soprano to bump someone off, if she thought it would help my book.

And then there’s Nicky Mesiah, the Toffee Queen, who came over this week to watch the Eliot Spitzer resignation with me. Nicky is the champion saleswoman and networker of all time. She had just sent toffee to New York’s incoming governor in the wake of the Spitzer scandal, David Paterson, who just happened to be an old friend. And after sitting on the sofa with me for a couple of hours, listening to my sulk, she decided to send Paterson a second goody package — this one containing a signed copy of (you guessed it!) “Fear and Yoga in New Jersey.”

In fact, there are lots of angels out there. Deborah Broide, a complete stranger, wrote to tell me she’d loved my book. A librarian named Rebecca Hickman blogged about me twice. Jessica Sporn put me in the Gas Lamp Players newsletter. Liza, of course, listened and gave sage and practical advice. Warren comforted me in husbandly ways. And it goes on and on.

Okay, sulk over. For now anyway.

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