Amanda is majorly cool. For two reasons. First of all, she's my niece and she's older than me. Yeah, I was born an uncle. Ridiculously cool, and I owe it all to her. Part B of Reason 1 is that she made me a great-uncle at the tender age of 22. Needless to say, this fact is more than just a great ice-breaker at parties -- it really reels in the ladies.
Secondly, Amanda is amazing with words, which, if you know me, is all you need to score coolness points on my court. I worshipped Amanda when I was a kid. She was the sister I never had. I was thrilled when I got to spend a day on the Santa Monica Beach with her, didn't mind at all getting stranded on the smoggy Golden State Freeway, doubled over in laughter at Chavez Ravine as we sat in "Baker's Field." I envied her crazy-quick wit; a high percentage of my sense of humor was shaped by her sharp delivery. (Yes, you have her to blame.) Amanda and I haven't lived in the same state now for almost 30 years, but the Internet brought us back together in the last few years, and I gained a new appreciation for her wordsmithery these past few years as I discovered her beautiful gift for the written word. She is a truly brilliant writer.
But none of this matters now because I'm mad at her. You see, a couple of weeks ago, Amanda hinted to me that she was too busy to do NaNoWriMo. I was on the fence on whether to do it this year myself, but when she bailed on the idea, I thought, "Well, if my genius niece isn't going to do it, I can let this baby go!"
Except that I forgot about the flip side of that whole "big sister" thing: she can be mean. Suddenly, come November 1, she changed her mind and embraced NaNoWriMo, hanging me out to dry! So here I sit, composing these silly blog posts and reconsidering whether I want to go for a finished draft of the novel by 11/30.
Amanda, there's only one way to get back in my good graces: when your novel gets published, dedicate it to your dear, old uncle.
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