First, the good news: We have officially hit the 50,000 word mark with our WIP “Will Steal for Shoes.” Accordingly, we know this means nothing to many of you, and we are not entirely unsympathetic because the bad news is we can not seem to figure out exactly what the “perfect” chick-lit story word count should be either.
Lisa2 read 45,000 words when we were first starting out. Piece of cake. We could manage that with three hands tied behind our back. And then we came across a seemingly reliable source that said a minimum of 75,000. That was a crushing blow, but only temporarily. We are undaunted. We have never been less daunted in our entire self-effacing lives.
This brings me to the incredible coming of age of the Lisas – all Lisas, everywhere. The name Lisa used to be nothing more than a trendy, commonplace 1960’s moniker. Now, we are a force to be reckoned with. There are Lisa authors, lawyers and Indian chiefs. Heck, even my gynecologist is a Lisa. When Lisa and I are as famous as J. K. Rowling we will refuse to deal with anyone outside of the realm of Lisaness. We will make many various and sundry unreasonable demands because, well, darn it, that is just what creative geniuses do.
The downside to this is one day soon there will be oodles and oodles of Lisa octogenarians. We will take over Florida, storm Disney World and rename Adventureland “Lisaland.” We will refuse to wear anything without spandex and we will tsk tsk the fate of our great-grandchildren, who will be likely be named Titus, Esther, Brutus and Cleopatra Come on, who will ever take those names seriously?