LPB finally gets a job

I haven’t had a job in 12 years.

Let me clarify. I haven’t had a “job” in 12 years. An office job. The kind you get dressed up for every morning. The kind you bitch about every night. For the past 12 years, I have done all my work out of my home and the occasional coffee shop. In the eyes of my friends, this does not qualify as a job. They believe my day’s activities consist of eating chocolates and using emery boards. They try to trip me up with trick questions about who was on Oprah. They ask me to pick up packages for them, wait at their houses for plumbers, take in their cars for repairs. Because I’m not really working, right?

I admit there are some advantages to my lifestyle. They are enumerated in descending order of importance.

1) I sometimes go a whole day without showering. Some days, I don’t shower at all.
2) I pass gas whenever I want to. It feels good.
3) I sing—really loudly.
4) I dance.
5) Every month or so, I get to have one of those Holly Hunter 20-second crying jags (from “Broadcast News”) without alarming anyone. Except my dog. Who can abide my singing but not my crying.

So when Salon.com approached me about a real honest-to-God job, I admit I got nervous. Real nervous. Until they assured me I could keep doing all the above.

So starting February 18th, I will be a full-time (well, okay, three-quarter-time) book critic for Salon.com. I think it’s going to be a gas. And the book-writing will continue. A veritable life of letters. And I still won’t have to shower.

Just a heads up. My next novel, The Orphan in the Tower, is due out in August. Its impact on the presidential election is projected to be zero.