Semi-Daily Scribbles

Marnie avoided her best friend for the past two weeks. If she thought she heard Lettie's voice, or smelled Lettie's attar of roses while she was out running errands, Marnie ducked down dark alleys and hid in really spider-webby photinias. She began to get disgusted with herself. She should have just come out and said, "No, I won't read it." She should have told Lettie best friends don't make good literary critics. Not if the parties involved wanted to remain best friends. But Marnie accepted Lettie's single-spaced pages; their margins crammed with Lettie's handwritten notes/comments (Hell demons need a catchier name. Use silvery orb instead of moon? The deal with the baby explained in book 5.) And all the characters talked funny. Marnie didn't think Bronze Age people used that many adverbs when they confabbed around the fire.