Remember that authors live a glam life.

I am standing in the kitchen, above a puppy pad (clean, thank you) with my wrinkly-ass water-damaged manuscript sitting next to me on the pantry shelf, on a box of cat food. A mouse lurks somewhere in these walls. He is waiting for me to go to bed so that he can return to his game of Corrupt Sanitation Engineer. His game board is the cupboard. He makes his own pieces.

Isn’t the mouse the cat food?

On balance, however, I have peanut M&Ms so fuck the haters....