Becoming Liz Everly, or Thoughts on my Pink Wig
From the moment I placed the pink wig on my head, I became Liz Everly. This was a good thing because there were many things that could have gone very wrong that day. It was the first Love Fest at the Virginia Festival of the Book. I mean, think about that. Just sit with that awhile. So the pink wig really helped. If I bombed it was HER, the lady in the pink wig, not ME, right?
I was on a panel on Saturday with four other writers. Not just any writers, All of them “bestsellers,” except, of course, for me. Did I worry about that? Honestly, I fretted about it for awhile. But then I thought about it from the perspective of audience members and felt better. Because here is the thing: we all need to start somewhere. This is my start as Liz start, right? I think it…
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