Michael thinks I'm writing. We're sitting side by side on the couch while he prepares for his class tonight, and I'm making busy novelist noises. Grunting and mumbling for dialogue, sighing when my fingers stop tap-tapping on the keyboard. All in the cause of pretending that I'm not just sitting here blogging, but am actually hard at work on the rewrite of The Cradlerobbers. Which I think Berkley has accidentally retitled "The Cradle Robbers." Do I care? Should I point out the mistake and risk them having to redo the cover? There were so many typos in Murder Plays House that people on Amazon actually commented on it. Sigh. I wish I could send out a mailer that says, "Dudes, I totally know the difference between who's and whose, and there and their." I also know the difference between Lie and Lay, something the vast majority of newscasters can't decipher.
Here's how it works -- you lie on the bed, you lay something on the bed. So you were not "laying around," you were "lying around." It's only confusing because the past tense of lie is lay. As in, "I lay on the bed for hours." But if you say, "I'm laying" that does not mean you are lying on the bed. It means you are having sex. And there should be an object. As in, "I'm laying Topher Grace because he was so damn cute in P.S. that I felt an insatiable urge to knock him on his back and climb up on him. After I finish laying him, I will lie next to him and look into those sleepy, sexy eyes of his." For instance.