When one is procrastinating as much as I have been lately, it becomes difficult to find things to do. There is the obvious googling of one's self, of course, which provides endless hours of entertainment (I mean, look how many kids like me on livejournal). But in the end, a time comes when one can no longer procrastinate: The dishes have been washed; the bed has been made; the Internet has been scoured for pictures of Kirsten Dunst--and it comes time to write your second novel.

But wait! There is your blog! Your long-neglected weblog that no one reads, not even your lovely fiancee! (By the way, I got engaged. Also by the way, I am moving to New York in August.)

A few days ago, I had the following conversation, word-for-word, with Julie Strauss-Gabel, my editor at Dutton:

Julie: "Why don't you ever update your web site?"
John: "Because I am very, very busy not writing my novel."

And that's the truth. It is extraordinarily time-consuming, not writing. You'll have to excuse me; I need to get back to it.