I learned a long time ago that, no matter how much I might crave it, fame and I should not ever... EVER... become good friends. Translation is that I should never become famous. I don't handle fame at all well, not even in small doses. I realized this years ago, at a friend's party, shortly after I learned she'd been introducing me to people as an author. Either she'd talk to other people about how I'd written a book (possibly two by that time, I don't recall), or directly introduced me to them this way. "This is <maramcc>; she's written a book!" And I instantly tightened every muscle in my body at the words. It was weird, and it was involuntary. Talk about fight or flight instinct. Running instantly from the party was on my mind every time my book was brought up. I became curt and noncommunicative in some cases, downright rude in others. Seriously. I was so freaked about people starting conversations with me by mentioning my book, that I was blatantly rude to at least one poor fellow. Unfortunately, I never did and probably never will have the opportunity to apologize to him. Oh, and don't think about taking my picture. I refuse to be held responsible for my actions if I hear that shutter click.

Huh? Wha? Why on God's green earth would I not want to talk about my book or books? There's no such thing as bad publicity! What's with the frickin' hostility, you big bald blue-assed bitch?? Oh... Actually, the bald and blue part is inaccurate. Anyway...

Hell if I know. All I know is that I'm 100% introverted, and by that, I don't mean shy. I can speak in front of any crowd without much consternation. However, while I'm convinced that I'm a damned good singer, you'll never get me to do that in front of a group. I've had a horrible aversion, almost phobia to, being in the spotlight all my life. Being the one that everyone wants to talk to. Except... Harrr, matey, 'tis the rub! Tell me you've READ my books (or stories) already. Tell me you like Mara as a character, or even that you don't like her. I've heard that, too, and to my surprise, welcomed the criticism. Let me show you my collection of toys or model kits or sculptures or whatever else I make and do, but fergawdssake, DON'T talk about ME. Okay, then you'll see shy, if you can see me at all. I'll probably have disappeared from the scene with surprising speed, considering my bulk. So do I have an ego the size of James Cameron's, or not? It depends on the situation, I guess. Personally I think my ego is more like William Shatner's, since he doesn't take himself as seriously. Cameron just sounds scary. Unless I'm checked into a hospital, I'm convinced that my body and face are truly repulsive sights to other human beings. So my ego has had to compensate by convincing me that I can write, draw, sculpt, and yes, even sing and dance, much better than the average bear. I have taken martial arts before, for years at a time, and came to this conclusion: my body is crap. I have no reach, no strength, no grace (except when dancing), no technique, no reflexes, and no speed. After years of training, I say again. So cut me some slack somewhere, blood! Hey, wanna see my kitbash of Ripley the Vampire Slayer?? It's next to those comic strips. Yeah, under the Titanic model...