*the door to Hellion’s cabin opens and out walks (sashays) Hellion in a Marilyn Monroe costume, complete with short blonde wig and pink arm length gloves. Hellion adjusts the bow on her hot pink dress as she wiggles to the front of the ship*

 

Terri: Is she wearing eyeliner?

 

Marnee: I think so. Is it me, or did she have an overnight breast enhancement as well?

 

*Hellion wiggles again, tugging her top back in place, bouncing a little to make sure everything’s going to hold*

 

Sin: Nope, it’s not just you.

 

Hellion: You know I can hear you guys, right? *tapping foot* And you can stop acting like you’ve never seen me in makeup or a dress either.

 

Sin: We’re just glad to see you dressed really. That streaking you do from your cabin to the kitchen is awkward when we run into you.

 

Hellion: *sniffing and tugging at the dress at her hips* That’s only happened a couple times.

 

Marnee: It’s happened seven times. We’re just amazed you own clothing because we were starting to wonder.

 

Hellion: What? So now we’re keeping count about every little thing? *tosses her head, shaking her blonde curls into place* Are you done ogling me now? I swear I get more grief when I wear my Marilyn costumes. You wouldn’t believe the number of married men who ask me out whenever I’m in this outfit.

 

Terri: Oh, we’d believe it.

 

Hellion: *glowering* Let me do my number please. Thank you. *crew scrambles to sidelines as Hellion motions for the orchestra to start playing*

 

Sin: When did we get an orchestra?

 

Terri: *scrutinizing them* I don’t know but they are not in my Hotties of the Week group. Where does she find these people?

 

Marnee: Her brain really frightens me sometimes.

 

Sin & Terri: You ain’t the only one.

 

Hellion: *singing*

 

Sleuths were made for finding clues:

They delight in solving crime,

But I prefer to write about a love

That lasts all time…

 

A plug on a blog may be an honorable mention

But contracts are a scribe’s best friend.

A blog may be grand but it won’t pay my pension

Or my rum bar tab

Or keep my ship from being drab!

 

*perching in the lap of a famous agent and tapping him on the nose with her finger*

 

Plots grow trite as scribes lose fight

And we wonder if we’ll publish in the end.

But sequels and movies rights,

Advances make rejection all right:

Contracts are a scribe’s best friend.

 

Avon. St. Martin’s. Penquin. Source. Bantam. *hooks a scarf around the Harper Collins representative and tugs him close* Talk to me, Harper Collins, tell me all about it!

 

There may come a time when a girl needs agent,
But contracts are a scribe’s best friend.
There may come a day when my star is on the ascent,

*plucking contracts out of agents and editors’ hands who are handing them to her and waving them*

Hellion: Okay, Question of the Day: clearly getting a contract is not the only measurement of success within writing? What is being a writer really to you? Is it about getting a contract—or do you consider yourself a writer if you write?