Those of you who have read my book are, perhaps, aware of my mother’s tendency toward slightly obsessive anal retentive behavior. Perhaps you would be unsurprised, then, to learn that I, too, on occasion, can find myself contemplating the need to vacuum the driveway or alphabetize the Christmas decorations. 

These can, I suppose, be somewhat self-defeating activities. But they don’t hold a candle to my current favorite (and any of you who are published probably know what I’m about to say): pulling up my new book’s Amazon page several times a day to assess the sales rank.

This is, in almost every way, an exercise in not only futility (how exactly are you planning to move the sales needle from #766 to #1?) but masochism. Unless your book is The Help (which – no pressure for me – my editor published, and which has sold 4 million copies in HARDCOVER), you’re only gonna be flogging yourself.

I think I need a substitute for the Amazon page, something I can pull up on my computer repeatedly throughout the day that will make me feel less at the mercy of the reading public.

 Maybe any article on BP executive Tony Hayward. Next to him, I’m golden.