(the information contained herewithin may have been altered to protect the innocent, protect the guilty, or enhance the plot line)

       My part-time friend and sometime literary agent Adele called me in the middle of a full-blown meltdown. "No one wants to buy anything," she moaned, "unless it's about zombies, vampires, or sex. Let's get a drink."

We ended up having our usual fabulous time, munching free hors d'euvres and swilling endless refills of white wine from an indulgent bartender. Adele was in a much better mood when I left her. I figured she'd call again in about six months.

She phoned a week later, breathless with excitement."I think I just sold your book!" she exclaimed. "You mean Critical Thinking for Dummies?" I ventured hopefully, but Adele cut me short. "Your memoir!" she announced triumphantly.

"What...," I began but Adele was on a roll. "Okay, I admit I wrote up a one-page proposal based on the little bits and pieces you shared at the bar last week and all right, maybe the details are a little fuzzy but they loved it at Random House and Simon and Shuster didn't exactly turn me away. I swear I even got some interest at St. Martins. You need to write up a fifty-page treatise tout de suite, darling, maybe supply a few pictures - don't worry, nothing in flagrante; we can all exercise a little imagination."

"Adele, what are you..?"

"Imagine going through all those careers AND all those men?It's breathtaking. I would never believed it of you; you always seemed too wholesome. But maybe that's what attracted them to you. That and, I suppose your availability."

"Adele..."

"Obviously we'd start with your very first love, Paul McCartney.  I adore that you were just seventeen - okay, you were nineteen, no matter - and he was in that period between the Beatles and Linda and Wings so you weren't really misbehaving." 

 "Adele, it wasn't exactly..."

 "Then of course, your little fling with Mick in the early eighties - you naughty girl, you caught him right after Jerry Hall. I didn't realize you were so outgoing.

"So you transitioned into PR and what do you know - an encounter with the Big Dog. I know, a little embarrassing but power is so sexy."

"And then for you to triumph over your tragedy and jump back into the dating scene just as you were getting into non-profit work in the last few years, and, well, we know what dating means between two consenting adults, don't we?

"I know you're hesitant about my adding your recent little 'flinglet' but it's so very timely, it really must be included. Not to worry, if we move quickly, it will only enhance sales.

When can you get me the treatment?"

"Adele," I ventured weakly, "we were drinking wine and storytelling. I may have seen some of these people over the years but as far as..."

"Seen, met, loved, slept with," Adele cut me off a bit desperately, "who's going to care? By the time anyone questions the exact nature of your relationships, you'll have sold books and booked shows and we'll be off and running."

"What about my reputation as a serious writer?"

"My dear," she replied, "you don't have a reputation."

(fun and games with Photoshop this week)