I have made the New York Observer.

I am in the pink paper.

I have arrived.

(Warning: the piece contains a fair amount of blah blah blah blah Curtis Sittenfeld is wrong-cakes. From here on out I'm going to treat the chick-lit hatas not with scorn or analysis but with the indifference they so richly deserve. Yes, it's going to be Indifference Central around here. Just as soon as I take two seconds to wonder why the McSweeney Campaign of Love and Tolerance for All Authors Everywhere has somehow failed to extend to those of us toiling in the pink-cover ghetto).

But check out the sassy new head shot! My friend Andrea took it.

In other touring news, I'm going to be at the down the shore meeting of the Michael Smerconish Book Club on August 12, discussing LITTLE EARTHQUAKES on the air in the morning and then that night, unplugged. Which means, per Michael, that I can work blue.