I just wrote a long paragraph about my writing goals for the coming year, and which books I want to write depending on what sells. A long boring paragraph of navel-gazing concerning my writing. Trust me, it was boring. You should thank me for deleting it.

So, instead I decided to jot down all of the possible ways that my book (the one on submission right now) could be changed to make it even more saleable than it is now:

1) Change the title to, The DaVinci Code, but with Demons.

2) Make the main character a big redheaded guy named Kvothe.

3) More sex.

4) More violence. But the good kind.

5) Change my name to Laurell Georgia R.R. Martin Nora Roberts Hamilton.

Anyway, I was over at my stepson’s house for Christmas, and the conversation turned to the pending sale of our house and how we’re crossing all possible digits that nothing will go wrong with the sale because then we’d just have to go ahead and kill ourselves. Several people mentioned burying a St. Joseph’s statue in the yard to bring good home-selling luck, at which point my step-daughter-in-law said, “We did it! And we sold our house two days later!” She then dug in a drawer and pulled out a St. Joseph statue and instructed us to bury it upside down in the front yard. We, being just superstitious enough, went home and did exactly that, because, hey, it sure as heck can’t hurt, right?

Now my question for the masses is this: Which saint do I need to bury to get my book to sell?