March 21 – April 20: If you follow through with the threat to start a new space colony to show your writing group what real research is, don’t forget to pack your muse. Since Mars is your ruling planet, perhaps you’d better read The Martian and brush up on your survival skills and/or potato farming knowledge.
April 21 – May 20: It’s time to learn about inevitability, Bulls: some, if not all, of your family members will have their panties in a twist because your debut novel wasn’t dedicated to them. And just who is this GUIDO anyway?
May 21 – June 20: There is a bright side to having two Gemenarian personalities: it’s possible that Aliens will try to speak to one of them through the television set or car stereo. Maybe they’ll have a better plot for your next novel.
June 21 – July 20: You’ll become the focus of an FBI interrogation because of the “serial killer” and “weapons” hits that came up during their Internet surveillance. Your alibi that you are a mystery writer isn’t convincing anyone, least of all the garbage man.
July 21 – August 20: Since you’ve exhausted your apocalyptic supply of Twinkies, you cannot seem to write a full sentence. All you can write is: REDRUM. REDRUM. REDRUM.
August 21 – September 20: Good news – you win an argument with your spouse regarding the Oxford comma. Bad news – sleeping on the couch gets uncomfortable after a couple of nights.
September 21 – October 20: You suddenly panic a week before your memoir debut because you realize you forgot to change the names in your manuscript to protect the guilty. Yikes! You put your lawyer on speed dial.
October 21 – November 20: Your editor is not buying that your dog ate your manuscript. She knows you have a cat.
November 21 – December 20: You receive notice that you won $10 million in the latest Internet lottery. You wonder if it is a hoax, but abandon the thought since this skeptical windfall is more likely than a royalty check arriving anytime soon.
December 21 – January 20: Your interview for the editor position will be an epic fail when your answer to “why do you want this position?” is “sweet revenge.”
January 21 – February 20: Google translate helps you reinvent your lame book titles with exciting Russian names. “A Cat Named Fluffy” is renamed “Pushinsky the Pussycat.” Vodka needs no translation. Cheers!
February 21 – March 20: Your royalty checks are not sufficiently covering the expense of the therapy sessions scheduled to soothe your battered psyche after the latest round of rejections. You may have to take that part time barista job after all.