I Don’t Know

I don’t know how much e-books should cost.  I’ve read arguments for sliding-scale prices.  I know lots of people don’t want to pay over a certain price.  I don’t have an answer.

I don’t know whether Macmillan’s agency agreement would be better for authors and readers than some other approach.

I don’t know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop.

I don’t know whether people are going to love Snow Queen.

I don’t know where I get my ideas.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to post the cover art to Red Hood’s Revenge [B&N | Mysterious Galaxy | Amazon].

I don’t know how long I have before my son stops running up to hug me when I come home from work.

I don’t know if my home has adequate weaponry to protect my family against the zombie uprising.

I don’t know whether I should set Snow Queen revisions aside for a week so I can write up and pitch a new series to DAW.

I don’t know why “Single Ladies” won a Grammy.  (But I think it had something to do with the Chipmunks movie.)

I don’t know why I’m so incredibly bad with names and faces.

I don’t know how Randall Munroe does it.

I don’t know how single parents balance work, kids, and sanity.

I don’t know why the catfish in our aquarium keep dying.

I don’t know why religion is ever worth killing for.

I don’t know if I should create a fan page on Facebook.

I don’t know whether an anime-style Snoopy fighting cat-ninjas would be awesome or terrifying.  ETA: socchan brings the awesome here.

I don’t know where this post came from.  I guess I just thought the Internet would be a slightly better place if people were willing to admit they didn’t know things from time to time.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.