Take your pick:
A gnarled, armless cactus teetering on high heels, tattered manuscript pierced to pale greenish flesh by a thousand “Keep your bloody distance!” pokies.
A statuesque tower of badly chipped porcelain teacups teetering on their uneven saucers, tattered manuscript balanced on a pretty, flagrantly fragile pointed head.
Me at a romance writer’s convention.
Yep. Looking forward to the horror.