electric mist

I'm not sure how to answer that.

I have actually had to say, out loud to a stranger, that I'm a writer. (I bought a car and they asked me what I did for a living.) I fully expected the cynical eyebrow. You know the one, where it snaps up so high, it stabs their hairline and they start gushing blood. Yeah, that look. I was so certain that they wouldn't believe me when I said I had actually gotten paid (you know, enough to call it a "living" to justify giving me a car loan) that I went prepared: I brought a copy of the contract, a copy of the check, a copy of the deposit slip, a copy of the bank statement, a copy of all my financials, a copy of my birth certificate and marriage license to prove I was the person on said copies, my shoe size, a list of my favorite hiding places, the address to my evil twin, Skippy, and my aliases.

They never looked at any of it.

Nada.

They did, however, look (briefly) at my driver's license, which I no longer even resemble. I used to have blonde hair, and now it's back to brunette and cut differently and I'd lost weight and basically, anyone off the street could have grabbed that license and looked as much like my photo as I did. Indiana Jones looks as much like that photo as I do now.

So, they glance at the license, write down my SS#, go run the credit, never look at any of my financials, and they gave me the keys to the car. The entire time I was sitting there, I kept expecting the big vaudeville hook to snatch me out of the showroom, because who the hell believes a writer actually makes money?

I still feel like I got away with something, though I'm not quite sure what. I really wish they'd written down evil Skippy's address, though.

~*~

People so far have been exceptionally supportive when they hear (usually from my mom) that I've sold something. (I think my mom's covered about one third of the western hemisphere. You hear your phone ringing? Don't recognize the number? It's my mom. She'll go away as soon as you tell her you'll buy the book.) Anyway, everyone's been great, but occasionally, someone will say something which completely stumps me. I'm not quite sure what to say in response. Here are a few examples:

"You got a shark in your book? Because if you don't, you really should put a shark in it. That's what sells 'em." (er, okay... a shark in the swamps in Louisisana... maybe that could work)

"When will your book come out? All of my Sunday School friends and I have a book club, and we can't wait to read your book!" (Well, will they faint to read "fuck," "hell," "sonofabitch," or "goddamnit?" 'Cuz if so, can you videotape the meeting?)

"You should have a wizard in it. A wizard and a shark. Man, you could have a wizard that has to beat a shark. Wow, you'd sell billions." (:::blank:::)

"Wow, you're gonna be like that JK Rowling chick." (I don't think my mom can buy that many books, but I'll ask her.)

"When you get rich, are you still gonna be nice to the little people?" (I'm 5'3"... you mean, there are people littler?)

"Hey, can you get that Harry Potter lady's autograph for me?" (Uh, yeah, sure. Jo and I are thisclose. It's getting to the point of being annoying, with her constantly coming over here, borrowing my clothes, asking my advice, whining about being a billionaire and how much pressure that's going to be on her next series of books. I keep telling her that it's not my damned fault she's richer than God, go harrass Him for a little while, but damnit, here she comes again. Ugh.)

"I don't read books, but I guess I'll have to buy one, since I know you and all." (Sure, why not. Hey, all's fair in love and war, baby.)

y'all take care,

toni

Posted by toni at August 17, 2005 12:32 AM