I’ve been telling everybody about my book. It’s a pretty short conversation, but I’m too excited to keep it to myself. (A book! I published a book! Me! Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it interesting? A whole book! Novellas count!)
Most of these conversations end in general congratulations (which I love, don’t get me wrong), but some, besides being flattering to my ego, are hilarious as well.
Today, when the UPS guy came in with our first delivery, I started bouncing in my chair. (I did say I’m telling everybody, right?)
Me: “Guess what?”
Him: “You’re a nut?”
Me: “Well, that too. But I published a book!”
Him: “A book?! Really? Where can I find this book?”
Me: “On Amazon!”
Him: “What’s it called?”
Me: (Thinking he probably won’t remember the title by the end of what’s probably a very long day for a UPS driver in Texas) “Just search for Rachel Wicker! I’m the only one there is!”
Him: “Thank goodness for that.”
(This is the same UPS driver who, for security/privacy/conspiracy reasons unknown refuses to reveal his name. So I call him Moriarty and he calls me Watson.)
(An aside for anyone concerned about the safety of the general public: My coworker worried that my swelling head would push her up against the wall of our shared office and squish her. I pointed out that she has a letter opener, so if my head gets that big, it should be easy to pop me. She agreed that she’ll do that if she needs to, so the problem will be taken care of long before my head can swell big enough to throw Earth’s orbit out of balance and send us all spinning into fiery doom in the center of the sun. Which is good, because wouldn’t that be embarrassing? It’s nice to have coworkers you can count on in an emergency.)
I’ve been in Cover Design Land this week (oooh… pretty pictures… aaargh…. fonts don’t match….) so I don’t have any insightful/interesting/amusing things to say for myself.
Passive Guy, however, found this interesting article about cultural appropriation (in this context, the act of writing about someone different from you – because you might get it wrong, or worse, get it right, and either way, somebody’s feelings will be hurt). The news is interesting, in a gut-wrenching way. Passive Guy’s analysis is very interesting.
Have a great weekend! I battle on against all Evil Fonts, and will hopefully emerge from Cover Design Land sometime next week.
I sat down to reconcile the bank statement this month feeling confident that all my records were up-to-date and complete.
“This is going to be e-” I said out loud, and stopped myself short.
For suddenly I felt the dark, cold, grim shadow of Narrative sweeping overhead, circling in for the kill.
It took half an hour to reconcile most of the statement.
It took three and a half hours past that to track down two small discrepancies between the bank records and the credit card processor’s reports.
Halfway through, in a fit of frustration (and mostly just in a fit), I shook my fist at the ceiling and yelled “What could possibly go wrong?!”
I probably made it worse on myself, but at least I took a stand, spat in Narrative’s eye, and dared it to Do Its Worst.
Which it did.
Lesson: Even when you’re 99% sure that your life is really happening in real life, and not between book covers, don’t tempt the Narrative. We all know what happens to Those People in movies – the ones who open the closed doors, who don’t listen to all the warnings to Don’t Go Near The Castle, who begin a war with the jaunty promise that It Will All Be Over By Christmas. Don’t be one of Those People.
The powers of Narrative are strange and mysterious… and after four hours of bank statement battle, extremely frustrating. Save yourself some drama and Tylenol and don’t tempt the Narrative.
I spent multiple days this week convinced that it was Thursday. This kind of Calendar Dislocation is pretty common for me…. and it usually causes some (amusing) problems when I can’t be on the same calendar page as everyone else.
Your character is going through his normal routine (feed the dogs, hack the computer mainframe, hide the evidence, whatever) but everyone around him is acting a little strange. Turns out he’s forgotten what day it is….
Your character (hereafter known as ‘you’) is waiting at a bus/tram/taxi/train station. A stranger comes up and asks you what your favorite murder method is. They’re not joking.
What happens next?
Write responsibly 🙂