Who are you people and what do you want? Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? You’re looking for writing advice. You want to know the secret handshake so you can get an agent. You want to read that one missing thing that will make the big difference so you can get the thing (the job, the publishing deal, the inspiration to get through the day). You need to know how to write an effective query letter. You want to know what the fuck a query letter is. Your writing buddy said that blogger was funny. It’s a gay thing or feminist or lefty liberal crunchy granola. It’s all about the coffee. You’re my cousin. My best friend. A person from my MFA program. What do you want? Ask me something. Tell me something.
I’m writing a book. It’s a story about a girl. It’s about me. It’s about my kids. It’s about my town. It’s not really about me. The writing is tight. The story is loose. It’s about not fitting in. The people in my life who think they’re in my book, aren’t. It’s not really about my kids either. It’s all made up. It’s all very true. Writing dialogue is fun. I used to be a poet. I’m thinking about adding dragons. I’m kind of didactic. (I’m working on it.) Maybe I’ll add recipes. I write in sprints. I write in scenes. I don’t know how to write right. Hello? Are you still here? Are you still reading?
How do you define yourself? Because I’m so very many things. I contain multitudes. You don’t know me. I’m not your fucking mother. I’m not the answer to your dreams. I love you, fellow traveler. Are you totally human? Being invisible is comfortable. Why can’t you see me? I know you wanted publishing advice. Existential angst spoken here today. So much muchness. Writers need to write. Just write. The rest is dross.
Tell me a story. Write me poetry. Make a comment. Is anybody out there? What do you want from me? Who are you, anyway?