A Novel Conversation

“My book’s out in paperback today,” Michael tells me. “My third book.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I nod. I’m jealous. The room is swarming with writers, artists, and bloggers. The Empire State Building looms over thick tortoise shell glasses and conversation.

scissorsI pick up a stray pair of scissors and press Michael’s head back against the couch. I cut a few snips around his ears. People look over and then go back to the conversations studded with regret. A light dusting of hair shimmers down into the salsa.

Michael and I talk about his last publicist. “Some of them are idiots, but this one was amazing. She did wonders with my book.”

I sip my vodka.

“So what’s it feel like to be a publicist? You’re too smart to be one.” He was half-joking. “How’s that?”

I know. I say this out loud and make a joke about the novel I abandoned in college, the hypothetical writing career I gave up for health insurance, and how much I loathe being grouped into the unholy category of publicity girls.

But Michael has stopped paying attention. “Also, your boobs. That must be a real distraction for some people.”

We both snicker. I gulp down the rest of my vodka.

Perhaps I should finish that novel.

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One response to “A Novel Conversation

  1. You mentioned not writing your novel. Again.

    You’re too young to not write it. Believe me, I’m not you from the future but I’ve met someone very much like you. I’ll leave you with the wisdom of “Dodgeball”:

    Lance Armstrong: Quit? You know, once I was thinking about quitting when I was diagnosed with brain, lung and testicular cancer, all at the same time. But with the love and support of my friends and family, I got back on the bike and I won the Tour de France five times in a row. But I’m sure you have a good reason to quit. So what are you dying from that’s keeping you from the finals?
    Peter La Fleur: Right now it feels a little bit like… shame.
    Lance Armstrong: Well, I guess if a person never quit when the going got tough, they wouldn’t anything to regret for the rest of their life. But good luck to you Peter. I’m sure this decision won’t haunt you forever.

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