You think you’re ready for the show? You’re not. Not even a little.
Sure, if it was all wide-eyed coeds lined up to get you to sign your book, or maybe even your peers, it’d be cake. A retarded kid could do it.
I know that retarded isn’t cool to say anymore. That’s why I said it. And your being offended by it suggests to me that you aren’t anywhere near ready for the show.
Okay, so, the show. You’re in Topeka Kansas, it’s seven thirty in the evening, you’ve been driving since eight AM, you haven’t shit properly in days, you’ve been sleeping in your car at rest stops some nights, the motel rooms you have gotten all reeked of stale curry, and now here you are. To read your work. To a bunch of fifty and sixty year olds. A bunch? No. Sorry. Five. You and five fucking people. Good luck reading your work over the sound of knitting needles clicking away, the squeak of those donut pillows they bring to sit on. It’s like “Turn the Page” with none of the trade-off.
No. There aren’t any women. There are big girls with nice faces. Whom, yes, you will sleep with. Mostly because—as you’ll learn—big girls have comfortable beds. And they’ll feed you. And after subsisting on a diet of brownies, lemon bars, and fruit punch for a month or so, you won’t even notice their cankles. That’s the show. And if you’re lucky—one-to-two percent chance, max—you’ll be in the show. Plugging your short story collection. Or novel. In places you haven’t yet heard of. Book clubs. Who don’t read the book. Learn to answer these questions in your sleep: What’s your book about? Where do you get your ideas? Is this autobiographical?
And yes, you bet your ass, they’ll ask that. Even if your book’s about a quadriplegic female Chinaman, they’ll ask.
What? Well, again, I say that because it bothers you. Chinaman. See there? You winced less that time. I’m trying to help. I want to thicken your skin. For the show. On the off-chance that you make it. Which, no offense, but you’re going to have to step it up.
Now, if I can’t convince you to go to law school instead, where did you want me to send these letters of recommendation?
