Letters to My Agent

            How does a writer’s mind work? Who cares?

            Let’s try again. How does a writer’s mind work? Glad you asked.

            First thing in the AM, a writer arrives at her desk and obsesses about applying to MFA fiction programs. But–

                        1. they’re expensive

                        2. writer is unqualified, having no bachelor’s degree

                        3. writer fears being pushed out of “comfort zone” by big-time professor            

            The writer moves on by reinventing herself as a crafter of nothing but bulleted lists. Nice niche market, very internet-able, fresh and new.

            But then the writer considers the fact that Mark Twain didn’t attend an MFA program, that he wrote in bed while smoking cigars, and that he sold quite a few books. Say-if the writer insists on becoming degreed, why not a steamship pilot’s license? That’s how Mark Twain knew so all-fired much about life on the Mississippi. Mark Twain wrote what he knew. As writing advice goes, that’s an oldie but a goodie.

            Exhausted in the brain, the writer goes off to do errands. But she doesn’t stop working, oh no:

            THE FIRST OF THREE BOOK PITCHES INSPIRED BY A TRIP TO WALGREEN’S

            A Hipster’s Guide to Pharmaceutical Crafting

            First of all, the only magazines on the market that are not withering on the vine are Maker, Craft, Readymade and the like. Making stuff instead of buying it is now the purview of the tattooed, the vintage-dressed, the tres chic baby shower gang and young newlyweds with two tech-industry incomes. So there’s your audience, and take that, Martha Stewart. Since plenty has already been written about how to hew your own shoes out of blocks of wood, weave strips carved from plastic water bottles into tatami mats and anything and everything sock-money related, I propose entering the bold frontier of pills and unguents. I mean, what couldn’t you make out of leftover antibiotic capsules? A cocktail coaster set, for sure. (Hot-glue these puppies onto mayonnaise jar lids.) How about an insulin-syringe tiara? Or giving your walls a faux-paint facelift by smearing them with first-aid ointment and blow-drying till it hardens into a cloudy glaze. You get the idea.

            If this book hits big, I could resurrect Office Supply Beauty Tips ‘n’ Tricks.