FAQ
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Q: Can I be a writer like you?
A: Yes.
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Q: How?
A: It’s easy, really. You simply send $7.95 USD to my PayPal account with your mailing address, and I send you back a lovely certificate, complete with a decorative Photoshopped frame and my actual, non-photocopied signature, proclaiming you to be a writer like me.
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Q: Is that how you became a writer?
A: No. I started out a writer, and thus I do not have $7.95 USD to throw willy nilly at some nut with a PayPal account.
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Q: Alright, so why aren’t you published yet?
A: There are several reasons I am not yet published. The world is against me, for one. I was born under a bad sign and the publishing industry is woefully inept at recognizing true genius when it is clearly posted for everyone to see on my blog. It comes down to laziness on their part, really. That, and the fact that Frank Zappa stole my childhood.
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That I am as yet an unpublished author is the fault of many, but it is certainly not mine.
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Q: Then why would you even want to be a writer?
A: In my book, Damn It, Jane Damsel, I have found occasion to write the phrase “loins on fire” and mean it. It’s only about sixty-five percent ironic in context.
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Now, you go on into work tomorrow and find a way to incorporate the phrase “loins on fire” into your day. Please remember to send me your $7.95 USD before your rent check clears though, because you don’t get to collect severance pay or unemployment benefits if you’re fired for cause.
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Q: You sound kind of snotty.
A: You don’t have to be a writer at all, you know. Don’t cry to me–go cry to Don Henley.
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Q: How the hell did Don Henley get involved in this?
A: Don Henley is involved in everything.
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Q: Fine. Let’s just move on. Your photo looks blurry. Is that intentional?
A: My photo? Hmmm… Well, I don’t know, but I’m just going to take that wine bottle from you now.
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Q: I haven’t been drinking. Your photo is blurry.
A: Look, I don’t have time to play social worker, alright? Work out your problems on your own website. I’ve got 80,000 words of someone else’s angst to supervise, the precise workings of the internal mechanisms of a .38 caliber revolver to research, and loins on fire to keep from igniting the curtains above my desktop computer. Go tell it to Don Henley.
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Q: What the hell is wrong with you?
A: Okay now, settle down…
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