Once upon a time, a friend of mine (Robert Emmett) posted a thing on his wall on Facebook about a writer calling in sick. It was just a little blip that he had written and he posted it just to post it, not really expecting any response.
At the time, I was writing some heavy emotional scenes, so I wrote a joking reply to it, just to save my sanity. And we started a back and forth exchange that he later posted to his blog.
(It was, by the way, rather bizarre to be writing something that had me struggling with emotions and then breaking to write something humorous, but such is the life of a writer…)
It got such good comments on his blog that he asked me if he could include it in his book, Meowing on the Answering Machine. I said sure, (and got a free copy of the book. Score!)
That little exchange between the two of us is still getting comments. He shared one review with me yesterday that was so serious that it left me in stitches. For some reason, it reminds me of English classes in which we dissected poetry and short stories, with teachers asking the perpetual question, “Why do you think the author wrote such and such?”
I always suspected that the answer wasn’t nearly as deep as my teachers tried to make it. I’m now convinced that I was right.
Ah, the joys of trying to second guess the mind of a writer…