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Dear Diary

I had a bout of temporary insanity.  It all started at the grocery store.  I was hungry and wanted a quick bite to eat and saw that my favorite kind of raisin bread was on sale for two whole dollars and ninety nine cents for three loaves.  That was nothing to sneeze at I thought to myself as I proceeded down the aisle and picked it up.  I did that with a lot of sales that I saw there.  Never go to the grocery store hungry.  You spend far more than you plan to.

That’s not the insane part.  The insane part is what happened next.  Now gentle readers (aspiring writers) there is this secret thing all writers and editors dread.  It is our worst nightmare.  It is the one inescapable boogey man that we as creative people fear and loath above all other things.   I call it the biography pitch.

Writing is often taken for granted when it is assumed that there is no work involved.  It is a labor of blood, sweat, tears and alcohol.  It’s also a lot of fun and you can’t imagine doing anything else but I digress.  The other major assumption is that there is money involved in writing.  Ha!  Every so often some guy will come and say the magic words that they have this idea.  It’s going to be big and it’s going to make both of you rich (insert alarm bell here.  It’s going to be an exclamation mark.) You naively ask what that is and they tell you.  They have a life story that’s worth telling(!) and they need you to do it(!) and they will sell the book and make millions(!) and pay you 50 percent. (!)

It never works.  Ever.  Yet still they try…

Today it happened.

Today a man with a huge head and huger stomach recognized me.  The portly man eagerly and happily approached me and I felt this feeling this paranoid dread come to me.  No, I say to myself, this isn’t a rational thought.  You don’t know this man.  He couldn’t possibly be one of them.

He first asked if I was THAT GUY.  I acknowledged that I am THAT GUY and then he squeed.  It’s frightening to see a 400 pound man squee.  It’s not so much a squee as a bellow from the abyss.  And from the abyss I heard the I have a great…

I didn’t let the man finish.  I ran.

I was superman, the flash, captain amazing and the dynamo all rolled into one.  I bolted out that door screaming like the lunatic that I am and bolted for at least a mile.  Or so it felt like when I gasped for breath and discovered to my chagrin that the sweet and delicious raisin bread that had tantalized me to stay in the store longer then my allotted lunch time was still in my hands.

Fuck.

I had to go back.

Fuck it.  Not today.  I’d call the store and let them know.

My worst nightmare had come true.  I didn’t need to go back there.  Not today.  Who knows what else is back there waiting for me.  There could be another one…

(!)

I’m staying in the office the rest of the day.  I’ll stop writing now.