At the Meatloaf Writers Conference, famous authors call each other by nicknames and speak in complacent ironies.
A homeless man sneaks into the conference to get some food. He has blood stains on his soggy garments.
Security escorts him out. He says, "There must be some mistake. I write! And where's the meat loaf?"
A famous editor floats by in khakis and top-siders. He knows exactly how to behave. He knows exactly what to say. He says nothing about the small disturbance--Security with homeless man. How very strange!
The famous editor encounters some very old dear friends indeed. Longtime shadows groan because they know he is about to tell a story. A practiced story--well balanced, appropriate, and well capitalized. Everything is as it has always been.
Showing posts with label 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference. Show all posts
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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