An Uncomfortable Realization

I’m not sure if it’s a sign of arrival or imminent collision when a VP at your company swings through the cubicle ghetto to tell you how “great” it is that you’re getting published. I’m really not sure what to make of my reaction either. What should’ve been a pleasant, but forgettable exchange turned into a sweaty, stammery mess.

In other words, it was completely me and another example about why I should never be allowed out in public. How is it possible that I am smart enough to drive a car, read through a contract, and hold down a job…yet I never considered people were going to read my stuff? Even for me, that’s pretty asinine and, when I call something asinine, you can take it to the bank. I know about this stuff.

Now where was I?

Oh, yeah. I was melting down in my cubicle because not only did said VP want to congratulate me, but he also pulled the dreaded follow-up: “So what’s the book about?”

This is never a good topic for thriller writers, but I pulled out my elevator pitch and flung it at him anyway: “Teenage hacker trying to get out of the game gets blackmailed into finding a dead classmate’s rapist.”

VP’s mouth twisted like he’d just swallowed a thumbtack. “Wow. Um, and the next one?”

Crap. Crap. Crap. Accompanying my terror sweats, there was now a rushing in my ears—a sound I could only assume was my corporate career circling the toilet.

“It’s about a serial killer.”

VP blinked, stared at me, blinked again. “Wow, I would never have guessed you were…into that stuff.”

Into that stuff? At first, I was irritated and then I realized ‘oh, wait, yeah I kinda am.’ I have a (perhaps unnatural) attachment to any form of forensic file television show and I have been known to argue the merits of various body disposal sites and methods. He may have a point, but, by now, we’re just staring at each other.

“So where do you come up with your ideas?”

This one’s easy. I grin really wide. “Mostly in staff meetings.”

‘Cause as long as you’re going to be the weird girl no one wants to talk to, you might as well be the weird girl who gets out of that weekly torture.

As always, a big HUGE thank-you to the Rubies for having me and (so I don’t feel so alone) anyone else have a coming out of the writers’ closet story they’d like to share?

This blog was originally posted on The Ruby Slippered Sisterhood