I came across this last year, and many of you have probably have seen this, but found this article funny: the advantages of dating a writer, or the rank OBJECTIFICATION of writers.

My favorite parts:

* Writers will offer you an interesting perspective on things. Yes. Constantly. While you’re trying to watch TV or take a shower. You will have to listen to observations all day long, in addition to being asked to read the observations we wrote about when you were at work and unavailable for bothering. It will be almost as annoying as dating a stand-up comedian, except if you don’t find these observations scintillating we will think you’re dumb, instead of uptight.

* Writers are smart. The moment you realize this is not true, your relationship with a writer will develop a significant problem.

What are your favorite parts?

As part of the Writers’ Platform Building Crusade, we have weekly Crusader Challenges. This week’s a getting to know you exercise. Although we have 300 words to bloviate in, I had a couplet come to me last night, and just knew I had to write a limerick.

Running was not my best gambit.
I’d prefer a fuliguline habit*.
          I’m (mostly) kind to others,
          and have only brothers,
whom our parents replaced with a rabbit.

Yes, this is why I write prose. Poetry requires such an incisive editorial blade. I’m afraid I’ll just stab it. Erg… (You can see why that line got cut from the poem…)

(Actually, once upon a time, I was the poetry editor of a fairly big site. But I didn’t have to judge or write poetry, so no one was injured.)

Something I mentioned about myself isn’t what you might call . . . “true.” Can you guess what it is?

Monday (I hope) we’ll jump into how to infuse your writing with emotion!

Photo by Graham White

This is how they’d get agents:

Dearest Prospective Agent,

Forsooth! I write this epistle to thy milky hand (thou art a maid, aye?), that I might win it and thee thereby to be mine agent. I see that thou doth represent mine colleague, Laurence Olivier, and thou must know that I am indeed a most convincing method actor. Thou mightest be able to tell from this letter that my true skill rests in Shakespearean tragedy.

I would be overjoyed to discuss my career. I call anon!

Sincerely,
Archer Feathersboroughbottom

(In case you’re wondering, actors get agents by a.) agents seeing their work and contacting them, b.) referral from other actors to their agents, or c.) sending a photo and résumé to an agent, which does seem a bit more appropriate than a query letter.)

What do you think? How would you query an acting agent?

Photo by Hashim Talbot

And now, we interrupt the blog series on deep POV for something completely different.

If Hemingway were alive today, he’d probably sue me for this. But he’ll have to be content to roll over in his grave.

Ernest Hemingway is often hailed as the greatest writer of the 20th century. My favorite story of his [supposedly] was allegedly the product of a $10 bar bet to write a story in six words:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

For me, no matter how many times I hear this story, it never fails to evoke an emotional response. That’s some powerful flash fiction. It has inspired several anthologies of flash fiction, including Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure, Six-Word Memoirs on Love and Heartbreak: by Writers Famous and Obscure and I Can’t Keep My Own Secrets: Six-Word Memoirs by Teens Famous & Obscure.

But today I was thinking: what if Hemingway were alive today, in the age of the Internet? What would his poignant ad look like on, say . . . eBay?

Technically, I believe that’s still only one word . . .

How would Hemingway’s story look on craigslist? A local classifieds site? What should my other five words be?