On Occasion, Miss Crankypants loves to wax poetic about her favorite sport. That would be teaching writing, not Psychedelic Foosball, as her kids like to think. Since her day job is to shepherd new writers, she hears a lot of gripe-able stuff from the students.
One marches into her class, a stack of Harry Potter tomes in her arms. “I read these things to my daughter,” she proclaims. “I’m pretty sure I can write a better one.” And Miss CP is pretty sure that hell is going to freeze over.
The next student comes in with dollar signs for pupils. “You’re going to teach us how to write a bestseller, right?” He grimaces. “I could sure use an extra million bucks.” Miss Cranky promises not to laugh–oh wait! Too late.
The next three students have banded together to form a lean mean marketing machine. “We’re starting our own publishing company!” Their leader chirps. “In fact, we’ve got our own TRIBE, just like that Seth guy.” And just who else is in this tribe, Miss Crankypants asks.
The leader chortles. “Silly! We’ve recruited all our kids and a couple of grandparents. They’re gonna love our sci-fi urban werewolf romance fantasies!”
Miss CP wonders where she went wrong, until she’s interrupted by a petite grandmotherly sort. “I’m writing a novel about my life as a stripper,” she says in her tiny high-pitched voice. “Do you think it’ll sell?”
Miss CP would rather not touch that one, even with ten-foot pole. It’s this way every term. New writers bounce in with all their enthusiasm and false notions. Becoming an author–a FAMOUS author–is just a matter of writing out the story, mailing it off and watching the dough roll in. Right?
Harry Potter wannabe raises her hand. “Should I send a press release to all the media outlets this week or wait until I’ve actually written my book?”
Miss Crankypants needs smelling salts to revive her.
But Grandma comes to the rescue. “If I were you,” she whispers, “I’d wait until strippers aren’t trending on Twitter.”
Harry Potteresque is undaunted. “As if,” she snorts. “How hard could it be?”
Miss Crankypants could not have said it better herself.