Recovered from email files
Like, really high
I am the walrus
M: Is this on? *taps mic*
A: Yes, Mark. It's on. This feels like standup comedy. Therefore, I am uncomfortable.
M: Okay, so what do you wanna do? Ask each other questions for a while? Share writing advice? Both? Neither? Lobster?
A: Shall we introduce ourselves first? You are a secret Irishman who sprouts lovely dovely prose and I am the uncomfortable meeting of a stuffy old English lady and a wannabe southern girl.
M: ...yeah, none of that is actually true.
Anyway! Amy, how are you on this lovely... 11:07 EST on a Friday night?
A: Stuffing things haphazardly into boxes. Choking on spit. Repeatedly glancing towards my laptop, Moggle, wishing I could be revising instead. Sparing a few looks at the TV because the Olympic Opening Ceremony is still on. Listening to the BRAVE soundtrack. Sucking on a butterscotch lollipop. Shivering a bit because I'm too lazy to close the window and I accidentally packed all of my sweatshirts. The usual.
And you, my dearest hippo?
M: Listening to Mayday Parade, my favorite band of all time and forever. Eating a Hot Pocket. Drinking Pepsi in an old-fashioned can. Contemplating the plot of my WIP. Trying to determine whether pants are really a necessary invention.
A: I never wear pants while drafting. This is a lie.
So, Mr. O'Brien, shall we tell the world of our opinions on life?
M: Surely, Ms. Zhang! Well, I believe life is a genuinely radiant thing, something to be celebrated regularly. I believe it's something to hold onto, to cherish, to love and adore and care for. I just rhymed.
So what's your opinion on that life thing?
A: I believe that life ought--oh, craperdoodles, Mr. O'Brien. I'm afraid that I must retire to my bedchamber for the night and complete the shoving of my belongings into boxes. Shall we continue on the morrow?
M: Indeed! Don't mind me; I shall sit here and sip tea. All night. While watching you sleep— what?
A: *suspicious glance* Very well. Do try to abstain from hiding in my closet, all right?
M: I make no promises, Ms. Zhang.
A: Mr. O'Brien, were you aware of the fact that in some Celtic myths, redheads were believed to become vampires after they died?
M: I decidedly was not, Ms. Zhang. However, I am ALREADY a vampire, so I needn't worry about such trivial things.
A: Oh, hey, we learn something new every day! So, I believe we were discussing the meaning of life? I seem to recall that you were in the middle of pledging your eternal love for it, in sickness and in health, and I could not agree more.
M: Indeed! Though I said nothing about "in sickness and in health." I am not marrying Ms. Life, pretty as she may be, Ms. Zhang. I am, after all, a hermit.
A: Of course, Mr. O'Brien. Though, I was under the vague impression that life was, in fact, the very proud and hot owner of a Y-chromosome. I have also come to the realization that our conversation is amounting to nothing. Not, of course, that this is news.
M: Indeed, this seems to be fit more for our own amusement than the masses. Hark! Whatever shall we do?
A: We will discuss writing, of course. How goes yours?
M: Fantastical, my dear fellow! I've recently started a new WIP, as the children call them, and I'm quite in love with it. It's a YA romance tentatively called MADDENING, and it's about a girl whose boyfriend slowly descends into paranoid schizophrenia in Texas in the 1980s, and their relationship.
My dearest Amelia Bedelia, it's my understanding that you've recently completed a speculative fantasy. Might you inform us of this simply ravishing ms over a spot of tea? It is, after all, high noon.
A: I would be utterly delighted to. MY STARS WILL FALL is inspired by Celtic and Norse mythology. It's about a girl who hasn't heard her name spoken aloud in three years, a boy who should be dead, a few monsters and the people who are even more monstrous, and hot chocolate.
Now, let's move on. What do you have planned for MADDENING, Mr. O'Brien? You will query it, I hope?
M: Should my current ms not garner an offer of representation, yes, I should want to query MADDENING. Back into the trenches of querying, I suppose. Ms. Zhang, I understand you yourself are currently in a different trench— you and your agent are on submission to publishers. How are you feeling? Is it simply exhausting?
A: Mostly, it's composed of long hours of sitting sadly in an empty bathtub, repeatedly refreshing my email. It's a good life, is it not?
M: Oh, indeed! My email refreshments have been many and short between.
A: Well, Mr. O'Brien, I have been called to a shoe secret emergency meeting with a kangaroo and a beached whale regarding the well being of the entire sandwich world. It has been an absolute pleasure. *salutes*