At my local Dunkin Donuts, I’m sitting at a small table, a friend and former coworker swiping over it with a napkin.
“So, I’m just gonna talk to you a minute–just a short thing about the company I work for. It’ll just take 20 minutes, tops.”
The table clear of crumbs, he pulls out a laptop, setting it up between us. It’s an old Mac Book. A strip of tape over the camera makes for interesting characterization.
I’d already realized this hangout was a mistake, but the gravity of that mistake becomes clear when he boots up a presentation for what is obviously a pyramid scheme.
I wonder, How did I let this happen?
You were excited to hang out with someone new, that’s how.
Oh, right. I had just been at a party with coworkers the previous night and that was pretty fun. I was expecting to ride out my hangover with some coffee and a chat. But now, I–oh God, he’s talking.
“. . . your plans for the future?”
I send this half-sentence to the Forensics Department of my brain. There’s an awkward pause; all departments are working on a delay this morning. Finally, results come in from the lab: “What are your plans for the future?”
“Oh. Well, I’m going to keep working the promotion at [my current job] for a year, then try for another promotion or get a job somewhere else. At this point in my life, that’s what I have to do.”
“Right, right. What about your writing?”
Huh. I don’t know why, but it’s always been difficult to talk to coworkers about my writing. There are some who are genuinely interested, others who pretend to be.
As this is a pyramid scheme presentation, that question–like all questions–is obviously a calculated tactic. Still, there’s no easy way to opt out of answering.
“Yeah. I’ll still be writing.”
“Okay. Well, what are your plans for the next five years with that? What’s your goal?”
“I need to get more short stories published. Then keep working on novels and get those published. Realistically, in five years, I’d like to have at least one novel published.”
“Ah. I gotcha. And what if it doesn’t work out?”
For a heartbeat, I’m just staring. I remind myself that this is a pyramid scheme. He’s asking because he wants you to think about your dreams failing–make you desperate enough to sign up for whatever company he’s with.
But still . . .
I imagine him sitting down with a painter, smiling as he asks, “What happens if your work becomes unpopular?”
A doctor: “What happens if your license gets revoked?”
Anyone: “What happens if you fail?”
I blink. I want to say, “I promise you . . . that whatever you’re selling? I’m not buying it. I will never buy it. I’ve been working my ass off for years, writing bad novels, writing bad short stories, trying to figure out how to make work that’s actually good. I’m still trying, still working on it, and you sit me down to throw that in my face.
“If I’m still not published in 5 years, I’ll still be writing. I’ll be doing something else for the bulk of my money, but I’ll still be trying to write good fiction, because that’s just a part of who I am. I don’t do it to make a ton of money–I know that I’ll probably never be able to live off of my writing–but that doesn’t matter. I’ve wanted to write fiction since I was ten. I will continue writing it, in whatever capacity, until I’m dead.”
But I don’t say any of this to him.
To a degree, I don’t want to offend someone who I still consider a friend.
But also . . . I realize that sitting there, getting a full pyramid scheme presentation, unsolicited, would be fantastic research.
So, instead, I look wistfully into the distance, and shake my head. “Ya know, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
Thanks for reading.
By way of update, my Memory edit is over its dream sequence hump; the rest of it should be done by the end of the week. Then it’s on to rewriting one short, editing another, and submitting both.
Also, just a heads up for any regulars, I may start posting on other days of the week, instead of just on Monday. Some Mondays (like yesterday, for example) I like to go out, so posts may start coming later in the week.
For anyone new to the blog, my name is Louis Santiago, and I’m a fantasy writer based in the Bronx. My short story, “Aixa the Hexcaster,” was published last year in Mirror Dance Fantasy. However, I’m still very much learning about the writing process — still trying to figure it out — which means posting here every week, even though I make absolutely no money from it. So, if you like what you read here and feel up to getting updates by email — a new post from me delivered right to your inbox — then please hit the Follow button at the bottom of this page. Because, even though all I get from this site is emotional support, that support means the world to me.
I am now officially late for work, so I have to run, but thanks again for reading. And, as always, write well.