At 5:23 a.m. this morning, I shot straight up in bed and screamed, “GODDAMN YOU BRON!”
Last night, I had what had the potential to be an awesome dream. I’m not generally a fan of
listening to other people’s dreams sharing my dreams, but I’m gonna do this because it’s my blog and you are powerless to stop me. Other than just not reading it, I guess. In which case, I guess I am utterly powerless and shouldn’t have come at you so antagonistic right out of the gate. But anyway.
To follow this story, you’re going to have to be aware of several things. Which you probably already know from other posts but probably did not retain due to remembering stuff that’s actually important, but I’ll bring everyone up to speed.
- I am the president of a small NFPO called the Grand Rapids Region Writers Group, a professional organization dedicated to helping writers in all fields achieve their goals. We usually meet at a restaurant so we can all have lunch.
- My friend Bronwyn Green is also involved in this group.
- I wrote a book called Such Sweet Sorrow for a guy named Nick Harris and his company The Story Foundation.
- I have a very slight, very minor crush on a celebrity I may or may not have mentioned in the past:
- I am a Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones fanatic. As in, I know the geography of Westeros better than the geography of my own country, which one prompted my husband to interrupt my excruciatingly detailed description of the location of Pentos with, “Jen, what’s the capitol of Wisconsin.”
- The capitol of Wisconsin is not Cheesebaywaulkee.
So, now that we’re all caught up, here’s what happened in the dream:
For some reason, GRRWG was having its monthly meeting at The Wall. Maybe just because we’re from Michigan and we’d feel fine there. Oddly, it was at our usual restaurant, but the restaurant was at The Wall. Whatever. A server came in and asked us to wrap up the meeting because another group had reserved the room. So we collected up our stuff and were rushing to leave when Bronwyn said, “What about books for bucks? We can’t just leave them.”
.7 Books for bucks is this fundraiser we do where members bring their old books and you can buy them for a dollar and the money goes to GRRWG.
So, we had this mountain of paperbacks and another group waiting to use the room, and Bronwyn Green goes, “Well, my purse is pretty big, your laptop bag is pretty big, I bet we could get all of these really fast.”
As we’re stuffing the books into the bags, I look out and notice that in the other party waiting to use the room is Nick Harris. And I was like, “Hey, Nick is out there,” and Bronwyn goes, “Go out and say hi, I’ve got this.” I go out and say hi, and Nick is like, “There’s somebody here I want you to meet.”
And it is Anthony Motherbitching Head.
I’m mentally pep talking myself: Okay, you can do this. You can do this without being creepy. So what if you wrote an entire series of obscenely graphic erotic romances in which the hero is modeled directly on how this dude looked and sounded and made facial expressions in 2005? You’ve got this. You’re a professional. Be a professional. And for god’s sake, do not make that snorting noise you made when you’re sexually nervous.
But I was totally professional. I was charming and upfront about being a fan, but not inappropriately upfront, I never mentioned this blog or my tumblr, and he was gracious, and everybody in the conversation were relating to each other on a level of professional respect as creators, and discussing my book but not that particular series, and I was like I’m doing it. I’m being a big shot. I am so cool.
And then Bronwyn comes out carrying my laptop bag and yells, “Hey Jen, here’s your purse!”
And I must remind you, my laptop bag? Looks like this:
Both Neil Tony (he said I could call him Tony in the dream, I’m not being presumptuous) and Nick looked at me with a sort of polite, restrained horror, and then Nick coughed and said, “Oh look, the room is ready,” and they hightailed it out of there.
And that’s why at 5:23 a.m this morning I shot straight up in bed and screamed, “GODDAMN YOU BRON!”