I love to do this, I really do. Hey, she does it to me all the time! So we’re even! There!
Anyway, the latest way that I’ve freaked M out is to start writing a fantasy (with a romantic sub-element, naturally) where the main character is a faun. Yes, I mean like a girl version of Mr. Tumnus from The Chronicles of Narnia. And not just any girl faun. No, the queen of the fauns. Yes, it sounds cheesy, but it’s not. It’s actually a huge departure from my normal writing. It’s very medieval fantasy world and while I do have a degree in history, I don’t usually write historical. I do chick-lit contemporary type stuff. But, here’s where M starts to degenerate into freak-out mode. I call her, we chat, and then it goes something like this:
Me: So, I started a new book.
Mad Madam M: Hey, you interrupted. We were talking about my new job selling bovine vaccines. (Read about M’s first day)
Me: You’re afraid of farm animals.
Mad Madam M: Welcome to the sad irony of my life.
Me: Okay, so about my new book–
Mad Madam M: Wait. Don’t you already have, like, two books you’re already writing?
Me: Yeeeeeah, what’s your point?
Mad Madam M: Me? I don’t have a point. I sell bovine vaccines.
Me: (Laughing too hard to comment)
Mad Madam M: Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this latest shame spiral into madness about?
Me: Hey, you read bad romance with men in kilts! And you like it!
Mad Madam M: Yeeeeeah, what’s your point? (This is why M and I are friends)
Me: Anyway, the book is a fantasy and the main character is a faun.
Mad Madam M: (long pause) Aren’t fauns, like, half-goat?
Me: Yeah.
Mad Madam M: Wait. You write romance. (Starts to hyperventilate) You’re not going to have her…you know…are you? Because I just could not handle that. You know how I feel about farm animals. If you publish it, I’ll have to read it and I’ll be traumatized for life!
Me: I’m not! Besides, she’s only half farm animal.
Mad Madam M: It’s the same frickin’ thing!
Me: It’s a fantasy, not a romance…sorta! Anyway, who are you to talk? You turned my great idea for a mermaid romance into weird fish sex and then vampire-pigs-in-space sex. I’ll never be able to write that story now! Never!
Mad Madam M: It was freaky! You’ll thank me someday!
(Long pause)
Me: Wait. What were we talking about?
Mad Madam M: I don’t know, I was too engrossed in watching half-naked men on Battlestar Gallatica. I’ve had it on mute this whole time.
Me: Nice. I’ve been watching the muted Olympics.
Mad Madam M: Oh, yeah. How’re we doing with that?
Me: Not bad. Hang on, the snowboarding half-pipe stuff is coming on next. I’ll call you back.
Mad Madam M: Bye!
