Schmooze fests
May. 23rd, 2003 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraStealing a page from the Maria Wilhelm chapbook of blandishment and limitless charm, I've been on a schmooze-fest for the last week or so, relentlessly working the crowds on behalf of my bookstore project. Last night I got taken out to dinner by the L_____s. He: Prominent lawyer in town, board member of every nonprofit on the Monterey peninsula; she: old Monterey family, on first-name basis with every Italian who ever cashed in the family sardine fishing business to invest in real estate. I'd run into them at Max's Mathletics competition on Saturday, exchanged the usual pleasantries. D____ expressed vague interest which I immediately turned into a pretext for a social get-together – "You're so smart! I'd love to pick your brain!" – knowing full well that the husband would come along too and I would get free legal advice.
Which I did.
I played the plucky frontier girl to the hilt. "J____, really, I don't want to take advantage of our friendship. Why, people pay you $200 an hour for this kind of advice!"
I could see his chest visibly expand. "It's my choice! I want to."
And I thought, uh-huh.
About the time that J___ began explaining the differences between corporations and LLC's, I noticed he was blushing furiously and realized with a start – the guy has a crush on me.
Been a really long time since anybody's had a crush on me. I've grown very comfortable in this invisible middle-aged thing, I never have to worry about getting dressed (since I always wear jeans and Woolrich,) I never have to put on makeup. I was wearing a low-cut silk blazer last night and had resurrected all my old eye shadow/eye line fashion model tricks. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a discussion about the relative advantages of SBA loans from First National Bank versus Community Bank of Salinas to exclaim hoarsely, "You should always wear red!"
When I got home I sat down and thought for a long time about why I didn't marry someone like J___ when I had the chance. God knows there were a lot of them. Chances, I mean.
Have spent the last week crunching the bookstore numbers for what I hope will be the very last time. Realized I had to use current revenue for Year 1 financial projections which meant the cash flow statements, the profit and loss, the break even points and all those accounting etceteras had to be re-thought and re-calibrating. Tedious. Novel had to be put on hold since it's really hard for me to go back and forth between left brain and right brain without a breather, some timed caesura.
Night before last, though, I drove up to Santa Clara for another meeting of Morgan's writer's group. Not sure whether it's an extreme lack of self-confidence or some necessary developmental stage in the process of finding my fictional voice, but I find it very helpful to have feedback while I'm still in the process of composing.
The piece I'd submitted for critique was the exceedingly creepy Yeltsa murder chapter from Mallory's Camera. The men liked it – "I'll buy the book!" said Kent. The women did not. "It gave me nightmares," said Susan.
On the way home I ended up getting lost for half an hour in endless office parks and labyrinthine suburban cul de sacs. Fifteen years ago this was all orchard. Overhead a half moon rose – a malevolent diagonal light. And I wondered – not for the first time – why I always feel distilled to my purest essence somehow when I'm wandering around lost in the dark, listening to bad talk radio.
Which I did.
I played the plucky frontier girl to the hilt. "J____, really, I don't want to take advantage of our friendship. Why, people pay you $200 an hour for this kind of advice!"
I could see his chest visibly expand. "It's my choice! I want to."
And I thought, uh-huh.
About the time that J___ began explaining the differences between corporations and LLC's, I noticed he was blushing furiously and realized with a start – the guy has a crush on me.
Been a really long time since anybody's had a crush on me. I've grown very comfortable in this invisible middle-aged thing, I never have to worry about getting dressed (since I always wear jeans and Woolrich,) I never have to put on makeup. I was wearing a low-cut silk blazer last night and had resurrected all my old eye shadow/eye line fashion model tricks. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a discussion about the relative advantages of SBA loans from First National Bank versus Community Bank of Salinas to exclaim hoarsely, "You should always wear red!"
When I got home I sat down and thought for a long time about why I didn't marry someone like J___ when I had the chance. God knows there were a lot of them. Chances, I mean.
Have spent the last week crunching the bookstore numbers for what I hope will be the very last time. Realized I had to use current revenue for Year 1 financial projections which meant the cash flow statements, the profit and loss, the break even points and all those accounting etceteras had to be re-thought and re-calibrating. Tedious. Novel had to be put on hold since it's really hard for me to go back and forth between left brain and right brain without a breather, some timed caesura.
Night before last, though, I drove up to Santa Clara for another meeting of Morgan's writer's group. Not sure whether it's an extreme lack of self-confidence or some necessary developmental stage in the process of finding my fictional voice, but I find it very helpful to have feedback while I'm still in the process of composing.
The piece I'd submitted for critique was the exceedingly creepy Yeltsa murder chapter from Mallory's Camera. The men liked it – "I'll buy the book!" said Kent. The women did not. "It gave me nightmares," said Susan.
On the way home I ended up getting lost for half an hour in endless office parks and labyrinthine suburban cul de sacs. Fifteen years ago this was all orchard. Overhead a half moon rose – a malevolent diagonal light. And I wondered – not for the first time – why I always feel distilled to my purest essence somehow when I'm wandering around lost in the dark, listening to bad talk radio.
