You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl by Celia Rivenbark Read Free Book Online

our guest tomorrow. I’m just warming up.”
    Me: “Yes, well, you see I write humor, some of it is pop-culture based but always with a Southern subtext and …”
    O: “OK, here’s the part of the interview where I just start randomly interrupting you so we can talk about me some more. Hey! What does your poo look like? Dr. Oz says mine is perfect!”
    Me: “Yes, I saw that show. You truly have no secrets.”
    O: “Oh, but I do! I have the Secret! You just think your way to success by putting all the good thoughts out there into the universe.”
    Me: “You know that’s a bunch of crap, right?”
    O: ( sighing ) “Yeah, but people eat it up like pie on Sunday.”
    Me: ( distracted ) “Mmmmm, pie …”
    O: “Join us tomorrow when Maya Angelou and I will discuss the politics of being happy and dogs and Skype and child-molesting and holiday decorations for less … .”
    I realize how petty it must sound to constantly complain that O hasn’t done me a solid.
    But I’ve been in this writing business for a while. I’ve paid my dues and I’ve been a mentor for dozens of aspiring
writers. And by mentor I mean, I’ve told them not to be jerks and quit their day jobs.
    The truth is that you don’t go into this business for the money. You go into writing because you can’t imagine doing anything else, because the words wake you up at night and, most important of all, because it’s probably the only job in the whole world you could do while seated on the toilet.
    People often ask me, “How come you don’t sweat much for a fat girl?” No, no, that’s not what I meant to say. Although it is so totally true and, in fact, it is what I am most proud of in this life. I mean raising a child to be a kind, caring, and productive member of society is fine, but this low-sweat thing is a Really Big Deal, just saying.
    No, what I meant to say is that they ask me how I stay so disciplined. Writing can be such a solitary business that it’s not for everyone. And you have to be prepared to steel yourself against all the inevitable distractions when you work at home.
    For instance, just this morning, I have become preoccupied with trying not to take it as a bad omen that, for the past three hours, there has been a white, adult-sized casket sitting on the back of a flatbed truck parked right in front of my house.
    It’s just sitting there. No driver, no sign of life, ha-ha , just sitting out there in front of my house, gleaming in the sunshine with its little carved white rosettes on the sides.
    OK, I believe you can see how easy it is to get off-task unless
you use a few tricks to stay focused on your writing. But you try to concentrate with a casket staring at you all morning.
    Oh, hell, here comes the garbage truck. If whoever belongs with that white casket messes up my once-a-week pickup and I have to smell these shrimp shells for another second, I’ll personally dig her up and kill her all over again.
    Then again, it could be that one of my neighbors just bought a casket “for later.” You can get them at Costco and Sam’s Club you know. Right there beside the hundred-count packages of Pork-On-A-Stick.
    Oh my God, where was I?
    Yes, yes, disciplined writing. I think it’s a good idea to write at least ten pages a day. I mean, I’ve never done that but it sounds like a really good place to start, doesn’t it?
    Once you’ve gotten published, it’s important not to let it go to your head. Don’t do dumb stuff like, if somebody calls you by your first name, say: “That’s mister Asshole to you,” or whatever. People hate that.
    It’s very important, karma-wise, to always be willing to give a hand up to another writer whenever, however, you can. Naturally, this doesn’t apply if the writer is better than you. I mean, that’s food off your table, you feel me?
    The truth? I’ve always wanted to be one of those classy writers that heaps genuine praise on all my published friends. I want to gush and ooze heartfelt