Strange week. My promotion at work took effect on Tuesday, shifting me from worker bee to the lower rungs of management. For the first time in my life, I have become, as it were, The Man. As in, the one to whom it (unspecified) should be stuck, as opposed to the one doing the sticking. Fortunately, an office with a less authoritarian structure than mine would be hard to find. I'm still working with all the same colleagues, and we all still relate to each other in the same ways we did before, but still. Suddenly I find that some things I would have said before, without even thinking, are perhaps best left unsaid. I now have a stake, albeit a small one, in the preservation of the current management team. I want to make it work. But, I protest, I want to use my newfound power for good, and not for evil! I want to make the office a better place for everyone! So you see, I am not starting down this path as a ruthless dictator, even if that is how my journey ultimately ends. KIDDING!!! But it is kind of strange, all the same.
So what does all this have to do with writing? You know, it's funny you should ask. I've been wondering the very same thing. Here's one possibility: my new The-Manhood will be immediately apparent to all who see me, in any context. I will walk into a room full of agents and editors at a conference, and all conversations will cease. "Who IS that?," they will whisper frantically to each other. "What presence! What regal bearing! Is she signed with anyone yet? No, YOU get out of MY way! You've got Madonna!" Okay, fine, here's a second possibility. I'll do well in my new job, and it will increase my general sense of confidence, an improvement which I will then be able to intangibly project when I meet editors and agents, and they will want to read my book. Now, that one could actually happen, right? Just that little smidgen of magic that will bump me up to the next level? Isn't that one little bump all I really need? After all, I already write way better than Madonna.