For decades these legendary creatures have evaded the public eye. Disappearing into the darkest corners of their local Barnes & Noble--vanishing into the safety of their heavily-curtained living rooms.
"Who are they?" we ask, "these professors of make believe?"
Thanks to the undercover work of Nigel Merryman we finally have an answer: ASPIRING AUTHORS.
(Caption comments are to be read in your best Australian accent, think Crocodile Hunter. However, like most Americans, your attempt to master an Aussie accent will fall short, likely evolving mid-sentence to that of a drunken Englishman from Texas. Since the Rookie Riter cannot seem to master the art of including text beneath the photo, parenthesis will act as a replacement.)
(Working off an anonymous tip, acclaimed undercover journalist Nigel Merryman was able to nab the following photos of actual aspiring authors in their natural habitat.)
(This photo was taken just shy of 6:30 a.m. last Thursday morning. As you can see , the writer is waking up refreshed, happy and hopeful. She is certain that today is the day when she'll finally get the email from that agent. The email requesting a phone call to discuss the future of her book and offer representation.)
(After a quick shower (photos of this event were taken but are currently on display in a private gallery in Charlie Sheen's bedroom) Nigel found our agent looking sharp and relaxed, enjoying her morning coffee and checking her bound-to-be bursting with offers inbox.)
(Because he had eaten two bowls of Fiber One cereal for breakfast, Nigel took a brief reprieve in a Chick-fil-A bathroom before returning. It was just after 2 p.m. when he found the author in this position:)
(From the untrained eye the aspiring author appears more bored than creative. A sad, sad sight. )
(Deciding to take advantage of TGIFriday's happy hour specials, and because the aspiring author has done little more than refresh her email for the last two hours, Nigel returned at 5:30 that evening to find our author no longer bored but slightly agitated.)
(Because he is easily influenced, and thought he had a chance with the chunky blond he was sitting next to at the bar, Nigel returns to TGIFriday's before happy hour disappears, only return at 9:30 pm to find this. It is at this point that Mr. Merryman's professionalism prevents him from taking any further images. It has nothing to do with the fact that there's a seriously intoxicated, half-dressed woman just feet from him who would mount a ten-speed if willing.)
(With their existence proven, I pose the following questions: 1) If this is their daily life, why do they do it? And 2) Why do we care?)
*This post represents my attempt to win the very cool, very verde, Jenny Phresh's trashcan worthy prize for a blog post using only 55 characters.*