And towel usage is at an all time high

I've just submitted the short story that will win the 13th Annual Zoetrope All-Story Short Fiction Contest and make my name as a writer of something other than lawyer news and a little-read sex and laundry blog. 

I will not be caught off guard by the attention. There is no playing the ingenue at this point in my life. I am rehearsing for my interview with Terry Gross. You do not want to come up short on Fresh Air.

TG:  What was the genesis of the prize-winning short story "Leftovers"?

SK: Well Terry, I guess I would have to say it grew out of the bitter, overly-caffeinated  anecdotes we used to toss around like canapés at my weekly playgroup gathering.

TG: You tossed canapés? Wasn't that kind of messy?

SK: I was speaking metaphorically Terry. It's a literary device.  And yes, it was messy.

TG: Speaking of metaphors, how did you come up with the idea of food storage as analogous to the soul-killing stew of stifled ambition and stale marriages that is the hallmark of suburban life?

SK: Soul-killing stew? That's a little over the top don't you think?

TG: I'm quoting from the story. Those are your words.

SK: Oh my god. Did I write that? I am going to be savaged. 

TG: But your story took first place!

SK: No, it didn't. This is an imaginary interview, remember?

TG: Yes, but that was the premise.

SK: Premise or not, soul-killing stew is not the kind of thing you can serve up to the literary types who judge these things. Bouillabaisse, maybe...

TG:  But it's parody, is it not? I mean all those allusions to airless plastic containers...

SK:  Shallow wordplay will not rescue a soul-killing stew. Though, I will say, I don't know of any writer who takes it further than I do. Or is it farther? I can never remember which is which. Or who is "whom." Though now that William Safire is gone, maybe we can all relax a little.

TG: (Laughing)  That's true. My guest is Suburban Kamikaze, whose short story "Leftovers" is the product of months and months of effort, despite being less than 4,000 words from beginning to end. Nick Hornby wrote and published two novels and a screenplay in about as much time.

SK:  Well to be perfectly fair Terry, I doubt Nick Hornby does as much laundry as I do. I know for a fact Pete Dexter doesn't. Towel usage is at an all-time high in my house, though what accounts for it I cannot say. The investigation is ongoing. 

TG: Yes, well, please keep us updated on that. I'm afraid we're out of time.

SK: We're all out of time Terry. Only some of us are also out of laundry detergent.

Comments

[Audubon Ron]

Well, if its soul killing, it surely is out of time. Now lets get back to stifled ambition and stale marriage. Oh looky there, gosh, we're out of time. See you again next week? Listen, you're doing real good work here and in our next therapy session, instead of journaling, let's talk about your childhood. Don't forget to pay the receptionist on your way out.

[Suburban Kamikaze]

Not just soul killing, a soul-killing stew. I will send you the recipe if you like. Or you can wait for my forthcoming cookbook: "Stews No Copy Editor Could Love"

SK

[RubyTwoShoes]

At least at your playgroup you exchange 'soul killing' recipes and 'stale marriage' appetizers. I haven't had the pleasure of much adult conversation at my playgroup gatherings, although I do like to earsdrop on the serious types talking about the GFC.

[Mr Lady]

I know what accounts for it, and if you don't know by now, I'm certainly not going to be the one to break it to you.

Also, whom is whom.

Also also, I'm totally making up some dish and calling it Pat's Soul Killing Stew. We'll be loaded.

['cuz I'm the mommy, that's why]

Glad to know I'm not the only one with a mysterious mountain of dirty towels. Working on my Soul-Killing Stew recipe right now...
Carrots, beets, maybe some leeks?