A typical night of writing in a public restaurant: dinner with a friend, pie, loads of caffeine, and random diversions. A young girl with a pretty hairpiece peeking over the wall watching us write, bad John Mayer songs, and the temptation of free internet. Finally some writing done, a hundred words here, a hundred words there. And questions–what’s the word for mind reading? Or—what’s another word for experience?
Oddly, when goofy writers are involved, the answer to both those questions is transvestites.
Only a twisted thought process can produce such an answer, but the alternatives are telepathy and savoir-faire. What boring words! Pity to take space and breath on everyday words when one can taunt and pester a writing partner with images of gun-toting clairvoyant cross-dressers marching to combat.
The possibilities are endless when writing minds get together late at night and ask important questions about word choices and writing craft. Thus is born ideas, both great and silly (and outright outlandishly ostensibly horrible).
ETA: Lynn wrote a reply here, which might help explain this crazy post.