Have you noticed that insecurities tend to wreak havoc with the creative process? Well, Alex J. Cavanaugh did something about this problem; he founded an Insecure Writer’s Support Group. We’re posting monthly, exposing our vulnerabilities and/or offering support to one another. Please check out Alex’s blog to visit others’ posts. It’s a group of kind-hearted bloggers/writers, authors and all-around great folks. Join us, if you haven't already! All that's required is an insecurity or two hundred.
Robyn: Today, it's my distinct pleasure to welcome a special guest to the Life by Chocolate studio. She's a successful writer, a glamorous fashionista, and the main character of one of TV’s biggest hits, Sex and the City. Let’s give a warm round of applause to Ms. Carrie Bradshaw!
Carrie walks on stage with a beaming smile and gaudy hat. Robyn motions to her to sit down.
Robyn: Thanks so much for being here, Carrie. You really inspire me…to feel incredibly insecure as a woman and a writer. I mean, look at you. You’re smoking hot, with a perfect body and hair, no wrinkle lines or off-putting facial features – except that mole on your chin. Smirking, Robyn says in a low but still audible tone: I guess Hollywood can’t cover it all up!
Mortified, Carrie places her chin in her hand to hide her mole.
Robyn: Oh I’m sorry, Carrie. Don’t mind me. I’m extremely jealous, that’s all. Shoot even that mole is sexy on you. And that closet of yours – the one you landed when you married Big! I could live in it, Carrie, quite happily too. Are you renting it out, per chance? Not that I could afford…
Carrie: No, we’re not renting. She giggles. I’ve got too many Jimmy Choos in there.
Robyn: Jimmys? Robyn smiles. Are any of them single? Yeah, I could be eternally happy in there.
Looking perplexed, Carrie says: Jimmy Choo is a shoe brand, sweetie.
Robyn: Oh. Robyn glances down at her holey Easy Spirits and smiles upon recalling the purchase during a Walmart shoe sale in 1995. Back then, she fought an old, burly tattooed woman for it and was victorious. I hear you. I have three pairs of shoes myself. There’s little room left in my closet for a housemate, or a mole. Besides your closet, I'm awestruck by the fact that you make a fortune writing about sex and the city. My angle is a cheap rip-off of yours. I write about celibacy and suburbia. So far, I’ve earned $14.13 for a year’s worth of articles. What’s a gal gotta do to make some real cash, have sex on camera? Oh –
Robyn and Carrie look at each other and nod.
Robyn, resigned: I’m in trouble.
Carrie pulls a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her Gucci bag and takes a drag. Extending her arm towards Robyn she asks: Want one?
Robyn: No thanks. I don’t smoke. Let’s talk about Big. Is he named after his wallet or something else? Sigh. If I could have just a hand or fingerful of what he’s got, I’d be happy. Looking towards Carrie: Actually, I’ll take a drag.
Carrie hands over her cigarette. Robyn clumsily inhales, blows out, and begins a raucous coughing spasm.
Carrie grasps the handle of her Gucci bag, flashes a smile at the audience and exits the stage.
The Life by Chocolate janitor scrambles to bring Robyn a cup of water.
Postscript: No offense is intended by this post. I’m a big fan of Sarah Jessica Parker. I think she’s gorgeous and incredibly talented; I’m extremely jealous (of her and Carrie), that’s all.