So I don’t usually do the daily prompt, but yesterday’s prompt looked like a nice little goldmine of possible humor, so I decided to go ahead and do it anyway. The prompt is:
What’s the 11th item on your bucket list?
Of course, in order for my eleventh item to gain any significance, I should probably tell you my first ten, which are the following:
1) To save someone’s life
2) To take someone’s life. (Preferably Jeb Bush, but I’ll settle for his loved ones.)
3) To get thrown in jail for a joke I made on the Internet. (#2 should get this done.)
4) To get a book published.
5) To somehow join the cast of Orange is New Black.
6) To work a night shift as a paramedic. (I have no idea why, but this really appeals to me.)
7) To become old and overweight enough so that I could get a job as Santa Clause at the mall.
8) To Kill a Mockingbird.
9) To become fluent in another language. (Could it be dothraki? I wanna learn dothraki.)
10) To sign up for sky-diving, only to back out at the last moment.
And number eleven is . . .
. . .
. . .
To meet one of my favorite authors in real life.
Ha! Didn’t see that coming, did ya? Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever met a famous author in real life. Well, maybe I did and I just didn’t recognize them at the time. I’m reasonably sure that both John Green and Stephen King were within thirty miles of my house at one point, because 1) Stephen King totally name-dropped my hometown in one of his short stories, and 2) A major plot point of John Green’s Paper Towns has to do with the sort-of town of Agloe, New York, which (fun fact!) is also sort of close to where I live.
Unfortunately, both of these stories were written before I became a fan of their work, so if I had bumped into them at one point while their doing research, I don’t think I would’ve known.
That being said, if I had to pick the author I’d most want to meet, it would be either Maggie Stiefvater or George R. R. Martin. For completely different reasons.
I want to meet Maggie because there’s a whole bunch of questions I’m dying to ask her, mainly:
- “The check engine light in my car is back on, and I just got it back from the repair shop yesterday. What’s up with that?”
- “Also, my car makes squeaking sounds whenever it’s really cold out. Is that normal?” And:
- “How do you pronounce your last name?”
If I ever met up with George R. R. Martin, I’m not sure what I’d say. I’d ask him about his books, although somehow I don’t think he’d want to talk about it, considering that rather unfortunate case of writer’s block he’s had on and off for the last, oh, fifteen years or so. (The poor guy.)
Instead I’d ask him, “Hey, would you mind if I ran you over with my car? Because Stephen King had a similar problem as you with his Dark Tower series. I don’t know what exactly was his issue with that story, but it was only until after he was hit by a car that he started to write them at a fast pace.”
He’d probably say no, or maybe he’s become so desperate at this point that he’d actually consider it. Either way, I’m running that fucker over. I’ll slam on my gas pedal so hard he won’t even see me coming. Hopefully I’ll get to meet Maggie before I meet him, so she could give me advice on how do this with the least likelihood of killing the guy.
Please don’t judge me. I love Martin’s books. I’ll just do whatever it takes to get more of them.