Since the Rapture is Nigh…

By the way… I seriously dislike the word “nigh.”  And yet, I just used it in the title—right there, up above—cuz I’m a conundrum. (I really love the word “conundrum.” Irony, thou art a harsh mistress.)

But yeah, the Rapture is alleged to be May 21st, which is also my mom’s birthday and Ahmed’s mom’s birthday (felicitations, Lanie and Maji). I’m quite sure there is no connection.

I was yapping with a gal from one of my workshops this week about what I would do if I could do ANYTHING.  I always piss these people off.  Because—don’t hate me—I’d do what I’m doing.  I love writing, I love working with investigators and others on language forensics and literary forensics projects.  I’d probably just blow more money on indie stuff and buy billboards in Time Square and hovering above Fenway to put my covers up in gigantic color.  Or I’d run a television ad and hire Tom Hanks to say “I wish I had waited to play one of Chrissy’s characters, because frankly, we all know Dan Brown is an asshat.”  Then I’d giggle at the trial when he sued me. 

Ok, maybe not that last thing.

Know what, though?  If the Rapture thing doesn’t work out and I do become a gagillionaire (shut up, it could happen), I may buy a gorgeous chunk of land somewhere with trees, paths, and water.  And I’ll build two dozen small, cute cabins with  AC, heat, and Wi-Fi.  And then I’ll invite writers, artists, and musicians to just… show up and create.  Like a luxury summer camp and retreat center for people who want to make powerful and beautiful and sad and amazing things.  An art colony on steroids.

Plus really awesome thread count on the linens and Terry’s chocolate oranges on the nightstand so you can whack em and snack em all night.

Come to think of it… that would be a pretty awesome Rapture right there.  I’m buying a lottery ticket and shopping for acreage.

Hey, the government needs money. Think they’d sell me Acadia?

Prolly not.