Worse, the attack was perpetrated by my nemesis.
She doesn't know that she's my nemesis. In all reality she most likely doesn't even remember ever having met me.
You see, when I first met this particular individual her first novel was about to be published. We were at the same vaguely uncomfortable office-type party and, as I was genuinely interested, I tried to start some kind of conversation with her about the book.
To say that she answered me with all the enthusiasm of a bowl of cottage cheese would be being kind. Three minutes into the exchange I believe I actually excused myself by saying, "I'm sorry. I think I see a bowl of cottage cheese that I went to school with. I'll be right back."
And so, sitting on the subway today, innocently listening to a podcast of one of my favorite radio shows, she was suddenly there. On the show. A special guest.
I don't know karma...am I really supposed to believe that its coincidental that she shows up on my iPod just days before my class reunion?
But here's the bigger question that's been nagging at me since the blue line audio incident.
No, I don't have a string of bestselling novels. I'm not being invited to be a guest on the shows I would love to be a guest on. I can't even manage to score a new day job.
But I know that I'm a good writer.
So how is it that one unloads a nemesis?