Lunch at Not Tiffany's

Creativity, as we who write know, begets creativity. I was reminded of this by having lunch with another writer in New York City. I use “writer” intentionally since major publishers have studiously avoided both of us, but we carry on, nonetheless.

New York has no dearth of writers’ groups and workshops and seminars. They work best for those who live in the city (unlike yours truly) and who have some spare cash (also unlike yours truly). Still, meeting with other creatives is what makes our work work.

Like the vast majority of writers, I work for a living. My job, with the added commute, takes up about 90 percent of every waking hour of the work week. My time for writing adds up to less than five hours per Monday-through-Friday, a pretty sad statistic. Meeting with other writers has even less than that.

Using a nom de plume, I suppose, doesn’t help. Some of my writer colleagues know who K. Marvin Bruce is, but most do not. I’m not sure if my recent lunch engagement even knows. I once told him, but he’s never read any of my published stories, at least not that I know.

I’ve pondered starting a local writers’ group. It would be nice to meet with others without having to drive to their meetings and shyly look at my feet while old friends chat. I might even find fellow writers for whom K. Marvin Bruce might actually have a face. It’s a risky proposition.

My job, you see, would suffer if anyone learned of my true identity. Like Clark Kent I must remain unknown. Unlike Clark Kent, I have no super powers. Truth be told, I don’t even know where Tiffany’s is. I work in New York City, I don’t play there.

One of these days I may be able to dispense with my pen name, throw off my mask, and meet my public. If I do it won’t be at Tiffany’s. And it will probably just be the two of us at a reasonably priced establishment where people bring books to lunch.

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K. Marvin Bruce

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