A Quiche Before Dying

world to do, and it’s one of the hardest to do well. Besides—the romance business is difficult.“
    “Why?“
    “Because most of the romance editors are very young, very New Yorky. They think that anything west of the Hudson River is wilderness and that the typical reader is some hillbilly congenital idiot who has to move her lips to read. Consequently they tend to hold the writer down to Dick-and-Jane level. I once had an editor insist I remove a reference to Charles Dickens. She said the readers wouldn’t have heard of him and they’d think he was a character in the book they’d missed. I’m not sure she knew who he was.”
    Jane laughed. “It can’t all be that bad.“
    “No, some of the editors are very good, but you don’t always get lucky enough to work with them.“ Missy had cheered up considerably. “There are a few other things you should know, if you’re thinking of getting into this business. There are things that people will say to you that crush you the first six times or so, until you realize they’re standard.“
    “Like what?“
    “Like people who say, ‘What name do you write under?’ the implication being that they’ve never heard of you. I always tell them I write as Stephen King. Some of them get the joke. Some are more direct. ‘Oh, you’re a writer? I’ve never heard of you.’ Or friends who will come up out of the blue and say to you, very pleasantly, ‘I’ve never read one of your books.’ I can’t imagine what they expect you to say to that. And these aren’t even the ghouls, Jane. These are people trying to be nice and just not realizing how insulting and nasty they’re being. But the worst, and most common, is this one: ‘You’re a writer? I always meant to write a book—if I just had the time.’ I’m always tempted to say, ‘Yes, and I’ve always meant to be a brain surgeon if I could just find time to try the surgery.’ “
    “Missy—I don’t mean to pry into your business, but can you make money writing?“
    “Yes, but you can’t count on it. It’s feast or famine. The nice thing is, there’s not much cost. It’s not like opening a shop where you have to pay rent and purchase a huge amount of stock and pay employees and buy a delivery truck. All you really need is a typewriter and paper and your imagination, although I’d strongly recommend a word processor. You’re thinking about this seriously, aren’t you?“
    “Semiseriously,“ Jane admitted.
    She got up, gave Jane a hug, and said, “Most of the time I think writing is the best job in the world. You get to stay home, wear whatever you want, and smoke without anybody complaining. And I better get back to work.”
    Jane walked to the car with her. As Missy got in, she said, “Look at your front porch. Flowers, I bet.”
    Sure enough, there was a large cone of white paper sitting on the porch.
    Jane bid Missy good-bye and walked back to the house. She took the flowers in and tore off the paper. It was a lovely fresh arrangement, all in blues and whites in a glazed white bowl. Jane searched among the blooms for a card, but there was none. She noticed the name of the florist on the wrapping paper, but decided not to call and ask.
    It must have come from Mel, she thought. What a nice, romantic gesture.
     

17
     
    “What a beautiful arrangement!“ Cecily said, looking at the flowers that were still sitting on the kitchen counter. “Who are they from?“
    “I presume they’re from Mel, but there’s no card. What are all these things, anyway? I think this is a Shasta daisy, but I don’t recognize any of the blue ones.“
“I don’t either. Jane, is this serious? With Mel?“
    “ Oh, Mom, I don’t know. I don’t think so. We don’t have anything in common.“
    “Sometimes that doesn’t matter,“ Cecily said. “In fact, that very thing can be a good basis for a relationship. It means constant discovery.“
    “Except Mel isn’t interested in discovering my world—housework, kids, homework, school carnivals. And I can’t say that I blame him. It’s all necessary, but it’s not fascinating. And frankly, I feel the same about his job. Necessary, but pretty boring except times like this when it has a connection with me. I can’t see us ever having scintillating conversations about what kind of powder they use to pick up fingerprints.“
    “Jane, dear, you’re talking about jobs, not what you are inside.“
    “But, Mom, I’ve been a housewife and mother for so long