Squawk Radio

Eloise, I loved the article and your translations of what is really being said. Of course we want to think we’re brilliant. That’s our baby, and the most precious, beautifully written, book ever composed. Okay, maybe not, but certainly close--and everyone else should appreciate our brilliance. Our mothers do.

Our kids . . . well, that’s a different story. I can remember the time my youngest came home from school and threw down his books. With a look of pure disgust he announced, “Mr. Smith announced in class that Dale’s mom writes romance.” This was said in the same tone of voice as one would say she does heavy-duty drugs. Might I remind you this is the same child who wanted a pair of $250.00 running shoes, and when I protested, he said, “Just write another book.”

Our mother’s will always love our books. They thought we were brilliant when we brought home our finger-painted pictures from pre-school. Our families sort of ignore the fact we’re writers—at least mine certainly did when the kids were at home—so who else is there to tell us how good we really are? Our editors? I love mine, she walks on water, but the highest praise I’ve ever gotten from her is. “This will do nicely.” So who’s left? Our agents? We are brilliant according to them. Isn’t that what we pay them to say?