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That time I wanted to pass myself off as Joyce Carol Oates #TBT

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I submitted my first piece of writing when I was seventeen, a story about my first job, working at the employee cafeteria at General Telephone where my mother was a dispatcher. Rolling the 20# white bond backed by a sheet of thin blue carbon paper into my Smith Corona, I typed it out slowly, carefully, on a piece of erasable paper—and mailed it off to Cosmopolitan along with a cover letter. Not just to any editor at Cosmo, by the way, I sent it directly to Helen Gurley Brown. 

The piece itself, meant to be comical, was full of clumsy attempts at self-effacing humor.  I strived for a similar tone in the cover letter I addressed to Brown, completely clueless that the high powered editor in chief wasn’t the one reading unsolicited manuscripts. After I signed off I added the following PS. I could have said I was Joyce Carol Oates. What I thought that would accomplish I can’t imagine. That an unsatisfactory submission would get published because of a lame joke? 

No surprise, in the SASE I’d …

Dreaming of France: Tour de France hits the Louvre?

Those don't look like official cycling shorts to me.
Just a group of girls following their tour leader.
Ah, oui! Time for a photo!
If only they had French berets.

I can't decide which of these photos to put on my Instagram. 
Any suggestions?
Connecting with Dreaming of France

Comments

  1. I can't imagine riding a bike in such a short dress, but maybe I'll learn when I move to France. I love everything about these images. It definitely makes me want to be there, but I'm still not going to ride a bike in Paris -- that looks like suicide.
    Thanks for playing along with Dreaming of France. Here’s my Dreaming of France meme

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