Listen kid, I’ve been in this business since 1927. You don’t publish 400 Hardy Boys books and not learn a little something about the writing game. The only person who’s been at this thing as long as I have is Carolynn Keene and if you’ve ever read one of her Nancy Drew mysteries you know what a no-talent hack she is. But I digress. You wanna learn how to be a writer. And what with all these overpriced liberal arts schools crapping out second-rate writers left and right these days, you’re not alone. You’re gonna need a leg up.

An important part of any home owner’s life, once having slaved away to obtain a four walled domain, is of course to then leave in search of relaxation.

There is of course much for homeowner’s to be concerned about in their absence. Luckily with preparation one can avoid concerns such as infestations of the larger breed of flying Squa or the unfortunate effects of Cannibal Jam-Rot on unattended wooden floorboards, simply by appointing a house sitter.

Choosing the appropriate character to occupy your domain in your absence is an extremely tricky and exceptionally important part of the process.

Martha My Dear,

Hello little girl. I don’t want to spoil the party, but I want to tell you something. You like me too much. You can’t do that because everybody’s trying to be my baby. Slow down. Dig it? Let it be.

Starting a conversation in mixed company is almost prohibitively difficult. However, there are some clues to help us along. Here I have entered some observations into a brief outline and following commentary regarding the worst ways one might start a dinner conversation in mixed company. By simply avoiding these gaffes, you will be well on your way to an evening that satisfies you and your new friends.

“Why you are never coming with us to our boat in Antibes?” Giancarlo, my father’s Italian business partner, asks me through his thick accent as he furrows his brow. “You are not liking to be with us?”

It’s a dark boreal evening in January, 1977, and I’m in Paris for my junior year of college, living in a palatial duplex in the chic Montparnasse neighborhood with Giancarlo and Patricia, his American wife. When I arrived in September, they invited me to crash in their chambre de bonne—maid’s quarters. When I went to look for my own place, not wanting to be the homme who came to dîner, they were offended, and insisted I stay with them.