The Mug Shot:
Look straight ahead and contemplate the lousy Kirkus review you’re sure to get.
The Talk Show Host:
Place one hand under your chin and imagine listening to someone else, something you rarely do as a writer.
The Orgasm:
Throw your head back and grin ecstatically after ordering a box of your favorite gel pens.
The West Nile:
Sit at a scenic outdoor table at dusk, notebook open in front of you. If you contract the virus at least your mother will never have to read your memoir.
The James Dean:
Turn up the collar on your leather jacket and give a small smile knowing your arch rival’s book was remaindered.
The Corrections Officer:
Cross your arms while wearing something stark. Remember to showcase your proofreading symbol tattoo.
The Barrette:
Push your hair behind your ear with one finger while considering what it would be like to have a job that’s actually useful, like firefighter, or accountant, or… hair clip.
The Watergate:
Arrange the lighting so your face is bathed in shadow. Maybe you committed a murder like the one described in your novel, maybe you didn’t.
The Curious Dog:
Tilt your head and wonder, how does The Times really compile its best seller list?
The Cat Attractant:
Sit at an indoor table, laptop open in front of you. Stare pensively at the screen as you realize the timeline of your cozy mystery is horribly flawed.
The Load-Bearing Wall:
Lean sideways against a brick wall as if you are needed for support, as if you could actually provide support to anyone on a writer’s income.
The TV Commentator:
Pose in front of your built-in bookshelves after replacing the dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Grey with a pristine copy of Proust.