When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
A few clients brought this story to my attention. My first thought was that it’s a wonder it doesn’t happen more often. Let’s face it, agents can be cunty and a lot of writers are…living on the edge. For a period of two months while I worked at Doubleday, I received packages in the mail (no return address) that contained effigies made of clay, buttons, sticks and what appeared to be human hair. I brought each one up to HR and was convinced that one day they would be bagged and presented as evidence in a trial where I am the one in a body bag. SOmetimes writers just show up without an appointment at the office with their manuscripts in hand. I’ve learned to just say thank you instead of reciting some hollow policy about not taking manuscripts because this person might be packing. I do not want to die in the line of duty.
Do you have a revenge fantasy?
Filed under: Uncategorized |
Betsy Lerner 
Since I have many regrets (see your last post), about which I cannot speak, and despite the fact that my very first novel was called NO REGRETS (yes, published and banned by the Phila. Public Library), I don’t regret saying that I have no revenge fantasy.
Sometimes I just feel sad about being a human being. I really do.
Had one, once. At a former place of employment, where my supervisor was stalking me and the HR director (a woman) insisted I was exaggerating the situation. One afternoon, infurtiated by another episode with this jerk, I sat at my desk and schemed. My plot involved obtaining a weapon and enlisting the help of an ex-military neighbor. In a flash of lucidity, the completeness of my plan scared me. Scared me sufficiently to do the next best thing: called my attorney. That started an interesting chain of events. Other women stepped up to complain about him, too. That initiated a months-long investigation by the company. Eventually it was also determined he had falsified records and was stealing from the company. Finally, the guy got fired and sued by the company. I was awarded a nice monetary settlement – something I hadn’t considered in the fantasy revenge.
Revenge is a sword with a hilt of broken glass—not that that’s ever stopped me from holding a grudge.
So someday, I would like to be the featured author at a signing at the Big Chain bookstore where my former manager works. I will remind her of who I am—it’s been fifteen years, after all—and how glad I am that her unique management style led me to quit retail, go to graduate school, and eventually write the book that made Oprah come out of retirement so she could do an hour-long special on it.
If that last bit is a slight exaggeration, I will ask/bribe/pay five hundred people to stand in line to buy my book and rave about me and watch her hateful face shrivel up on itself like a bitter, drying lemon.
Afterward, I will make delicate comments about her lack of professionalism to the regional manager and wish her well in a doubtful voice before I roll up the limo window and bid the driver to take me to the airport.
And as I bandage my metaphorically bleeding fingers, I will smile.
So the gentleman (I use the term freely) attacks her and she’s with her dog? It seems some part of his schooling may have been insufficient.
Revenge fantasies. Revenge fantasies? I suppose I’ve had the usual. Can’t imagine they’re any different from anyone else’s, so feel free to take your own and claim they’re mine and I’m confident they are shoes that will fit.
Brilliant Tetman. I love Nina Simone’s Pirate Jenny too.
Outliving my husband and having that HUGE garage sale. Every Llorca male so far has buried at least one wife.
It’s touch and go right now.
Are we talking about revenge against rejection? I certainly have never felt anything but appreciation for agents etc who reject my work. At least they bothered.
I’ve had revenge fantasies sure, most of them prank related, not violent. I DID have an awful boss once, snarky, mean, no sense of humor, disrespectful and then he fired me when I was in the midst of an emotional crisis. I considered suicide that night. Instead I went to a U2 concert.
I don’t think I harbored any desire for revenge. I think I pretty much forgot about him. Then I heard that he died of AIDS.
I was happy. It felt right. I’m deeply ashamed.
Very impressive that you opted to attend a concert rather than slip towards that other choice – truly an example of Living Well.
I read about that story too. And Betsy you used the ‘c’ word, bravissima! Revenge is the theme of the week for us over here with regard to Italian bureaucracy. Fury has been unleashed.
Who said, “The best revenge is living well”? That’s always been my motto, although I once went through a brief period when I entertained thoughts of arson. I have a great life, and my sense of superiority is my shield against those who dislike me. My sense of inferiority I keep strictly to my near and dear ones.
I have a great life, and my sense of superiority is my shield against those who dislike me. My sense of inferiority I keep strictly to my near and dear ones. – Yes!
Too much cosmic yuck in revenge fantasies. I prefer to indulge my imagination in my work, and when I’m not working, to simply feel whatever I’m feeling, and to forgive and move on as quickly as I can. (Also better time management; revenge fantasies tend to be obessive and can gobble up a lot of time and energy–I know this from my drinking days.)
I believe the universe demands its own payment without my interference.
I believe in God, Country, the love of my family and Karma. Mess with any of that shit and I’m on the other side. I do not want to be on the other side, it’s filled with Republicans.
HA!
Any time I have a revenge fantasy, a woman enters my thoughts. She is fleet and seems to have glided in from somewhere unseen, sabotaging my revenge fantasy. It’s not the same woman each time and may not even be someone I know, but’s she’s kind and we look into each others eyes, “i’ve seen you before.” “Yes.” In our nakedness there is warmth and thoughts of revenge have shot across the room.,
Not intended to be anonymous.
-MikeD
I used to, but now my stepmother is demented, so what’s the point?
Same here. Or they’re all dead or dying or sick.
Seems Karma has bit them in the ass.
So many revenge fantasies. So filled with rage. But most of the time I’m pretty chirpy.
I used to have one. It all went down at my father’s bedside, as he was dying. He was crying, trying to get me to accept his apology. There was panic in his eyes. I just smiled and watched him go.
Well, at least you went to his bedside. I stayed home and sent air fare money to my sisters. Never shed a tear, either. Oh well…
I only went to see him so I could smile as he died, unforgiven. The reality is I learned of his death on Facebook and felt, suddenly, freed. I’m with you. No tears were shed.
Me, too. Serious freedom.
Nice, about the smile.
No. I don’t. My mother had many and she suffocated, in a literal sense, under the weight of them. She’s dead and they’re all still living. Lesson learned.
I blame myself for everything so that kind of complicates revenge plots. As for the story you refer to, let’s give a hand to the Jack Russell terrier who left an identifying bite mark on the attacker’s forearm. Aren’t dogs are the best?
I sometimes have revenge fantasies, but don’t stay alongside long. Better to slip my lines and sail on.
This morning, in the dark, the birds made a great racket, then faded into a sort of conversation. There is sun now, and wind. How can I think of revenge?
No, no revenge fantasy that would cause harm to anyone lurking here. My brain just doesn’t work that way. I might get mad, I might feel put upon, (like the other day when I mentioned feeling like something to be scraped off a shoe), but those feelings don’t make me want to hurt someone. The only revenge I can think of is to see that knowing look on someone’s face, and realize there isn’t any need to even say, “see? told you so…”
I believe there is no justice,
but that cottongrass and bunchberry
grow on the mountain.
(Michael Blumenthal)
Yes
No revenge fantasies.
I’ve considered a book where a writer hangs up his shingle as a literary agent ostensibly specializing in the genre which he writes. Then whenever he gets a really standout manuscript, he kills the writer. Easier to make a living without the competition.
Agents aren’t worth killing: it’s the people who write better than I do who should die.
But would that count as revenge? Maybe vengeance. But, good grief, there is the possibility you might run out of bullets.
Nah, no revenge fantasies here. I don’t think my mind works like that to be honest. I’ve found that things I hold to come back around, do I might as well deal with them. For example, I live in the area I grew up in. So, my kids now go to school with kids of people I went to school with…and don’t you know, not a single one of those parents were the nice, friendly students in school. Half of them were bullies and the other half mean preps. But everyone seems to get along now, so I’m glad I didn’t hold grudges and revenge fantasies on any of them!
I admit to one revenge fantasy. It’s petty and shallow. And I can’t quit it. Sometimes that motherfucker sustains me.