Through the years I've had some strange requests (from publishers, media, etc.) but perhaps none as odd as just a few weeks ago. I'd received a call from an editor who wanted to interview me for a magazine, and in order to prepare for my upcoming conversation, I sent him a complimentary copy of my book.
Days passed.
And then one afternoon he called to set up a time for our book rap. We conversed for a few minutes about the book, about writing and so forth, and then the editor popped the question: "Could you help me pay a bill?"
At first I thought he was joking, or setting me up for a butt-slap over the telephone, but then I realized he was as serious as a midwife during birth. He sallied-forth with his request for cash or a credit card number through the mail and I listened, almost disbelieving. I declined, but then began thinking about all of the possibilities.
Perhaps I was being scammed. Was the magazine real? Was the editor, indeed, an editor? And was this the person I was talking to? Or was I engaged in some type of identity-theft attempt? And here's the biggest question: Who, if I was being scammed, would go to all the trouble of calling someone like me who lives on black licorice and eats his meals out of a can?
After the conversation I did some investigation. I first watched an old episode of Hawaii 50 to get into the mood, and then I watched a show from the first season of Mannix in order to know how private investigators worked. And then I put on my Private Eye goggles and began calling up people and sending out emails to people who owed me favors and who could do some digging.
As it turns out, everything was legit . . . which makes this conversation all the more bizarre. An editor wanting a writer to pay a bill. This was a first for me. But I'm glad I had the experience. It gives me something to post on my blog. And listen, my life is so bizarre, I can't make this stuff up!
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