Contact

Over the weekend, while watching some of the exciting NCAA men's BB games, I began making a comprehensive list of my editorial contacts at magazines and publishers. I was astounded. I know more editors "inside" the publishing industry than I first believed.

It was like finding a little black "date" book full of names, addresses and phone numbers of the women I used to date.

(Actually, I never had a little black "date" book full of names. Becky was the only woman for me and the only one I ever actually dated. My "date" book would have been blank, except for some doodles of Becky that I would have drawn on the inside cover. Becky can confirm this in case you have questions about my imaginary "date" book.)

Of course, after I had completed my list of editorial contacts, I had to contact some of them. I did. And lo and behold, I actually received an email yesterday from an editor who immediately accepted one of my satirical pieces for publication. "I love your stuff," he wrote. "Wish you would contact me more often. Call me."

This is exactly what all of those women would have told me before I was married. If had dated them.