I don’t know if he called me or I called him, but there was no doubt I was on the phone with Bob Garfield. We were discussing something I had written that he was going to publish. The conversation was light and full of banter, like we were old friends, but I was walking a nervous line: trying to impress him without seeming to.
There was an editor there, too (you know how space and time collapse in dreams? Bob was on the phone and the editor was with me, and yet the editor was speaking to Bob, and not through a phone). She offered wink-wink assurances that my piece would be thoroughly scrubbed of the amateurism is inevitably contained. She was mean.
Some wins are also losses. Even in dreams.