Lobsters Invade the Nation's Capital

This week I was in Washington D.C. at my alma mater the Sidwell Friends School. Sidwell had invited me to be the school's guest speaker for National Library Week. (Haven't heard of it? Neither had I.)

I visited classes and addressed the high-school student body in the auditorium. I tried to give the students a sense of what's involved in writing a book, and what it takes to get to that point in life, and what one can expect from a career as a writer. Basically, I told them that if they ever found themselves writing personal essay or memoir before the age of fifty, they should tear it up, burn the shreds, and go get a job as a newspaper reporter on the police beat.

Peek-a-boo.
(photo: Trevor Corson)

Throughout my talk, I sprinkled my comments with as many lobster-sex jokes as possible. That seemed to keep them awake. I had given a similar lecture to high-school students at my other alma mater in the Washington area, the Potomac School, a few weeks earlier, and the tactic seemed to work.

To help promote the event at Sidwell, the school's librarian -- bless her heart -- had created an entire army of tiny, fuzzy, stuffed-animal lobsters, each reading a tiny copy of my book, grasped between its claws. The little lobsters were sprinkled around the school beforehand, including one in each faculty member's mailbox (wish I had a picture of that).

Dang, I don't usually go in for cute, but them things is freakin' cute. Got one sitting on my desk right now.