"Now go write and stop fucking around"

Sitting up here at now 5:00am in the morning, the somber, but cavernous voice of the late, great Raymond Carver, is bouncing off the padded walls of my mind. Why you ask? Well, as it often happens when I'm up this early, my memories tend to start clicking in like a freakin' digital camera gone haywire. Fortunately, I'm rarely awake at this hour, or I'd go nuts. Anyway, the last thing I said to Raymond Carver, over 20 years ago, as I sat in his office, the recipient of a vicious tongue lashing, was, "Mr. Carver you are without a doubt, the saddest looking man I've ever met." He looked at me, and said, "Ms so and so, that's the only thing you've said this entire meeting that made any sense. Now go write and stop fucking around." I left, but I switch to music. 30 years later, I stopped fucking around.