Author Interview
We, a major magazine and definitely not the figment of Stephanie Block’s imagination, finally tracked down author Stephanie Block. She wouldn’t take any of our calls, so we contacted her sorta boyfriend who kind of blew it with her and told him we were Vanity Fair. Why were we so desperate? I guess it was a slow week. Matt told us that she works out every Monday and Wednesday with her trainer, though he warned us that he was also her legal counsel, so if we misrepresented her in any way, he might sue. Great. We were already impersonating a real magazine.
The 24 Hour Fitness in the Marina district of San Francisco is smallish and a little smelly, but Stephanie goes for the wisdom of her long-time trainer, Brooklyn Garambullo. We found them on the weight machines, Stephanie kvetching about the extra weight Brooklyn had just added to the leg press, and Brooklyn reminding her that men tend to do your bidding if you have really strong inner thighs.
Us: Stephanie, have you always known that you wanted to be a writer?
Her, grunting a very feminine, high-pitched protest to the now 8 pounds of resistance: I didn’t say you could call me Stephanie.
Us: I’m sorry. Can I call you Stephanie?
Her: Whatever. I’m not too particular about that kind of thing.
Us: So, did you always want to be a writer?
Her: No, I struggled with what I wanted to be until fourth grade. I think the turning point came when Mrs. Vaughan told me that my story was so good that she was going to read it to the entire class. [I have to do another set?? Aren’t we sadistic today…] I liked all the attention and jealous scowls.
Us, following them to the stretching area: What is the inspiration for all your dark tales of humanity?
Her: Dark? I thought I wrote comedy and light satire. [Brooklyn, I can’t do abs today- I have really bad cramps.]
Us: No, you write dark tales of everyday life.
Her: Good to know. Well, bad things seem to happen to me and my friends all the time. We get thrown off airplanes; we get the humane society investigating our enthusiastic dogs. We take up with men who even Courtney Love would be like, woa. That guy’s really messed up. And we order custom-built futons that won’t fold open.
Us: Are your characters based on people in real life?
Her: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, look! Someone’s landing one of those Neiman Marcus zeppelins right outside!
Us: What? Where?
Her: Oh, my mistake.
Us: We notice some of our question cards missing from the table in front of us.
Us: Who has influenced you the most, do you think?
Her: [Who’s he? Damn… We can check off two sets of Kegels, Brooklyn.] I think Christina Aguillera, or Xtina as she likes to be called. She taught me that even though you might be a way more talented artist, that there’s always someone out there willing to use sex to ply their inferior trade. I’ve been looking into how I can make sex work for me. Also Paris Hilton. She taught me that it’s okay not to understand the diabolical agendas of evil conglomerates like Wal-Mart. What do they sell? The walls that keep us in cages while they take over the world.
Us: Do you love what you do?
Her: I guess. What I really wanted was to join the Justice League, marry Superman, and become friends with Lady Amalthea, the last unicorn. But writing’s okay, too.
Us: What would you tell writers out there eager to get famous or published?
Her, jump roping now, backwards, forwards, even criss-cross, reminding us of Rocky in pigtails: I would say do something else. There’s not really enough room for all of us at the top, and I gotta look out for number one. That’s ichiban in Japanese.
We thank her for her time, and Brooklyn too, who mentions that we could stand to lose a few pounds. She gives us her card.