David Wolkowsky hosted his annual downtown rooftop party to celebrate the start of the Key West Literary Seminar. This year’s fete was in honor of poet Billy Collins. Only for my dear friend David would I make the monumental effort to dress like an actual grownup. I’ll confess I toppled in my high heels.
Again, only for David, would I break with my commitment to fiction, or ‘friction’, as I prefer to call it. So when David asked me to pen a piece about his friend Floy Vance Thompson, I agreed.
‘You know I don’t write ‘serious’?’ At any rate, I wrote up the piece and sent it in to the New Yorker of Key West aka Konk Life. The Editor received the following letter.
So I was acutely aware of just how badly I had bungled the details, because obviously Floy did not marry a dead man.
But then things got far scarier, when, at David’s party everyone present was an old friend of Floy Thompson, and had read my article. I was accosted by that small throng of elite conchs from old Key West families, the ones with streets named after them. They railed at me and my gross disregard for the truth in my story on Floy.
I had no defense. Facts and I, what can I say, we are not on the same page.
But I stood my ground, I said, ‘Please forgive me! You are all correct. I messed up. But I hope the essence of Floy was conveyed. I’ll return now to fiction. Glad to know the locals read Konk Life!!!
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