One of my best friends introduced me to the concept of an “elevator speech.”

He is a successful executive who works at a big firm in town.  I talk to him often about the joys and miseries of teaching and writing and he explains what it’s like to work in his world (a career that actually pays a livable salary).

As he explained the idea, I began daydreaming about all I’ve “accomplished” on an elevator:

I’ve jumped up and down by myself. I’ve pushed all the buttons like Buddy the Elf. I’ve had an early morning cup of coffee, a late evening Guinness and several McDonald’s sandwiches on elevators across America. I‘ve kissed a girl, nearly had a panic-attack in a crowded elevator, hugged my kids, dusted sand off my shoes, nearly suffocated from some lady’s really strong perfume, danced to “elevator” music, and almost blacked out in a hospital elevator. Come to think of it, I have even hidden from hotel security – all on an elevator.

But, I have never, ever given a speech in an “elevator.”

I recently had a consultation with a publisher about another author.  (Yes, I rode an elevator to get there). At one point during our conversation, the acquisitions’ editor turned to me and asked, “So, what are you working on?”

This was my chance…

Read the full article at New York Minute Magazine.