Sloane Crosley
Brookline Booksmith
Tuesday, April 15
7:00 pm, free

Sloane Crosley is a city dweller with a sharp wit who can make the most ordinary incidents, like trips to summer camp or moving, absolutely hilarious. Her essay collection, I Was Told There'd Be Cake, starts off with her unusual pony collection and takes the reader through a history of bitchy bosses, friends with gastrointestinal distress, and bridesmaid surprises. Bostonist grilled her for how she manages to make the everyday absolutely hilarious.

1. Your essay about getting locked out of two apartments in a day while moving was born from an e-mail. So, when you write, do you imagine that you're writing to a specific person? If not, what is your particular technique for getting the tone of an essay right?

True, that essay was from an e-mail but I had been writing long before that. And when I did, I liked to imagine that someone out there would be reading what I wrote. It’s kind of an insurance policy to help keep you from prattling aimlessly. I envision a kind of collective readership….but not a specific person. Because then I find I start tailoring my tone to please this made-up personality.

2. You're pretty open about moments of embarrassment, or potential awkwardness. Is there anything you've learned from bouncing back after a particularly mortifying moment, or does writing about it do the trick?

Writing about it certainly helps the mind wrap around what happened. A lot of the funnier disappointments in the book come from the clash between wanting to do the right thing and not being able to execute the right thing. I’ve certainly learned that there’s no point in trying to select a manner of being. Whatever feels natural will fight its way out eventually. That’s basically the premise for every episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, to give you a concrete example.

More after the jump! Promotional image of Crosley.

3. Vanity Fair did a cover story complete with glamorous photo touting that women are funny, as if we didn't already know. It was in response to a Hitchens essay saying women aren't funny. Now, you're obviously a funny person who also happens to be female--where do you think that attitude comes from? And why is it that some male writers seem a little threatened by funny women?

I think it has a lot to do with underwear. When women wear men’s boxers, it’s sexy. When men wear women’s underwear, it’s Silence of the Lambs. Humor is not dissimilar. There’s this notion out there that women either write about things that are funny to other women (see: don’t you just hate it when your lipstick gets on your Virginia Slim? Ha!) and that it’s merely cute when they “try on” male humor (see also: that feature in a national men’s magazine, “funny joke from a beautiful woman”). Humor itself isn’t actually male at all. Men don’t have a monopoly on irony and slapstick. But it’s still more acceptable for them to put themselves further out there. Therefore I don’t look at Will Farrell and think “he’s kind of funny for a guy.” Certainly it’s not as definitive as all this. Everyone’s been the life of the party one night and the one no one listens to – whose jokes get stolen by the louder popular kid – the next night.

4. Speaking of funny moments in your book ... someone left a turd on your carpet. I can't believe you were so scientific and rational about the incident. Has anyone called you to 'fess up?

Nope. I purposely left it vague. Just to ruin it for you, I now don’t think any of them would actually leave a turd on my floor. If I went out onto the street right now, I doubt I could find a likely suspect, never mind some college friends I let into my home on purpose. I think it must have been dragged in from the outside. But it was so perfectly preserved, form-wise, I couldn’t get over it….I hope none’s eating while they’re reading this.

5. Many of the stories in your book revolve around friends who have become strangers over time, particularly the one in which you are called upon to be bridesmaid for a woman you haven't seen in ages. Have any of your friends called up to stay in touch? And, in your opinion, is it ever truly possible to have a BFF, or is a BFF a rotating cast of characters by necessity?

I have lots – or, well, the normal amount – of friends who I’ve kept in touch with over the years. Some of whom are mentioned in the essays. I say “normal” because, regardless of personality type, we’re all getting busier and more obligated and I’m sure there’s some cliché about having to make more choices as you get older. And if there is, it’s very true. But I’m a very nostalgic person by nature. One of my best friends from 7th grade moved away when we hit high school and the other day I Googled her, trying to track her down. For what? Was I going to call her? Probably not. But I do think people leave an indelible mark on me and take up a frightening amount of space in my head. Maybe that’s why I write them down.

6. Since you're writing about your own experiences, do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and wish you could just grab all the copies and destroy them? Are there ever any times that you just want to take it back?

Ha. Indeed. For specific essays, especially. But then I remember two things: 1) knowing me, I’d set off the smoke detector and 2) if there’s a harsh or embarrassing edge to a couple of them, that’s just it – it’s the edge of something much larger and (hopefully) never admission or cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

7. Now that you are a publicist who is being publicized as a "popular publicist" (phew), how is the day job? How do you split the work time and the writing time? And how do you handle criticism that you might be getting it easier because you already know the ropes of the business?

It’s busy, of course, but I still love what I’m doing. And yes, working with amazing authors over the years helped me garner some of the blurbs on the book, but it’s not different than if I had gone to an MFA program. I don’t particularly feel the need to defend myself because I work in publishing. For one thing, I know that’s not how I got the book deal. No one read one of my pitch letters and send me a book contract in the mail. Though that would have been pretty sweet and I would have gladly accepted. Then there’s the fact that behind the criticism is an actual book that one can buy and read and enjoy or not enjoy. If it completely bombs, well, I suppose that will be an excellent means of finding out if the world I live in has merely been humoring me.