Rachel Manteuffel is a writer of upsetting talent. She's also a good actor. We met when I interviewed her a few years ago for a video I made about a play she was in. But I was already a fan of her writing then. That's the gift she has that I actually resent and feel threatened by.
My only consolation is the knowledge -- because we're friends, you see; we talk -- that her brilliance is not extempore. She works very, very hard to be this good. She earns it.
...and then she sends you a dashed off, steam-of-consciousness e-mail that's funnier than anything you've ever flushed away a weekend sweating over.
Including YOUR MOM. By which I mean your mom, obviously.
I have never met Rachel's mom nor has she met mine. But we have each made spectacularly vulgar claims and assertions to one another, mommawise.
Rachel and I enjoy the same kinds of jokes. So why can't I write like this?