There is a distinct difference, isn’t there.
Can’t you be an author of poems. In which case, couldn’t you be called author? for writing a poem? Perhaps some kind of trades description caveat fires up its engines here.
Imagine the furore: a member of the public nears your stall, above which reads the word “author” in an appropriate font. Your business cards have author and your name, email, snail mail, landline and cell.
A dotted line is presented by one of you. The member of the public signs. You sign. Barbed wire balanced on Morse Code.
Employed as “author”, you arrive at the address they sent you on a postcard with a Surrealist photographic masterpiece on the front. I wont tell you which, but it is all in keeping with the flow of things.
You push open the 20ft black iron doors and ascend the marble staircase to you room. A septuagenarian sits at a table with nothing on it at the foot of the stairs. In your room, you lean against the oval window and look down on a metropolis. The citizens living furiously.
Bell rings. Door opens. A management team and owners enter for a preliminary meeting. More, unexplained members of staff join through the open door; probably, just to get out of work in other rooms.
The team asks for a short story. You explain you’re a poet, but that a sequence – but not a sonnet sequence, as you’re not that sort of poet – could be do-able.
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