Today's interviewee is a kickass friend of mine who has a kickass new book of essays out with Curbside Splendor titled Once I Was Cool, which has received praise from wonderful writers like Roxane Gay, Joe Meno, Elizabeth Crane, Gina Frangello and Samantha Irby. She is the Literary Director of the amazing reading series 2nd Story (which you should make a point of checking out: it's a legit show, and not a ragtag bunch of kids drunkenly reading blog posts in a bar next to where the city keeps the garbage trucks, unlike some readings I know.) She's also a staff writer for Paper Machete, another wonderful show (and a great reason to go to the legendary Green Mill.) Her fiction and essays have appeared  in The Best American Essays 2013, The Rumpus, Other Voices,  and elsewhere. She teaches writing and performance at Columbia College and The University of Chicago. And an answer she gave me below totally changed the way I think about projects I get invited to particpate in. If you ever have the chance to introduce yourself to Megan, you should, because she's got an intense, positive, creative energy that you just want to bottle up and drink. You can find out lots more about her here.

Flashing forward a decade or two from now, how do you think you'll describe Once I Was Cool in the grand scheme of your life? IE "That's the book I wrote while _____ and was very  much thinking about ______"?
"That's the book I wrote while sitting on the bathroom floor with my laptop balanced precariously on the toilet and was very much thinking about selling my eggs to pay our mortgage but then I typed 'selling eggs' into Google and saw that the peak age is like twenty-four and omg the whole world is stacked against women over the age of thirty I HATE EVERYTHING UGH."

What is some of the most common input you give to the readers at 2nd Story?
I have nine hundred different ways of saying, "Why should this matter to anyone besides you?"

What's so great about Webster's Wine Bar (2nd Story's primary home) as a literary venue? And what should people order there?
The intimacy, for sure. It's like you're hanging out in someone's living room with a hundred new best friends. By the end of the night, everyone has shared this experience together, and they're sitting down at each other's tables, introducing themselves and telling stories. It never ceases to amaze me.

The 2011 Bele Casel Col Fondo Prosecco is my jam.

What are some of the most important things you've learned about how to keep your head above water (let alone actually be creative) when you balance a variety of jobs and a marriage and a kid and also you're creative?
Right now, my head is not above water whatsoever. If that changes, I'll get back to you.

You used to work in high-end restaurants. What are your longest-lasting memories from those experiences? What did you learn that helped you later in life? (I know that I learned more real-world lessons when I waitressed than at many desk jobs I've held.)
Several of the people that I worked with remain, to this day, my dearest friends, and the job itself gave me an opportunity to support myself while I figured out what the hell I was doing. I was able to take writing and teaching jobs that paid little or nothing and really learn my craft, as both an artist and an educator. My rent and student loans and IRA and out-of-pocket health insurance were all paid for by very delicious, very fancy pancakes.

What I learned that continues to help me? Be a decent human being.

Who, to you, is cool--right this second?
A student of mine named Bronte Price and her collaborators at The New Lens Project, which uses photography to give voice to survivors of sex trafficking. I just went to their opening exhibition and it blew my mind.

What are a few things you've said "no" to lately?
I'm trying to be thoughtful about participating in things that count diversity among its goals, which for me means saying, when I'm invited to be part of the line-up at a reading or contribute to a publication: "Wow, thank you for thinking of me! I'm trying to be thoughtful about participating in things that count diversity among its goals, and I'd love to ask about the other collaborators involved in this project insofar as gender, race, orientation, background, etc." I'm also trying to pay attention to the tables of contents of publications that I subscribe to, the creative decisions made at theatrical and storytelling events where I purchase tickets, and the casting decisions for the television and films I watch. For example: I canceled some subscriptions after the VIDA count came out. I've said no thanks to some commissions that aren't prioritizing a diverse contributor list, and I'm asking these questions about reading line-ups and panel participants. I'm interested in publications and productions that are representing the human experience as truthfully possible and I'm trying to take a really hard look at the part I play in that, both artistically and as a paying audience member. I still have a long way to go, but I'm trying to think of diversity as an active practice as opposed to a talking point, and I wonder how things might be different if everyone who's part of a privileged identity group--white, straight, male, etc.--asked that same question when they're invited to perform or publish or present.

What's both a compliment and a criticism (personal, creative, whatever) that somebody once told you that you've never been able to forget?
That my work makes people feel optimistic.

That my work is too optimistic.

What do you think are the biggest misconceptions about life as a creative person?
That it comes out perfectly the first time.

What do you think is the best, most valuable way you waste time? What is the worst?
Best: Orphan Black, Broad City, Scandal (#teamshonda), Fargo, Walking Dead, The Wire, American Horror Story: Coven, 24, Buffy, House of Cards, True Blood, Homeland, Orange is the New Black, Veep, Arrested Development, Alias, 30 Rock, Game of Thrones, BSG, and The Vampire Diaries, although I think of this less as "wasting time" and more as "awesome."

Worst: Sitting in meetings that don't accomplish anything.

What are you looking forward to this summer?
In the summer, I put ice in my bourbon.

I try to be inspired but sometimes I'm just jealous of the fact that you seem to be full of a great deal of positivity and enthusiasm for writing and life in general. So please tell me, what's something that's made you cranky lately?
Oh my fucking god. I don't even know where to start with my inbox. I open it, look at the number of unread/unanswered and back away slowly, as if the laptop were a bomb. It's my own fault; I took on too much and I'm dropping balls which makes me feel guilty and I hate guilt, fuck guilt, fuck "have it all" and "lean in" and "opt out" and all those op-eds about being a woman in 2014. Op-eds make me cranky. Spam makes me cranky. The words "annual" and "report" used in close proximity--that makes me cranky. And this morning I wanted a bagel but I didn't get one because I am trying to lose weight--again--still--always--and I am pissed off at egg whites. I am pissed off at salad. I am pissed off at myself for putting myself through this--again--still--always--and I have to do the dishes and I have to go to the doctor and I have to find the perfect summer camp for my six-year-old and this morning I was thinking I should take a snow day or something to get everything done which is hi-fucking-larious 'cause we had like nine hundred snow days this past winter which frustrated the living hell out of me because where are the kids supposed to go if both parents have to work? or if there's only one parent? but of course the schools should be closed 'cause kids shouldn't be out in that kind of cold and what praytell is the solution? Some things don't have solutions, or else, before there can be a solution, bigger shit needs to get solved. Putting a Band-Aid on something that needs a total systematic overhaul?--that makes me cranky (wassup, American Education System? How you doin'?) Also, while we're talking about the cold--were we talking about the cold? I think we were--in Chicago we're having polar vortexes and my five-year-old niece in Fairbanks, Alaska, had to stay home from school because it's too warm. It's usually like forty below up there, and this past winter is was forty above, and all the ice melted; the region was, like, flooding; and it's like, forget cranky, that scares the living shit out of me. Also, while we're talking about identity theft--were we talking about identity theft? I don't remember--I'm cranky that somebody walked into a bank in Northern Michigan and cleaned out my savings account while my family and I were watching The Lego Movie, and I'm cranky at all of the paperwork and new accounts and being on hold and being on hold and being on hold that it's taken to sort that shit out but at the end of the day?--when my kid is safe in bed, and I have a glass of wine or two or five--it's like, Look. It's fine. We'll be fine. We're fine. Cranky is an inconvenience, not a catastrophe, and I'll save my strength for the real battles

How does it feel to be the 386th person interviewed for Zulkey.com?