Whenever I’m looking for a good laugh, I always turn to Con Chapman. He cranks out a blog or two or three a day, gets an editor’s pick and cover play every few days and never seems to notice if he gets comments or not. Yeah, it’s not fair. But you can’t deny the man’s got talent. Could be why he’d got a few books under his belt. He’s what he had to say …

I heard your real ambition in life is designing tableware, but Sarah Cihat's playful, popular line known as "Rehabilitated Dishware" has sort of intimidated you. What's your next move?   

I did a post about Tupperware coffins and deathware once.  And there's a scene in my new novel, CannaCorn, where a young couple has an argument while picking out their china and silver. I'm not saying I couldn't design tableware, but my dad owned a women's clothing store, so I tend to think more in terms of the inherent beauty and grace of a size 6 female trying to squeeze into a size 4 dress while my sister, a salesgirl, stifles a laugh.

Ever wonder what you'd be doing now if you weren't hanging out on Rosario Dawson's stoop that day in 1995?  

I'm back--I had to go to the internet to find out who Rosario Dawson is.  You must be thinking of Debbie Bribiesca, the hot Mexican girl who I foolishly declined to help with her homework in high school.  "But . . . quadratic equations--these are the language of love!"

Rumor has it, you really don't give a rat's ass about the Red Sox, Yankees or the colors of the uniforms, and you only wrote "Year of the Gerbil ..blahblah" because you knew it would sell books. Care to explain?

I grew up a St. Louis Cardinals fans, and knew nothing about the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry until I moved east.  Then I'd witness New York-Boston arguments at parties and, like my favorite boyhood saint, Don Bosco (not the chocolate drink) would step in to keep the peace.  "Guys, guys," I'd say.  "Why are you fighting?  The Cardinals beat you both!"  

I self-published Year of the Gerbil, back in the days when self-publishing was expensive, but it was worth it.  Like many writers starting out, I faced the usual paradoxes: You can't get the attention of publishers without an agent, and you can't get an agent without having published something.  And you can't get print editors to look at your stuff without publishing credits, but you won't get any credits if they won't look at your stuff.  Through relentless self-marketing, I managed to get the book reviewed, and it has achieved a certain modest status--it is now included on a list of essential books about the Red Sox.
 
    I became a Red Sox fan a few years before the '78 season that is covered by the book, and followed them closely that summer because I had a government job and, uh, a lot of time on my hands.  They did to me that year what they used to do to all their fans back then--borrow your heart in the spring and return it to you in October, all mangled and crushed.  I noticed that there were tons of books about both the Yankees and the Red Sox, so there was a market, but nobody was writing about '78.  Why?  Because Yankee fans didn't care--it was just another year in which they won the World Series, and the Red Sox were an appetizer they ate on their way to the entree of the World Series.  And Red Sox fans couldn't stand the pain of the season--the team had been up by 14 games at the All-Star break, and blew it.  So the opening was there.


You're a white, nerdy lawyer who lives in the 'burbs. Did you start writing to get the hipster thing going to attract chicks?   

If I did, I've failed miserably.  I write nerdy stuff too--public policy papers, usually on K-12 education.  If there are chicks out there who dig footnotes, I must be using the wrong after-shave because I don't hear from them, unless they're the ones who send multiple messages to my OS inbox saying "Hi--I saw your profile on OS and thinks we could make some dreamy loves together anytimes."  

One thing I've learned about writing is, to use a country expression from my boyhood, any stick to beat a dog.   I'll take just about any assignment, and I pitch stories to magazines you've never heard of.  Snow-Plow Pro.  Full Cry: The Coon and Tree Hound Hunter's Bible.  Corrugated Metals Monthly.  High-toned rags like that.    

You have this odd avatar, and yet, a certain ... mojo comes through. It's the writing thing? Or the lawyer thing? Or your tableware design skills?  

The avatar is the poster for a musical comedy, "We Met the Space People", which I will be recording next week with three professional singers.  It's an ugly-duckling story of two WASPy high school girls who fall for two Italian boys who claim to be space aliens.  It is--amazingly enough--based on an actual account by two delusional high school girls in the '50's.  (I spend a fair amount of time in used book stores, going through the Abduction, Alien section.)  When the CD is recorded, I will submit it to the Bad Musical Festival in New York, which I've come oh-so-close to winning before.
 
Why did you make Grandmaster Flash scratch records in his kitchen? Oh, wait. wrong interview .... but do you have an opinion as to *why* someone had him do this?   

I find rappers to be an inexhaustible source of comic possibilities.  I succeeded in publishing one collection of rap humor--an oxymoron if ever there was one--on Amazon Shorts, "Our Friends the Rappers!"  And Yankee Pot Roast, an excellent on-line humor magazine, published two of my rap pieces, "Hip-Hop Lit: New and Noteworthy" and "Flavor of Law".  I should add that they didn't actually pay me for them, but . . .

Do you ever look in the mirror and think "damn I look good!"?   

The last time I felt that way was in 1967.  Then my high school girlfriend dumped me for a college guy, starting a four-decade period of soul-searching.  Now the only time I say that is if it's followed by the words " . . . compared to Christopher Lloyd."

If there was a gun to your head, who would you sleep with: Wayne or Garth?

I'll take the gun.

 What's the biggest internal crisis facing you right now?  

 I had mussels on toast last night.

Do you pick your writing subjects or do they pick you?   

They usually pick me.  If I break out laughing at something I read in the newspaper on the morning train, I try to do a post about it while I'm having my coffee.  On the other hand, I try to stay away from topics that everybody else is jumping on, like AIG or Bernie Madoff.  One editor who I send op-ed pieces to says she has to plow through about 70 submissions every morning--usually 35 saying Obama walks on water, 35 saying Obama's a bum, or whatever the hot topic du jour is.  She wants something that's local, with a different angle, and that's what I try to write for her.
 
You're published, a lawyer, the wife, family, mansion and the yacht ... What does the OS blog experience give you?   

I was directed here by someone at another site, where they give you little points you can trade in at Borders and Home Depot.  My attitude is I only want to write for pay, so it's a good question.  There are a lot of good writers on this site, and they give you good comments.  Other writers' sites I've been on tend to degenerate into social networking after a while.  Nothing wrong with that, but I'm not looking for sweet potato and miniature marshmallow recipes.

How long does it take you to bang out an OS blog?   

About ten minutes--five if the wind's at my back.