Writers could kick-box their computers into producing critically praised, commercial fiction
Donna Tartt could be thrown into a cage with Jonathan Franzen, and only one of them would survive, in order to write a think piece about white-collar violence for the Times op-ed page
It would be completely legal for poets to slam out a stanza using only their bleeding foreheads
Joyce Carol Oates would write her next book wearing only satin trunks and a tattoo, which would cover her entire back, reading Fuck Grammar
JK Rowling would go one-on-one with Stephen King, in a ring filled with mud, with their hands roped behind their backs, and they would both win, because of their movie deals alone
Twenty starving authors would arm-wrestle, for the prize of becoming the next ghostwriter for Tom Clancy’s corpse
If any of these ideas were broadcast on cable, all of the other writers would refuse to watch, but then they’d call their agents and ask, “Can you get me a match with Jonathan Lethem?”
