There are so many selfless acts I've committed, it's hard to choose one. If pressed, I'd put forth my coming through for Elise, a fellow writer during November Novel Writing Month. 50000 words were needed and she was stuck at 10000. Knowing how prolific I am, she begged me to intercede and finish her novel. 40000 words in ten days is nothing to you, she exclaimed. I was flattered to be sure, even preening a bit.
Another man might have taken advantage of the situation, but I have a strict moral code. Rather than demand something salacious in return, I patted her shoulder and assured her I'd get right to work on it.
She was so grateful she threw me onto her kitchen table and ripped off my shirt. For the next half hour I received 40000 words worth of proof reading and copy editing between gasps and moans. Yes, she edited me to howling. The novel itself was crap, but what do you expect? The first 10000 words were hers and, even for me, that was too much to overcome.
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