At a very early age I was told, “The only stupid questions are the ones that aren’t asked.” I can’t recall which one of my elementary school teachers shared this bit of wisdom with me, but it stuck. For years I even believed it, shared it with my own sons when they were little. I wanted my boys to be inquisitive, to ask questions about the world around them, to broaden their knowledge base. I let them know that asking questions about things we don’t know or understand is how we learn.

This belief continued to thrive once I started writing seriously. We writers tend to be inquisitive creatures. We’re always asking questions, the biggest being “What if…?” I don’t think I’ve written a book that wasn’t born because of “What if…?” And then one day, everything changed.

Oh, I still ask “What if…?” It’s the birth of all my books, after all. But much as I try to understand, I just can’t figure out what makes people think they can ask writers stupid questions? You’d think this wouldn’t be an issue. More of a quid pro quo. But alas, this is not the case. And the questions writers are often asked are stupid questions, because they are ones that shouldn’t be asked. Why? Well, because the questions can sometimes just be plain ol’ rude or even obnoxious.

All too often I’m left speechless but will eventually mumble some sort of response. Of course those responses are never what I really wanted to say, becuase, well, it would just be plain ol’ rude. Those pithy, “wish I would’ve said…” responses sometimes do come to me, unfortunately it’s usually hours later when they appear out of the ether.

I understand that people are curious, and you know the difference between someone who is sincere and someone who is just being rude. Those who are sincere deserve sincere answers. There’s a difference, too, in someone asking if you can make a living as a writer and someone who asks you point blank how much money you make. Not enough, is usually my answer. But what do you say when someone asks, “Why don’t you publish your books in hardcover, you’d make more money?” This was what a bookseller said to one of my friends. Hello?

Writing steamier romance novels can really bring out the jerks, too. I’ve had them show up at booksignings, which can be fairly common. It’s worse when they won’t leave, too! Once when we were in the market for a new car, the salesman found out what I do for a living. It took him less than five seconds to slip into the rude zone. I suppose he thought he was being funny, but I was offended when he asked with a sleazy leer, how I go about researching the love scenes. Oh, how I do wish I could’ve spouted the response of one of my friends, “I write naked and my vibrator is my critique partner.” I’m really going to try to remember that one for future use.

The rude zone is all over the place and I’m tired of being unarmed when I inadvertently walk into it. So I did what any self-respecting girl would do, I went to my friends for advice. To protect the sisterhood, names have been withheld, but the next time some moron hits you up with a rude or stupid question, here are some of their “wish I’d said” responses when they’d been cornered in the rude zone:

Q: Oh, you really write those bodice rippers?
A: Yes, but I’m a penis ripper at heart.

Q: Did you know you’re going to hell for writing this filth?
A: Well the bad news about that is I’ll be sharing external damnation with judgmental people.
A: I’ll be sharing eternal damnation with those who spurned God’s gift to humanity of sexual satisfaction.

Q: Why don’t you make your book into a movie?
A: Why don’t you front me $100 million dollars?
A: Spielberg’s booked.

Q: How much do you pay to have them published?
A: What planet did you say you were from?

What do you do when you come face to face with rudeness? Are you one of the lucky ones that come up with a pithy response or do constantly have a V-8, head smacking moment hours or days later? What do you say when someone asks you (fill in the blank)? Share your widsom. I need ammo.