Writing won't get me chicks - or will it?

I'm a week or so behind on posting this; it must've gotten lost underneath all the snow. (And as a result, I'm not sure the link works anymore. Sorry about that.)

Yet again, I'm reminded I'm not nearly as smart as I think I am. Another scheme has been foiled - again. (Curses!) Curtis Sittenfeld, a Iowa Writers Workshop alum (who's written some great essays for Salon) with a novel on the way, exposes the true, shallow agenda for many of us writers:

"...they had become writers in order to attract women. I believe the word they used was 'babes,' as in, I'm in it for the babes."

Well, yeah. I mean, why else do a book tour? To sell books? Oh, I suppose. But whenever an author of any acclaim visits Iowa City for a reading, I wonder if he is hoping to score with young, nubile college girls. (And notice I said "he," not "she." As Sittenfeld also writes, "has any woman writer -- ever, anywhere -- had a groupie?") Hell, that's why I went back to school...

But the essay reminded me of something I should work on this semester, besides putting together portfolios, and sending out clips, resumes, and cover letters: My look. Apparently, the "slobby-cool aesthetic" is in vogue; "the slacker rock star literary guy who shows up in his AC/DC shirt and hasn't washed in a couple days," according to Sittenfeld. I think I can pull that off. Though I'm more of the "prefers to wash regularly and still dresses like a 12-year old - or acts like one when he is forced to wear a suit and tie" image.