Margaret Atwood on mortification

From Curious Pursuits:

(Atwood's US publisher arranges for her to get on an American talk show.) It was an afternoon show, which in those days--could it have been the late seventies?--meant variety. It was the sort of show at which they played pop music, and then you were supposed to sashay through a bead curtain, carrying your trained koala bear, or Japanese flower arrangement, or book.

I waited behind the bead curtain. There was an act on before me. It was a group from the Colostomy Association, who were talking about their colostomies, and about how to use the colostomy bag.

I knew I was doomed. No book could ever be that riveting.

WC Fields vowed never to share the stage with a child or a dog; I can add to that, "Never follow the Colostomy Association." (Or any other thing having to do with frightening bodily items, such as the port-wine-stain removal technique that once preceded me in Australia.) The problem is, you lose all interest in yourself and your so-called 'work'--'What did you say your name was? And tell us the plot of your book, just in a couple of sentences, please'--so immersed are you in picturing the gruesome intricacies of...but never mind.