So it's Friday afternoon and the workday is over, and maybe you're heading out tonight to do something fabulous, yes? Although chances are just as good it's been a long, cranky workweek and all you really want to do is slink home, order pizza, get the kids in the tub early, and strongly hint to everyone that they stay out of your way. Yes?

There is a happy medium, however. You could fix a nice plate of the best leftovers in the fridge, pour a glass of something you like, and sit down with some seriously smart, funny, inspiring writers while they talk about what they do and why they do it. And you don't even have to get dressed. For company around your virtual table this Friday night, may I suggest Deborah Eisenberg, courtesy of Tin House, Dan Chaon via the Rumpus, and speaking of which, go ahead and pull out a chair for Rumpus editor Stephen Elliott.

The interview with Eisenberg, who is now an official genius, is two years old but no less immediate for the time gap, and includes one of the best descriptions of quitting smoking I've ever read: "I was thirty. I’d been smoking since I was fifteen. By that time I was a very heavy smoker, and I loved it, I loved every cigarette I ever had in my life. I can practically remember their names. Stopping was like a death. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop by exercising my willpower, so I made it non-negotiable."

Chaon discusses artifice, plot, and the writing of his wonderful Await Your Reply (which you should have on hand to read after everyone goes home), including the definition of a traditional Dan Chaon story ("You know, sad people from the Midwest who are disturbed in some sort of existential way") and a truly fine playlist.

Elliott's "Why I Write," originally printed in Canteen, hits a lot of good points with his usual candor. In the end, I think, it comes down to this — for Elliott and probably for most of us as well: "Time spent focusing on art is a privilege and a gift. The writing doesn’t make me happy, but it makes me happier, and it makes everything else easier to take." (I'm sorry Like Fire wasn't born yet when The Adderall Diaries Lending Library was circulating, but I'm looking forward to reading it as a civilian.)

You could do worse for good company on a Friday night — there's no need for the fancy napkins, and you won't end up with a bunch of dirty dishes. And no matter how much everybody drinks, they'll all go home when you want them to.

(The photo is of Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party, another excellent place to meet some movers and shakers)