Saying What I Said Does Not Necessarily Mean I Said What You Thought I Said. Sometimes It’s What Someone Else Surmised I Said…Just Saying

As I’m writing a novel, short story, or whatever, I attempt to make it feel as though the reader is a part of what I’m writing by being descriptive about surroundings, clothing and anything you would normally experience in day-to-day life; including dialogue–the type of which I refer to as “goofy stuff.”

I’ve now learned that make-believe people say, do, and believe the same idiotic things that us real, dad gum, true-to-life people what breathes air and everything do…things like sayings, that, although make absolutely no sense, seem to make perfect sense to a certain percentage of the living/nonliving population.

Have you ever “woken up dead?” It seems there are those who have accomplished this feat. I’m still looking for a credible occurrence but all those who claim to have risen from their slumber in this condition are too hard to understand; i.e., teeth falling out, limbs dropping off and you would not believe the smell.

Another interesting quote that I seem to hear entirely too often (in fact, I think it should become a misdemeanor) is, “I’m finding myself.” Boy, if you ain’t found yourself by now, you better stop looking. Let me give you step-by-step instructions on how to accomplish this feat.

1) Walk into the bathroom.
2) Stand in front of the mirror.
3) If your eyes are closed, open them.
4) You are officially “found.”
5) Now, get off whatever part of your body you’ve been lazing around on, get a job, and act like somebody.
6) If by chance you still cannot locate yourself, then it’s quite possible you are wasting oxygen the rest of us can use. Maybe you should consider an exploratory trip to Jupiter. I’m sure you’d have no trouble getting there.

We’re coming down the home stretch.

Wrap your head around this one, “I found it in the last place I looked.” Let’s take a moment to dissect this statement. One could say, “I looked in ten different places, then low and behold, I found it in the 3rd place I looked.” What does this statement say to you? Does it scream idiocrasy or does it imply a more insightful conclusion to this conundrum by way of tenacity?

If you’ve taken time to read the last paragraph, then know this: You have wasted a minute or so of your life that you will never get back.

I will leave you with these words of wisdom for those of you who haven’t departed for Jupiter as of yet. Live, love, laugh, linger in lucidly, lounge in leisure, listen, learn, lavish in lessons and leap into life. Just stay away from stupid stuff.

Believe It or Not, Believing What Is Deemed to be Unbelievable Nullifies All Believability

I’ve noticed a rather peculiar thought process that tends to overtake those who indulge in entertainment, i.e. books and motion pictures in the fiction realm. (This being more prevalent with the movie-goer than casual reader.)

More often than not, the entertainment buff will cross the boundary between what I like to call, “reality inferred” or “reality implied,” drifting further from the real reality we perceive ourselves to really reside in, whatever you hold the realism of that reality to be.… really!

Case in point: A man is born in a galaxy far from Earth. His planet is destroyed and his mother and father conveniently ship him to Earth. To make a long story short, after he grows and reaches adulthood, he is able to fly, send lasers from his eyes, hear a gnat decompose in Mexico while standing in London, blow out forest fires with a deep breath, and reverse the rotation of the world, sending the Earth backward in time.

During this feature presentation, you’ll hear, “Wow! Look at that! Amazing,” and maybe even a round of applause.

On the flip side, in another theater, seven shots are heard from a six shot revolver and the entire movie is deemed unbelievable.

The right-hand is watching a movie where a child is born, and the next word from your wife or girlfriend is, “That’s not a newborn.” The baby is either too big, too clean or anyone of a rash of reasons why this child is not fresh from the womb.

The left-hand is viewing a flick of a medieval warrior who jumps from a 2000-foot tall castle tower landing perfectly on his Dragon, in flight…Listen to the accolades fly!

Here is a list of honorable mentions in the theatrical world; additional scenes where we, as the movie-goer, believe the unbelievable or scoff at the most mundane of the mundane.

Two men in the middle of a confrontation, already having beaten each other with fists, chains, bats, chairs, knives, guns and rocket launchers, fall together 20 stories, landing on a car, and continue to fight.

In movies, car chases abound. I have found that most police departments are portrayed as inept in turning a steering wheel and if such were the case, should be issued Nerf pedal cars. Of course, it’s hard to defend against turbocharged exotic vehicles that can leave the ground, roll through the air, ultimately landing on their wheels while avoiding the foray.

Now for the crème de la crème:

Two young lovers awaken in the morning. Aside from their pristine look after a night of sleep, their eyes lock and with no regard to the hordes of bacteria present in their gutter mouths, they begin to imbibe each other’s morning breath.

Nuff said. Where’s the mouth wash?

Door Number 1, Number 2, Number 3, or You Can Trade for What’s Behind the Curtain. C’mon, Let’s Fake a Deal

Well, it’s June 2015, and so far, in the past four days it’s been sunny (these are daytime temperatures), near ninety degrees, overcast and in the low sixties. Today, it’s raining and cool once again. By the weekend, it’s headed for the nineties. If you don’t like the weather around here; give it twenty minutes and maybe it’ll be more to your liking.

I’m writing my blog today to get a break from the marketing work I’ve been doing for what seems like time in memorial. It’s only been a couple of weeks but any hint of sensationalism I can add to my writing always seems appropriate…hmm that gives me a thought.

Thoughts can be dangerous (especially when laid at my feet); so I think I’ll pick this one up and run.

I will make a series of observations along with random multiple choice questions that you will answer at home. When done you may send your completed papers for grading c/o this email address, along with a SASE and a check made out to cash for $24.50 USD.

We all know that marketing is the scourge of the writing experience.

Would you rather:

1.) Edit and market an eight page sixteen word children’s book?

Or
2.) Slide down a mile long razor blade into a pool of alcohol?

Answer:___

1.) Edit and market a tri-fold pamphlet on toenail care?

Or
2.) Play whack-a-mole, you being the mole, pushing your noggin in and out of your septic tank as four men with baseball bats attempt to bash your brains out?

Answer:___

1.) Edit and market a toothpick instruction manual?

Or
2.) Receive a triple root canal with no anesthesia, using an innovative technique that performs the procedure with bobbie-pins through your left ear canal?

Answer:____

And finally:

1.)  Edit and market a matchbook cover with no verbiage or symbols?

Or
2.) Repeat this quiz three consecutive days?

Answer:___

Return this quiz to me with complete payment and I will return your finished grade post haste.

All grades are final as determined by me. Absolutely, no refunds. Transcripts provided for an additional fee. No worms were hurt in the production of this document. Any resemblance to person’s alive, dead, dying or eating worms is totally coincidental and protected by the laws of the literary legal association of Lynn…all rights reserved.

If You Were Stranded on a Desert Island…That Has Nothing to Do With This Post…Just Read It

I truly enjoy writing. It’s something I am able to do every day, which in and of itself is a blessing. From the first blank page to the last page, signifying the end of the book, I am ecstatic. Even the rewrites and the edits offer a form of pleasure though I tend to gripe a bit about having to do them.

The publishing process with its: synopsis, back matter, hooks, describe your book in less than thirty words, biographies, comparisons, media press releases and an entire rash of things to do, I find masochistically enjoyable.

After that, comes the scourge of writing, the plague of pages, the bane of books, the dastardly author affliction, the single word that brings fear into the hearts of mere mortal men, but the most necessary word if there ever was one.

That word: Marketing!!!

Imagine, if you will, (I know I’ve asked this frequently during the course of this blog, so just do it) floating in the middle of a serene lake. With your cane pole, you have managed to snatch an abundance of tadpole sized fish from the water.  Aggravated there will be no fish dinner tonight, you begin to throw a tantrum to rival all tantrums. The motion of the canoe begins to send out signals that other aquatic creatures residing in the lake would interpret as one of their brethren in trouble. Then, what of all wonders would appear to assist but a twelve-foot bull-shark vaulting from the water to cleanly remove your head. This action leaves the remainder of your carcass still paddling with timed squirts of blood shooting in consistent arcs from the ravaged neck.

Such is the arduous task of…marketing.

One beautiful fall day, you hire three laborers to rake and blow the leaves that litter your lawn. The same day, you decide to wash and wax all three of your vehicles. You not only spit shine and protect the outside of your automobiles, but carry forth and do a professional detailing job on the inside. With very little light left in the day, you finish cleaning your gutters as the sun sets. Totally worn out from the day’s events, you eat dinner and turn in early. You arise, dress, and bounce outside to take a quick look at your manicured lawn and sizzling finish on your vehicles. You open the door and something strange smacks you in the face. The lawn is littered with leaves and debris, two foot deep in some places. Three huge oak trees have been uprooted and strategically placed, one on top of each vehicle. The gutters have been ripped from the house along with most of the house being ripped from the house. As you survey the damage, you find your bedroom and the hallway to the front door are all that’s left from the structure.

Needless to say, your work, curtesy of hurricane Claude the day before, went for naught. Such is the arduous task of marketing.
Having just published a novel, I am now encased in the arduous task of marketing. It’s kinda like a wedding, you know, “better or for worse,” and the real grabber, “sickness and in health,” and the one that will truly set you free from marketing, “till death do us part.”