BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

This blog is really about nothing. This is not to say that any of my previous blogs have been about something, however, this particular running off at the keys is pretty much about more nothing than any of the previous nothings… Or somethings… Or nothi-somethings… Well, you get the idea.

As the title suggests, it is about the ever important PB&J. Yes. The iconic peanut butter and jelly sammich.

Now, as sammiches go, the PB&J is just about the closest you can get to the land of childhood comfort foods. At least, for my generation it is.

You see, while we tail-end baby boomers (Yeah, I was born in the last year of what qualifies as the baby-boomer generation) never dealt with anything quite like the depression, we DID see a horrendous recession. We remember only being able to buy gas on Sundays. We remember hamburger being a luxury, and steak a far out dream affordable only to the elite… And, yeah, we even remember when the expression “Far Out” was cool… Along with other hallmarks of the era such as “cool”, “keep on truckin'”, and “lid” (not that I was ever…ahem…intimately associated with what a “lid” actually was… ummm… ahem… that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…) Of course, there I go digressing again…

My point is, back then, money was tight. When the company for which my father worked at the time went on an extended strike (read several months) money got even tighter. Dad was against the strike, but he walked the line for strike pay, and picked up other work where he could so that food stayed on the table and bills got paid. Mom worked too. It was the beginning of a different era – two parents, both with jobs. Life was changing drastically.

So, with money tight – and at times non-existent – even the truly wonderful childhood memory of the fried bologna sammich was relegated to specific occasions. Yes, SPAM/Treet, and fried bologna were more often than not a staple on the supper table. Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad made sure we ate, and ate as healthy as we possibly could. We kept a garden and had fresh vegetables. But, it wasn’t at all unusual for the aforementioned processed animal parts to be the center of our entree on the supper table. And, to set the record straight, let’s remember that I happen to like SPAM/Treet and Bologna, so I wasn’t complaining. Still, I also like turkey, steak, fish, etc…

But, back to the PB&J. That particular sammich became the common lunch. Not just because it was something kids would gladly eat – well, most kids anyway – but because it was cheap and relatively nourishing. You could get a large jar of Peanut Butter (actually a legume, not a nut, for those keeping score), a loaf of bread, and jar of jelly for next to nothing. Even better for us was the fact that we had fruit trees and grape vines in our back yard, so Mom made jelly and put it up, further reducing the overall cost.

There you had it – Cheap, full of protein, and even a handful of vitamins. Yes, a dab of sugar too, but hey, we were kids…

So…why all this sudden nostalgia? Simple. I just had myself a PB&J while standing over the sink and thinking about where my current manuscript is heading plotwise. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are both gone, and I have no homemade jelly or preserves, but I made do with the storebought kind.

Of course, being an old guy who tries to be health conscious, the jelly was low sugar and the bread was whole grain instead of the “too soft” white bread with a bunny on the package that had been the staple in my youth… But, it still had the same effect, and it transported me back to my childhood.

As I stood there eating it, however, one other thing came to mind… The fact that our economy is crashing like a 1 year old who is just learning to walk, and now in my late forties I am witnessing the same things I saw when I was in my single and early double digits. Maybe even worse…

Up to, and including a PB&J for lunch…

I guess my daughter will get to tell this same story years from now… For my money, that’s a damn shame.

More to come…

Murv

Sounds like fun, eh?

Well, let us see how it works out. Truth is, this blog is really more about me jumping up on the stump and flapping my gums than anything else, but I will admit that I am also just a bit confused…

Oh, and this is probably going to be a bit lengthy too, so be forewarned.

I am going to start by making a public admission. That being, I ain’t right. The fact is, I was raised with a very odd set of values. I blame my family for this – parents, grandparents, etc. And, because of them and their influence over me as a young child, I am now socially defective. You see, it has been ingrained in me that if you don’t have something nice to say about someone, well, you just keep your mouth shut. [1]

Now, obviously we live in a day and age where there are far more public forums than there were when I was younger. Add to that the fact that everyone has an opinion, and is more than happy to express it, myself included. Hell, just look at some of my blogs. Expressing opinions is one of those cherished freedoms we all have. However, because of my twisted social defect, I tend to express opinions about things without bringing names into it. I generalize, using generic pronouns and silly things like that. See [1]. (Uh-huh, you knew I had a reason for the notations, now didn’t you?)… I also try not to contradict myself. I might not always succeed, but I do make it a point to watch out for that, and correct myself or admit it if I am wrong. (Okay, before we go any further with this, let’s remember that the picking back and forth between Dorothy Morrison, Kristin Madden, and me, is all just fun and playing around. None of us are really saying anything bad about the others…)

Now, on the subject of opinions. I certainly don’t expect everyone to agree with mine. If they did, then it wouldn’t be my opinion anymore. It would be a 100% majority consensus. Therefore, life would get boring very fast.

By this same token, I don’t expect everyone to like my books. Would it be really cool if they did? Well sure. But, contrary to what some of my detractors might wish to believe, I didn’t actually fall of the turnip truck yesterday. Hell, the only turnips we grew were in the garden, so we didn’t need a truck for them. Our cash crops were wheat, corn, soy beans, and tobacco. And, no, I didn’t fall off the wheat/corn/soy bean/tobacco truck yesterday either. Therefore, I neither expect nor believe that everyone is going to like my books. Some will, some won’t. All good.

So… There is this unwritten rule in the author game. Don’t read your reviews, and if you do anyway, don’t comment on them. Now, this rule gets broken all the time by authors who are bouncing around on the NYT Bestseller list. Why? Because they only risk losing a few grand in royalties by pissing in a detractor’s cornflakes and raising a stink. A few grand to them is nothing.

To a mid-lister like me, a few grand is more like a huge percentage of the annual paycheck.

So, since the only NYT Bestseller list I’ve seen so far is the one I have read (i.e. not been on) I try to follow these rules very closely. The truth is, I avoid reading my reviews like the plague. Good or bad. Because, for every 10 good reviews, there will always be that one bad review that makes you angry, or depresses you, or even hurts your feelings. (yeah, authors have feelings too. Don’t tell anyone) So, it’s all part of the game. Of course, my skin is much thicker now than it used to be, so on the few occasions when I accidentally run across a bad review and cannot tear my eyes away from it (they have kind of a train wreck magnetism, trust me) I just tend to blow it off.

Some shining examples of the stuff I ignore –

1) When the anti-fans say things about typos, I know they A) Either managed to get their hands on an early copy of Harm None which was mistakenly printed using the wrong digital files, and for which both the Publisher and I have repeatedly apologized profusely, or B) They are so insanely pedantic that one or two typos in an entire book send them into a tizzy. I figure it must be hard being as perfect as they are, so I feel as though I have to cut them some slack.

2) When anti-fans complain about my writing style. Well, there you go. We all have opinions about style, and I can’t make you like mine.Guess what? There are big name authors out there who have styles I cannot stand for the life of me. It’s just one of those things.

3) Here’s a good one – “Oh My God, Sellars Put Sex In His Novels, I’ll Never Read Them Again!!! News At Eleven!!!” All I can say to that is, “Wow“…. These folks must be really frustrated or terribly lonely. Of course, I find it especially amusing when they preface that statement with “I’m not a prude, but…”

Now, I have to admit that there are still those that make me go WTF? They are commentaries or reviews that are so off the wall, or self contradictory, that they immediately spark my inner Andy Rooney…So. instead of laughing at it, I begin to analyze it (which usually just makes me more confused)…And, when that happens, well, we all know I just have to say something…

For instance, there are the anti-fan commentaries like:

1) “Well I wanted a mystery but what I got was a suspense-thriller, therefore this book is terrible”… Okay…. So if you wanted a mystery, why did you buy a book that is plainly touted to be a suspense-thriller? Maybe I’m missing something here, but the way I do things is that I generally buy what I want. I don’t buy something that is obviously NOT what I want, then complain about it. Oh well, I’m sure that is jut me being socially defective again…

Or

2) When anti-fans complain about the magick or psychic abilities being over the top… “Wiccan’s can’t really do that! This is terrible! 1 star for this piece of dreck, and that’s only because Amazon won’t let me give it 0 stars! Blech! Phooey. Don’t read this!” Well, you should have seen what the big New York publisher who was originally set to publish the RGI series wanted me to put in there. If you think the magick is over the top the way I wrote it… Well, let’s just say you would have flipped if I had been willing to cave to their pressures and concept of “real witchcraft” [2] (their words, not mine)…

Now, honestly, the above example still does get under my skin a quite a bit… Why? Because it says right there in the front of the books that they are  fiction. I don’t know how much more plain it can be. But, what really gets me is that the vast majority of the folks who lodge this complaint in an Amazon or other public review forum have also posted glowing, sometimes even blubbering, fannish, 5 star reviews of books like the Harry Potter series, or any number of other Urban Fantasy novels/series that revolve around things far more outlandish than anything I have ever written.

Hello? Is this thing on? You say you like Urban Fantasy… And the reason you publicly trashed my book(s) is because it is/they are Urban Fantasy, and not a primer for Wicca 101 in convenient fictional format.

Sorry, but it just gives me a headache trying to understand that reasoning…

[2] Hmmm…Maybe that’s the problem. I didn’t go far enough over the top for them.

So… my latest Andy Rooney moment came today when I was checking some Amazon stats for S’s & G’s, and I accidentally scrolled down too far. My eye fell upon one of those single stars, and before I knew it I was reading the text beneath. You know, the whole aforementioned train wreck magnetism thing. Trust me, it really sucks…

Anyway… This one star review was apparently posted by someone who has met me at an event, because it started with (and I’m paraphrasing here) “First off I love this author, he’s kind and funny…” or something like that. It then goes on to say “…but I hate his books….” Then there is something alluding to the over the top magick, followed by a statement of not being able to recommend my books to anyone…As I said, I’m paraphrasing a bit because I haven’t gone back to look at it again… Why? Simple. It makes my brain hurt trying to untwist the logic pretzel…What I mean by that is if I am so loved, why did this person see fit to slam my work in a public forum?

You know, I’m all good with the fact that someone might not like my work. And, I am all good with folks having opinions and expressing them.. I think I have made that obvious here and elsewhere. And, I suppose I can see where it’s possible someone might like ME but not my books. I prefer to think that I’m pretty likeable…Again, all good…

But, I’ll be honest, that commentary sure seemed like a bit of a contradiction… I mean, it definitely didn’t make me feel loved.

So, I guess if that’s an example of love, I sure would hate to see what that person might have said if I was hated instead. Damn, I suppose something like that might even make me cry.

More to come…

Murv