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  • Reflections On -30-…

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    At first glance one might think I am talking about a bygone birthday. In my case, it would definitely be a “reflection” because 30 has been shrinking in my rear-view mirror for quite some time. In fact, I’m relatively certain by this point it has disappeared over the horizon, because I have very little recollection of it, save for the “sexy nurse” singing telegram my wife sent me – not stripper mind you, it was a singing telegram.

    And the reason it sticks out in my mind is that E K, in her infinite evilness, sent her to my place of employment for maximum embarrassment. She’s kinda like that, as I’m sure you’ve already surmised.

    But, first glance isn’t what I am talking about today. I’m actually talking about -30- as in the editor’s symbol meaning “The End”… “Fin”… Over… That’s all she wrote… Stick a fork in it, I’m done.

    Yes, the good ol’ -30- is a “symbol” that denotes to an editor that there a no more pages. The end has been reached. And, it is something I type at the end of every manuscript.

    Now, in this day and age, you will find agents out there who are so full of themselves that they issue stringent guidelines about this practice. I actually read an agent’s submission guidelines and he had such a stick up his bung hole that he literally stated he would automatically reject anything with a -30- at the end because he “should be able to tell where the end was without any help. And, if he couldn’t, then you obviously don’t know how to write.

    I think this particular agent has control issues and was probably spanked too hard when he was a kid. Or, maybe his wife slaps him around and he doesn’t know how to cope with it. Who the hell really knows? All I can say is, dude, get over yourself. You probably need to be on anti-psychotics, but who am I to say. I’m not a doctor. I just write books for a living, so what do I know, especially when it comes to something like putting a 30 at the end of a manuscript?

    But, I suppose you may wonder, “Why 30?”

    Well, I have no clue. I seem to recall hearing the story once upon a time, but years and alcohol have relegated it to a filing cabinet I am unable to locate. Suffice it to say, I learned a long, long time ago, that I was supposed to put a -30-, or even a 30 in a circle, at the end of my copy before I turned it in. This was taught to me by Martha Ackmann, my Journalism teacher, about whom I have waxed nostalgic in the past.

    Now, it is entirely possible that they don’t teach kids to do this anymore. I haven’t been in a Journalism class in nigh on to 26 years now. Things change… I know this. However, the fact remains that the -30- is something I not only learned, but it became so ingrained that it eventually morphed into a major part of my writing ritual. Without it, I feel unfinished. Incomplete. Without end.

    Literally. And, yes, maybe even a bit literarily too.

    Now, this is not to say that I write -30- at the end of my to-do list,  grocery list, or sappy love notes I leave for the Evil Redhead (which reminds me, I’m probably due to scribble one of those to stuff into her lunchbox…) However, at the end of any and all of my manuscripts, novelettes, short stories, articles, or any other writing project, I most definitely do. Once I have done that, I can move on to the next part of the ritual – a glass of scotch and a really good cigar while sitting on my porch swing.

    But, now that the -30- is typed, the scotch is imbibed, and the cigar is nothing more than smoke & ashes, what happens?

    Well, I’m afraid that’s a story for the next blog entry…

    More to come…

    Murv

    -30-

  • Merp The Tech Hamster #7…

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    Hamster Month Continues on Brainpan Leakage…

    Image Copyright © M. R. Sellars – Phyllis had a son who happened to be an extremely cool kid. He’s probably all grown up now – in fact, chronologically, he most certainly is, because back then he was about the same age as my own offspring is now. At any rate, he and some friends from school had formed themselves a band, and called themselves “NERPH”. The truth is, they really couldn’t play the instruments all that well, and none of them had any real musical experience, but they beat and strummed anyway, while singing parodies of popular songs. As I am given to understand, the lyrics captioned in the picture were a parody of a Pearl Jam song titled Animal. Their version – which also became the name of their fictional debut album – was titled, Urinal. The sum of the lyrics that were ever relayed to me are for the most part depicted above. “I’m like a bomb, I gotta lit fuse, I gotta pee…”

    I later found out that Phyllis’s son was ecstatic over this particular toon and kept a copy of it tacked on his wall for quite some time. I’m sure he’s forgotten about it now, but hey, it still exists and it entertained him at the time.

    More to come…

    Murv