BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

One of the questions I get asked on a regular basis is –

Murv… Sellars… How is it… That you… Are able to keep… Things straight… When you are… Writing?

As a rule, the odd hesitations between words and phrases sort of freaks me out, but I just figure the person asking was doing way too much Uncle Cidney in their teens while listening to Steve Martin comedy albums. All of us old farts will get that reference, trust me.

But anyway… (No, not a Blues Traveler ref, although it could be)… I usually explain that I am what’s called a “Seat of the Pants” writer. That means I have an idea, I know how it starts and kind of know how I want it to end. I might even know a couple of things I’d like to have happen in between, but the journey to get there isn’t really plotted until I sit down and start taking dictation from my characters.

Now, to keep things straight for them, I have books. As in binders that contain biographical data, etc. Mostly because since I write a series I have to be able to stay in touch with the arc and maintain canon (one n, not two, meaning it doesn’t go boom unless I screw up.)

However, I have to stay on track for a given story arc within a novel as well. That’s where rectangles come in.

“Rectangles?” you ask.

“Yes, rectangles,” I answer.

Behold – the incredible, versatile, and really especially cool, Index Card…

Don't bother trying to enlarge it. I blurred all the info, mwuhahaha...

So there’s your answer… I have a corkboard, a pencil, some pushpins, and a whole lot of index cards…

Bet ya’ thought I was talking about dextroamphetamine when you saw that title, didn’t you? Awww, c’mon Eileen. You know better than that…

More to come…

Murv

If you are a regular follower of B L, you most likely read “You Get HBO On That?”  a few weeks ago. In case you didn’t, or just don’t remember it and are too lazy to click on the link to refresh your memory, it was pretty much a transcript of a conversation I had with my newly 18 year old niece who had just had her nose pierced to celebrate her birthday.

For the record, I don’t care if she puts holes in her nose, or wherever else for that matter. Same goes for anyone else. However, I’m an uncle, I’m a writer, and I have a bizarre sense of humor. Therefore, it’s a moral imperative that I give my niece trouble. So, all of you pierced and tattooed whackos with email accounts can STOP sending me messages telling me what a bastard I am. If you honestly believe I am discriminating against you – and her – then your brains really DID leak out of those extra holes you poked into yourself.

Put simply: Slap some Dap ™ Stupid Crack filler on your holes and leave me alone.

But pointing out to the outraged idiots that they are idiots is not why I’m writing this particular blog entry. Nope. Actually I’m doing it to illustrate a “moral of the story.”

“What moral is that?” you ask…

Well, it’s kind of one of those “Fried Green Tomatoes” sort of morals. Remember that now famous line delivered by Kathy Bates?

“Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.”

…It’s sort of like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a lot like the moral I offered in the original blog on this subject. However, Christmas was upon us, and… Well… Allow me to illustrate. Literally.

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Side 2

That moral?

Don’t do something silly, stupid, or otherwise bizarre if you have ME for an uncle. I have money, a copy of Photoshop, a color laser printer, and one hell of an imagination.

BTW, I didn’t want the other kids to feel left out, so…

Niece #2 got a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a cork, carpet needle, and antiseptic wipe, along with instructions on how to pierce her own nose.

Nephew received a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a lump of charcoal and instructions on how to make a diamond nose ring.

Texts and picture messages were flying, let me tell you. Not sure if the rest of the teenagers in Saint Louis think I’m a “Cool Uncle” or a Jackass. Maybe one day they’ll figure out that I’m both…

More to come…

Murv