BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

My child is freakin’ brilliant.

I realize you’ve all heard me say this before, but hey, it’s the truth. She got her looks from her mother and her brains from me. Just don’t tell E K I said that… The brain part, I mean.

But seriously, The Evil Redhead and I ended up as some downright lucky parents, because the O-spring truly is brilliant.

Quirky, yes. Not quite Ally Sheedy from The Breakfast Club quirky, but then we don’t ignore our daughter like the parents ostensibly did to the character in that movie.

So, maybe with a little more luck on our side, the O-spring won’t end up being an “outcast shoplifter pickpocket with ungodly bad dandruff” who eats potato chip and pixie stix sandwiches for lunch.

Of course, knowing her current culinary tastes, potato chip and pixie stix on Wonder bread would probably appeal to her quite a bit. Hell, throw a few slices of bacon on there and even I might give it a go.

But, back to this whole language thing. Something I’ve never brought up before is the fact that our child used to be bi-lingual. Yes, I said used to be. She’s back to speaking only one language these days, although she does know a smattering of Spanish. But, back in the day she was fluent in two different languages.

Allow me to explain…

You see, we knew the o-spring was at the head of her class when she was still dumping loads in Pampers and falling asleep face first in her strained green beans. Well, to be honest we used cloth diapers and a diaper service in order to be a little more environmentally sound, but we won’t go into that. The thing is, even at that early an age, the child was fascinated by everything and couldn’t wait to assimilate any information she could possibly absorb, just like a dry sponge in a bucket of water.

However, we had no idea just exactly how far to the head of the class she was until one day when I arrived to pick her up at the day care.

She was all of about 2 1/2 years old at the time. We had already discovered that when the other kids in her age group were down for a nap in the afternoons, she refused to join them. Instead, she would spend nap time wide awake, and would put the time to good use by designing highly advanced, non-polluting mass transit systems using Legos and Lincoln Logs. Being quite the multi-tasker, she would simultaneously be explaining the theoretical properties of singularity event horizons to her caregivers. A couple of them even admitted to referencing the dictionary in order to understand her.

However, it wasn’t until this particular, fateful day that we discovered our child was a universal translator with delusions of grandeur. Well, actually, according to the stories we were told, said grandeur may well have not been a delusion at all.

It seems our child – who at the age of two had a vocabulary rivaling that of a college freshman as well as the comprehension and clarity of enunciation to use it effectively – also spoke fluent “toddler gibberish.” It actually surprised us to learn that she spoke this language, because she had only studied it for two weeks before moving straight into American English. However, the wide eyed care givers at the pre-school had been witnessing it first hand, but had never made mention of it. Until this particular day when our child had elected to use the ability to her advantage.

She was sitting in a time out chair when I arrived, her tiny little brow furrowed as she plotted her revenge against the system that had placed her there.

“What did she do this time?” I asked. I wasn’t all that surprised by the time out issue because while it wasn’t a regular occurrence, I knew she could be stubborn and temperamental.

“Inciting a riot,” the teacher told me. “And attempting to escape.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you know she speaks two languages, right?”

“Ummmm. No.”

“Well she does. English and Toddler.”

“Toddler is a language?” I had to ask because I hadn’t made it to that chapter in the parenting books. For the record, and much to my surprise, yes, it is.

“Of course.”

I took the teacher at her word, but was still a bit perplexed. “So, what’s that got to do with inciting a riot?”

“Well, you see,” she explained. “Normally we use this to our advantage. When one of the other toddlers is throwing a fit, or we simply cannot understand them, we send your daughter in. She gibbers with them, then comes back to us and explains the situation in English so we can address the need or problem.”

“You’re joking…”

“No, Mister Sellars, we’re serious. She’s an immense help to us. Until today.”

Again, for the record, she was serious. “The riot, you mean?”

“Yes sir.”

“Go on.” I was still skeptical, but willing to listen.

“Well, there was a particular toy your daughter wanted to disassemble and rebuild today, but we had to put it away because it made too much noise and it was disturbing the infants.” She motioned to the nursery next to the toddler classroom.

“So, that was the riot?”

“Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head. “We explained to your daughter that the toy had to be put away but she became very agitated and demanded access to it. She kept muttering something about missing a quantum event for a temporal dilation window or something.”

I nodded. “I see.”

I could actually empathize, as I had stopped the O-spring from building a time machine on several occasions myself.

“Anyway,” the teacher continued. “When we wouldn’t comply with her demands she went over to the other toddlers, gibbered for a few minutes, and then it happened.”

“The riot?”

“Yes. Several of the toddlers formed a barrier between us and the exit and began screaming as a distraction, while your daughter directed the others to build a tower out of the large blocks. Once the blocks were in place she climbed them and opened the fire exit.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious, Mister Sellars.”

“But obviously you managed to stop her and the other kids.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t easy. Somehow she had managed to get my car keys from my purse, and if she’d been able to reach the pedals it could have been a different story…”

As I said, the O-spring doesn’t speak “Toddler Gibberish” any longer. And, of course, that was several years ago. However, her ongoing brilliance never ceases to amaze me.

More to come…

Murv

PS. Another “for the record” – While this story is obviously embellished for entertainment value, as usual, the core of it is entirely true. The O-spring really and truly did translate for the teachers at the pre-school for a period of about 1 year, which is something they found absolutely amazing and would tell us about regularly. And, one particular Autumn day she did, in fact, use that ability to incite a riot as a distraction, build a tower with help from other kids, and open the fire door.

I shit you not. My kid is freakin’ brilliant. 🙂

…also known as, “Why don’t you…”

It seems that when I get questions from folks, that is usually the qualifying preamble.

“Why don’t you write Zombie books?”

“Why don’t you do book signings in Little Chicken Neck, Arkansas?”

“Why don’t you give Rowan a break?”

"Why don't you leave your wife and come shack up with me?"

Yeah… Sometimes some fairly weird stuff, and yes, I have actually been asked that “shack up with me” question, among various others I’m too polite to mention here. I’m flattered, but let’s get something straight – not gonna happen.

However, the “Why Doan-Choo” of late has actually come from colleagues in the field of book authorin’ as well as quite a few aspiring writers, and it has to do with Brainpan Leakage. Not actually grey matter running out your ears or anything, I mean Brainpan Leakage as in this blog. Their question, while taking many forms – simplistic to complex – always boils down to the following:

“Why don’t you write about writing in your blog?”

In answer to that I normally point toward the entry “I Can Haz Blog?” However, since that is way back in the archives and such, I figure I’ll post another, far more vitriolic missive about this subject.

So, here’s the answer – As a rule, writers who blog about writing tend to piss me off. (Just watch, one of the aforementioned offenders will see this and yell at me about ending that sentence with a preposition.)

Now, let me clarify this a bit. Not ALL writers who blog about writing piss me off, just a good portion of them. There are a few gems out there who actually give some thought to the process and are simply answering questions about how THEY go about writing a story. Those types of blogs are interesting. That type of advice is worthwhile.

However, the vast majority of “blogs about writing” – that I have read – tend more toward:

“Hi, I’m [insert name here]. I (pick one) –

1. Has jest have my first book publishified.
2. Reeded a book won tyme.
3. Write ingredient copy for Campbell’s soup labels.
4. Can burp the alphabet while drunk.
5. What’z uh buhk?

– and because this makes me an expert in the field I am going to tell you exactly how it is done. I am correct, you are incorrect, and if you don’t write exactly the way I tell you to in my blog, then you are a big moron who doesn’t deserve to live.”

Yeah… Okay… So I’ll admit to exaggerating things there, but I think you all realize I did so to make my point. The basic gist of the above is that there are far too many self-important, pseudo-pedantic blogs out there with folks stating opinion as fact, many of whom don’t actually have the necessary qualifications to do so. And this goes for plenty of subjects besides just writing…

However, as the subject of writing goes many folks make an assumption that having a book published automatically grants them expert credentials. Well I’ve had 9 books published, several of which have won awards and all of which have spent time on various best seller lists.  I also have a few short stories out there and contracts to write a few more books, and guess what? I am NOT qualified to tell you how to write.

The simple fact is that nobody is, plain and simple…

Unfortunately – and this goes back to my entry “I Can Haz Blog” as well – there are also too many “how to” sites telling new and aspiring authors that in order to create a web presence and get their names known they need to blog about writing and position themselves as experts.

As Felicity O’Brien would say, “Cac capaill!” (for the Gaelic challenged – Horseshit!)

However, since I keep getting the question I am going to cave for a moment and give folks what they want. So here you go. This is my blog about writing,  and my personal, foolproof, guaranteed 10 point process for authoring… And dare I say this is the definitive blog about writing… (at least as far as any you are ever going to get from me.)

And so, here they are in no particular order:

1. If you want to write, then write. Don’t talk about it, DO it.
2. The only thing you can be taught is the mechanics and you should have picked these up sometime around your first English Composition class. In fact, per a dear friend of mine who is an English teacher you should have picked them up by the 4th grade. Ability and talent come from within, not from a book, teacher, or unsolicited advice.
3. You can ask advice about nuances of writing, but that’s about it. Ability and talent do not come from solicited advice either. Don’t ask someone to teach you to be a writer. That movie with Sean Connery and the kid? Didn’t really happen. Get over it. But always remember, just like the Baz Luhrmann song says: Be careful whose advice you take. And to add my two cents, it’s just advice, not gospel.
4. You are going to forget shit from English Comp. We all do unless we teach it for a living, and even then I’ve personally caught teachers making mistakes. Your best bet is to keep a couple of grammar reference books handy, but you should use them just like the Pirates use their rules – as a set of guidelines. Don’t be afraid to paint outside the lines, just don’t spill any and make a mess.
5. Use a proofing sheet. It saves your editor headaches and if you save your editor headaches you save yourself heartaches. You are going to have a love/hate relationship with your editor, so do as much as you can to skew the scales toward the love. It’s better for both of you and you’ll save on antacids.
6. When and if you have some success at this game, don’t take yourself too seriously, or believe your own press.  If you do, you are in for a big surprise. Your shit stinks just like everyone else’s, and someone is bound to tell you so. The farther you have to fall, the worse your ego is going to get bruised on impact.
7. Read Strunk and White’s Elements of Style and The Chicago Manual of Style. Then use them to hold up an uneven table leg and never touch them again. Again, they are guidelines, but they are not the definitive word on how to write. Ask any linguist – our language and its usage are evolving on a daily basis.
8. Ignore anyone who tells you that to be a writer you must follow the rules set forth by Elmore Leonard. If they persist in following you around and spouting this nonsense, hit them over the head with a cast iron skillet and knock some sense into them. Even if it doesn’t knock sense into them they will probably be quiet for a good while afterward.
9. Observe life around you and soak it up like a sponge. When creating a character look inward and draw from personal experience. That is what will make the character believable and real.
10. Marry someone with a trust fund or a good job who doesn’t mind supporting your ass. Not all of us get to be a Laurell K. Hamilton, James Patterson,  John Grisham, et. al.

Here’s the thing – Writing, just like painting, is an art form. It is open to interpretation. That’s just how it is.

And, lest you think I have now crossed over to the dark side of the pseudo-pedantic, self-important “how to write” bloggers I so disdain, let me say just one more thing…

The above is my opinion and nothing more than my opinion on the subject of the authoring biz. It is how I write and how I view writing. It may or may not work for you, so feel free to take it or leave it.

Okay, enough with all this serious crap… I’ll try to make sure my next blog returns to the realm of bizarre humor. That’s way more fun…

Oh, and by the way. NO. I am NOT going to leave my wife and shack up with you.

More to come…

Murv