BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…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

Well, it seems I screwed up.  Nothing so bad as to warrant a beating from E K… Well, scratch that, actually. E K never really seems to need a reason to hand out beatings… But, be that as it may, I think I escaped the wrath of the Evil Redhead for this particular infraction.

Maybe…

You see, I entered the wrong date into the post scheduler for my most recent blog (Mindy, Hold The Mork…) and therefore it deployed a day early. Now, normally folks would think of this as a Christmas in August sort of thing. You know, early present and all, but that just isn’t how my luck runs. Nope. Not in the least. It seems Anastasia, (yes, that Anastasia) who is apparently taking EVIL lessons from E K, informed me that if this premature post-aculation meant she was going to have to wait an extra day in between blog entries that I had better write a “bonus blog” or she would complain to E K and then help her do bad things to me. Of course, we all know where that will lead, and my insurance carrier is ready to drop me as it is…

So, as an act of self-preservation, after spending much of the day cowering in the corner with Satan, who still can’t seem to shake this morning’s Redhead Rampage, I figured I’d better make something… errr… ummm… write something up. So, since I already had notes on hand for the continuing adventures of Karen and Mindy, I figured what the hell…

It was a Thursday. A Thursday like any other Thursday, except that Mindy had dressed down for the day and Karen was in a mood. Now, granted, Karen was always in a bit of a mood, what with wanting to shoot everyone, but she was actually a bit more surly than usual. She might have even been carrying explosives in her purse, but I wasn’t about to ask.

The conversation had been raging on about blog entries and humorless folks for several minutes, and was now starting to wind down. I had no more finished jotting a few notes about the West county water issues than Mindy pointed at me and exclaimed, “Murv! You aren’t going to blog about that are you?”

I shrugged. “Why not? It’s funny.”

“You want funny?” Big K asked.

“Sure, but I think we’ve pretty much worn out the whole gun thing,” I told her.

She huffed then cocked her head to the side and said, “Oh yeah, well what about underwear?”

Now I was intrigued, but by the same token I was unable to hold back my compulsion to pun.

“Depends,”  I quipped.

“Yeah, real funny, Murv. Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Yeah, okay, so what about underwear? I’m wearing tighty whities.”

“Murv!” Mindy yelped.

“Hey, I actually used to get that question and booksigning Q&A’s.” I shrugged. “Now I just get it out of the way from the start.”

“People really asked you that?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Shoulda shot ’em,” Karen added on cue, just as I’d expected she would.

Mindy spoke up again, directing herself to Karen. “So, is this about that guy? You know, the one you yelled at?”

“I yell at everyone,” Karen replied.

“I know, I know,” Mindy agreed. “But isn’t this the story about that guy with the pink pants?”

“Yeah,” Karen answered with a nod. “Pink pants and bright green little boy underwear.”

I was no longer intrigued. Now I was just mildly disturbed, however I simply couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how did you know what color his underwear was?”

Karen’s voice was as deadpan matter-of-fact as I had ever heard. “Because he had his damn pink pants pulled down below his cheeks.”

“Ass cheeks?”

“Well yeah…” she answered, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “They’d look pretty damn weird up around his face cheeks, don’tcha think?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I was just asking.”

Karen shook her head. “And you write books for a living? Sheesh. You been drinking West county water too?”

I ignored the jibe and asked, “Okay, so I have to know… How did you see this? Did you follow him into the men’s room or something?”

“No. This was in the meat department.”

Now, there’s something I forgot to mention folks – Karen works in the meat department at a local market.

“Rump roast then,” I said.

“Wasn’t on sale that day.”

“I was joking. Who’s been drinking the water now?”

“My gun is in my purse you know.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Tell Murv what you did,” Mindy interjected, trying to avoid bloodshed. She seemed far more excited about the story than Karen. But then, Mindy was definitely the excitable one. Karen just approached everything with calm detachment before pulling out a gun and killing it.

“I went and got my knife,” she said.

“No gun?” I asked.

“I was at work. Can’t bring guns into work, dammit.”

“Oh, I see.”

“So, I got my big knife. Not the little one. The really big one. Then I went over and told him he needed to pull up his pants because the rest of the customers didn’t want his butt germs on their dinner.”

“So did he?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “He gave a bunch of attitude. Told me his butt didn’t have germs, which is a crock because everybody’s butt has butt germs. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that.”

“And you put up with him giving you attitude?”

“Hell no. I showed him my knife.”

“Ahhh, so then he pulled up his pants?”

“No. Then we had a wet cleanup in that aisle.”

I raised an eyebrow and began considering my options for escaping the table if I started feeling any more alarmed than I already was. I tried to keep my voice calm as I asked, “You killed him?”

“Oh hell no. Didn’t have to. He peed all over himself.”

“Ahhhhh… Okay.”

Karen shrugged. “Yeah, it was kinda funny. Anyway, then I went and put out some more chickens.”

“You mean like whole roasters and fryers?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I took the opportunity to divert the topic toward recipes. “Since you brought up butts, have you ever made beer butt chicken?”

“You mean where you stick the can up the chicken’s butt? Oh yeah, love it.”

“I just don’t know how you do that,” Mindy announced.

“What?” Karen said, incredulity in her voice. “You just stick the can up its butt and put it on the grill. It ain’t hard. You do have beer out in West county, right?”

“Ewww,” Mindy replied, scrunching up her face then shuddering. “I couldn’t do that. I’ve never even bought a chicken.”

“You haven’t? Are you a vegetarian?” I asked.

“No,” Mindy replied. “I eat chicken, I’ve just never bought one.”

“Well what the hell do you do?” Karen asked, coming upright in her seat. “Steal ’em?”

“No,…” Mindy began, trying desperately to explain.

“I shoulda known,” Karen continued, talking right over the top of her. “Damn West county people. I bet you wear green underwear too…”

More to come…

Murv