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  • 50 Rules For Readers…

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    Over the years I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think pedantic books, blogs, and other such aggregations of verbiage on the subject of “How To Write” are the worst kind of ridiculous. This is one of the reasons that whenever I find myself writing a blog of said type, it is far from pedantic and delivered with tongue planted firmly in cheek – even if the advice happens to be sound.

    The simple fact of the matter is that once you learn the mechanics of word usage, grammar, etc, you are done. From that point on either you have the talent or you don’t. No set of rules, book, or sage advice from King, Leonard, Sellars, ad nauseum is ever going to turn you into a writer. You can either write, or you can’t. It’s that simple. Other than the basic conventions of grammar – which can be broken when necessary – there are no rules.

    This, however, doesn’t stop people from prattling on about such advice and the like. They simply cannot get the idea of “no rules” through their skulls. In fact, the whole “How To Be A Writer” book industry is a big one, filled with charlatans out to make a quick buck. If I was smart I would pen one of these tomes myself and make a million dollars fleecing folks who sincerely believe a book about writing will turn them into a novelist.

    But then, I’m a novelist by trade, not a money grubbing asshole. For me, being an asshole is just a hobby and I have no desire to muck about with my amateur status in that department.

    So… Why am I going on about this?

    Well, you see, I recently ran across a Tweet that contained a link to a blog. Said blog entry that was being touted happened to be “50 Don’ts For Writers.” I followed the link out of curiosity. In reality, the folks behind the blog had 40 rules and they wanted their readers to come up with the other 10.  Sort of a marketing gimmick to get more traffic to their blog.

    Ostensibly, these were rules for writers that were created by readers.

    Now, some of these rules – a very small percentage of them, mind you – were common sense. Of course, I realize that not everyone has common sense, which in its own way would seem to lend credence to such a list of rules. However, here’s a newsflash: Just like talent, you can’t teach common sense either.

    I know. That truly sucks, but it’s a fact of life. You’ve either got common sense, or you don’t. Deal with it.

    The majority of these “rules,” however, were the personal pet peeves and whiny demands based upon those pet peeves of the bloggers involved. The only rule that really made an iota of sense – including those few that were common sense to begin with – was something akin to:

    “You’re the artist (writer). Ignore these rules and write the book you want to write.”

    I’m paraphrasing a bit because I really don’t feel like looking up the link and wading through the whiny drivel all over again, but you get the drift.

    At any rate, after reading this lunacy I decided that if readers really felt they had some sort of inalienable right to start issuing sets of rules that writers are supposed to follow, perhaps we writers should do the same – in reverse, of course. Therefore, after thinking long and hard about the subject, I came up with the following “50 Rules For Readers.”

    50 Rules For Readers

    1. If you don’t like the book you are reading that’s fine. Not every book will appeal to every person. So, your best bet is to quit complaining, put it down, and pick up a different book. There are plenty of them out there from which to choose. If you keep reading a book you don’t like it’s not the  author’s fault, it’s yours. You have nobody to blame but yourself.

    2 … 50. See Rule #1

    There… I think my set of 50 rules are way easier than theirs. However, I am also the first to admit that mine are also common sense. But hey, at least I didn’t whine…

    More to come…

    Murv

  • The Girl, The Shoes, And The $750…

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    Continued from Lolly, Lolly, Lolly…

    See previous notes. If you are joining this party late, go back and read the other three because we aren’t going to explain ourselves… Mostly because we can’t. We just don’t have a satisfactory explanation for all of this, so please bear with us…

    Thai Pizza... NOM!

    So… The pizza people finally got around to feeding me. All good. We had a laugh, I cowered on my side of the table hiding from “Bouncy Brandi” as her husband tried to run interference for me  and everyone was happy. (Gotta love Mike – I have no idea how he does it on a daily basis… That much perky all in one place would kill me within a week.)

    (BTW – I was mugging it for the camera – on request – for the pizza picture. I really do have better table manners than that…)

    Sunday… Last day of OstaraFest. Fans from all over had ponied up cash for raffle tickets. But not just ANY RAFFLE tickets. These were for a special event, jokingly named “FEED MURV.” Four lucky (or unlucky as the case may be) winners received a catered lunch with yours truly. Honestly, I think they were buying the tickets in hopes of winning the food, and I was just sort of a nuisance they would have to deal with in order to get the chow. Fortunately, those who won had the constitution to put up with having said lunch with me at the table too.

    At any rate, this was a very cool thing because not only did we get a nice lunch and 90 minutes to sit and visit, the proceeds (minus costs) from the sale of the raffle tickets went to a local no-kill animal shelter – and I’m all about that sort of thing.

    But moving right along – I arrived at the VFW hall, entering in serpentine fashion as I attempted to dodge “Bouncy Brandi,” who today was all decked out in a skirt and her hooker shoes. Seems that $750 was getting spent whether I wanted it to or not. But we’ll talk about that in a minute…

    As soon as I arrived, the emcee was announcing that the “FEED MURV” luncheon was being delayed by 15 minutes. Why? Because Olive Garden – the restaurant providing the meals – had neglected to prepare MY lunch.

    Yes.

    Srsly.

    Feed Murv Luncheon - Carolynn, one of the winners, is responsible for the pic so she's behind the camera...

    Me. Murv. The guy who Texas refuses to feed was once again sans food. And, once again, Joyce proceeded to launch an offensive upon the establishment. In the end, they took a chunk of change off the bill, AND provided all of us luncheon folk with free Tiramisu. (That was some damn good Tiramisu, I’m here to tell you.) And one of the really cool things about the discount on the food was that it meant EVEN MORE proceeds to the animal shelter – WOOHOO!!!

    So, see what I mean? Texas has got it in for me. Left up to the lone star state, I would go hungry until my spare tire disappeared… Hmmm… You know, maybe I should go spend some more time there…

    Now, before you get all antsy I didn’t forget that I promised you a conclusion to the whole $750.00 thing. For that, we pretty much leap right back to that first day, during the Saint Patrick’s Day dinner at Butch and Joyce’s place.

    You see, that phone call Joyce received was from Cammie. She was closing the store and had done the batch run on the credit card machine. Problem is, it was off against the drawer. Not just a little off either. It was off by $675.00.

    What does that have to do with $750.00? Well, you see, the store is the sponsor and organizer of OstaraFest, therefore payments for things like vendor tables, tickets, etc can go through there. A one day vendor table space was $75.00. Make note – Seventy-five dollars. Not Seven-hundred fifty dollars. And guess who was responsible for ringing up a $75.00 vendor ticket with a couple of extra zeros? Yep… “Bouncy Brandi.”

    In the end, although the batch job had already been run, which made things slightly more complicated, the issue was fixed. However, this didn’t mean we weren’t going to razz Brandi about it – or that we aren’t going to razz her about it until the end of time. Why? Because we’re like that. It’s a moral imperative.

    Yeah. I know. Not really as exciting as you were expecting, right? See why I started out with a whole lap dance sort of scenario? We call that “literary license” in my business…

    “Yes, Murv,” you say. “But what’s all this stuff about hooker shoes? Is that just another bit of fiction from your warped brain too?”

    Evil Women vs. The Author

    Well… Yes and no. The hooker shoes were high heels, but they were more like “not really hooker shoes” and they did exist. And Brandi did bring them on Sunday. And Brandi did wear them. And what’s more, Michele brought her high-heeled, “not really hooker shoes” and wore them too.

    Why?

    Because they are fans of the RGI series, and moreover, fans of the Miranda Saga. Actually, I think they are just fans of Miranda, but who am I to say? At any rate, like many ladies in the past who have been impressed, tantalized, excited, wowed, and otherwise inspired by “Miranda,” the dominatrix serial-killer from the series, they were all up for a photo op. (Other Miranda Fans) Of course, them being all UP for a photo op meant Murv got to be all DOWN for a photo op – as in on the floor. But, ya’know, I don’t mind at all. They had fun, the crowd enjoyed it, and yeah… I had fun too. (Largely because I got to lay down and rest for a few minutes…) Besides, Evil Kat stomps on me way harder, and way longer than they did, and with spikier heels…

    And so, there you have it – Brandi and Michele got a $750 dollar picture.

    Rumor has it I just might be invited back to OstaraFest next year. Something tells me I’ll have to deal with The Girl, The Shoes, And The $750 all over again… Ya’know, they have flu shots to keep you from getting ill. I wonder if there’s such a thing as a Perky Shot? (Just kidding, Brandi… Besides, it’d probably cost $750…)

    More to come…

    Murv