BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 8 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: The Wedding Suit…

… Actually, in retrospect, the title of this entry, while close, isn’t entirely on the mark. Truth is, it was more along the line of, Swish! Clink! Ping! Clatter! Roll Roll Roll… “Oh Crap!” Clatter! *Plink!* Clatter! *Tink!*  “No No No!” Clank! Rattle… (eerie silence)… All followed by a quietly muttered, “Dammit…”

But let’s not get into a deep analysis of my attack of onomatopoeia just yet. Don’t worry, I promise we’ll get back to it… I mean, given the title of this entry, I really kinda don’t have any choice in the matter…

But first, a picture… Here on the left we have a photo of the happy couple.  Aren’t we cute? E K is gorgeous, just like I said… And me, well, I’m young, no grey to be seen, and  a whole lot thinner than I am today… (I’ve really gotta work on that)…  And check out those Clark Kent goggles… At this stage of the game our official and legal union is right around 4 minutes 27 seconds old. We have not yet had a fight, or even a minor disagreement. No spat of any kind. This is not to say we never have since, or that we hadn’t prior… That would just be untrue.  All couples have “disagree-uments” to one degree or another.  I’ve learned over the past 22+ years, however, that E K always wins… But, every now and then if the planets are aligned just the right way, or wrong way as the case may be, this important little fact slips my mind. And, when it does, I  make the mistake of disagreeing with her. In the grand scheme of things, however, there isn’t anything to worry about. The Evil One immediately points out the error of my ways, puts me back in my place on the end of the leash, and life is once again good…

But, back to the picture above… At 4 minutes 27 seconds into this odyssey, all was bliss. Given that the “not having a suit thing” could have been an even  bigger debacle than it turned out to be, this was reassuring. However, what you cannot see here is that yet another issue had cropped up shortly before this photo was taken, and it was a bit of a speed bump in and of itself. I shall endeavor to explain…

Zero hour was approaching fast. In fact, we were literally at T-Minus 60, or thereabouts. Family and a few friends had arrived a bit earlier to help with the last minute preparations. My sister had pitched in and taken over the final cooking so that I could grab a shower and get dressed. Erin, (remember Erin?) was there setting up the chafing dishes… My dad was assuming his role as unofficial photographer while helping with chairs, tables, and setting up the luminaries E K had made for decorations. Things seemed to be right on track.

My sister, Missy, had finished up with the cooking and was now off in the bedroom helping E K with her hair, since one of Sis’s learned talents happened to be hairdressing. These days she handles video conferencing and support for families of deployed soldiers, and is damn good at it, but that’s one of those “nother blogs”…

I, myself, was being the somewhat typical nervous groom. Not that I had suddenly decided to bolt or anything. Quite to the contrary, I was still coming to terms with the fact that E K had finally said yes, and my jangly nerves were a product of the fact that I figured I would be waking up at any moment and hearing, “No, not right now,” rolling off  of my betrothed’s tongue.

In all honesty, to this day there are still times when I think that is going to happen, but there we go with my personal insecurities again…

So, does anyone remember Service Merchandise? Yeah, I know, that was a rough transition there, but I still haven’t had my coffee quota just yet today, so please bear with me… If you are unfamiliar with them, they are a semi-defunct chain of catalog showrooms. I say semi-defunct because they disappeared around 2002, but from what I just looked up it appears they returned as an online store sometime in 2008. In any event, there used to be a Service Merchandise out at Northwest Plaza (or, N W P). One of their charms was the fact that they sold okay quality jewelry on the cheap. Well, if you haven’t picked up on it throughout this blog series so far, I will remind you here… E K and I were pretty much too broke to pay attention, just like most young couples when they are first starting out. We knew we could have a “ringless” ceremony, but we didn’t want to do that. We were foregoing much of the pomp, circumstance, and religious frou-frou already, what with us both being secular humanists, me with a rich and diverse background in earth/eco-centric religions and Paganism, of course. In fact, we had even written our own secular vows, which her father embellished of his own accord, but I don’t hold that against him. He’s a Baptist minister and he wasn’t about to preform the ceremony without sticking God in there somewhere… I get that. Didn’t care for it, but I get it. So, all was good.

Anyway, back to this ring situation. We were going secular and eschewing much of the “ceremony” associated with a wedding already, but we wanted to retain at least some bit of symbolism, that being the rings. So, since we were  “poor,” so to speak, we had gone to Service Merchandise out at N W P, and purchased a matching set of plain, 10K white gold bands. Not very fancy, but it didn’t matter to us. They were symbolic enough…

(On a side note… Even though I have since presented my bride with a much fuller set of precious gold, replete with a sparkly, ancient rock collection mounted upon it, she still wears that simple band on a regular basis. I still have mine too, but it lives on my key chain. You see, it doesn’t fit over my arthritic knuckles anymore, and while I have a newer, fancier ring that I wear when I get “duded up”, that simple band goes with me everywhere… Yeah, okay, I’ll turn off the sappy faucet before there’s a flood…)

Now, let’s get back around to that hairdo… Why hairdo? Well, you see, while E K was in the bedroom getting even prettier than she already was, (and still is, of course), I was also doing something about my own appearance. In particular, my hair… Y’all who have seen me these days know that I pretty much have a wash and wear, stick it in a ponytail and go, kind of “do”… But, back then, as you can see in the picture, I had 80’s hair. Not “hair band” hair, but just regular old 80’s hair. For you youngsters who don’t remember the 80’s, what that means is, feathered bangs, a love affair with a blow dryer, and a lot of hair product, namely mousse.

So, there I was, standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror. I was already dressed, sans jacket just yet, and was putting the finishing touches on my “do”. Like I said earlier, we were at about T-minus 60 and counting, so things were starting to roll and I wanted to be prepared so that I didn’t screw up any more than I already had… (remember the hangover, not having a suit, etc… Need I say more?) Well, Scott, the 6 foot 6 inch tall cop, best man, yadda yadda, and his wife had not yet arrived, therefore I had not been able to hand over Kat’s ring to him for safekeeping. So, in my desire to not forget to do something as important as that, I was keeping her ring on my own finger… Now, obviously she has petite little hands, so I had it jammed onto my right pinky finger. It was on there pretty good too. In fact, my biggest worry was actually how much skin I was going to lose when I peeled it off to give to Scott prior to the ceremony proper.

Now… Have you ever had anything happen to you in slow motion? You know, some event befalls you and it is as if time has dilated for you, and only for you… You feel disembodied, like you are watching everything from above as no more than an observer. It drags on before your eyes, flowing languidly along, unfolding like a horror that you can do nothing about, until it reaches its final, sometimes near devastating conclusion, and then suddenly life speeds up once again? Yeah, just like Hollywood special effects, but it’s for real…

Well, that’s exactly what happened to me.

I pulled the brush through my hair, then flipped it back forward to make sure the volume of my “do” was just so, and suddenly I was out of body… Watching as…

Swish! Clink! Ping! Clatter! Roll Roll Roll…

In a muffled, slow motion drone I heard myself say, “Oh Crap!”

Clatter! *Plink!* Clatter! *Tink!*  “No No No!” Clank! Rattle Rattle… (eerie silence)…

Time sped back into its normal flow and I returned to my body with an unceremonious plop, only to find that I was now kneeling on the bathroom floor and staring in abject horror at the air conditioning vent. This is right about the time the “Dammit” rolled off my tongue.

The tiny little band that had been wedged so tightly upon my digit had for some unknown reason elected to go on a trip. As I was concentrating on my coif, oblivious to its escape plans, the damn thing had seized the opportunity to eject itself from my finger. Once free it had flown through the air, bounced from the mirror, fallen into the sink, jumped out of the sink, clattered across the top of the vanity, rolled off the edge, plonked off the toilet seat, rolled across the floor, bounced against the wall, jumped up, done a double back flip, followed by a triple Salchow, then executed some other kind of fancy spin, and then did a straight in dive between the slats in the grate that covered the AC vent in the corner, before finally sliding down the duct work and falling silent… All while I groped, grabbed, and stumbled after it. I’m pretty sure I heard the silly round thing laughing at me the entire time too…

On that note, the judges gave the ring a 9.5… I think I got a 2.

This was going to be a problem.

Now remember, I was already nervous, and quite honestly I was still hung over too. So, I have to say I am fairly proud of myself for what I accomplished next. You see, even in my muddled mind angles were now being plotted on imaginary graphs that only I could see, trajectories were being simultaneously calculated, and flight dynamics of gold bands reverse engineered at lightning speed. My brain was ker-chunking like Univac on a mission to save the world. Advanced calculus equations I had labored over when in school suddenly became old hat as I plotted the path of the ring, right down to the millimeter, and within seconds, determined the exact location where it had to have come to rest in the duct work.

With no time to lose I bolted from the bathroom and out to my car… You see, back then I worked as a computer technician, so I was kind of like Paladin. Have tool bag, will travel…

I was keeping this horrible incident to myself, so as yet I had said nothing about what had happened. Fortunately, no one seemed to have heard me cursing  earlier, so everything was good… Or, so I thought. Screwdriver in hand, I raced back into the house, my sights locked on the basement door. However, as with any covert mission, just when you think everything will go without a hitch, the proverbial wrench gets thrown into the works by an insane howler monkey… Well, maybe not an insane howler monkey, but I just really wanted to say that, because I think monkeys are funny. Especially howler monkeys… And rhesus monkeys… And spider monkeys… And… Well, you get the idea…

At any rate, I was three steps from the basement door when I came face to face with my soon-to-be-mother-in-law. My mad dash, combined with my inability to keep the wild-eyed “what the f*ck have I done?!” look off my face had apparently attracted her attention.

“Murv, what’s wrong?” she asked.

I hemmed and hawed for a second. It seems that the clarity I had found during the period of doing advanced mathematical calculations moments before had now fled, leaving me conversationally brain dead. I simply could not think of anything to say other than the horrible truth.

“I dropped Kathy’s ring down the air-conditioning vent,” I mumbled.

At this point, almost-mom-in-law looked at me like I was a complete idiot, and then she said with an unmistakeably admonishing screech in her voice, “Oh, Murv!”

And, yes… For the record, that was when I discovered exactly where E K learned, “the look.” You know, the one that makes you feel about 3 inches tall…

I also believe, with all my heart, that this was probably a defining moment which set the tone for my relationship with my mother-in-law all these years. I say that because I’ve heard “Oh, Murv!” several times since that day… But I digress… (Oh, and another for the record note… I really do love my mother-in-law. She’s a wonderful lady. How could she not be? She’s E Kay’s mom.)

Back to the crisis…

Kat, still in the process of getting hairdoed, make-upped, perfumed, and dressed to the nines, hears her mother with the keen acoustic acuity only an offspring, grown or otherwise, can possibly have, and instantly pokes her head out of the bedroom door and asks with alarm, “What’s wrong?”

At this point, whichever vacuum tube in my head hadn’t yet warmed up, suddenly came on line. Flashes of the “one eyed E K stare at the front door,” the “Okay, come with me,” huff, and each and every of my bride’s reactions to all of the other stupid acts I had committed in the past year now flashed through my brain. I knew I couldn’t stop my mother-in-law from selling me out, but I could make it a moot point if I lied through my teeth and turned a screwdriver really, really fast…  So I did the only thing I could do…

I looked at her and said, “Nothing honey. Don’t worry…” Then made a bee-line for the basement like my life depended on it…

Knowing E K, it probably did…

And, just so you know, I had another worry rattling around inside my skull. You see, I didn’t exactly ace my math courses when I was in school…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Fool For Your Stockings…

Of course, you know me…Don’t I always?

So, anyway, pull up a chair, because this is going to take a couple of minutes.

My issue is with the self-appointed style police. Now, when I say style police I’m not talking about the folks who give grief over what you happen to be wearing that day. Although, given that I just returned home from doing my morning running about in public (post office and the like), and I was wearing a pair of denim shorts, a black t-shirt, and a pair of brown, generic “Crocs,” I suppose they would be up in arms too. (Let me tell you, those Crocs the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned, so don’t be surprised if you see me wearing them at a book signing or a festival when I am going to be on my feet all day.)

Nope. I’m talking about the Literary Style Police… And, remember, I said self-appointed, because believe you me, I never once saw them on any ballot I’ve cast in my lifetime.

So, what has triggered this for me? Well, not what you might expect. You see, I received a friend request from another writer yesterday. So, what did I do? I went and checked out her site, just like I do whenever anyone else sends me a friend request, or before I send one to someone.

I bet you thought I was just saying that on my main page, didn’t you? Nope. No joke. I really do go check people out before I approve the request, or be so bold as to send one.

But, anyway, I approved her request and then took a moment to read some of her blog. One of the entries was of particular interest. It was a list of words (tags) you should NEVER use when writing dialogue, because as everyone knows you should only use the word “said.”

Now…this writer noted that she was being somewhat facetious about this list, and I have no doubt that she was. In fact, to her credit, she does point out that she doesn’t completely agree with the list with the exception that it is a good rule of thumb to follow if you haven’t yet honed your craft and learned not to overuse the tags. I actually agree with her on that point, and I also applaud her effort at educating new writers. However, I would also caution that the tag “said” not be overused either. It is nowhere near as invisible, or unobtrosive as the style police would have you believe. In fact, it is downright clumsy and halting. Not only does it make for very dry, boring, dialogue, it often provides a bigger stumbling block than some of the words on “the list” simply because it doesn’t agree with the punctuation in the dialogue.

In addition, once written dialogue is flowing properly, tags need only be inserted here and there. Not on every line of speech. And then, they should be inserted to enhance, not to merely “point out that s/he SAID something.” The only other reason would be for the purpose of identifying the speaker, but again, if you have properly established the flow, the reader will already know who is speaking without it.

However, let me add that this is MY opinion on writing. We will get into why I just “said” that in a moment.

What interested me most about her blog entry was that some of the comments (not all, but some) she received about her blog came from writers/editors who wholeheartedly agreed with this no-no list. I secretly suspect they are a part of that bizarre little group of staunch supporters who cling for dear life to that rule about using only the dialogue tag “said”, and no other, as if it were a life preserver. I’ve had occasion to meet a few of these people, and while they may not ALL be this way, the handful I have experienced are no less than zealots. They love to cite rules about what they call “saidisms.” No, I did NOT say sadism, I said “saidisms.” The word said with an ism added to the end for maximum effect. One of my favorite things to ask these people is that since they are so caught up in following their so called “rules,” then why are they breaking them by making up a word? You see, the word “saidism” doesn’t exist. They made it up in order to sound like they were some sort of expert. So, when greeted by that word being thrown in my face, rather than “say” what I said above, I grunt it with amusement.

But, I don’t want to sound like an ass here. I do have to cut them some slack. Some of these folks are highly educated–some of them impressively so. I just think they have made the mistake of hitching their carts to a big, steaming bucket of stagnant thinking.

Time for some anecdotal fun…

I once had an editor insist that I replace every dialogue tag in one of my manuscripts with the word “said.” All of them. Even when someone asked a question and the line would read something on the order of:

“Where did you put the screaming howler monkeys?” he asked.

Apparently, according to “the rules” I wasn’t supposed to say, “he asked.” I was supposed to say, “he said.” But, he didn’t just say it. He asked it.

Said, the past participle of say, means to state, utter, speak, etc.

Asked means to put a question to, or make an inquiry.

Since the character in this instance actually “put a question to” another character, rather than simply make a statement, doesn’t putting “said” there seem a little odd to you? It does to me.

So, I had to ask. And, when I asked (or should that be said?) “why”, I was told that it was the rule.

Well, you know me, always stirring the pot…I wanted to know who made that rule. The response I got was that Elmore Leonard made the rule. Indeed, Mr. Leonard did say this. In fact, he has a list of 10 rules about writing and that is #3 on his hit list. #4, by the way, is to never use adverbs to modify the verb said. Poor adverbs. I don’t know what they ever did to him but it must have been bad. I feel sorry for “said” too, because Mr. Leonard has now forbidden it from playing with its good friends the adverbs. It’s a regular Romeo and Juilet looking for a place to happen…

So, I have another question, (I said.) Who died and appointed Elmore Leonard God Almighty of the writing community, thereby giving him the authority to lay down rules that I am somehow bound to follow?

The editor got mad at me and proceeded to call me names. Yes. Really. Apparently Elmore Leonard is some sort of personal deity to her and I had just committed the grave sin of blasphemy by questioning his Godhood. How the hell was I suppose to know?

Now, before you get your panties up your crack, I’m not aiming that comment at Mr. Leonard himself, and I am not trying to be vicious about it. What I am saying is very simply this: the man gave some advice based on how he does things and how he views his job as an author. That’s wonderful. More power to him. I’m all about advice and that sort of thing. Hell, I’ve even given out a bit of it myself. However, just because Elmore Leonard said “this is the way it must be done” this suddenly means that anyone who does it differently is wrong? I don’t know about you, but that seems just a little ridiculous to me. (BTW, rule #6 on Mr. Leonard’s list is never use the word “suddenly”… Looks to me that simply by writing this blog I am damning myself to author hell…Oh well, as long as they have beer I’m all good.)

I had yet another question (I said) Just like me, isn’t it? All these questions? I must have driven my parents nuts… Anyway, for sake of argument I will pose this question to you here now (I said)…If we aren’t supposed to use all of these words we have accumulated in the English language over the years, then exactly why do we have them? If said is the same as asked, replied, acknowledged, grunted, spewed, or any other verb, then why don’t we just get rid of all those other words and save some space in the dictionary? Obviously we don’t need them, correct? It would save paper, thereby saving trees and reducing pollution. Everybody wins. And, maybe then the style police could even go ahead and petition to have saidism added because there would now be room for it…Of course, if we got rid of all of the so-called saidisms there wouldn’t really be a need for the word saidism then, would there? (I said). Of course, that would mean we wouldn’t have a need for style police either…

Nahhhh. They’d find something else to complain about. On the heels of their victory they would probably start some sort of movement to change all nouns to pronouns, because he and she are far less intrusive than a character’s actual name when reading text…I can see it now…I’ll need to change all of the current titles in my series. Harm None: A He Investigation…Never Burn A Witch: A He Investigation…

Silly, yes. But, in my opinion, it really isn’t any more silly than telling me I can’t use any dialogue tag other than said. If writers are supposed to use the language to convey thoughts and emotions then why in the world would you restrict the language they are allowed to use? I don’t know about you, but to me that makes about as much sense as repeatedly hitting yourself on the thumb with a ball peen hammer. (Of course, if you are into that sort of thing, more power to you. But, I don’t wanna hear about it…)

Okay, so let’s think about this for a minute…And, while you are thinking, I will jump in my “wayback machine,” set it for 1903, then go back and tell the Wright brothers that they can’t fly. Wait…I think they got told that by other people didn’t they? But, they did it anyway. Hmmmm…Funny how that works. I get told I can’t use a dialogue tag other than said, but I ignore that “rule” (as do countless other writers), and yet we still have loyal fans and readers.

Hmmmm….guess all of our fans and readers are big nasty rule breakers too, eh?

I’m sure by now you are saying to yourself, “Holy crap! Murv must have had someone complain about him using a saidism.” Well, if that is what you are saying to yourself, you would be correct. However, it hasn’t happened recently. Not for quite some time actually. But, I am sure I will get more. The hate mail tends to come in waves. Now that I’m writing this blog, I’ll probably get several in the immediate future. Oh well… The style police are always on the prowl, it gives them something to do…

However, to validate what you are mumbling (I’m sorry, saying) to yourself, yes, throughout the years I have received a dozen or so scathing mails/emails from anti-fans telling me that I am a hack because I don’t follow “the rules.” My favorite vilification came from a particular lady who went on about how even a first time “fanfic” writer knew better than to break the rules I have broken throughout my novels. Actually, that “argument” has been tossed at me two or three times. I personally think it is funny. However, what made her particular letter my personal favorite was the fact that she was so caught up in chastising me for having the unmitigated gall to use a dialogue tag other than “said” that she neglected to proof her own work which was filled with misspellings, misused words, and several grammar issues.

I was amused. A couple of typos I can understand. I’m good for those myself. But, these weren’t typos. Trust me.

Now, back to Mr. Leonard. No offense intended, but I must be honest– I don’t much care for his writing, but that’s just my opinion. It doesn’t make his writing bad…or, dare I say “wrong.” Although, several of the things HE does break MY 10 rules…But, so what. That isn’t the point. Those are MY rules, just like his rules are HIS rules. The basic fact is, I just don’t particularly like his style.

And, yes. There it is again. That word…Style.

How we write is a matter of style. In fact, many authors submit their manuscripts along with something called a “style sheet”…For those of you who may not know what that is, a “style sheet” is something that shows your editor how YOU do things. i.e. which rules you plan to break, and why. For instance, non-standard capitalization, intentional grammatical anomalies, non-standard spellings, and so on….

So, that covers the specifics. But what about the basics? The basic style elements get dictated by who? The editors in the industry? Other writers? English teachers? Society? Actually, all of the above. But, guess what? (I said) Unlike the speed of light these “rules” are not a universal constant. They change. Constantly. So, I guess in a way they are constant…by that I mean constantly changing, not constantly remaining constant. Make sense? Yeah, I know. Just read it again slowly.

Anyway, If you don’t believe me, then here is an example. If you are my age, or anywhere near, then you remember that when we were in school we were taught that it was an absolute taboo to end a sentence with a preposition. Guess what?The rule changed. It’s okay to do that now. Really. I’m not kidding. Go ahead and end a sentence with the word “for” if you are so inclined. It is now grammatically correct, no matter what Mr. Golden or Ms. Ackman taught me all those years ago.

So, why do rules change? Because they become antiquated and no longer work for a given situation or era. And, here’s a news flash. Rules dictating writing style are in an even greater state of flux, because while you have all of the folks listed above dictating the elements of style, each of us dictate our own as well. — Remember the style sheet? And, a breaking news update to go with the one above: Style rules can be broken without anyone getting hurt or going to jail. I know…sounds crazy doesn’t it? (I said) But let me clue you in on a little secret. The style police actually have no authority. Really. They can’t even write tickets. No. I’m not kidding. All they can do is play with their sirens (by that I mean, whine and complain.)

So, what is the deal with all of these “rules” then? To paraphrase the popular movie pirates–They are more like a set of suggested guidelines.

So, there you have it. Just like I’m not going to let someone else dictate which shoes I wear when I go to the post office (except my wife, and well, you know how that is…) I’m not going to let anyone else dictate my writing style.

You shouldn’t either.

Okay…Now I am off to write some stuff and use all of the wrong words while doing it. Wish me luck.

MR

PS. Oh, and there are probably some typos in this…so sue me. 😉