BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…I’m an asshole.

Now, to be perfectly honest, I really don’t think that I’m an asshole. I mean, like most folks, I have one, but I don’t think that I am one. Of course, as a general rule the majority of assholes don’t actually think that they are assholes. Given that I have been told in no uncertain terms that I am a waste sphincter of the highest order I may just be deluding myself in the belief that I am not.

To that end, I thought I’d take a minute to explain exactly why it is that I’m an asshole, just in case I actually am.

Not a week goes by that I don’t receive an email from some fresh-faced, idealistic, energetic individual with dreams of becoming an author. Problem is, said fresh-faced, idealistic, energetic individual is contacting me and asking me not only for advice, but for me to read their unplaced manuscript.

Advice I will give. Usually it involves telling the person to run the other direction and become a particle physicist, attorney, or something else that garners a decent paycheck. This whole authoring gig isn’t what it’s cracked up to be in the movies and TV, so unless you simply can’t help yourself but the write, don’t.

That’s not usually what they want to hear, but it goes over okay. Sort of.

Where I suddenly become an asshole is when I tell them I cannot read their unpublished manuscript for them.

9.99 times out of 10, the fresh-faced, idealistic, energetic individual turns into a tantrum throwing three-year-old, letting me know that I am a big doody head, and yes, an asshole for not reading their work. Why? Because I should help them. All they want is my honest – and they do mean honest – critique of their work so that they can become a better writer and reap all of the wonders of success that I have been privileged to enjoy as an author.

Well, the first thing I do is laugh at that last part. Then, I say no again. Here’s why…

No they don’t. The critique that is. They really and truly do NOT want real input from anyone. If they did they would be members of a writing critique group and they would already be getting that input. You see, what they REALLY want is for me to say: Holy Crap! I am a mere poser in relation to you. You put Hemingway to shame. You put all other writers before you to shame. There will never be another writer as great as you!

Now, before you say, “But Murv, aren’t you exaggerating?”… And I can see why you would say that, because I often do (supposedly), let me just say, “No. I am not exaggerating.”

You see, I used to say yes. Any other authors out there reading this are now shaking their heads and saying, “You big dumbass.” Well, I’ll accept that moniker with no objections. Why? Because I WAS a dumbass to be doing such a thing.

Never – and I mean never – did I read something for someone who really and truly wanted an honest critique. In fact, the majority of the time I would receive an email, with a file attached, and a note saying something ridiculous like: “Mister Sellars – (two paragraphs of blowing smoke up my ass)… So, please read this and give me your honest opinion. But, I’m sure you will just want to forward it on to your editor and recommend me for publication because it really is destined to be the next New York Times Bestseller.”

I’m not kidding.

But, I would read anyway, and then send my thoughts. Things like:

“You have a good idea here and I like your imagery, but I’d suggest doing a bit of research on police procedure so that you can tighten things up make the situation more believable.”

Or…

“Nice descriptions, but the prose is a little too expository. Maybe try using dialogue between the characters to get the information across instead of having them stand there staring at each other and thinking everything without ever saying a word.”

Those pieces of advice were categorically, undeniably NOT what they wanted to hear. And, they would tell me as much, often liberally peppered with expletives and all sorts of assessments of my intelligence and writing ability that were diametrically opposed to the smoke blowing they had done in their original note when contacting me.

So here’s what I decided.  Why not stop wasting my time and just spend time with my family, or even read something that I actually WANT to read. I mean, if I am going to be an asshole either way, I should at least get to be an asshole doing what I want to do, right?

And there you have it. That’s why I’m an asshole.

Cue Dennis Leary. I’ll be happy to sing along.

More to come…

Murv

There’s this old saying that goes something like, “You can never have too many friends.”

I think that’s right. I didn’t go look it up. Maybe I should… Oh, what the hell. Let’s just call it good and say that’s what the saying says. Know what I’m saying? ‘Nuff said.

So, anyway, here are my thoughts on that subject. In this age of Social Networking and such, maybe it actually is possible to have too many friends. I mean, if you put yourself out there and the six degrees of Bacon Bits kicks in, the next thing you know you have friends of friends of friends being your friends. It can be a little overwhelming. If you also add to the mix silly stuff like being an author who has to publicize his (or her) books, well then you end up with readers (sometimes called fans) who become your friends (online), most of whom you’ve never met.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining… No siree, not at all. I am merely making an observation. And, with that observation comes a convoluted analysis – because, if you happen to be my friend, on Facebook or otherwise, you are well aware that my mind works in a bizarre fashion. Much like a combination drunk and acid induced haze that makes everything a little weird.

But then, rumor has it that’s what makes me so interesting. (BTW – no acid involved, save for the acetylsalicylic acid from the aspirin necessary to treat the hangover from the alcohol.)

But, back to this convoluted analysis… I’ve come to the conclusion that having too many friends is the reason the PTB, God, Goddess, Gawd, Dog,  Evolution, or what have you, endowed us with anal sphincters.

Scratchin’ your head yet?

Let me see if I can explain… As it happens, there’s this whole other saying that goes something like, “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one.” I didn’t look that up either, but I’m pretty sure I’m close to accurate in my rendition.

Now, while this built-in defense system has been operational for a little bit of forever, it has really come into its own in the age of online social networking. “How?” you ask. Well, it’s simple, really.

Whenever I look at my Facebook page and decide that I have way too many friends, I enable the system by… no, NOT posting a picture of my ass… but, close… I express an opinion. Yeah, easy as that. Go figure. And believe me, it works. I’ve sat and watched my friend “counter” almost literally decrement right before my eyes. It’s downright amazing.

You see, a huge segment of the population apparently operates on the “assumption principle.” If you’ve never heard of that, I’m not surprised, because I just made it up. If you have heard of it and someone else is laying claim to having created it, well, what can I say? News to me, and no infringement intended or claimed on my part. At any rate, the “assumption principle” works like this – Assume that everyone believes the way you do and shares your exact same opinion.

The dangerous thing about the “assumption principle” is that in cases where the infection has really taken hold, the afflicted individual finds it impossible to accept the fact that s/he could possibly maintain a friendship with someone whose opinions or beliefs deviate in any way from his/her own. Even if said friendship is superficial via a social networking site. But, while dangerous in one sense, this is also what makes the “too many friends defense system” work so well.

So, next time you look at your social networks and think to yourself, “Wow… I have too many friends. What should I do?” the answer is right in front of you. Just run off at the mouth for a bit and express your own, personal opinion about something. It doesn’t even have to be earthshattering or the least bit important. It simply needs to be your opinion. Believe me, you’re sure to pare that list down just a bit in nothing flat.

Oh, and by the way. For those of you wondering, this blog entry, like the vast majority of my others, is satire.

But then, I guess that’s just my opinion. Guess I should go watch my friend counter, eh?

More to come…

Murv