Message Board Madness

One thing I can't stand about message boards is you cannot address someone's comments in real-time. Sometimes, it really boils my groin! I'm never a bully. Never. Though I am strongly opinionated, I am never deliberately condescending to -- or intentionally excluding of -- anyone. When I am critiquing something, I do it honestly. I make no effort to sugar-coat it because sugar-coating is lying. I find it hard to pretend, given the time I have. Most of the time, I try to mention what I like, as well as what I find wrong.

When I am critiqued, I never argue about anyone's opinion. If I think they a wrong about something, I say what and explain why. If I don't, they won't benefit from it. Likewise, if I'm wrong about something, I will admit it. Lord knows I've been wrong enough times. But, it's useless to argue. Right or wrong, neither you nor I can change anyone's first impression.

If the punctuation is wrong; if details are left out because you know what your characters are doing and where; if a typo really spells another word...then a reader has every right to misinterpret what you're saying.

How can they not? Every writer fumbles, from the award-winning/bestseller/Pulitzer Prize winner to the Kindergartner. That's what it means to be human and why they put erasers on pencils. But, to expect everyone one to say, "Well, I know what you meant..." or "Huh?" and just continue to read on -- and compliment your prose to boot -- well that's not only unrealistic, it's conceited. Hell, some people just aren't going to be your audience.

Now, I've had my exchanges. Good or bad, I hold no grudges. And I believe I can hold my own. (You can't tell me what I believe}=p) But, I've learned something from every encounter, and would even venture to say I've made a few friends along the way. A few posts ago, I expressed feeling like I wanted to drop out of these workshops completely, but a few friends (or co-posters if they'd prefer not associating too closely with me }=}) have asked me not to quit. And I thought no one reads this thing! So, I have decided not to.

Perhaps people like me are needed to cut through the thickly glazed turds that goody-two-shoe sycophants regularly cough up! Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to be mean, but I'm going to keep-on-keeping-on. @$$holes like me are what keep the integrity in the critique.

The Purple Nightmare

I've really got to start keeping this updated.

Started my day off with everyone rushing around like bumper cars. It's lucky that one of the little ones weren't crushed underfoot. (Sigh. All we can do is try.) Fortunately the abominable doofus was already out. I can imagine the pile-up that would have occurred in his wake! Anyway, the reason for all the chaos was a friend's wedding (one of the wife's best friends) was this morning. It was like the culmination of a dark prophecy.

Just the beginning of this week is when the wedding party decided to deliver the dress pattern. So, my wife (recall she's irritable in the daylight) has to make this dress -- be mom to three (9&1/2, 7, and a special-needs 4 year old) children, deal with the abominable doofus, care for her aging father (almost another child sometimes), prepare for a Boy Scouts shin-dig (of which she's the area leader), not to mention deal with me -- in less than a week. (Amazing, ain't she?) Kind of sounds like the biblical signs of apocalypse, right? The similarities are remarkable.

• Snag no. 1: The pattern is not the right size. No big deal. She makes a run to Wal Mart and remedies that.
• Snag no. 2: I had an emergency room visit (false alarm), but it kept us out until 4:00 am!
• Snag no. 3: She sees what it actually looks like! It looks like a big, shiny, purple, v-necked, BIB. It was like seeing her try on a shiny pillow case. No matter how she turned, tapered, pinched, shuffled, or belted it didn't change.

Now, my wife is a real trooper. As much as she hated the Purple Nightmare; as much as she knew it made her look like a pretty sack of potatoes; as much as every grain of her being wanted to set the offending object afire, she kept at it. She repaired an iron-burn (which I'm not entirely sure was an accident), bought the proper support for a strapless smock, and wore it to the wedding. When I saw the tears well up last night, I knew the size of the sacrifice that she was making, and admired her so much more for it. She not only kept a straight face (which I barely could), she pretended it was the most beautiful dress she'd ever had the privilege to touch. Smooth, baby.

Of course, when she had to leave to bring me to work, she did the quickest change I've seen her pull-off in a while. The slip gave her a little trouble though. As I write this, I wonder -- now that her powers are at full capacity -- if she is dancing around a shiny purple fire.

So, hats off to Missus Babbler, she kicks @$$!

Writers of the Future (Quarter 4)

Well. After writing a 10,000 short story, having the first draft critiqued at Hatrack, editing it, editing it again, having my wife go over it (And people think I'm brutal with a critique!), and editing it a third time, I finally typed those two words at its bottom: The End. Pantroth has had his first adventure.

Though it probably doesn't show, I have developed this realm for years. Everything you could want is there, except for guns and peace -- the former is long extinct, the latter is keeping it real. Since finishing the story, Magnum Opus, Pantroth has decided to expand his tale. Since he's not the type to settle for a "maybe", I've started his expanded tale.

While I'm committing Pantroth's story to print, Magnum Opus has been sent off to the Writers of the Future Contest (WOTF). The day I sent it out, I learned that they may not consider it fantasy. They may reject it based on the lack of magic or mythical beasts -- more's the pity. It's certainly not historical. Fortunately, Magnum Opus was not written for them. If it makes the grade, awesome; if not, it has a home. I would not have changed it to fit them, even if I had the chance to. There are other stories and other quarters. But, I'm hoping they take it. I'm hoping it goes all the way. I'm hoping...just like every other author.

I'm already planning on which of my short stories could be expanded and polished for the next quarter...