Grammar trolls, bad grammar and spelling, and ye Impperfectiones of ye Englisch

This blog’s basis is the life and situations of writing, professional and non-professional.  I find that area not well understood by most folks, but I can’t often put my finger on the right topic.  This is one.

Q: When I have bad grammar, do you look down your snout at me?

A: Mostly, no.

Why not?

Turn it around:  why? What can I gain from that? Maybe you’re brilliant but dyslexic.  Maybe you just suck at English. (If I can suck at math and be good at English, I’m sure others can arrange to suck at English and be good at other things.) Maybe you’re partly disabled and doing your damn best. I can’t know why you have bad grammar.  But the answer is the same:  why would I care? What can I gain from looking down my snout, picking on people for something they can’t help? That would benefit me how? Would I win friends and influence people? Would I effect change? Would it do any good, or would it just make me a snob? Surely there are enough literary snobs out there, and we don’t need another one in me?

When people deliberately or lazily use bad English, do you break into cold sweats of outrage? Start breaking stuff?

No.

But you should!  Why not?

For the same reason I don’t die of a massive stroke if they find a new source of spilled radioactive contamination at Hanford.  It already has so much mess that they can keep forever pretending to clean it up, a multi-generational non-work job they’ll assure that they never finish.  How does it matter if they find a little bit more? What will they do, get non-busy non-cleaning that up also? If your English isn’t good, oh, well; neither is most people’s.  Big deal; no one’s perfect.  Even if you hate smoking, does every discarded cigarette butt on the ground cause you to write indignantly to your Congressthief/MP/etc.? Do you accost every cigarette butt litterbug in anger? No? Why not? Is it because you have better things to do with your life?

Do you always strive for perfect grammar and spelling?

No.

But YOU’RE A WRITER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You noticed! (insert forty dippy emoticons and heart variations) Awesomecoolbeansaucelulzroflcopter!

Surely you want to sound as articulate as possible?

Why? This implies that I must care what someone thinks of my writing. Unless it’s an acquisitions editor in a position to hire/publish me, why? I take special care here, but not on a message board or in chat.

But it’s the principle! It’s your professional presentation, isn’t it?

Not always, it ain’t.  Sometimes I’m just being a person and don’t worry about it.  I live in the same world you do, with the same people and their (and my) English imperfections.  I do not work every hour of the day.  I sometimes sleep, watch TV, mow the yard, cuddle my wife, and at those times I do no work.  If you were an auto detailer, would you spend all your leisure time obsessively washing, waxing, vacuuming, q-tipping, armor-alling and spit-shining your car? What? Why not? Don’t you care what people think of your car? It’s your professional presentation! Surely you are too busy obsessing about its perfection to actually drive it anywhere?

But cars are for getting somewhere! Of course I would drive it!

And writing is for communicating.  Of course I would use it for a practical purpose.

You aren’t biologically compelled to proofread every word of English you see?

Evidently not.  Would anyone want to live that way? If you want me to proofread your English, please e-mail me and I’ll quote you my rates. (I am a really, really good proofreader.  Ask those who have worked with me.) Or, if you are a good friend, maybe I’ll give you a freebie. Some writers are not only not grammar and spelling snobs, but can be rather nice and helpful friends, just like your attorney friends will sometimes give you free guidance, or your computer nerd friends might help you figure out why your screen now looks all wrong. We might just be actual, average people.  Writing may just happen to be our line of work; we may be otherwise normal.

People often post deliberately contrived examples of English that is comically faulty.  Surely that, at least, must grate horribly on you?

No.

How can it not?

Because it’s generally lacking in comic merit, simple trolling. At what point in time has it ever made sense to encourage Internet trolls, especially when they don’t even amuse one?

Okay.  What DO you hate?

Stupid expressions and text-speak.  “Awesome sauce” inserted into decent English is like urine poured on otherwise good pizza.  And when you want to wish everyone a good night, ‘hagn e1’ is a lousy way to do it.

Sweet! I have found an area where I can taunt, tease, troll and provoke you over English!  Awesome sauce lol! Cool beans lol! R u mad @ me yet lol?

No.

But you have to be! You simply HAVE to be! I need a way to troll and annoy you!

Fortunately, you’re a good person in enough other ways and are allowed faults, just as I hope you’ll allow me my own (and they are plentiful).  As for this need to troll and provoke, that need is not my problem, so I should not take ownership of a problem I don’t own.  Do it deliberately once, I shrug my shoulders, hope it’s a flier.  Do it deliberately twice, the fuse’s wire burns through and I’m no longer paying attention to it.  Safety feature. Do it repeatedly, and I may wonder idly how this brings you joy, but I don’t wonder very hard, because wondering implies an interest in why you’d do that, and that wire burnt through.  If you want to sound that way on purpose just to try and make my day worse, do so.  When you stop, I’ll replace the fuse, and we’ll talk about something productive.

I simply don’t believe you.  Some aspect of all this must surely drive you insane.

If that were the case, I’d be insane by now: both passively from what people cannot help, and actively by both friends and enemies with a strange idea of fun.  If it drives you insane, well, I don’t blame you, but I suggest you refuse to allow that.  It worked for me.

It got you to write a long blog post on the subject. It did bother you! Neener, made you look!

No. It inspired me, made me want to write, explain, share. It motivated me to do some useful work, organize my thoughts a bit, think critically. It helped me realize that people can see why a mechanic doesn’t come home and immediately begin working on his or her own cars, but cannot see why a writer doesn’t necessarily critique everything he or she reads.

I think some writers do.

Then I’m sorry for them, but as I said before, we all have to own our own problems.  They’ll have to own that one.  I don’t want or need it–it would just be a hindrance to joy.

Old Hastings labels are the enemy, and Googone is my friend

If you’re going to sell a lot of books–especially in Fine condition, as are many of mine–you want to be able to list as few defects as possible.  If you are a brick and mortar bookstore, you want to make it as annoying as you can to remove your price tags.

These interests conflict in many little puddles of Googone.

If you’ve never used it, Googone is an orange-smelling solvent that dissolves the gumming on labels.  It’s not harmful on your fingers, though I sure wouldn’t drink it, huff it like some kids do with airplane glue, or use it as a personal lubricant.  It is volatile, meaning that its will evaporate without a trace.

So what I do is this:  lay out a row of books, offending stickers up.  Drip Googone onto each sticker one drop at a time, being sure to soak it completely.  Some will often run down the spine or into the pages; don’t worry about that, as it won’t deform them like water would.  It works best on matte tags stuck to glossy dust jackets and covers, and worst/messiest on glossy tags adhering to matte dust jackets (they soak up the Googone and you must keep wetting the sticker down).  Let sit for about four minutes.

Start peeling up stickers, with great care.  In the best cases (B&N 30% discount stickers), a single peel, a wipe, a couple hours set out to dry fully, and you are done.  In the worst cases (small segmented Half Price Books tags, fossilized tags from the 1980s, and Hastings tags), you have to keep it soaked until the gum or fossilized gum finally starts to dissolve.  You could just keep doing that until it all dissolves, but that takes longer.

Once you have the paper up, you want to remove any gum residue.  If you were patient, or mopped behind the label with a Googone-wet finger, it’s moist and will wipe up.  If you were not, moisten it, give it a moment and then wipe.  Keep wiping with fresh Googone until all you can see is a light sheen of the stuff and all gumming is gone, clean up around the edges where it ran down, and set out to dry.

The biggest annoyance is the mess, that and the spreading stains which your instincts tell you have just made the book several times worse than if you’d left the tag in peace.  It evaporates (though I wouldn’t use any more than I needed).  Oh, and one more:  if your computer keys are marked with sticky labels rather than inset labels, you will very much wish to do a good job of washing your hands before you sit down at your machine.  I made that mistake once, and it’s a good thing I can remember which is N and which is M.

How not to get a book review

First, allow me to direct you to a very good article by Jon at Crimespree magazine.  I’m not much into Jon’s genre, but I’ve been a reviewer at Amazon for quite some time.

Before Amazon changed its ranking system, I was high enough on their rankings that I took some pains to keep my local media from finding out (lest they bother me).  The majority of my review solicitations were quite faulty.  To wit:

  • Many wanted me to review galleys.  Uh, no.  If my only compensation is the actual book, you expect me to forego that?
  • One spammed me weekly about her children’s fantasy until I finally reported her to her provider when “no” and “get lost” did not suffice.
  • Lots paid no attention to the sorts of things I had reviewed in the past.  Does my body of work look like I read a lot of Christian-themed murder mysteries?
  • Some wrote so badly they unsold themselves.  If this is how you write when you are trying to get my attention, what kind of book did you commit?
  • A number wanted to send me e-copies.  While I can accept offering me the option, what that essentially says is that I wasn’t carefully selected–I was spammed, along with many others, as there is no cost to sending e-copies, thus no reason not to mailbomb the entire Amazon reviewer base.
  • Few sent me anything with even a hint of personal touch.  I wasn’t looking for flattery (and in fact was turned off by it), but some sincere reason:  why me, and not someone else?

Most radiated one of the greatest turnoffs about authors (and you’d be surprised about some well-known names who resemble this remark):  dividing the world into two groupings, a) those prepared to buy/promote/fanboy their work, and b) useless individuals.  I don’t go to writers’ retreats and after several tries, I’m not interested in local writers’ groups.  There is just too much of this, and the pain is not worth the gain to me.

So how do you get reviews for your published work? Realize:  you’re asking someone to commit to a thorough read of a book that 80% of the time will be mediocre (that’s just the average).  See it through his or her eyes, spending several hours of life in what the odds say will be suffering.  Explain why s/he should believe that it will not be suffering–not everyone, just that person in particular.  Not with flattery but with examples of your book’s merits germane to what the reviewer seems prone to review.  Do it professionally yet personally, conveying the message that you will gladly accept even a criticism-filled review.  Act like a credible professional contacting another credible professional.

Selling books on Alibris

The basic problem here is TMB.  Anyone who has been here knows that I basically live and work in a library, and though I’m not buying piles of books lately, it’s out of hand.  Imagine 13 ‘stacks,’ each six rows high, 4′ wide.  The fact is that if I want, this is enough to last me a lifetime.  If I reread them all, by the time I got back to the beginning, I would have forgotten what the first one was about.  And the older I get, the easier that becomes…

It’s bad enough that I sometimes buy a second copy of a book that looks good, forgetting that I already have a copy.  This is just stupid (worse yet, it is foolishly wasteful), and it’s time it stopped.  So I’m going to try unloading some.

The process is both easy and hard.  The basic shipping charge will mostly cover the cost of the mailer and postage for media mail, but not all of it.  The company you list with, of course, collects some profit as well.  So the first question is not ‘what are other people charging’, but ‘what must I charge for this to be worth the bother?’ After a visit to the P.O. with a couple of books, and some negotiating with my local UPS store on mailers, the basic answer to that question is:  about $1 for a small paperback, $2 for a larger trade paperback, and $3 for a hardback, combined with the $4 shipping allowance, is the ‘worth bothering’ point.  However, my books tend to be in great condition, me being so obsessive about that, so that should help.

I picked Alibris over Amazon and Abebooks because a) it seemed easier to work with than Abe, and b) I got to keep more of my money than Amazon.  Part of it also was some desire to separate my selling presence from my authorial presence at Amazon, and part was evidence that Amazon cleverly undercuts its secondary-market sellers.  Many is the time I’ve seen Amazon price books to just where the people who get free shipping would save a nickel buying from them over the poor sloggers selling the book for $0.01, and I find that to be taking unfair advantage of their position.  Alibris isn’t going to do that.

So, let’s see how it goes.  First I have to cover the $20 annual fee, which I suspect won’t be hard.  I put out five books just to learn the interface and see what sort of business I got, get through the process, then we’ll consider going forward after the first week.

Being 48 at a metal show

I drove down to Potland to meet my college friends Ben and Debbie for a night of folk metal:  Huntress (LA), Arkona (Russia), Alestorm (Scotland) and Turisas (Finland).  This was nearly a four-hour drive each way, plus an expensive hotel stay (if one wants to avoid Portland’s infamous bedbug motel complaints), so one may infer from this that I am very enamored of the music.  The metal growl (which sounds to me like the noises one would make under medieval torture) doesn’t do much for me, but some of the music is very inspiring and the environment is fun.  Plus, $20 is a pretty good deal for four hours of music.

At least at the Hawthorne,  the theater is divided into two areas:  the non-moshing alcohol area in the back, and the moshing no-beverages (except water bottles thrown by bands) front area.  Call me hardcore, but I think the show is more engulfing in the front.  Of course, if you have a bad knee, you have to do this sensibly.  As I described from the last time I went, basically it’s a bunch of young people behaving as if in hockey and there is action in front of the goalmouth.   Lots of shoving. If you are on the edge of that, you may get bumped some (or someone may throw a young female at you).  Some of the impacts are pretty hard, thus the hockey analogy. However, the people are friendly, and there was a certain respect for age.  I think the young lady was misaimed–I didn’t take a lot of shots, and I don’t think it was my size (plenty of much bigger guys).  I think it’s just that the kids are nice, and if older people are going to be near a mosh pit, they aren’t going to go out of their way to nail us.  What does occur is in the ‘accidents happen’ category.  It reinforces my experience of being older than the norm at youth-oriented events, which is that if you don’t bring preconceived notions, neither do the kids.

Yeah, it’s loud, but for some reason this didn’t seem as loud as the last time.  Maybe that one permanently dulled my hearing; not sure.  I didn’t have the ringing in the ears afterward, though the nighttime bustle of Portland sounded distant for a bit.  Part of it may also be that with three of the four bands, I knew all the songs they did, so I could make out more melody and lyrics. Huntress was mainly for Debbie (not Debby my wife; Debbie Ben’s wife), who was familiar with them.  I thought they did all right.

Arkona was superb, great with the crowd, clearly happy to be back and digging their reception.  They do the hair swirl thing (I cracked Debbie and Ben up by trying to do it with my beard), and Masha Scream really does come off like a Slavic pagan priestess of wilder days.  The dark-haired guitarist, Sergei, is also a hell of a showman with the gift of making anyone in the audience feel like he was connecting with them.  They have a really talented bagpiper.  Alestorm was good, but a slight letdown after Arkona in terms of energy.  I’ve always found Alestorm’s lyrics tending to hokeyness, but I don’t regret going to see them.  Their keyboardist impresses me.  We’ve all been pronouncing Turisas wrong:  say it teresa’s.  Evidently one of their guitarists has a broken rib and played anyway; got to love a showman’s ethic.  Turisas pretty well knocked the joint over with an excellent show and an encore callback, doing all my favorites.  All in all, a fine night of folk metal.

Afterward, we went for coffee and VD:  Voodoo Donuts, a PDX tradition.  Donuts with bacon.  Donuts with crunch berries.  Donuts with crushed oreos.  Good coffee (I pity the Portland donut place that tries to serve lousy coffee).  Pricewise it’s like buying Mrs. Fields’ cookies, but the flavor, value and quirkiness factor at a 24/7 east Portland donut place leaves glaze all over Jenni Fields’ makeup.

This isn’t the sort of thing I’d want to do every weekend; for one thing, it’s too long standing in one spot on a concrete surface with a bad knee.  Once in a while, however, is fine, especially with friends.  I wouldn’t do it by myself.  The natural question from my fellow late boomers, raised on Petula Clark and BTO:  what’s the appeal? A good metal show is more than just people who sound like they’re being branded with hot irons, ringing ears and people making a hand gesture with the index and little fingers.  It’s powerful music, a safely wacky environment, and surprising acceptance and general goodwill.   In a small setting, it’s pretty intimate and enjoyable.

Notes from the aliens’ survey, 4/13/2012

The sleek  “Tlai survey frigate ran under full stealth in Earth’s orbit.  It had arrived there two days prior, on a mission from Homeworld to investigate alien intelligences, civilizations and potential friends–or threats.  Ethnographer ‘Plaf, senior researcher, had directed the pilot to orbit for two full days while his staff gathered data.  It was the “Tlai way to be sincere, thorough, and intensely curious.  ‘Plaf had spent much of its day absorbing a great many fascinating departmental reports in preparation for the initial sharing of thoughts.

‘Plaf opened the meeting, then bade its staff present early research data in each’s specialty field.  Linguistics presented the shocking and dismaying report that Earth’s sentient species communicated in thousands of languages, which would take long enough to catalogue–far longer to understand, but they could decipher most of what was said or written in the nine or ten most widely spoken.  Fair progress.  Xenobiology had identified one sentient and several semi-sentient species, each with several racial variants.  Evidently racial variants weighed heavily on the minds of ‘Umaniti, as one widely-spoken language collectively called the sentient species.

“Very good, Xenobiologist li’Wal,” said ‘Plaf.  “Now let us examine a simple situation under close magnification, and see where the data lead us.  What issue do you feel would profit us to study?”

Li’Wal worked its keyboard.  Pictures popped onto the screen.  “Ethnographer, fellow researchers, here are two ‘Umaniti at the center of a large controversy on Landmass D.  One, the one on the left with the lighter flesh, is in the middle of their normal lifespan.  Unlike us, but like some other species, this species has genders:  one which bears young and one which seeds them; both are necessary for procreation, and in this case, both are of the seeding gender.  The one on the right with darker flesh is a youth.  There seems no doubt that the lighter-fleshed one slew the youth with a kinetic energy launcher.”

“Why would he slay a youth? Is this their norm?” asked Military Scientist Khaul.

“It is frowned upon everywhere, and prohibited in most places on the planet,” answered Judician ‘Faur.  “There is great controversy on Landmass D whether the violence was allowable.”

“Why would they consider it allowable?” asked ‘Plaf.

“It’s odd, Ethnographer,” said ‘Faur.  “There is no consensus.  A discredited fringe, all naturally of light flesh, evidently believes that persons of light flesh should justly do random violence to persons of dark flesh.  The majority of all flesh tones reject this view.  The fringe at the other end of the spectrum sees this as yet another act of war based on flesh tone, lighter versus darker, and is outraged that the killer will likely face no punishment.”

“Is it the reverse on Landmass B, where the majority are of dark flesh? Do those of lighter flesh feel the same where they are in the minority?”

“It seems so, but the historical circumstances differ,” offered Historian Xul. “South of the immense central desert on Landmass B, ‘Umaniti of dark flesh were once the sole residents.  Those of lighter flesh, mainly from Landmass A, arrived and subjugated Landmass B, carrying off many in forced labor.  No one on any of these landmasses has forgotten this captivity with the passage of time, though the practice is nearly extinct and has been for at least a hundred revolutions of the planet.  I have learned that those of dark flesh on Landmass D descend mainly from these captives.  They remain somewhat marginalized, and many resent this greatly, but not all.  A ‘Umaniti of dark flesh actually leads the most populous nation on Landmass D, though in reality he seems in between flesh tones.  However, he identifies himself as dark-fleshed, and most ‘Umaniti concur.”

Ethnographer ‘Plaf looked thoughtfully at the images.  “It makes one wonder why this leader does not correct the conditions.  Why is that, in your view, Politician Lr’uff?”

“His ‘Umaniti chose him as leader, Ethnographer, through a process that makes zero sense to me.  He has limited power.  He and his young-bearer evidently said what the population desired most to hear, in order to attain this office.  As nearly as I can see, his function is to accept credit for all that goes well, and blame for all that goes wrong.  Neither seems justified, but that is my read of their sentiment studying his predecessors.  Some have led during great scandal, some have barely bothered to do the job.  Some have spent more time in the procreational act with the young-bearing gender, one recently to great public embarrassment, especially for his mate.  Speaking of which, young-bearers are almost globally disadvantaged and deprived of power; in some factions they must cover their entire forms in sacks and have few privileges save to bear young upon command and do menial tasks.  A few of the leaders in Landmass D’s history seem to have been noble according to our values, which somewhat intersect with those of ‘Umaniti.   Most seem to have sought power primarily because ‘Umaniti value power over other ‘Umaniti.”

“Very well.  Back on the subject. Faur, please summarize the contending views regarding this slaying, and we shall see what they suggest to us.”

“Certainly, Ethnographer.  In the region where the event occurred, and in some other regions, the law allows anyone to slay another if he or she feels in fear of loss of life.  Many feel that this instance pushes the issue of slaying to an ethical breaking point accented by flesh tone, that the youth was killed simply for being in an area inhabited by light-fleshed ‘Umaniti, and his killer will now escape penalty for a death that did not need to be.  It is on nearly everyone’s speech apparatus in Landmass D, and dominates all media.  One source even made a breathless report that the killer, who is confined by the authorities awaiting the judicial process, spent money at the confinement center’s store.”

“How much did he spend?” asked ‘Plaf, bemused.  “Enough to purchase what, for example?”

“About enough to fully fuel two common fossil-fueled passenger vehicles, which would allow each to operate for 1/4 of a planetary rotation before running out.  An amount that would buy a high-quality meal for two ‘Umaniti at a dining establishment.”

“Why did this matter to anyone? Who imagined it would?” snorted ‘Plaf.  “Does not Landmass D have any other concerns of greater import than how much a confinee spent on what one assumes were petty comforts? Has Landmass D remedied all other social ills?”

“Far from it,” responded Lr’uff.  “This nation is deeply fragmented with great political hatred.  It has borrowed excessively.  Every sector of wealth believes that every other sector should pay to solve the problem, in one way or another.  It is involved in wars against two…abstract nouns.”

‘Plaf turned to Linguist Glrol.  “How would one wage war upon an abstract noun, Linguist?”

“My colleague is speaking semi-literally, but ‘Umaniti seem to take the matter almost literally.  They are at war with ‘controlled substances’–anyone associated with these substances, save legalized businesses that mass-produce the substances–and with ‘terror,’ by which they mean selected groups who launch terror attacks.  Li’wal may correct me if I err, but it seems to me that ‘Umaniti wage war against abstract nouns by means of faction-sanctioned terror attacks, which is ironic when we consider the hypocrisy.  One’s own faction’s terror attacks are a war against terror, thus not truly terror attacks.  Landmass D has no monopoly on this attitude–it seems nearly universal.  I defer to ‘Qorc’s greater consideration of that matter.”

“Philosopher ‘Qorc.  How much of ‘Umaniti’s logic is this self-serving and situational?” asked ‘Plaf.

“Much of it, Ethnographer, but by no means all.  Stripped of fancy paint and decoration, the dominant logic of ‘Umaniti seems to be that what helps one’s own faction is acceptable, and what thwarts one’s own faction is anathema.  There is limited evidence that any of this species’ leaders believe their philosophies, to go by their actions.  Theologies that ban all slaying, then condone slaying or invent excuses for it when they deem it advantageous.  A pro-young-bearer philosophy, espousing greater freedom for young-bearers, casts out any young-bearer who exercises freedom in a way this philosophy dislikes.  Several theologies that promote love, peace and tolerance fly into rages when two young-bearers, or two seed-bearers, mime the procreational act for physical or emotional pleasure–thus showing no love, peace or tolerance.”

Ethnographer ‘Plaf shut the display off.  “Our research now has valid questions to explore.  Doubtless more will arise, but let us keep our sensory apparati trained on them with greater interest:

1) How will we ever treat with ‘Umaniti, if their only ethic is to win for their faction, and an act has one value if done by them, and another if done unto them? Lr’uff’s data indicate that they jettison agreements as soon as they see advantage in doing so, and have done so since urbanization.  Can there be agreements with ‘Umaniti, as we understand them?

2) While ‘Umaniti may technically be sentient, are they of rather low-grade sentience next to other species we have discovered? Is this obsession with polarizing events, to the detriment of issues with farther-reaching consequences, a universal trait, or not? What of their selective ethics and hypocrisies?  They are intelligent enough to take seriously, but are they intelligent enough to let loose on the galaxy? Should we interdict them from interplanetary travel while we have the power to do so, as we were prepared to do yesterday when a lunatic faction launched a rocket that happily fell apart before we had to face a hasty decision?

3) I would like to know how this species has refrained from self-extinction.  Khaul’s reports indicate that various ‘Umaniti factions stockpile enough destructive radiological, biological and chemical weaponry to reduce ‘Umaniti to an even more primitive state than it exists in now.  If this sense of priorities proves typical, then why has not some emotional maniac begun a chain of destruction and reprisal that would ruin this world for thousands of revolutions around the star?”

4) My reading of your reports indicates that ‘Umaniti are obsessed with procreational acts, roles and even the sight of an uncovered ‘Umaniti form, to which we have alluded earlier.  Why? Why can they just not perform their acts as they like, in whatever harmless form, without obsessing about how anyone else does so? Or can they, and we simply have not yet discerned it?

We know little.  We have vast ignorance to repair.  We can as yet conclude nothing, merely suppose.  Before we recommend ‘Umaniti be confined to its world by armed force, let us obtain firmer bases in knowledge.”

The department heads  arose, made gestures of respect and returned to their studies.

Commentary on “42 Dos and Don’ts from a Dick”, and a dirty little secret

First comes the original e-mail, a rejection letter sent to some 900+ applicants who didn’t get an online writing gig.  Read it within this Gawker article impaling it as “42 dos and don’ts from a dick.”  You can then read the original author’s logic and rebuttal at Salon.

When I look at the anger Shea’s long list of advice has generated, my thoughts include:

  • Wow.  No good deed does go unpunished.
  • These people are not cut out to be writers at all.  They cannot take constructive criticism.  I wouldn’t have hired them either.
  • This is a perfect manifestation of the “I’m So Awesome” generation that got a trophy just for deigning to show up.
  • What part of ‘follow the directions’ is so complicated?

I find this all very revelatory.  It’s helpful to me, because there are a couple of errors mentioned that I can easily see myself making, and would rather not make them.  (Thanks, Shea!)  What it reveals to me is that I haven’t been wrong about the Amazing Ego Based Upon Few Results mentality so common today.  Anything that sounds like negative feedback:  “That’s disrespecting me!”  Respect is earned, sorry.  Advice offered:  “How arrogant to think you know better than me!”  Uh, he does; he’s in a position to hire, and you are not.

Think on it.  They would rather have been ignored than receive help.  They would rather flounder in ignorance and mediocrity than take a bruise, suck it up and grow.  Anything less than “You’re so awesome!” is a boot in the groin.

How did we wind up raising young adults this way? Is this a young adult thing, or a writer thing, or a young adult writer thing? Feel free to educate me.  Because when I get a list of 42 things I might be doing wrong, I want to bless the sender.  That’s 42 things I should never do wrong again.

I promised you a dirty little secret, and you shall have it.  Truth:  I didn’t succeed as a ‘lancer because of busting my butt, nor by being a brilliant writer. That isn’t self-deprecation; I’m not saying I didn’t work hard, nor that I’m untalented.  I succeeded at freelancing because most of my competition took a look at its path ahead, sowed as many mines as possible in its path, concealed them carefully, went away for a while to forget where they were, then just waltzed on through the self-made minefield.  Over, and over, and over.  Most of my competition suicided on the way to the finish line.

I didn’t have to beat them.  They beat themselves.

Writing life: being the bottleneck

When books get down to crunch time with a print deadline, it all shifts.  I’m proofreading on an upcoming book, essentially the final set of eyes.  This is something I am very capable at.  If I may be permitted to preen just a bit, the author said:  “OK, let’s get it over with: your proofreading work is stunning. Best I’ve ever seen.  No qualifiers.”  That felt kind of nice.

What it meant, in this case, was that a key (penultimate) chapter was on the way, after much health-hammering and sleep-starved labor by the author and editor, and as soon as it hit my inbox, I was on the clock.  Now it’s all waiting on me.  I was actually delighted by this, because:

  • There had been an excellent chance it would happen in the middle of the night.  And if that phone call came at 4 AM, I’d have to get up, put on coffee and get to work.  Instead, it came at 4:18 PM.
  • It was a chance to show off.  On previous chapters, I’d had the luxury of multiple reads, wording suggestions, recasting, and relaxation.  It was easy.  This was not easy; I was on the clock.

In writing, as in any profession in which one takes pride, there are those moments:  the moments where one is doing something most people just cannot do.  They are what make most work worthwhile.  For a lumber grader, it might be spotting the exact cuttings of shop lumber to reach a given grade, watching the inspector lay a skeptical tape measure on the board, and find that your eye from ten feet away was as good as if you’d had ten minutes to lay out sample templates of perfect dimension.  In homemaking, it might be doing seven things at once and doing them all well.  It is when one feels uniquely capable, achievement mixed with refined talent and skill.  ‘And that’s why not everyone can do what I do’ moments are gratifying.

Got the chapter in at 7:32 PM.  Turnaround:  three hours, fourteen minutes.  Bottleneck? Not for long.

A great book you have not read: Transit Point Moscow

Some years back, I happened upon Transit Point Moscow in a used bookstore.  Synopsis:  an American, on the spur of the moment and with great impulsive idiocy, agrees to try and smuggle heroin through Soviet-era Moscow–and it doesn’t go well.  I guess that’s in the category of “young, dumbass stunts we pull that cost us ten years of our lives.”

Why it’s great:  the writing style is clear, often funny, and skillfully descriptive of the transition from arrest to imprisonment.  The book also offers a lot of cues to Russian culture.  I wouldn’t describe Amster and his cronies as sympathetic characters, but there’s a sense of honesty in that.  One does pose the question of how much of Amster’s story we believe.  I’m more inclined to believe someone who paints himself as a complete ass than as a dashing hero, and there isn’t much glory in Amster’s self-portrait.  The book is better for it.

What got me thinking about it was a more recent read, Alexander Dolgun’s Story.  I got turned on to this in a strange way, for it was on the guest room nightstand at some friends’ home.  I didn’t read it, just glanced at it, but noted the title and ordered a copy.  Dolgun was in the Gulag in the late forties and early fifties, when life was a lot harder there.  Even accounting for the temporal separation (Amster did his Gulagging over a generation later), there was enough in common between the two accounts for me to recognize terms, prison subcultures and practices.

You can learn things about a country’s mentality from its prison system.  For example, from the sheer magnitude of ours, one begins to suspect that our national mentality is that we should all be incarcerated in it. From its deep division between country club pokies for those who steal billions, and PMITA hard time for people who grow dope, one suspects that we consider having a good time (or relieving pain) without buying the drug from a corporation a horrific crime, but that if you steal a few bill, hey, that’s how we roll, shouldn’t have gotten caught.   I still haven’t figured out what the Gulag says about Russia’s mentality, honestly.

Greek phrases I wanted Berlitz to provide me

If you are familiar with the Berlitz language books, they will get you through a trip rather conveniently.  I especially like the helpful phrases.  I don’t speak Greek, except for about 25 really poorly pronounced words and phrases, but I can think of a lot of English phrases I would have liked to render in Greek:

  • I promise I am not here to start a riot, Officer.
  • I assume this is the same city street plan as the time of Pericles.
  • There is no way I can eat all that.
  • I don’t know what the spicy cheese dip is called in Greek, but it’s the only food I ever need again.
  • Right now I would commit low crimes for a toilet that allows you to flush the paper.
  • It looks like, long term, you lost the Persian War.  Look at all these barbarians on the Acropolis!
  • Never again will I refuse to believe that a tour bus can get through any space.  I bet he could drive this thing through a GI tract without messing up the paint job.
  • Please show me to the only ten square feet of Greece that are as flat as Saskatchewan.
  • What is the strike about? Oh, wait, I forgot.  It’s Monday.  My bad.
  • So when are you going to get a good Viking metal band at Epidauros?
  • Okay, I give up.  Is it ‘Patra,’ ‘Patrai,’ or ‘Patras?’ Just someone please clear this up?
  • No offense–this Corinth Canal is hella cool to look at, but that’s about all it’s good for.
  • I have no idea how even a goat can find anything to graze on out here.  I have half of the country’s non-olive vegetation caught in my socks!
  • How many pottery traps does this bus stop at?
  • With all these steps and slopes to climb, how does anyone in this country achieve fatness?
  • What do you call a Greek female banker who loses her composure? A drachma queen, ar ar.
  • Please don’t make me drink ouzo.  Do you have any Nyquil instead?

Blogging freelance editing, writing, and life in general. You can also Like my Facebook page for more frequent updates: J.K. Kelley, Editor.