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I recently bought something at a store (you remember “stores”, don’tya?) that I hadn’t done business with before. By the time I got home with the product, I had already received several emails from the company hawking more stuff. Naturally, I clicked on the unsubscribe button. What’s the response I get?
Why is it that when I buy something, the charge is applied before I put my credit card back in my wallet? But when I try to unsubscribe – a completely electronic transaction – it takes 7 to 10 days??? I’ve done unsubscribes that said it would take 4-6 weeks! Yikes! The whole stinking internet was built in less time!
It’s not just “stores.” At least one tech-savvy company whose name I won’t reveal had the same problem:
Must be “switch flipper syndrome.” Or maybe they’re trying to save money by using slower, less expensive electrons.
Then there are those companies that force you to call to cancel their services (again, not mentioning names, V*****n) or even “opt out” of some mailing list they put you on that you never wanted in the first (or second) place. That’s also a completely automated process, but they want you on the phone to try to either talk you out of leaving or sell you more. How many people end up doing both? Probably more than a few. These people are trained to be persistent, nay, relentless in hounding their soon-to-be-former-customers. I guess they have nothing to lose. They already lost ya.
The MPAA ratings for movies are woefully inadequate. Yes, they tell you something about the “moral” content of a movie. For example, if your middle-schooler wants to see a movie of non-stop violence and mayhem, no problem. If he or she wants to see an important documentary about social ills that happens to include more than two F-bombs, that’s verboten. Makes perfect sense, huh?
But what about those of us who have no children to helicopter around but who care about other types of content? Have no fear! I’ll prime the pump with a few suggestions:
This is a movie populated by idiots doing idiotic things. It could be teenagers opening doors in buildings where serial killers are known to be. (This concept was lampooned most effectively in a hysterical Geico commercial.) Romantic comedies are also prone to this moronic behavior. If they just told the truth at the beginning, none of the misunderstandings would happen. And the movie would never have been made. That’s called “win-win.”
You’ve seen them. Movies so bad, you wonder what now-unemployed producer gave this beast the green light? They have no positive qualities but someone shelled out several (sometimes hundreds) millions of dollars to get it made. You spend the entire movie asking yourself, “Who thought this was a good idea?” (q.v. “Mortdecai“)
By the end of one of these things, your scalp is bleeding because you spent the whole time scratching it. Instead of asking, “What did you think?” you ask, “What happened?” Let me say up front that I like some of these movies. Some I like a lot. This label could be applied to “2001”, as well as most films by Terrence Malick or Wes Anderson. After all, it’s good to have something to talk about after a movie other than the headache you got from the extreme volume and non-stop light show of special effects. Some so labeled, however, are simply self-indulgent nonsense. The poster child for this category is David Lynch’s “Eraserhead.” More prominently and more recently I’d add the interminable “Interstellar.”
The worst kind of movie. This is the equivalent of the current NC-17. Except these should be labeled, “no one over or under the age of 17 will be admitted.” Some of the aforementioned movies could also carry this caveat, but the most renowned recent example is “Boyhood.”
Do you have any labels you’d like to add?
[Congratulate me for not shamelessly promoting my new book.]
It’s finally done. My first book, a novel about Haiti, is available for sale in paperback or Kindle edition. Here’s the cover:
For the sake of completeness, here’s the back cover:
I’ve been working on this book in one form or another for more than four years. It started out as a screenplay, one that finished in the top 5% in the world’s most prestigious screenplay competition. Some of the judges’ comments included: “Strongly, clearly, confidently, and dramatically written… Settings are vividly brought to life… There is a heartbreaking authenticity to this.”
The story follows the life of a Haitian girl over six years, beginning with the nightmare of the 2010 earthquake. Her life becomes a series of trials common to many Haitians. How she faces those difficulties reflects on the resilience and strength of the Haitian people.
The book’s title comes from a painfully appropriate Haitian Creole proverb: “Lavi se tè glise“, which translates to the English: “Life is a slippery land.”
While a fictional tale, “A Slippery Land” carries a lot of truth. It incorporates many actual events I’ve seen or experienced and observations I’ve made while visiting the country and getting to know its people over the last 15 years.
Please consider buying a copy and letting me know what you think. The book is suitable for a wide audience, including Young Adult – even though it has no vampires, zombies, or mean girls, though Haiti could qualify as a dystopian society – or anyone who enjoys reading and learning about other cultures. It should be particularly good for book clubs because there’s plenty to discuss about our perceptions of Haiti and the third world.
You can see and purchase the paperback or Kindle edition through my Amazon author page here.
Thank you for reading.
An oft-heard recommendation for writers-in-training is some variation of the macabre maxim, “you must kill all your little darlings.” It’s not a mandate for infanticide but rather advice to remove from your work those passages whose purpose is more to build your ego or impress others than to drive your plot or build your characters.
This dictum, which has been attributed to everyone from Faulkner to Stephen King*, is hard to obey. First of all, we love our clever turns of phrase and our precious metaphors. Writers tend to be an egocentric bunch (actually, nearly all human beings fit that bill) who want others to appreciate their genius (or mediocrity, as the case may be). Otherwise, why try to publish our work instead of just scribbling it out and reading it to ourselves?
I have a worse problem. I don’t even want to hurt my darlings.
In this instance I’m talking not about my prose but my characters. They’re like my children or my friends. How could I stand to let them suffer needlessly? Sure, a character has to go through crises and conflicts or they end up in a totally tedious tome. (Now that’s a little darling if ever I wrote one!) No one wants to read:
They started out happy.
A bunch of happy things happened.
They lived happily ever after.
Hopefully, no one wants to write it either. It’s OK for my darlings to go through the fire – we all must – but I need to redeem their trials so the journey is worthwhile.
This afflicts my reading as well as my writing. I’m one of those people who gets ridiculously wrapped up in the characters in a story. (To read more about my obsession, check out this post.) I can’t stand it when characters I’ve grown to care about don’t wind up in some positive state by the end of the tale. Do whatever you want with the jerks in the story, but leave my buds alone.
I prescribe to the Golden Rule of Writing: “Do unto your characters as you would have done unto you.”
Does that make for a boring book/movie/play? By no means. There are lots of (most, I’d judge) stories that have what some would call a happy ending. For some reason, though, it limits the critical reception since critics fawn all over Humpty-Dumpty-esque characters that self-destruct never to be put together again.
It doesn’t have to be that way. Austen, Dickens, and Tolkien (to name just a few) pulled it off somehow. There are worse examples to follow.
*Evidence indicates it was actually coined by a Cambridge lecturer named Arthur Quiller-Couch back in the 1910’s.
My first novel is on the verge of being self-published. Sorry. That’s a misleading statement. The book isn’t publishing itself. My self is publishing it.
The good news is, it’s absurdly easy to publish one’s own book today.
The bad news is, it’s absurdly easy to publish one’s own book today.
Thus, my book will be out there soon, fighting for attention amidst an overwhelming onslaught of similarly hopeful creations by similarly hopeful creators. My hope is that its quality rises above that of the average tome available. But who am I to judge?
I’ve already given a teaser in a previous post. Since then I’ve finished the book, changed the title (twice), and had a terrific designer create some fantastic cover art. Come back in a month or so and I’ll shamelessly and relentlessly plug it.
One agent told me that it’s a hard sell because it’s about Haiti and no one is interested in reading about Haiti. I hope that’s not true for many reasons, not just because it means no one will buy my book. More importantly, it saddens me to think that people might no longer have any concern for that sad and beautiful nation.
Six years ago this week Haiti was all anyone was talking about. This past Tuesday (January 12) marks the sixth anniversary of the horrific earthquake that killed tens of thousands of people, injured countless more – no one will ever know exactly how many of each – and put millions out of their homes.
Now, they tell me, no one cares.
I hope you do.
It’s been accurately observed that toy guns are more rigorously regulated than the real thing. I for one think this is an abomination for our country. It’s time to end the madness.
That’s why I’m announcing the creation of the NTRA: the National Toy Rifle Association to send the message to the Buster-Brown-booted thugs:
Adults aren’t the only ones protected by the 2nd amendment. The right to arm toddlers shall not be infringed.
Just because some wimpy, timid housewife told her little boy, “You’ll shoot your eye out”, are we going to live in fear? No! If she’d listened to little Ralphie, her home wouldn’t have been overrun by Black Bart and his gang, known communist sympathizers.
If we give up our toy guns, the terrorists win. Who’s going to defend America then? No matter that a paintball or cap gun won’t do much to protect us from missiles and nuclear devices. This is a matter of principle!
Remember: If they take away your water gun today, they’ll take away your water tomorrow! Super Soakers don’t soak people, people soak people. If you want to keep people dry, we need MORE water guns, not fewer.
It’s time to say “enough is enough”. For those of us who can stand up, it’s time to stand up for our rights. The rest of us will just sit and fuss.
You can have my toy gun when you pry it from my stinky, poopy diaper.
Check out the first line of this sign. It’s supposed to be a pun on the fact that the restaurant in question will tow a drunk patron’s car home. I applaud the intent but question the implementation.
If I’m too drunk to drive (which would be a major miracle since I don’t drink alcohol at all) what are the odds I’ll understand this message, much less appreciate the attempt at humor?
In fact, when I saw it, I started to question my own sobriety. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Why does it say “Tow Drunk”? Did they think “Two” was the right word and transposed a couple of letters?
It boggled my mind so much that I was forced to publish this lame post in an effort to avoid being overcome altogether.
In which case, I’d probably need to be tooed.
(Sorry. I’m in the midst of a family crisis while also readying a book for publishing. Thus, the blog loses. This, such as it is, is the best I can deliver today.)
No time this week to devote to a fully developed article.
This excuse might wear on some nerves – I’ve used it more than my share of times – but it can’t be helped. If you knew my situation, I’m certain you would agree. Nevertheless, I’ve made a pact with myself and my readers to put something out here every other week (and on LITL on the in-between weeks). Rather than shortchange you, I’m publishing a longer one than usual… if you buy into the maxim that a picture is worth a thousand words.
For reasons I won’t get into, I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals lately. Based on the way people park in those places, you’d think they were hospitals for antisocial morons. This is just a small sample. There were many, many more examples. A hospital? Come on, folks! As tempting as it is, I would never key a car. But it’s hard to suppress the hope that someone will.