This is a very funny clip my friend Jen Angelo sent to me about writers and agents/editors.

It’s very short but it cuts to the core of why the business of writing is so very different than the artistic end of it.

So, if you need a chuckle because you are a writer or need a chuckle at the expense of one, this will give it to you. And, if you click on the other sketches these two clowns do, you can easily, happily waste at least 52 minutes.

Not that I know that for sure, but I’m guessing.

The Miley Cyrus scandal has me thinking…

What is so disturbing about that photo?

Beyond the idea we’re all hiding our nudity while peeking at everyone else’s every chance we get (except me with my brave nude knee photos…how transparent am I?), I think the problem with the photo is that she actually looks like a 14/15 year old in the smoldering shot.

Apparently many big-time models are the same age as Miley, but when we see them in ads, they look so made up, etc. that we don’t realize they’re not 30. So, unless someone says "Oh, yeah, that chick in the Calvin ad is 12," we just all walk by with either barely a glance or obsessive mooning, but never moral outrage.

If we’re all so horrified by her, then stop buying her crap, watching her videos or going to her concerts. The question of whether she turns the teenage bend into adulthood looking more like Britney Spears or Brooke Shields can only be answered in time. And frankly shouldn’t we busy saving the world or something? And by that I don’t mean poor little Miley’s world.

Yeah, okay, clearly I’m not out saving the world. So, to compensate, I’ll do one good thing for someone I don’t know…what shall I do? Only time will tell. But it’ll be something.

 

Okay,

I won’t have access to a computer tomorrow morning and because I’m making blogging part of my life again, I want to be sure something fresh is up to entice my happy readers. I scoured the internet–my usual blog-haunts, my trashy celeb sites, my own life…and I got nothing people.

So, I’m going to do attempt another literary post that I know will electrify my readers and put some sizzle in the start of their new week.

Over at Jamie Ford’s site he discussed (the other day) the way he feels when he starts a new book–excited.

And I agree, there is no part of writing more pleasurable for me than the period when I’m mentally entertaining a new plot, new characters, and new ideas. This usually happens when I’m beginning the query process of one book. Or, as was the case with my last book, it had been in my head for twelve years before I actually wrote it.

This part –this high I get from what’s possible, the excitement of anything’s possible and nothing can stop the book from being a smash hit is similar–I imagine–to what it must feel like if one were beginning an illicit affair. There’s no trouble, no problems to solve, no icky bathroom habits, no one-dimensional characters or small plots to make bigger. But like the illicit affair, as it continues–or as the writer actually has to begin writing–the problems emerge. The guy picks his ass all day, the woman picks at her toes, or their spouses catch onto the cheating and the shit hits the bricks hard. The ugliness, the weaknesses, the utterly sobering thought of "what the hell am I doing with this operation? What was I thinking to spend my good time and sweat on this pitiful relationship?" appears and you either dig in and fix it or bail on your entire life.

Just for the record–no I don’t have illicit affairs. I just write them. Good day and thanks for reading.

 

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Originally uploaded by kathieshoop
 

Ugh, it’s here, Friday and the shot of my fat knee. I can’t disappoint, right? I know there are scores of fans out there awaiting the next flabby shot. Well, I’ve lost nine pounds so far. And you know you’re fat when the loss of nine pounds DOESN’T yeild wide-eyed gasps of "Oh you’ve lost weight!"

Hehehehahaha.

Honestly, I hate those declarations. Oh, yes, I offer them to others, as well. We just can’t stop the words from flowing from our mouths like the frosting out of an overstuffed Pittsburgh Creme Donut.

And truthfully–since it’s ugly Friday, I have to be honest–no one gives a damn that losing weight may make the losee more healthy. It’s all about the way the person looks.

That they look better.

My favorite is when the weight losee starts to lose too much and everyone starts huddling up discussing how he/she is taking things to far…

Well of course. The fawning compliments (subtext being: thank God your fat ass is finally smaller) are heroin to the fatso. There’s nothing like it.

So, there’s the grumpy Fat Friday post.

Enjoy.

Okay, in my attempt to blog more, I’m really reaching and bring to you an artsy debate that some will like and others will turn, running and screaming to the next website they can quickly click to…

So, yesterday I’m reading the paper and there’s an article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette about the Carnegie and a visiting artist (Mark Manders) who finds his art in ordinary objects. I’m with ya there, no argument, no problem…then I read his quote:

"If I write a sentence, you think exactly what I want you to think," Manders says. "The viewer reconstructs objects."

Oh, Mark, really? If merely putting words to paper meant an exact meaning was conveyed we wouldn’t have any "gotcha politics," that always ends up with a candidate saying "Oh, no, I wrote/said that, but it’s not that way, not what I meant." Kids all over America would earn perfect verbal SAT scores, and emails missing the context of the writer’s facial expressions, etc. wouldn’t result in the writer being fired for being insubordinate or simply an asshole.

No Mr. Manders, your art is not so different than the written word. But, perhaps, that’s not what you meant.

BTW, I love this whole orientation of art as ordinary things–just as writers take ordinary events and make them seem extraordinary.  Same act, different medium and even though the tone of my post says different, I’m really not offended on behalf of all the writers in the world. It just seems that way.

Happy Thursday everyone…

 

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Originally uploaded by kathieshoop

How cute are these little fellas? Nothing like opening day. Who needs overpaid, burly, fatmen to signal the coming of warmer weather when you have little guys like this? I know, I know, stop it with the parental gushiness. Still…tell me that’s not adorable.

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Originally uploaded by kathieshoop
 

Well, Fat Friday is here. I’m not going to mince words regarding my weight as I have enough padding on my ass to avoid padding the way I talk about it.

Okay, I’m not that brave. If I were, there would be a nude photo of me above instead of just my knees. But, I figure the knees are sort of the litmis (sp?) for the rest of the bod and I don’t need to lose any more readers by blinding them with blubbery nudity. This is not a horror show, folks. Not even a literary one.

Anyway, a friend of mine (a friend who has 50 fewer pounds to lose than me, but I understand the way you feel in your skin and the way you look are two different things) and I are doing a Biggest Loser/Slim Fast competition. Yeah, she’s a sucker. How could she possibly win when I have so much more to lose? Well, I’m a miracle worker when it comes to maintaining/gaining weight so she just might win.

No seriously, I’m serious this time.

After 41/2 years adjusting to having Mult. Scler. (don’t freaking laugh it’s a lot to adust to mentally and physically) I finally find myself repugnant…So, whether you can stand it or not, Fat Fridays will feature my fat knees–oh I know, what knees? They’ll be back soon….very, very soon.

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Originally uploaded by kathieshoop

Well, this is the crew that inspired my WIP, the one I’m about to Query. It’s still untitled, but without a doubt it’s the strongest thing I’ve written yet.

My other book that didn’t sell and the one my agent turned down were both deemed "small and quiet." While this book is rich with the character stuff I love to write, the plot is huge. And to be truthful, I finally understand what editors and agents mean by that….

Here’s to the old literary learning curve, I guess.

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Originally uploaded by kathieshoop

Okay, so she’s not on the prairie. She’s on the edge of our woods, taking pictures of a lone ranger of a daffodil. See the tatoo on her arm? I just realized it was made in China. What are the chances it’s leeching toxins into her skin by the second? I’ll have to get that off as soon as she’s home from school. She won’t mind a bit…

Guy plunges into the billowy leather couch and rips his baseball hat off, hand over forehead.

Counter Girl: What’s the matter with you?

Guy:  Aaaa, um tired. Hung right over.

Counter Girl:  hung over, huh?

Guy:  Aaaaa, yeah, just nine beers or so.

Counter Girl: I’d be dead with nine beers.

Guy: I took it slow in’at. About a beer an hour.

Counter Girl: Huh.

Recap of Penguin game with emphasis on Penguins having to get the Senators back for comments regarding the Penguins throwing a game to avoid the tougher Philly team.

Guy: I’d really like to be up by nine tomorrow morning. You know. Find a job.

Chick at round table: Curb your enthusiasm for beer and you just might be able get up.

Counter Girl: Nine beers is a lot.

Guy nodding, sighing, clearly evaluating the flurry of advice. "Yeah.  Yeah. That sounds about right."

So, is this guy gonna pass up beer tonight so he can wake up early and look for a job? Write me three or four sentences depicting this fella’s next morning…come on I’ll give you a book if you do.