Slutty *bleeping* fish
I was driving into work this morning, the iPod set on shuffle, when a song by one of my favorite bands came on. They also do a podcast every now and then, and I wondered if they had a recent one available. But there’s only one problem.
They *bleeping* bleep themselves.
Now, I’m pretty sure there are no FCC regulations prohibiting rated R language, because there’s another podcast I listen to that can get pretty raw, so I figure it must be by choice. So why did they choose to do it?
Maybe it’s just me, but I find the bleeping more offensive than the language used, and it got me thinking not about the band, but about the listeners and how they felt about the bleeping. I mean, this is a band that, by their own description, “had their apprenticeships in the pubs of Atlantic Canada” so it’s no surprise that they drop f-bombs here and there. Given that knowledge about them (in addition to the fact they perform such songs as “The Old Black Rum” and “Jakey’s Gin”), I expect these partying musicians to be quite free with their speech while talking amongst themselves, even if they know they’re being recorded. But as I said, maybe that’s just me.
My question is, if there were a person who was offended by certain language, be it strong or promiscuous, and wanted it bleeped out, would that person be the type to listen to a band who sings about drinking, girls, slutty fish, and, yes, even wanting to be Consequence Free? This question is a similar one I’ve discussed with some writer friends—if, as a writer, you’ve crafted your story with some raw or edgy or violent or erotic elements, should you hold back anything in trying to gain a wider audience, or do you lose something of your voice keeping things on the cleaner side? And, if you do hold back, even a little bit, do you risk more by losing those who are your true and deep fans, those who want to see you swing for the fences, than by possibly gaining fans who aren’t so passionate?
I think you can tell which way I lean on this, but I know that I often have thoughts that really aren’t mainstream. (Sorry to those of you who just fainted at that admission. I really should have warned you.) I also realize we’re dealing with the really sticky issue of censorship, be it self-imposed or institutionally sanctioned, so I don’t know that there’s really a neat way to tie this up. (Speaking of erotic…) Maybe we’ll leave it at this—to thine own self be true. Or, as my friend Brian used to say, “Whatever floats your boat.”
Toot, toot.
Rain, Rain, Don’t Go Away
After some hyped-but-small thunderstorms last night, it’s partially cloudy today. And where many of you will want to throw something at me for saying this, the clouds are a good thing. Down here in the southwest, clouds are hard to come by, or at least, any that have more substance than ethereal chubby bunnies floating through a bright blue sky. The same hype is promising thunderstorms today and tomorrow, but being a weather veteran down here, I have to reduce those promises by about 80% and play rain roulette with the other 20%–in other words, I ain’t holding my breath. But still I hope.
Why the big weather report? Because of the clouds. A cloudy day to me feels like somebody’s pumping pure oxygen into my veins, plump endorphins into my brain, and raw inspiration into every sense, nerve, and pore. A cloudy day like today makes me want to write and edit and plan and just dive into my writing. A cloudy day is why I made the curtains in my writing room with a heavy blue underlayer–so every sunny day would feel like today.
So, I’m going to go now. I’m either going to edit BROKEN or do some character study for the WIP coming up in September, maybe both. I’ve got oxygen, endorphins and inspiration.
Let’s rock.
I Suck, Riding a Bicycle, and The New Year
I hope I sucked you in with that title, because I really mean it now. I suck. I had a wonderful post written, illustrated and just about to be spell-checked, and I hit some key that took it all away. Usually, I write my posts in a separate Word document and then copy them in, but noooo, not this time. This time I tried to take a shortcut. And I suck.
Why else do I suck? For the past 2 months, I’ve all but abandoned this blog and my writing. I have a really good excuse, but like all really good excuses, I can’t tell you what it is. I throw myself on the mercy and forgiveness of my faithful and wonderful blog readers, my blog buddies, and the rest of the blogverse. I will be a new person, blogging, visiting, and writing, and as God is my witness, I will never go silent again!
Riding a bicycle? Have you ever tried to ride a bicycle that had a bad chain, or bad tires, or up a hill? It’s hard to get momentum going and there are painful 
jerks, slips and falls along the way. Well, that’s obviously the stage I’m at—getting my bicycle going again. It’s not easy, but I’ve got the ultimate carrot. I’m riding my bicycle to Nashville next July and my prize at the finish line is going to be a little pink ribbon.
The New Year? For as long as I can remember, my new year does not begin January 1st, but rather on Labor Day. (And extra points for those of you who ask “You mean back-to-school?”) No matter how long I’ve been out of school, and no matter how long I’ve been away from a 4-season climate, back-to-school time is the new year for me. I don’t even have to close my eyes to smell that crisp, fall air, I’m just there. Think about it. Back-to-school means a brand, new, fresh start—new clothes, new school supplies, new teachers and classes, new start—guaranteed. How could I not be inspired at a time like this? (And don’t tell Montana, but pretty soon I want go shopping at OfficeMax or Staples. Do I need school supplies? No. Do I so desperately want markers, post-its, notecards and posterboard? Ohdearsweetgodyes. As so wonderfully put by Jenny Crusie: This is where I confess that I’ve gone school shopping every year, whether I’ve had a kid to shop for or not, because, like every writer I know, I have an office/school-supplies jones that just won’t quit and August is the Best Month Ever for pens and papers. Amen, sister. Amen.)
So, in September I’ll be querying BROKEN and starting my next dark historical. There’s going to be some slips and falls along the way, but I’ll get my momentum going and before you know it, I’ll be zooming along the road to Nashville. See you there!
Ovid is in the hiz-ouse!
“Let your hook always be cast. In the pool where you least expect it, will be fish.” ~Ovid, Roman poet
Wow. How’s that for a visceral quote for a writer? It instantly reminded me of something I had heard on one of my RWA National Convention discs–that this author (I’m not sure who, but I remember she has since been multi-published) said that when she was first querying, she had a very specific practice. She picked a number, such as 24, and would keep that many lines in the water (her words). If she got a rejection, she’d get another query or contest entry out there right away, so that she always had those 24 hooks out there.
Does that practice work for everybody? Not necessarily, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have your own version of hooks being cast. Maybe you have always written cozy mysteries but have had a deep yearning to do a wild epic fantasy. Why not? The worst that happens is that you have both mysteries and fantasies you can query and, Ovid willing, sell. Or maybe you want to try categories instead of the single-title contemporaries you’ve been trying. Why not? Cast those hooks, my babies. Take your pole and cast it as high and as far as you can. I would be willing to bet if nothing else, you’ll have a hell of a fun time in the trying.
Such sad news
I know I’ve been noticeably absent lately, and I had meant to remedy that with a fun, frothy post about what I’ve been doing, but I can’t.
I just found out Blake Snyder passed away yesterday.
If you’ve been reading here for any length of time, you know how much I adored Blake. He was funny and nice and amazing at his craft and so selfless for sharing it. One of my goals was to get my book picked up this year so I could post it on his blog. I just know he would have cheered.
So say a little prayer for him and those he left behind. The world was a better place for the time he spent in it. May we all leave such a legacy.
