Celebrating Anonymous Media Whores

     “One of my favorite authors is Anonymous.” Ever hear that? And when’s the last time you saw by Anonymous, the New York Times Bestseller emblazoned across the cover of a book? 

Okay, it can be done. But today in honor of Celebrate Small Things, a blog hop hosted by Vik Lit (Scribblings of an Aspiring Author) and co-hosted by the following bloggers:

Diana Wilder

LG Keltner @ Writing Off the Edge

Katie @ TheCyborg Mom 

CaffeMaggieato @ mscoffeehouse 

I’m grateful that publishing usually requires that authors display their names prominently on their products. Because otherwise, I probably wouldn’t.   

     One of my favorite authors, Tawni O’Dell, has a darkly humorous personal story about having to fight to use her given name in her debut book. I say darkly because it has some really horrible undertones of the discrimination women authors still face (yes STILL). So it’s more than just a funny anecdote, and a great read for anyone hoping to publish. But I’m saving that for my next post on All The Crazy, a group blog I contribute to every sixth week or so. (Until then, you should check out the posts of my fellow contributors. There's something for everyone!)

     There are writers who rarely get their names on their work, and I was one of them for about ten years. Copywriters, PR people, writers for the wire services. In those industries, a code of honor is what keeps people from claiming work that isn’t theirs. The collaborative nature of the industry makes it hard to figure out just who did what.     

     So when my daughter’s softball team went to the playoffs for the third year in a row, I sent a write-up to the local paper again. I’ve been sending press releases all along, since I feel that it’s especially important to feature girls’ sports whenever possible. Besides, all you have to do is email names and a picture to the editor. When another mom said, “Did you see the girls in the paper?” I nodded and we talked about their great season. My husband was like “Why didn’t you tell her you wrote it?”

In First Place. Note the lucky rabbit.

     Because I didn’t really write it, I argued, I emailed names and a picture. Then I thought about my real motives, which trace all the way back to elementary school. Fifth grade was a bad year for me. It was the year my father tried to kill himself three times. There were probably more attempts over the years that I didn’t know about, but that time he was forcibly committed as a result of a psychotic break. My mother’s valiant attempts to keep his mental illness under wraps (even from me) failed when the police and the court system got involved. I had no idea what was going on and was, frankly, afraid to ask.

     At school—where I always thrived, probably to make up for the bad vibes I felt at home—there was an ongoing food drive. I happened to mutter the phrase “Don’t be greedy, help the needy” within earshot of a teacher. She liked it so much that she included that line in a PA announcement. Maybe I’d heard it somewhere before, but I like to think it was my first advertising tagline, circa 1981. When it sounded over the PA, my heart burst with pride, so much so that I mentioned to my best friend I’d come up with it. She stared at me. “You came up with that?” Not only didn’t she believe me, she proceeded to elicit opinions from the entire class. They all thought I was lying. The consensus was that teachers write the PA announcements, and Mrs. Kuechle, a charismatic, lovely teacher, whom I loved as much as any of them, definitely wrote that one.

     My best friend didn’t know that my dad was suicidal. She didn’t know that I really, really needed credit for something. Anything.

     Hurt at receiving cattiness instead of the congratulations I’d expected, I didn’t ask the teacher to clear it up. Deep down I was afraid that she too would deny it. Although I’d never been a boastful child and wouldn’t dream of taking credit for something I didn’t do, I realized that people must perceive me as being horrible. It’s like they knew that something bad was in me. Maybe the same bad thing surrounding the mystery of what my dad had done to wind up in an institution. Soon I began to doubt whether I’d written the stupid thing in the first place—or if it even mattered. I vowed to be more careful about sharing my ideas.

     Fast-forward to the present. When the playoffs ended, and the girls had won their championship, I sent another blurb, and parents commented again. This time, I admitted I’d sent the information.

     “You wrote that?” one of them asked skeptically.

Season Champs

     I gulped, exchanged a look with my husband and said, “Yeah.” Then I winced, waiting for the criticism, knowing I either spelled a name wrong, switched kids in the picture, listed the sponsor from last year instead of the current one. There is no end to the list of potential pitfalls.

     “Wow, that was so nice of you. The girls were excited to be in the paper, twice now.”

     I took a deep, relieved breath.

     “But won’t people think we’re media whores?” the parent added.

     Watch out, Kim Kardashian. Thanks to me, you just might be dethroned by the Brandon Township Girls’ Softball team.

    

    

The Space Age (It's Not What You Think)

     This Wimp-out Wednesday is devoted to a discussion of whether or not there should be one space or two after a period. The change in direction comes as a result of my ennui. My job hunt has gone stale, as has my work in progress. Besides, I have always loved the word ennui. My first exposure to it came as a result of being in the play Anything Goes. I memorized all of the phenomenal Cole Porter lyrics during my brilliant stint as a passenger on the ship. (Yes, that is another way of saying I was an extra.) Ennui is from I Get a Kick Out of You. Isn't it cool? Ennui Ennui Ennui.
   

Not this Space!

Now back to spaces after periods. I vote one, but never felt too passionate about it until I saw this blog. (Nothing Says Over Forty Like Two Spaces After a Period) The blogger treats the extra space as some kind of writing (typing?) tell that, once noticed by the young 'uns of the world, pegs the writer (typist) as A Person Over Forty.
     I call bullshit. I know a lot of 35-year-olds who learned the exact same rule. Last I checked, they are considered to be under forty (unless someone has fiddled with the rules of number progression while I was knitting in my creaky rocking chair). I resented that this blogger was manipulating the debate to make it more about generational differences than industry standards. In my opinion, she was inciting drama where there should've been none. Calling people old.

That Space!

     For a nanosecond, I felt as if leaving two spaces after periods belied my age as blatantly as the wrinkles around my eyes. I was humiliated, wondering if I'd left any of these tell-tale spaces in the manuscripts I'd sent to agents and publishers. Was everyone laughing at me behind my back?
     She's too old to be an author! In the slush pile with her! 
     I mean, I learned the one way, but I'd changed my habits to stay in tune with the ever-evolving industry of communication that I love so much. I prided myself on being Madonna-esque in adapting. (Oops! Another age-belying slip.) Discovered Find/Replace (It changed my life.) In fact, I recommend it to the twenty-something office worker who griped on facebook about how hard it was to go through old documents and make the change. After all, Find/Replace would be quicker than begging all the teachers of the world to pass the one-space rule on to their students. (Then again, it is pretty tedious to drag down that menu. Aw, heck, why not just wait the multiple decades it would take for turnaround?)
     Thanks to this blog's bullying title, I was briefly ashamed of my over-forty status. But then I realized this: Nothing says under forty like suffering from the delusion that you can appear to be an age you're not. I've worked in advertising long enough to know that much. My advice to younger generations (and it is sage advice): Don't fall for it.

     On the record, the rule seems to be: One space in publishing, online writing and advertising. Two spaces in engineering, law and academia. Like many things in life, it really has nothing to do with age.
 

I'm a Sharpie

This Wimp-out Wednesday, I'm voicing my most recent professional aspiration: to be the Sharpie marker of the writing world! This isn't as weird as it sounds. Think about it. When a person strikes out to pursue a profession, doesn't he strive to be the expert in his field? And who's the king (or queen) of markers? Yes! No! (Crayola? Seriously, dude? Go home, you're drunk!) The answer I was going for is Sharpie, of course! (Duh!)
     As a Sharpie marker, I'd be a household name synonymous with bold writing (or at least writing in bold).
I'd embrace all colors. I would not wash out--except with hand sanitizer. (Interesting side note: as an enabler of resistant bacteria, hand sanitizer just might be the death of us all.) Where was I? Oh yeah, I'd cling to many surfaces, refusing to run (unless someone's big, clumsy hand smears over me before I've dried). I'd be the badass marker equivalent of Katniss Everdeen, representing order and justice, ensuring all items get back to their rightful owners.

    That's not to say I don't have a mischievous side. (Far be it from me to take myself too seriously.) Who better to "tattoo" a passed-out person at a party? Or--in a more innocent scenario--the first teen to succumb to Mr. Sandman at a sleepover? At concerts, I'd become a Sharpie Harpie, stalking bands to get an autograph and illustrating my superior persistence.
     As a Sharpie, even my scent would be intoxicating to some. Inhale at the risk of getting high! I'd be the quintessential team player. G'head, pair me with name tags, and I become a must-have at every social, professional and academic function. I'm also the tool of choice when you can't afford a ton of mistakes. The less confident choose pencils. The con artists opt for Etch a Sketch. Only the self-assured go right for the Sharpie. I'm as permanent as permanent gets.
     Just to clarify: I'd be an original Sharpie, not a Rub a Dub. (Rub a Dub? What's the point of a Sharpie that's not permanent? Oxymoron alert!) Then again, I'm not one to resist change. If a non-permanent permanent marker will enrich someone's life, I'm all for it. Like I said: the Sharpie marker of the writing world. Excuse me whilst I screw my cap back on.

Only thing is, if I persist in this sedentary writer's life, I could end up a Magnum!

Imaginative Al's Comeback

It's time to Celebrate Small Things again, a blog hop that encourages participants to list a few things for which they're grateful every Friday. To join us, click on the list below. (You should! It's fun!)
Today I'm grateful for the return of Weird Al Yankovic with this spoof of Blurred Lines. What former proofreader could resist this song? It takes me back to my youth when Al was tearing up the charts with his catchy rhymes set to the tunes of various blockbuster hits.
     I just have to say that with the passage of time, you'd think he'd change his name to Imaginative Al Yankovic, or even Creative Al Yankovic. (Then again, he's always been a bit self-effacing.) Hey, Al! It's not so politically correct these days to label someone weird. Trust me, this kind of thing breeds bullying and the school districts are finally trying to put an end to all of that. If you think about it, that's one good thing resulting from the digital age. Kids might screw up spellings and take shortcuts in communicating with one another, but I'd argue that they are far more tolerant of differences. The teachers are working on it too. They're no longer turning a blind eye to incidents, as they might've in the past. They really are encouraged to try to foster imagination in their classrooms. And that's a good change from when I was young. Still, I can't help but feel nostalgic when Weird Al's getting millions of hits. Who'd have thunk it? (No one's immune to Word Crimes.)

It's Live!

It's time to Celebrate Small Things, a blog hop where all participants give a shout-out to the things for which they're most grateful every Friday. Join us by clicking on the link below or simply visit the blogs of our hosts:
Scribblings of an Aspiring Author
Diana Wilder
LG Keltner @ Writing Off the Edge
Katie @ TheCyborg Mom
CaffeMaggieato @ mscoffeehouse
                  and spread the attitude of gratitude!
     Today I'm celebrating a bouncing new baby blog! I"m going to be contributing to this marvel, along with five other writers. My posts will have a feminist-y tinge to them, and I'm going first, so please check it out when you have the chance. It's called All The Crazy. Since Krissy did most of the work to get it going (design-wise and logistics), a big shout-out to her! You're the woman! *song plays* I'll spare you my little dance, while subjecting you to this one.
     I'm also celebrating Sleeping Beauty. She gets a bad rap, in my humble opinion. Ellen Page's quote (below), posted on A Mighty Girl, pretty much sums up what I've heard about SB. (This also ties in to my group blog post, which is about girl characters as heroes in fiction.) As you can see, the quote insinuates that SB is a meek character because she simply lies around waiting to be rescued. Let me clarify: SHE IS UNDER A SLEEPING CURSE! If you've ever been under a sleeping curse, I'm sure you'll notice that you can't help but lie around. You're asleep.
     No one ever put Aladdin under a sleeping curse.
     Here's my take on Sleeping Beauty. She was going about her life in her little cottage, dirt-poor but happy, with her eccentric guardians, whom she

treated with the utmost respect and love. She found out that she was really a princess and thought WTF? (or a more refined version of that, since she's a fairy tale character). It seems like she's giving up her rightful place in the castle to go out with this alluring boy she met in the woods. I'd argue she really just wants to keep living her simple life--because she likes it. Anyway, she's forced to go, gets cursed, gets rescued. THEN--and here's the beautiful part--she smiles and wakes, picks up right where she left off. Gets on with her life, despite the interruption. No bitterness. No whining. Just: "Thank goodness that shit's over."
     She is a quiet hero, sure. But that doesn't make her any less of one. She reminds me of a ton of people I've seen going through chemo treatments as they drop off their kids to this and that activity, trying to keep routines as normal and even-keel as possible while they face-off with death. These heroes are almost always women, mind you. Sometimes not, but a lot of the time. Women fight in a different way (Thus, the breast cancer mantra: Fight Like a Girl). They can kick ass from a seated position.
     Today I celebrate all the quiet heroes who face the obstacles in their lives with bravery.

 

My Biggest Strength

It's time for Wimp-out Wednesday, where I experiment with the interviewing techniques I'm too chicken to attempt during an actual interview. Today I tackle the dreaded whopper: “What is your biggest strength?” This question is an interviewing staple, and especially difficult to answer. My advice is to walk the tightrope between appearing cocky and conveying an air of utter incompetence. One must appear to be choosing from a long list of strengths (because who wants to hire a wimp?) or risk blowing it. All the while, you're sweating in anticipation of the pesky follow-up: “What is your biggest weakness?”

     This time around, however, I’m prepared.

     My biggest strength is my initials. (Oh no! Should it be are my initials. This is a writing job. I need to nail the grammar. No, is is right. I think. Shit! What’s the subject?) That is why I plopped them right at the top of my resume and used this inflated font to make them really stand out. I want to be known for my initials, you see. They took up a good three inches before I updated the layout so I could actually fit some qualifications on there.

     Let me explain why my initials are so strong. 

     Isn’t it self-explanatory? JK! I mean, tack a Rowling at the back of them and I’m the most successful fantasy writer in the world—and British to boot. I even have a theme park, well—my character does. Note that two letters share a stem in my initials. Pretty awesome! JKJKJKJKJKJKJK. They're also fun to type! Add them to a facebook post and they’re an excuse not to take anything seriously. You haven’t changed a bit JK; Love it! JK; You two make the perfect couple JK. I can back out of any post by simply citing my initials. They’re like a little disclaimer: The views expressed in this post do not necessarily reflect my opinion, so you can’t hold me to it! (Probably want to refrain from this one: So sorry for your loss. You’re in my prayers. JK) On serious posts, I stay on the safe side and leave the initials off. The selfie of me beaming like an idiot is enough of an identifier.

     Scatter some letters in between, and you have JunKet. Which I’ve always wanted to try if I ever got into politics. (Oh shit! Don’t bring up politics on an interview! What are you thinking? Take it back! I can't. Mental face palm. Mental! Oh no! You did one for real. All right, now JK stands for: Just Kiss this opportunity goodbye. Capiche?)

     My greatest weakness? That’s easy: hearing inner voices.

It's a Tough Job, But Someone Has to Do It

Today I'm celebrating going to the county fair! Not only going, but having an opportunity to plop myself on a bench and write. At the fair! What gives me this rare opportunity, you ask? My leg, of course! And the fact that I haven't been able to finish my book by the deadline. I'm still working on it, and I'm sorry to say the word count is not looking good. It's in danger of being far too long, as usual. When I was at 77 K, I thought it would be perfect, yet I still need to wrap up with my final scene, which has a carnival tie-in. I went a little crazy.
That's why I'm so excited to be headed to the fair. For people watching and inspiration, there is no rival. I'm sure to get just what I need to wrap it up, and my kids will be happy too!

Last year at the fair.

Enjoy your respective Fridays, everyone!
This post is part of a blog hop hosted by the following bloggers: Vik Lit (Scribblings of an Aspiring Author),
Diana Wilder, LG Keltner @ Writing Off the Edge, Katie @ TheCyborg Mom, CaffeMaggieato @ mscoffeehouse
Please stop by when you get a chance and give them your support!