Wednesday, March 25, 2009

"It's Just A Simple Meme", He Said. And Then He Was Gone

But it has rules. Yes, there are always rules. This is painful, as I am unruly. And if you are squeemish and under 21 do not peek at some of the links herein. You will be offended. Oh well, here are the rules:

The Rules
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

The big Ape thinks of me now and then. I can die happy now knowing that. Yes I know I am a blog slut, but it's very safe sex because it's all in my mind. Okay, here goes.

1. I should be writing a book about the farting behavior of Americans. It's very strange. I'm not willing to give you details here, since you might try to scoop me, snigger, snigger.
(Well, one little tidbit). There is a huge Asian market for women farting. Honest to god, it's true. I know this because on one of Tom's overly long visits, he spent a great deal of time looking at either "Natural and Hairy Eastern European Naked Women" or Asian women farting. I thought the farting site was hilarious. I could laugh endlessly knowing that guys were getting off on the sound and sight of mooning farting Japanese women, probably due to a cultural tabu that keeps most women from ever farting in, say, Japan, for instance. Ring any bells with any of you repressed American women? Did you know that we all fart in our sleep? That should make you cringe if you are so repressed that farting is not part of the fun of your animal life. This is a bit horrifying, but in looking for fart sites, Utah Savage is right up there on top of the fart sites for Google.

2. I have trouble reading when I'm working on my own writing. But I am gluttonously, obscenely well read. There have been so many prolonged periods when I did nothing else but read, as if it were my job. I used to complain that there should be a professional career path for the obsessive reader. And I'm a literary snob. I admit it. There are certain writers I will not read unless I absolutely must. Like Stephen King, for instance. I hate his writing. I once had a small part in The Stand. I had to read that one. It was gawd awful.

3. The Unconventional Conventionist and I have a close personal relationship and we sometimes talk on the phone for hours. He was my first real blog crush. What do we talk about? I'll never tell.

4. My first boyfriend and I are still close. I was twelve and he was almost sixteen when I fell in love with him. We never had sex. He is coming to Salt Lake soon, like maybe this week end and we will see each other. Last time I saw him was just before I moved back to Salt Lake from Santa Barbara. I drove to Portland to see him. I stayed with him and my favorite of his wives. He and I played backgammon for hours. I was on a winning streak. He considers himself a very good player and continued to tell me that my last move was a mistake even though I was four or five games ahead of him. I went off on him. I though his insistence that I was not as skilled a player as he was terribly arrogant and condescending. Then I spent the next day and a half sobbing and unable to talk about why. It was a kind of epic grief and I haven't quite lived down the embarrassment of not being able to stop crying or explain why.

5. I worked for a professional gambler when I was putting the third husband through graduate school. The professional gambler was the one who taught me to play backgammon. I'm a pretty good player. Not great, but pretty good. Take that Larry.

6. I've mentioned this in passing, but I have a girlfriend who grew up in a Polygamist family. So I know details about the polygamists portrayed in the HBO Special Big Love which is based on the Colorado City group and it's Prophet, Warren Jeffs. Some of the shit they believe is hilarious. It's material for me, so I'm not talking about details now. Oh the hilarity of it all. And the generational cost, psychologically speaking. It is rich material. Magic underpants is the least of it.

So I now tag 1. Lady F, 2. Wee Mousie, 3. MRMacrum, 4. TheMom, 5. Bubs, 6. Sunshine

Sadly, I'm Not Here, But Imogen Heap Is Instead. Lucky You

World's Best Editor

MRMacrum has just given me 17, yes that's 17 very detailed and well thought out pages of editing on the first three chapters of the Novel, Maggy. I sent out a general call for help from those of you who are writers. And I did get a suggestion here and there, but MRMacrum took me very seriously and came to my aid in a big way.

I'm thinking MRMacrum is a teacher, or university professor. I know he's a damn fine writer, but the quality and detail of his efforts on my behalf are extraordinary. And so far I haven't found a suggestion or correction I'm not taking. What he's given me is a very carefully detailed map to every problem in those first three chapters and the solution to fixing the problem. Thank you MRMacrum. Now I have a mad blog crush on you. I hope this doesn't embarrass you. I know you're married, and a lucky woman she is. So I won't travel to Main to track you down. But I can't imagine how much time this took you. Not only did he give me a map to fixing what's wrong, make great suggestions, and correct my shitty punctuation, he did it so carefully, so meticulously, I will simply follow his directions.

It is my belief that every writer of long fiction needs an editor. If you are good enough or lucky enough to publish something that leads to publication of your novel, the publisher assigns an editor to you. It least that's how it used to be. I have a friend who has published two books, and the minute her manuscript was accepted, she was assigned an editor. Such luxury. However, I can't imagine a better editor anywhere than MRMacrum.