Open Letter to a "Professor"

I told Kevin I'd post again so as to bump off a not-so-pleasant blog. Sorry angel, but I'm replacing it with another, less-than pleasant blog.

You see, "The Son" is done, for all intents and purposes, and I was looking for something else to work on--something shorter than a novel. I pulled up a second story I had written in college, "Sisters," which is meant to be the story of the other two Gorgons, post-Medusa. It was meant to kind of go with "The Son"--both being stories that try to make the mythology of a culture accessible without bastardizing them--hence the similarly themed title. There's also the barely fomented "Eggshells," which I don't think will ever be revisited.

Anyway, I found the last draft I had of "Sisters": a "paper" I wrote for "Humans, Animals, and Monsters," a University College class I took my last year at Wash U. And I started reading the comments. And I remembered the professor. And I got angry.


Dear Professor DRC,

I really wish I had gone to the Anthropology faculty while I was taking your class. You were so clearly unprepared beyond the single paper on whales and sea monsters you wrote (which I must say, I did enjoy). With such a fascinating topic for a class, only you could make it seem inane and fluffy.

For example, no actual anthropologist would insist--to a class no less--that the story of Jesus and the Resurrection was not a myth. No good anthropologist would mix the term myth meaning " a theme that expresses the ideology of a culture" with the colloquial use, meaning "something made up; a lie." A good anthropologist would have used that example and her beliefs to explain the term and misconceptions of it. This was the first thing you said that should have tipped me off you wouldn't be a good teacher. n fact, this was the only thing I mentioned to another faculty member, who stared at me and asked if I was sure those words had actually come from your mouth.

Also, it would have been a good idea to do some actual research instead of spouting truisms about humanity and animals. I nearly quit the class when you said that the difference between humans and animals was that "man lies." Does that exclude mimicry? What about birds who feign injury to lead predators away? And since cases of intentional deception are well-known among primates, what exactly are your qualifications for "lying"?

(I would have pointed this out at the time, but the nimrod two seat to the right and one forward was too busy making the counter-example of an opossum playing dead, which you also didn't seem able to handle, since I don't recall you pointing out that the action--while deception in a sense--is not intentional, but a physiological response that makes the opossum faint.)

But the final straw, the one which makes me kick myself for not taking you on, so to speak, is the ridiculous situation of the final projects.

Seriously.

When I emailed you the week before to change my topic from Cattle in Egyptian Mythology (I had just finished my project on the origins of Hathor in said culture and was quite sick of cows), you said it was no problem. I told you specifically what I intended, a short story on gorgons, and you said it was fine.

Why then did you drop my grade because it was a) not the project I had signed up for(!), b)did not include introductory material which you never said was necessary, and c) did not have "background research," which the story plainly did, based on the facts presented within the text and the author's note at the end? Of course I did research, you dip! Do you suppose that I invented the Graiae? That I just imagined the palace at Mycenae? That the choices I made within the myth, detailed under your giant red checkmarks--which I can only assume meant "good" or "I understand"--were further fictions? And yet your favorites, who knitted little dragons and set them on two page papers with no sources cited were applauded?

Also, the "What is this?" comment on my symbol choice for the section breaks? You have to be kidding me! It's a lowercase gamma--stupid, I admit, but to my mind at the time, more attractive and appropriate than a WingDing. I thought you were Greek!

Please stop teaching and inflicting your lack of attention to detail and misconceptions on others. I hope someone braver and less jaded then I has told the department head about you. I only wish it had been me.

Thank you,

Erin

Angry Names

The fastest way to make me hate your story is to use stupid names for people, places and things. Truly, nothing defines bad fantasy like a random apostrophe or too many 'y's.

I don't find this hard, and so I don't see why it should be hard for anyone else. I'l admit I've given my share of terrible fantasy names, but it doesn't take long for me to realize that they don't fit or sound wrong or just are wrong. Why isn't it like that for everyone, dammit?

For example, I cannot stand it when people name characters after themselves, but what's even more annoying is when you reverse your name or anagram it awkwardly and expect no one to know! If your name, for example is Martin, you should not name your character " Nitram". In fact, no one should ever name their character Nitram. Why? Listen to it. God, that's ugly.

There are exceptions as always--Some people have a name they can do that with and the sounds won't tip anyone off as to what they've done. But even then, someone's going to look (me) and make fun of you if you get caught.

(DISCLAIMER: Yes, I know, I did this too. But my name isn't Jessica or Marie or Bella. And I didn't stop at reversing it. Nireina is never going to be the train wreck that Rehtaeh is. And if you would like to argue that it's the same thing, I know who you are and you can shut up)

Also, decide on the sounds your made-up world's language uses. Nothing is more irritating than reading names which blend French rip-offs like "Chauteuse Reaux" with Germanic sounds like "Beornic." These people cannot be brothers! They shouldn't even be in the same village.

Don't borrow names from soucres everyone will recognize, even subconsciously. I Google every name I choose, in order to make certain it's not the name of a brand of cola or the Swahili word for sheep. You cannot name your wizard "Doubtfire." You cannot name your elf "Emeril." You cannot name your goddamn dragon "Striker."

And please at least say your names aloud. Ask other people to read them too. I cannot count how many times I've come up to a name and just started giggling hysterically. "Jurkweld" might seem fine when you're pronouncing it "Yurkveldt," but when I read it, it's a stupid joke.

I don't suppose it's too much to hope that the transgressors will know I mean them?

And that's why I hated college

Lately, I am feeling so overloaded. Today, for instance: I was planning on finishing the artwork for a set of posters for MS, but I had to help finish setting up for the Friday meeting, which took WAY longer than I expected. I've also got these checklists for the kits that need to be done, sine every Friday I spend half the time explaining to instructors that , no, they don't need to have a potato/shot glass/ five plastic bins for their kit--that's left over from last session when these were made far too quickly (Most of the time they understand. Sometimes, that seems to be a lot to ask). Then we had emergency training, since someone quit and a bunch more schools signed up, I have to Igor at two birthday parties tomorrow, I have a pile of Per Aspera stuff that I just can't seem to finish , that artwork never did get done, camps to divide curriculum for, and I still can't just walk away from my old responsibilities since the new guy isn't totally trained yet. Plus, chores and the additional sorts of chores/projects which come with owning a home. On top of that, I'm SUPPOSED to be working on my writing and planning a wedding. But guess what ends up going?

(Yes, I realize that there are probably a few better ways to spend my time then adding to the blog no one reads, but if I don't vent somewhere, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown)

After nine hours of work, much of it on my feet, much of it being pulled in six different directions, I come home and Kevin suggests I work really hard for two hours writing. I'd love to! Unfortunately, all I can handle is sitting and possibly reading (so I did some submissions until I really couldn't take it). I come downstairs to where Kevin is playing Halo 2 and he suggests I draw a banner for our wedding website. I really wanted to punch him.

I may just go have a cry instead.

Catch up

Good Lord, I'm bad at this. I suppose it's good then that no one reads it.

Work has been almost unbearably busy, which is good for the bank, but bad for my writing. I find that a certain kind of stress, the kind that comes out of, say, six hours of doing something dull and repetitive (shop girl, public high school, grading Kumon papers) tends to make me feel very creative. Six hours of problem-solving, multi-tasking, with short bursts of extreme concentration and skill (eyes-in-the-back-of-the-head is harder than it looks) tends to make me take bubble baths.

Thank heavens Kevin and I are finally taking a little vacation. We've been trying to since the beginning of summer but things kept cropping up. So now we are going to take a ferry to Vctoria and stay the weekend in this very cool brewery/guesthouse. I'm so excited that when I've opened my mouth today, no matter who I was talking to, I;ve said, "We're going on vacation!"

lately, I've been listening to the local commercial-free dance music station instead of NPR (I like NPR, but those John Roberts hearings were so painful to listen to, and now...well, it's what's on). Anyway, wow--All potential writers need to listen to dance music lyrics. Here, is what happens when you have a lack of specificity in your writing:

Tossing and turning/Emotions were strong

Let me tell you how I feel/I never felt a love so real

And teh one where the guy asks his girlfriend a serious question, like do you think we're meant to be together?: And she says/ Yeah, yeah yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah)/ Whoa-whoa (whoa-whoa)/ Yeah yeah yeah/ Whoa-oh

Also, ridiculous metaphors, similes and turns of phrase:

Like an island from a cloud/ You'd appear to me somehow/ I was yours and you were mine/ in another place and time/ Like two islands in the sea/ Separated endlessly

The fuh?

And my favorite, the Black Eyed Peas song "My Humps." Now I like the Black Eyed Peas, and I was frankly shocked to find out the song I have been giggling over for days is one of theirs. The singer actually refers to her "Lovely Lady Lumps." It just sounds so ridiculously amateur.

Okay, I should be doing real work.

YAY!

I AM SO EXCITED!

Why?
We just got a correctly formatted and appropriate submission!!!! I'm so excited, I'm overpunctuating!!!! Hooray!!!

Submittor #119: I hope your story is as perfect as your submission skills. You are definitely a head up in my book. In fact, as a token of my appreciation, I am going to read your submission before all the redos.


This is why you should read the guidelines, kids.

Punchlines

When my youngest sister Julia first learned to tell jokes, her favorite went like this: Why does the hummingbird hum? Because he doesn't know the words!

Kristen taught it to her, out of a joke book she got at the school book fair. I was exactly old enough to think this was the stupidest joke in the known universe. But to be fair, Julia was probably about four.

Through some mental process I still can't claim to understand, Julia seemed to decide that the joke was funny because of the punchline and therefore the joke did not require that particular set up. And so she told jokes like this:

Why did the monster chase the kitty? Because it doesn't know the words!

Why did the cheeseburger taste good? Because it didn't know the words

Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it doesn't know the words.

I was also exactly old enough to decide (yes, I was a bit of a snarky bitch even then) I had the stupidest kid in the known universe for a sister.

Now, I think it's adorable and freaking hilarious. It's almost a meta-joke--playing on the idea that what matters most is that you don't see it coming. I like jokes which are little more than a surprise answer:

What do an elephant and a plum have in common? They're both purple, except for the elephant.

What's green and has twenty wheels? Grass. I lied about the wheels.

In some corner of time and space, I'm sure eight-year-old me is sneering and readjusting her scale of stupidest people ever.

Edit

After posting my last entry, it occurred to me that I might have made a bad choice of language.

The handful of people I ran it by have had a slightly different adn significantly more negative view of the phrase "selling out" than I. I am trying to think of a better way to put it, but I'm running a fever (please not the flu!) and I watched entirely too much stupid television today so it's going to have to wait. I just wanted to clarify before I made anyone angry:

I DO NOT think writing SF is selling out. I only meant that if you are trying to convince a publisher than your story is something it isn't because you think there is a better chance of it getting published with that publisher or of making more money in that genre, I would classify that as "selling out". (Or attempting to at any rate. I think most people would catch you)

I know I have seen a better term for doing this with speculative elements, but I can't recall at the moment what it was or where I read it. Only that it had something to do with a story about nuns...

Also, I need a nice way to say I'm sorry to the guy who owns peraspera.com. It seems like every other time I use not-gmail to email someone at work I type his domain by mistake. I am sure he's very tired of it. I am also sure that until my webmail starts auto-filling fields or my brain seriously rewires itself, it's going to keep happening.

There's a store in Bellevue that sells cookie bouquets. I wonder if they have one for "Sorry I clog your inbox. Nothing personal."