Don’t Say A Word

Red Sky-5

So there I was…with a finished novel after just eight years. Not that it took me eight years to write it. I took about four years off to study photography and another couple of years to apply some of that studying to the actual pursuit of picture taking.

During this time, I used the storyboard for my novel as an example of story boarding in my Writing Hurts Like Hell workshops. I also talked about the novel profusely, to anyone who would listen. I even posted excerpts on my blog.

Let’s turn the clock back a bit…to long before I started the novel…way back to the days of Sinclair Lewis. He and his wife would never utter out loud the title of his book Main Street for fear that another writer would pick up on it psychically and use it. Which, of course, assumes that writers are somehow psychically connected.

Maybe so, maybe not so.

I finished the novel over a year ago and put it aside for a few months before going through it for one last round of revisions. Then, I started contacting literary agents. Lots of them. After a few weeks, they started getting back to me with the usual death threats and warnings of legal action. I’m used to this. I bask in the dark light of agent rejection and use it to fuel my enthusiasm for the impossible.

But I didn’t like some of their comments, especially the ones who said things like:

‘We don’t need another Three Faces of Eve book. What the hell were you thinking when you wrote this garbage?’ 

‘Have you seen the movie Seven Sisters? Obviously you have, because this novel of yours is just a rewrite of the movie with a different title, different characters, different story line and different concept. And different uses of the word “and.” Rejected!’

Bastards.

But now that the word’s out, I can talk about the word. The name of the novel is The Weekly Man, not Six Brothers and One Sister. Both have seven main characters.

Seven Sisters has three women born the same day in a society that only allows one baby, so they hide their identity and each of the sisters can go outside their home one day of the week and they name themselves after the day they can go out (i.e., Monday, Tuesday…you know, days of the week).

The Weekly Man has seven personalities living in the same body. The one who was born in that body on Monday exists every Monday (but isn’t named after the day). The one who was born in that body on Tuesday only exists on Tuesdays (and he isn’t named after the day either). So, a different personality each day, ending with a female personality on Sunday (but she’s not named Sunday).

In Seven Sisters, the characters all know of each other’s existence; in fact, they live together. In The Weekly Man, the characters (even though they live in the same body) don’t know of each other’s existence until they’re in their 30s and they start meeting on social media. It took over a year of research and banging my head on table tops in the coffee shops around the city where I did my writing to work this out.

In Seven Sisters, the characters are focused on keeping their existence secret from the rest of the world . In The Weekly Man, the characters are kept secret from each other. Seven Sisters is a serious movie. The Weekly Man is humor. For instance, the Tuesday character is trying to murder the Thursday character but can’t because the they don’t exist on the same day. And, of course, the Sunday character is thinking about getting a sex change.

Now, I’m not saying that the people who wrote and produced Seven Sisters picked up on my idea through some kind of psychic connection. I would never say such a foolish thing, Sinclair Lewis or not. However, I did learn a lesson from this: When you start a novel, finish it. Don’t talk about it. Don’t be distracted by photography or other pursuits. Don’t use your novel’s storyboard in your writing workshops.

And don’t let the agents get you down when they point at you and laugh. It’s their job. It’s nothing personal. Well, the death threats are kind of personal, but I get those all the time, and not just from agents.

I guess the thing to do is sit on the book for a couple of years until there’re all new agents out there who don’t watch movies and have never read books on multiple personalities. Yeah…a couple of years.

In the meantime, I’m working on another novel. But I’m not going to talk about it. And I’m sure as hell not going to say the title out loud.

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Attack of the Blue Eyed Zombies

zombie 2018-121 copy

A friend recently posted a Tweet on his Facebook that I found interesting. It was from a woman, whose name was hidden under a red highlight. It went like this:

Stop complimenting people’s blue eyes. It’s basically complimenting whiteness. Less than 1% of non-white people have blue eyes. No one ever says someone with brown eyes has beautiful eyes. Brown eyes are beautiful. I love mine.

Complimenting whiteness? What the hell? Suppose you have a husband or wife who has blue eyes. You’re not supposed to say something like, “My god, you have beautiful eyes.” 

Here’s how I commented:

I’ve complimented many people on their green and brown eyes. I think this complaint is going over the edge of political correctness and I really hate it when people like this tell me how I should react with other people in a way that takes away my right to be an individual because they have a ridiculous personal problem.

This tweet is reverse discrimination. If you’re white, then yoau’re getting something you’re not entitled to get…because you’re white. And you should feel bad about getting the compliment because less than 1% of non-white people have blue eyes. And this is your fault. Because you have blue eyes. And you’re white.

Bullshit. 

We’ve always lived in a world where no matter what you say or do, you’re going to make some people happy and piss others off. We get through this by doing or saying the things we believe in and to hell with that annoying group of people whose ire you awaken by expressing yourself.

And yes, there are certain things that are unacceptable under any circumstances. Walking up to a stranger and putting a bullet in their head is never good. Calling someone a racist name is bad. Saying or writing words to incite others to commit crimes is wrong.

But increasingly, I’m seeing swarms of self-righteous people making up arbitrary rules on language, behavior, purchases, preferences, opinions and…well…everything. 

A friend of mine unfriended me on Facebook over a disagreement we had about an article in which a woman felt that she was somehow being denigrated by men who opened doors for her. I’ve seen women open doors for men. Does this mean they’re denigrating men? 

It seems like everyone with a pet peeve, no matter how petty, is using social media to control others with their inane pronouncements on conduct that, unfortunately, gather a certain amount of momentum from a population that’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing and being criticized by others that they take this garbage seriously. 

The problem with this is that it keeps us focused on small matters of personal presentation rather on the larger matters such as the death of our planet, the increasing likelihood of nuclear war…you know…stuff we should be thinking about instead of wondering if it’s OK to tell my daughter that she has beautiful blue eyes.