Oh, this’ll be good.
I thought myself immune to freelance cons, at least for a little while. It’s funny how the same vices you mock in other writers become harmless and excusable when you indulge in them. Most people don’t want to act the fool, but nobody wants to be the fool. That’s my justification for not reporting such soul-sucking scum until now, even though they’re not worth the effort to pity. May this account of the MyTrendingStories scam bring you wisdom, and perhaps calm me down. Or at least streamline my anger into something thoughtful.
What a roller coaster of a year for this blog. I went from updating daily to updating rarely, from knowing little about blogging to knowing too much about blogging. By “too much,” I mean that I’m still not ready to commit Word Salad Spinner to a regular goal or update schedule yet. Promising myself to deliver 1,250 words a week helped me stick to deadlines. But now I have actual deadlines to deal with, and I’m less inclined to write more essays about how a random short story counterpoints the surrealism of the underlying metaphor or whatever. Moving forward, quality over quantity. It’s still a period of transition, is what I’m saying. As Word Salad Spinner chronicles the journey of a writer, there will be a lot of transitions.
Here’s a quick overview of 2017:
Continue reading “IT’S OUR THIRD-YEAR ANNIVERSARY!!!”
Until I can provide a satisfying answer to the question “Why do you want to be a writer?” I will be on hiatus.
Whenever someone asks the above question, the discussion’s bound to get personal. So let me lay my cards down on the table… or, rather, my CDs.
That’s a lot of Bill Cosby right there. When I say I am (was?) a Bill Cosby fan, I speak as someone who never watched The Cosby Show and never considered Cosby to be my, or even America’s, “dad.” What I do speak from is childhood memory. When our family drove 18+ hour trips to a vacation spot, we’d listen to Cosby to make the voyage easier, to make it resemble family bonding time. The tradition set in soon enough— pull over for gas, get McDonalds, eat our meal on the road while listening to Cosby’s familiar, family-friendly comedy bits. For many years, I had every routine from all our CDs accidentally memorized. Even today, our family will quote from The Chicken Heart, or talk about how Henry Kissinger’s from Alabama, just out of habit. Bill Cosby’s the only comedian we have in our CD collection, for the record (that is not a pun. I don’t want to veer off into more politics than I have to, but regardless of what the Second Amendment says, I do believe in reasonable, federally-mandated pun control).
It’s FRANKENSTEIN FEBRUARY! That magical time of year when I power through a generally shitty month by re-reading the greatest novel of all time! Mary Shelley’s best book is such an accurate reflection of humanity that I learn more about myself each time I revisit the tragic history contained within. And with this third re-read, enjoyed alongside an introduction by Maurice Hindle, I have arrived at a new truth: there is something seriously wrong with me!