Lost in Translation

I might have lost my first reader because of what I’ve been writing.

If you don’t write there’s this thing that seems to be something that even the most carefree, fearless of writers goes through–somehow, someday you’re going to write something that is going to get you into trouble. Writing has caused an uproar before, for sure. There’s what happened with Dan Brown and the Da Vinci Code or the many people made about the portrayal of sex and just relationships in general in Fifty Shades of Grey.

Notice that both of those books sold very well.

That’s not an invitation to write the worst things that you can, but there’s obviously something to be said about the controversial selling or the shitstorm that brews around a thing actually helping to fuel its ascent.

We could only hope to be that lucky. In my case I passed a story along to a woman who I wouldn’t call a friend quite yet, but there was something budding there. She had asked to see something I was writing and as she actually reads a lot I thought that this could be a common ground for us.

I e-mailed the first chapter to her, because I almost never send out the complete manuscript, expecting to hear back in a couple of days. The idea was that she would read it and make some comment like “that was really cool, I’d read this” or “nah, not really my kind of thing”. In the past I’ve gotten either.

I’ll interject here that one of the things that I read in Stephen King’s On Writing that has always rang true with me was that the writer in us has this desire to find an ideal reader–usually a spouse or friend or family member whose feedback they write for. This person would be the audience you have in mind. Maybe not so much in the sense that they are the type of person that you’re writing for, but more that you write everything to filter through them. The writing process is lonely by necessity, even when you’re writing with a co-author. That first time that you hand someone the printed stacks of paper that are your novel or send out that little file attachment is a big step. Their impression of the thing is your first impression of what anyone else thinks.

And in a way I’m kind of searching for the person to be that. It takes more than just being the first to read a thing; they have to be honest enough and brutal enough to be willing to take a stab at something very personal that has, up until then, been your own little secret creation.

Sure, you learn to get hardened to criticism and to take it as a critic of what’s on the page and not you, but it’s still a part of you. It’s still a very vulnerable give and take relationship.

So when I didn’t hear back, I figured that it was because she didn’t like it and was scared of hurting my feelings. I actually like hearing someone didn’t like it, someone telling me that they loved it doesn’t usually tell me what needs to be fixed.

Something always needs to be fixed.

She and I talked over the next few days about photography and kind of joked around. We came to the point where she was going to meet up with me the other day and then the day of she backed out. And I did what I do when anyone does anything, even a small thing. I over analyzed it.  It really works in my favor some of the time. If there’s a problem that needs a high level of scrutiny I can do that.

The phrase she used was “no contact” and it seemed like a very specific sort of language to use with someone who you had very lighthearted contact with in the first place. Looking back over the conversations we’ve had since I got the iPhone (and looked for an excuse to text anyone I knew had one to see the little blue bubbles) there’s nothing alarming in my language with her. We had breakfast together once a while ago and haven’t seen each other sense, but I wondered what I’d said to get this response.

The old “what did I do that upset you so much” conversation isn’t one I usually have to have. I know what I’ve said, I probably said it on purpose. I was careful this time; I’m usually extra careful because i can get carried away with jokes that are too much for people and topics that shouldn’t be discussed.

Then I realized the only place I hadn’t been careful was my writing. The first chapter of the novel I sent her has some choice words in it and some choice imagery. She actually questioned it when she first started reading the whole thing, but that was the last conversation where we mentioned it. At that point she seemed fine with there being a little adult content. It wasn’t there for no reason, that’s for sure.

I think she read the rest of it either days ago or very recently and had been thinking it over. Is this the kind of person that I want to be friends with? Someone who would write this must be sick or someone who would write this must have a real problem. Authors aren’t the people they write about in their stories, although part of us does go into the process. I’m no more Lissette than I am any other character written by someone who just had the idea. But she’s up here in my head, she came from there and I can pull that personality forth and put it on the page (haven’t been doing it as much lately).

The writing scaring her is all that makes sense to me with the scant information that I have. This isn’t really the first time this has happened, but it is the first time that someone has not wanted to be my friend anymore because of it and it’s sad because she seemed really sweet and I wish her the best.

Does this mean that I stop what I was doing before or change how I have been writing, no. I don’t have direct feedback to know what it was that caused her issue nor do I want to be the kind of person who censors their writing. I’d rather write things better and strive to take offensive subjects in a thought provoking way, rather than hiding from them or appealing to the lowest denominator.

If I’m published someday I hope she sees the book in a store or while scrolling through Amazon and decides to take it look; I hope she gets that what I’m trying to say is clear. I hope she keeps turning the pages and finally gets what I’m trying to say.


Daddy Issues

worlds_best_dad_medalFor as long as I can remember actually feeling like I wanted kids of my own I’ve liked the idea of having a daughter more than having a son. This is apparently not normal. Whenever it somehow comes up in conversation people look at me like they just realized I was Keyser Söze the whole time. I guess I can see why.

But then there are those people who obviously shouldn’t have had a kid at all. I went out to the bar with a friend from out of town the other day and expected things to just be kind of run of the mill. I wanted her to see the places where we hang out and meet some of my friends.

While we were there I started talking to a bar tender I didn’t know as the person who is usually there was off that night. We were joking about her piercings. She had these two in the dimples of her back. I don’t remember how it even came up. The thing is that it wasn’t really that I was flirting with her, but I know from being in this bar before and having been in other bars that if you’re the girl behind the bar you’re going to get hit on by guys who might be well into their sixties.

The whole thing is a little gross. But it’s also not anything abnormal. It’s the case in bars all over the westernized world more than likely.

In the course of our conversation about various piercings I told her that she should avoid any guy who’s dumb enough to pierce his dick. It might not show from this blog most of the time, but I don’t have a filter or much of a wall to hold that kind of stuff back. I can if I want to, but I typically don’t.

It turns out that a guy who I had been talking to earlier was the girl’s father and he was just in the bar drinking and hanging out. I’m already a little creeped out by the idea of people coming with their kids to the bar unless it’s not a regular thing. But when you come see your daughter in a place where she works around dozens of guys who are looking at her like a piece of meat  you kind of have to expect that.

The guy seemed so hurt by the whole thing and was just upset whenever I was around for the entire rest of the night. And if he had been there any amount of time with her at the bar he had to have seen worse stuff than what I did. The leering. The comments.

I figure that he was either there for free drinks or to try and keep guys away from his daughter. Either way it seems like a pretty sad existence. I think it’s good to want to stand up for your kids. But how long do you have to keep doing it? And how do you take on everyone that makes off color jokes as if they’re insults?

One thing that someone made a point of saying (I don’t remember who) is that the guys who have the most to fear when they have a little girl are the ones who remember the horrible shit they did to women when they were younger and single. I think that’s not true, even guys who didn’t do all the bad still know guys who did. They still saw the effects on a girl or two, Or they witnessed it first hand at a party or gathering or bar.

Though it’s sexist to think that bad things only happen to little girls (because they don’t). I’m sure that being a parent is scary in general. Even then, there comes a point where you need to be ready to let your kids think for themselves and do for themselves and let them laugh with other people and have fun and all of that good stuff.