The Writer's Dilemna

...

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost

Jack and Jill went up the hill,

Each with a buck and a quarter.

Jill came down with $2.50.

-Andrew Dice Clay

You're probably wondering why, other than boredom, would anyone put a Dice Clay nursery rhyme side by side with a quote from Robert Frost, one of the most venerated poets of our time?  Yeah you got me, it was boredom.  Well okay to be honest there is a point hidden in there as well, probably somewhere behind Jill and her newly earned $1.25.  We'll get to it in a minute, I swear.

I had a very interesting conversation during dinner last night with a younger guy who wants to begin writing sci-fi novels.  His ideas were some of the best compilations of stock and trade sci-fi standards I've heard in quite a while.  They were all retreads, albeit bright shiny sparkly retreads, but retreads nonetheless.  Granted mind you that there's nothing wrong with that as it happens every day and sells like crazy.  I didn't want to rain on the kid's parade so I let him continue telling me about his characters and settings while random references to Douglas Adams and Joss Whedon and mid-seventies DC comics and Ray Bradbury and Ridley Scott populated the back of my mind in a near dizzying orgy of homogenized and rehashed angry face-hugging ideas.

Then it happened. He hit upon something original. 

This guy has a brilliant character idea floating around in all of that sea of once-more-into-the-breach-standbys and it is awesome.  This character has enough flamboyancy, believability, and just left of center outlandishness that he could carry an entire story AND IT WOULD BE AWESOME.  This character is unlike anything my raging nerd brain has ever heard of in the realm of sci-fi and I would line up to watch a movie based on it if the script was written in crayon.

Unfortunately, for this budding padawan writer this is a second tier supporting character meant as some form of comic relief to his main protagonist, a man who may have been the outcome of that one time in band camp when Han Solo and Chewie gang banged Ripley from Alien and used "Game Over" Hudson as a surrogate to carry the baby.  The problem here is that the writer has already made a choice, good bad or indifferent, and is hell bent on proceeding down that path.  The sad thing is that he has a nugget of true genius in his grasp and refuses to see it.

I think one of the biggest challenges any writer must contend with is whether or not to listen to that little voice inside their head (as opposed to the louder ones that they pretend are just their imagination running wild) that tells them something is wrong with their project.  I like to refer to it as the Writer's Dilemna. 

I had a really personal experience with the Writer's Dilemna while working on Bounce.  The novel was completed back in early March of this year and I deeply, madly, and truly hated it.  The book sucked on a level that made me get sleepy reading it out of self preservation.  I couldn't stand it and I WROTE THE DAMN THING.  I put it on ice for a week and tried to work in another direction to see if I could make a decision on what to do with it before I flushed a six month project.  My Writer's Dilemna was down to scrap or start over and scrap was way out in front on the polls.  Strangely enough I came up with the idea during that week to allow the main character to tell the story instead of telling it for him.  What I came up with is 146 pages of rambling from a self-indulgent, depraved, sardonic, vulgar asshole with no regard for those around him and no redeeming qualities.  Reviewer after reviewer has decried how much they truly hated the character... and yet copies are still selling.

Writer / blogger / showrunner Ken Levine spent a great deal of space on his blog several months ago about the trend in Hollywood toward the anti-hero and how the viewing public seems to now be craving flawed figures as their leading roles.  I have to agree and let you all in on a secret as well:  I created the Mack character and I can't stand him either!!  The funny thing to me is that as the reviews come in people in general not only don't like the guy but keep turning pages to see how far he can fall.  I think it goes back to the Robert Frost vs. Dice Clay portion at the beginning of the post.  A lot of writers, including myself on most occasions, tend to head down the Frost path and write more socially acceptable literature.  In this particular case I rolled the "Dice" and let a real jackass loose on the page.  While the results were mixed, after all the book hasn't crapped out nor has it blown up past marginally successful self publishing standards, it generated a response in those that have read it and after all that's all most writers are really after anyway!

So, for the other writers out there facing their own Writer's Dilemna on their current work, all I can leave you with is this: be willing to go back to the beginning if you need to, don't be too afraid of going for it and seeing what happens, and be willing to learn from it if the experiment goes sideways.

That and NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER consciously let a character that you know the world is going to hate try to ride roughshod over your narrative.  I have already sworn to whatever writer's deity is paying attention that I will not repeat my mistake and I'm sure you don't want to join me.

Then again . . . you could always look at the work of my favorite poet, e.e. cummings.  The man deplored convention, butchered the rules of punctuation, and was known for equal parts poetry, erotica, and novels that made F. Scott Fitzgerald ( The Great Gatsby ) actually consider quitting the writing profession.  In a number of circles he was considered what we now would see as equal parts of the Frost / Clay equation.  I wonder what his Writer's Dilemnas were like...

I leave you today with my favorite poem from e.e. cummings, "Somewhere I Have Never Travelled."

If you'd like, feel free to discuss your own Writer's Dilemnas in the comments below.



somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands     
- E. E. Cummings

       


Congratulations - It's A Boy

Please join me in congratulating

Eric and Cheri Jones

on the birth of their son

Brandon Joseph Jones

today at roughly 5:30 p.m.

9 pounds, 22 1/2 inches and redheaded like his dad!

The Perfect Circle by Nicolle Morock

Happy Memorial Day boys and girls! 

I wanted to take a moment and pass along a quick recommendation for Nicolle Morock's book The Perfect Circle.  The book is available on Amazon, Kindle, Lulu.com, and all the other usual places.

Nicolle is a Raleigh area writer, blogger, paranormal investigator, and if you follow her Facebook posts may be busier than any other human being I've met in quite a while.

Make sure you take a few minutes to check out her book and show some love to another of our area scribblers!

I'm posting my review for her book on both Lulu and Goodreads.  Be sure that once you've read it you do the same!

Have a great afternoon and don't bust from the barbecue!


Review from Goodreads.com (4/5 stars)

Have you ever had a good experience that you knew could have been amazing?  That was my reaction to The Perfect Circle.  Nicolle Morock’s supernatural investigation story left me feeling as if I had been on the guided tour of a theme park but couldn’t ride any of the rides because the lines were too long and the tour bus was leaving in five minutes. 

First and foremost the story itself is driven by a classic ghost story of a love triangle gone wrong.  The narrative is driven strongly by dialogue with just enough exposition to keep things moving without bogging the reader down in details.  Rose, the protagonist, is the most well rounded of all of the characters the author presents the reader with over the story’s arc.  Rose spends a lot of her time in her own head, either in memories or visions, which lend a lot to the story.  She also has a tendency to talk about her life and experiences a bit too openly to complete strangers, but it’s crafted in such a way that it moves the plot along nicely without breaking believability.  I liked the way the author used the hawk sightings as sign posts to let Rose know when she was on track toward solving the mystery behind her visions.  I also enjoyed the way that Rose immediately immersed herself in the people around her and wasn’t aloof.  It lent a lot of credibility to her both as a character and as a paranormal investigator and collector of stories.

My two issues with the book are pretty simple and while they were distracting, they were not so major as to destroy the story.  The first is the fact that all of the major characters, when compared to Rose, are merely set dressing.  It’s as if the author created a great character in Rose and gave her paper dolls to play with.  I think this is part of why I said I was left wanting more.  Logan, Joseph, and Hale in particular, had the author given us more of them and their stories, had all the makings of great characters that were left unrealized.  My second complaint was with the relationship between Rose and Logan.  I could never buy into the fact that they were anything more than travel companions and bedmates.  They never “felt” like a couple and even though the author did a great job of filing in the gaps with explanations why the relationship was so casual I felt like it damaged the story because the lack of intimacy made his explosion at the climax of the story a bit contrived.

The Perfect Circle is a good ride but leaves the reader wanting just a little bit more.  The story is solid and even with a few minor distractions Rose’s quest through South Dakota is still a satisfying experience.  All said, I would definitely recommend the book and  it has me looking forward to the next work from this author.



Memorial Day Moment

As we enjoy our family and friends on this Memorial Day,

please take a moment to remember that the roots of our freedom

are nurtured by the sacrifices of our soldiers.

Take the time today to say Thank You.

Entitled to Your Entitlement

Happy bright and shiny Saturday morning to all my fellow premature curmudgeons.  Yes, contrary to that ever popular debate, that big yellow ball in the sky, you know the one OUTSIDE, is actually good for you.  Hopefully over this holiday weekend we will all pull ourselves away from our computer / tv / xbox  / whatever else has us chained to the couch (unless of course that thing is another person who wants to touch your no no parts, in which case all I can say is good for you, be careful chains can pinch, and what the hell are you doing still reading this drivel?!) and go out and enjoy some of the bright sun-shiny goodness. 

Yes I used 'shiny' twice in a paragraph.  I went to sleep last night watching Firefly.  Deal with it.  I'm a grown man and if I choose to browncoat myself into oblivion this weekend it's my perogative.

Before I drag myself to the gym today and do something so unspeakably retarded and exhausting that I don't have the energy to type later, I thought I'd jump in the kiddie pool and splash some water on a few of the self-important, hyper-entitled douche burgers that have been fuckin' up my picnic over the last few days.  Granted there's more of them than ants on an abandoned remnant of Lil' Debbie resting on a fat kids stomach as he open air bakes during a food coma, but I think I'll swat at them just the same.

That's right kiddies, it's time for a rant.  One of these days I swear I'm going to get theme music.

Dear Princess Tub-o-Lard who doesn't want a library card because part of the library isn't air-conditioned:  I am so very sorry that your fat greasy ass is too sensitive to the heat to wait ten minutes while Stay-Puft Jr. peruses the kids' section for something to read while he eats his gravy covered frito pie after school snack this afternoon.  Trust me sweetheart, natural fibers have a built in wicking action that will pull some of the sweat away from your crumb encrusted and gravity riddled excuses for tits.  That polyester / spandex / bad intentions mixture you're currently corralling your heftier-than-my-ass girth with probably isn't the best choice for a hot day.  Of course, neither is leopard print for any day, but I digress.  Tell you what sweetheart, how bout you stop expecting everything to be paid for by someone else, get off foodstamps, get a damn job, and be able to afford not only some slightly more intelligent sartorial choices but the three goddamn dollars a month it takes for your kid to use a library less than a mile from your house.  Wait, that would require giving up a box of twinkies a month for your child's well being, now wouldn't it?  Sorry, what the fuck was I thinking...

Dear I Wish I Was Paris Hilton When Someone Still Thought She Mattered:  Do you realize that your trampy ass logic of "I'm pretty therefore men should give me what I want" holds just as much merit as "I'm ugly therefore people will give me cheese" when you remove the "they want to fuck me" factor from the equation?  I say this because I have seen you and your ilk scampering about in droves lately and I'm really getting tired of it.  Yes you're pretty and you have money because Daddy does and he's paying for your tuition and your Audi and your implants and whatever else he's doing to make up for the fact that he accidentally stuck his thumb in your ass while changing your diaper, but when it all comes down to it you and most of your friends are vapid pieces of shit that are spending the better parts of your youth as cum catchers.  No one keeps the girl that lets them go ass to mouth honey, I hate to spoil it for you.  So how bout you quit your bullshit, cover up your little store bought titties, and attempt to be a worthwhile human being for a fucking change.  Then maybe the quality guys will stop laughing at you and take you seriously enough to take home to mom.  Just don't tell her about the ass to mouth thing, okay?

Dear I Wrote a Book and Now I'm Special:  Yeah, you wrote a book.  Congratulations on having a dream and following through with it.  The great news is that your tome (or tomes) of awesome means that you are now part of literary history.  You have just as much right to bookshelf space as all of your contemporaries.  Maybe just not quite as much space on the shelf as you think you do.  I have some news for you folks who believe you are the second coming of "the shit" because your little mind birth sold thirty five copies in a year.  There are roughly three million of us scribblers out there.  Some are successful, some are just struggling, and some are clueless.  You did something awesome BUT NOW your bullshit attitude that you are better than others has totally ruined your stock with a lot of people.  Have you noticed a sudden withdrawl of friends since you decided that since you are an Author you now have the ability to talk down to or about others?  Is it suddenly very lonely in that rarified space you share with the ghosts of Poe's quill and Heminway's cigar butts? Do ya think it might have anything to do with the fact that you've become a raging jackass of late and all anyone wants from you is the quiet that the negative space you used to occupy provides?  I wish you all the success in the world but remember that you have to be a worthwhile fucking human being first and foremost.  Assholes tend to deal with a lot of shit, or did you forget that?

Dear I'm Rich / An Elected Official / Someone's Kid / Etc.:  I had something eloquent prepared for this particular glob o' tard but let's be real for a moment.  All they're worth is a collective FUCK YOU and GET OVER YOURSELF.  A fat bank account or a sweet job or an influential family doesn't mean that you can't get knocked the fuck out for being a raging tool box.  All that money, power, and influence should mean is that you have an increased responsibility to look out for your fellow man.  Well, it would if you worth more as a human being than the bag of goo that shot forth from the unfortunate creature to birth your ass shortly after your measly carcass starting screaming for oxygen and Gucci diapers.  I know far too many of these self important dick trickles that would rather sit home and count their money or blow it on bullshit than do something productive like create jobs for the over ten percent of the citizens of this state without one right now.  I swear to God some of these folks need to stop taking the gear shift of their Ferrari up the ass on a boring Saturday night and start paying attention to what's going on around them.  The world sucks, you dillwads have the opportunity to do something about a small corner of it, and yet you'd rather hide out with your buddies than fight through the hangover and see what's right outside the front door.  Time will change and guillotines suck my friends, although I doubt most of the rednecks you laugh at will have the thought to be that elegant when shit and fan become intimately acquainted.

And Finally, Dear Wise Ass Cashier:  It doesn't matter where you work, I've seen plenty of you this week.  I'm a fairly intelligent human being.  In fact, I actually write for somewhat of a living.  IF I NEED A PITHY ONE LINER TO COMPLIMENT MY PURCHASES AT YOUR ESTABLISHMENT I WILL WRITE IT MY FUCKING SELF!  Dear sweet fluffy God am I tired of some moron whose sphere of reference stops at whatever joke they saw last night on the Venture Brothers trying to verbally poke at me because they're bored and hate their life.  I had to run back to a local grocery store yesterday after an earlier trip because I forgot a few critical items, namely caffeine and lightbulbs.  Trust me, hyper and darkness do not mix well.  The smarmy little shit running the scanner better than any trained monkey I've ever seen engages me in banter then says something to the effect that I'm back again in less than an hour.  All I could think to say was "and yet you're still here..."  Believe me, when I go to McDonalds and decide to abuse the $0.79 cheeseburger priviledge, I'm aware that twenty burgers is a large order.  Please stop making me feel like Bill Fucking Engvall every single goddamn time I pull up to the window by asking me if all that is for me.  Open your eyes you stoned at an embarassing early evening hour shit!  Do I look like Buddha and Ganesh had a fucking blubber baby? (Stop right there, I'm just big boned and fluffy dammit!) Does it look like somebody poured Pizza the Hut inside the cab of an F150 and rolled his drippy ass up to your window?  Then stop asking stupid fucking stoner questions before I have to decapitate you with "your sign."  And finally, yes I fully comprehend the fact that 6'8 1/2" tall and somewhere near 300 lbs is large for a human being.  I get it.  Your random exclamations of "God you're tall" et al are as necessary as me asking you how the Lollipop Guild's dental plan is going.  Why does my size seem to startle you when I approach your register when your stupidity ceased to be of note to me long, long ago?  Actually, I take that back.  I'm continually amazed by your stupidity.  Never mind, carry on.

Pant - pant - wheeze - gasp - cough - inhale - and - sigh.  Woo - sah....

Okay, I'm better now.  Who wants waffles?

10,000

As I sat here struggling to come up with a brilliant topic for tonight's post that wasn't going to intrude or impinge on the monumental greatness I have planned for Memorial Day (could be a picture of a tree at this point), I happened to glance at the tracking stats for The Cynical Sarcastic and realized that as of this moment there are less than 80 hits needed for the blog to hit 10,000.

Let's try that once more for the cheap seats. 

Since November 16, 2011, this blog will have been visited 10,000 times sometime in the next few days.

Holy crap.

As most of you know I started this blog as an experiment; as a way to see if there was any form of market or fanbase out there for me and my style of blathering.  It has definitely developed a life of its own.  This will also be the 70th post on the blog in what has been now just over six months. 

You know, someone really needs to help me learn to shut the hell up on occasion.  Jeez!

In all seriousness, I do feel the need to take just a moment and thank all of you for making this blog the kind of success it has been.  I also need to thank my guest bloggers for their invaluable contributions, both previously and those to come.

Well, in six month's time I've managed to create a living, breathing blogiphant (neat word, huh?) and publish a book.  Here's hoping the next six months can be just as productive.

Also, don't forget that any suggestions / ideas / criticisms / dude-what-were-you-thinkings can be sent directly to me via the blog email at thecynicalsarcastic@gmail.com.  I truly love hearing from my readers and anything you have for me will be greatly appreciated.

Except possibly the repeated requests to just hush already.  Anyone who actually knows me can tell you that just ain't gonna happen in this lifetime.

In Reply: Your Cheatin' Heart

Hi all.  I've received a number of emails since my post regarding marital infidelity.  Since the overall theme of most of the notes I've received has been similar, I felt like I could better respond to everyone with one simple group response rather than having to bore the world by repeating myself over and over.  Well, bore them any more than I usually do, but I digress.

To those of you who took offense to my opinion on marital infidelity, I'd like to be able to offer an apology.  I'd like to be able to say "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings" and admonish myself for treading roughshod over what so many of you feel is a tender subject.

The fact is that I just can't.  I meant every last word of it.

If you'll remember what I said in that post I'm not making a moral judgment against you.  I am in no place to do so.  Granted I've never cheated on a spouse but I did my fair share on running around on past girlfriends and have unfortunately dated a couple of married women in my time.  I have been either close to or in your shoes so I speak from measured experience.  As I stated I don't give a flying purple beer battered damn who you sleep with.  The only thing I feel you should do differently is to end one relationship before beginning another.  It's a simple junior high rule of dating.  The fact is that what you're doing is a have your cake and eat it too scenario regardless of the cost to others in your life and that part is just wrong.  To those of you who adamantly asserted that cheating is not wrong because of your "circumstances," well, all I can tell you is than in my less than humble opinion you've already written off anyone that your actions may affect in favor of your own selfish desires.  Hey, do as you wish.  You have to live with it, I don't.

I did have one question on a response to this post that I will answer directly:  why would I broach such a sensitive topic on a public blog?  Well, first and foremost, I tend to go by the "my house" rule when it comes to my blog.  It's my house so I will speak my mind.  Secondly, this week marks the eight year anniversary of the death of a friend who was killed by an angry husband.  Lastly, and probably most importantly, I've been inundated lately with a slew of friends either telling me about their little trysts or questions from their spouses when things didn't add up.  I've grown tired of it quite frankly and just don't want to play anymore.

In summary, I don't care who you sleep with.  It's not my business.  Just do the right thing by your spouse.  If my little post made you upset, well, quite frankly I think you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and make sure your anger is directed toward the right person.  Pouting like a child because you were called out on doing dirt is not an endearing quality.

Your Cheatin' Heart...

This is going to be an unusual post for me.  I have to admit that I have written, rewritten, deleted, restarted, discarded, and even almost didn't bother with this post multiple times since I decided to write it late last week.  Normally I have no problem with getting rankled with an issue or individual and spewing my opinion far and wide.  This time, however, I have to admit to a bit of mixed feelings.

 

The issue at hand is infidelity, specifically marital infidelity. 

 

As usual, please allow me to narrow my focus a bit.  If you are engaged, in a relationship, or just met someone three weeks ago and decide to step out on them, I have absolutely no quarrel with you in this matter.  Not to be overly blunt but your lack of hormonal control and surplus of questionable judgment, while destructive, isn't going to ruin but just so many people's existence but for just so long.

The problem I'm having with going down the ol' rant road over marital infidelity, and probably the reason I've grappled a bit with this post, is that it's both a clear cut issue and some of the muddiest water imaginable.  It's almost an issue of doing what's morally right and being human to a large extent. 

The only way I know to handle this topic is to be as sympathetic and brutally honest as I can be at the same time.  We'll start with the sympathetic.  I understand that bad situations happen.  I understand that we all make mistakes.  Hell, I even understand that people get bored and sometimes even fall out of love.  Marriage is not the easiest of institutions.  If it was there would be a literal horde of standup comedians out of a source of material.  Believe me, I have an ex-wife that I wish nothing but the nicest of biblical plagues upon.  I understand what a number of you are going through and for those of you in those really jacked up situations I have nothing but empathy/sympathy (as applicable). 

Now to the brutally honest part.  There are far too many people in my life who are making excuses for their extra-marital shenanigans and just simply refuse to do about it.  Folks, I don't care what you do with your naughty bits.  First and foremost it's not my business.  Secondly, I really don't care.  Third, and in some cases more importantly, the mental images the mere suggestion of those activities conjure in the brains of those of us with more active imaginations is just horrific.  Gentlemen, and ladies, ordinarily I really wouldn't give a damn but the thing is that as your friend / relative / innocent bystander I am put in a position by your nonsense where I have to look your husband or wife or GOD FUCKING FORBID YOUR KID in the eye knowing full well what you're doing and act like it's all okay.  Simply put, I'm sick of it.

Kids, I'm not trying to set myself up as some moral standard bearer here.  After all I've done my share and someone else's of dirt in my time.  The fact of it is that even for those of us who may make our way through life in a certain amount of grey area there comes a point where right is right and wrong is just wrong.  I'm sorry if truth hurts your feelings but if you're married and having an affair, regardless of the situation, you're doing wrong and you know it.  You can get pissed and tell me to mind my own business if you want but you know I'm right.  How, you ask?  You wouldn't be pissed if I weren't!

The sad and conflicting part of all of this is that I know that a lot of you who are indulging your little crotch monkey have pragmatic if not nearly legitimate reasons for doing so.  Hell, in some of the cases I know of it's almost understandable.  It's rough but from a legal standpoint and yes, even from my fifty shades of weird, a moral side as well you are still doing wrong. 

Am I presuming to tell you what to do with your life or your business?  Yes, but only partially.  As I said, I could care less who you wreak your carnal desires upon.  Just do the right thing and end one relationship before beginning another, if for no other reason than to start the next one cleanly.  It doesn't matter, you say?  My husband/wife wouldn't do anything even if they did find out.  I can point you to one gentlemen who sees his kid once a month on supervised visitation, one young woman who pays 85% of her income between child support and lawyer's fees, and two cemetary plot occupants who might disagree.  Don't be so willing to think your spouse is too stupid to be paying attention.  Private detectives exist as an industry because stupid isn't necessarily living on just on one side of a relationship.  Divorce can be a clean solution or it can become a nasty, dirty, and occasionally violent form of warfare that you are potentially subjecting your family to for the sake of your selfish ass' little weekly orgasm. 

In closing, I'd like to speak to those of you out there who are single and sleeping with a married person.  My friend, forbidden fruit can become an addiction.  Trust me, I know of what I speak.  I've made the mistake in my single life as well and know how "fun" it can be.  The problem is that the little habit of sleeping with someone else's spouse is that it usually ends up with you in a compromising situation, often at the business end of a gun.  Almost all of my male friends will tell you that getting caught turns bad quickly and escalates even faster.  As a man who was cheated on in the past by an ex I made a promise to myself that if there ever is a next one it will cost him his life.  I even went as far as to tell my wife that if she decides she's ever done with me she needs to just divorce me because an affair will be fatal to her little consort.  Whether it's a good thing or not she says she believe me completely. The interesting thing is that  I can't be the only one out there who thinks this way, I promise you. Guys, I urge you to ask yourself one question before you consider dropping Mr. Happy into a woman wearing a wedding ring:  is seeing her "o" face really worth dying for?  Ladies, similarly, I might urge you to consider that wonderful reputation as a town doorknob you're working on as well.  I've known a few too many women who were run flat out of a small town due to an exposed indiscretion with an influential woman's husband.  Oh yeah, and there's that other pesky little legal phrase a very good buddy of mine lost over a million dollars to when his affair with his son's married teacher came to light:  ALIENATION OF AFFECTION. 

Folks, you can be mad at me all you'd like if this little post hits close to home.  Remember, I'm not telling you what to do with your life.  I may be your friend or may be just on the outer rim of your social circle but regardless I can tell you I really don't care who you squirt bodily fluids on.  All I'm asking is that you be AN ADULT, embrace a novel concept and GROW UP JUST ENOUGH to do the right thing and properly end a marriage before you do more damage than is necessary.  It may be hurtful but no judge or jury is going to listen to your excuses if you get nailed doing dirty.  You're playing with a figurative and possibly literal loaded gun and you know it.  For those of you with kids, my dear God, are you even thinking how you're little bit of fun can affect them?  Here, try this one on for size:  imagine trying to explain to your child why you have to move out and can only see them once a month with a court appointed guardian present after those pictures of you in a two hooker three way show up during your divorce proceeding. 

Just something to think about kids.  Like I said, it's complicated as issues go but eventually it boils down to just basic right and wrong and what it says about you as a person if you're willing to risk catastrophic harm to others just to get off.  I understand situations, believe me, but I have been made to watch too much destruction and devastation from the shenanigans of others in the past to watch it continue without saying at least something.

Hopefully one or two of you out there who are currently doing dirt will read this and at least think about what you're doing.  To the rest of you who are simple enough to want to get mad at me or whatnot, well, all I can say is I hope things work out when you mess up and get caught.  From what I understand alimony is really quite a joy to pay.  As for me, well, I've said my peace on the subject and I'm done with it. 

Guest Blog by David Hunt #2: Brain Tumors... Not So Bad

For this week's guest blog, I asked David Hunt if he would write a second post for us.  As many of you know, Dave did battle with a brain tumor last fall and thankfully won.  I know there are a lot of people out there fighting with various things in their life and I felt like Dave's story, from learning he was sick to thinking he was going to die to the aftermath of the surgery, might provide a little insight and relief to those out there who could use it.  Regardless of how he would like to downplay it, I hope you'll join me in thanking Dave for sharing his story with the unique brand of candor and humor that only he can. 

Once again ladies and gentlemen, David Hunt...

So back by popular demand, okay, so maybe only one request, I'm writing another blog post.  Once again, I'm not really a writer so I feel a bit like the black guy in the sperm suit in Woody Allen's Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask:  "What am I doing here?  What am I doing here?" Anyway, the topic today is, sadly, NOT 101 funny things to say after surviving brain surgery.  It's not even the humorous events that took place after my surgery.  No, by request, I'll try to share what was going on in my head when I thought I was about to die (see what I did there?  Brain tumor?  "Going on in my head?"  Nothing?).  I regret to inform you there will be no Twinkie references from here on out.

Sometime in October 2011 I experienced the "tumor headache."  This was a kind of head pain that hurt so bad it was shocking.  I remember thinking when it started, "wow, my sinuses are REALLY bad tonight."  Within perhaps five minutes of that thought I was clutching the side of my bed with a fist full of cordless house phone and a bottle of generic Tylenol (yes, both in one hand, hey I got big enough hands...).  The phone was my last resort plan.  If the pain got much worse (as it was steadily doing), then I would have to break down and call for help.  The Tylenol was (foolishly) plan "A."  I'm not someone to take pain medicine for any reason.  I had the bottle for guests.  Anyway, I took two and, if I lived, I planned on calling the doctor in the morning. 

Now let me just stop here for a moment and explain some things.  I'm not REALLY a moron.  I knew something was seriously wrong.  People don't just get headaches that are so painful they can barely move or even open their eyes.  However, the Tylenol helped a great deal and I managed to sleep through the night AND wake up in the morning.  This was the first of many many many mornings in which I woke up surprised.  Surprised by what some of you slow pupils might be wondering?  Surprised that I woke up alive and not dead.  Try to keep up.  So, I'm not a moron but I allowed myself a little dose of denial.  Besides, I had a regular doctor's appointment in a few days anyway.  I'd decided to wait and ask him about it then.

Alright so let me skip ahead (I think I'm losing some of you).  Doctor one struck out:  "probably sinuses."  Nurse practitioner from work struck out as well:  "classic sinusitis."  So after taking some strong antibiotics for my "sinusitis," I woke up to a world that spun so violently that I couldn't raise my head more than two inches.  The vomiting was epic.  No, really, I thought I would die just from the vomiting.  I know I SOUNDED like I would certainly die.  After each...session, I would fall back onto my bed panting and gasping for air.  Four days later, I stumbled into my doctor's office weighing 15 pounds less than I did a month ago.  He sent me almost immediately to get a CT scan (they don't call it "CAT" scan anymore so I was robbed of several jokes).  The radiologist tells me I am to go BACK to the doctor's office immediately.  Fine.  The doctor sweeps into the room after just a couple minutes' wait (this is a bad sign).  He looks at me, pauses, and decides HE has to sit down. 

This is it, kids.  This is the "boom." 

He had to write it down to get it right, starts to read it, stops, then hands me a five inch slip of paper with "HEMANGIOBLASTOMA" written across it.  Boom.  He tells me it is roughly 4 cm in diameter or about golf ball sized. 

That was it.  That was the moment when everything changed. 

Read it again.  It was a profound moment in my 36 and a half years (at the time). 

A tumor the size of a golf ball was in my skull, pressing on the back of my left eye, clogging up the flow of spinal fluid, causing the mother of all sinus congestion, and pressing on my cerebellum causing me to lose my balance.  This was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving.  The Friday after Thanksgiving was the start of the aforementioned vomiting and vertigo.  Happy Holidays indeed.  So, again, I'm not a moron.  I know what comes next: surgery.  But this is a BIG tumor.  The doctors have had a hard time hiding their concern.  Naturally, I put it together and decided, they will kill me when they try to remove the Titleist from my brain. 

Well, again I've written a post slow getting to the intended point.  Now that you know the background, perhaps my thoughts on dying will make sense.  After a little run around with a neurosurgery team in Charlotte who wanted to do a consult December 12th (probably 3 days after the tumor would have killed me), it was decided I go to Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center in Winston-Salem, NC.  This was a little over one hour driving time from my home.  I cannot say enough about these people.  Wonderful.  They even made me almost believe I was NOT going to die.  Almost.  The surgeon came in and explained what the plan was, told me, "we do this kind of surgery once every week." 

Hurray! I thought. 

Then he says, "but, it IS brain surgery and a lot could go wrong." 

And, I'm dead again.

Now, I must point out that I was never really afraid of being dead.  I knew I'd never feel a thing under anesthesia.  What I had a problem with, and what this long winded post is supposed to be about, was my friends and family.  Especially my parents.  What could be worse than having to bury a child?  Okay, so I was 36 and not a child but I could tell by the worried look in their eyes that this was much worse for them than it was for me.  I worried about finances from the moment my doctor hit me with the boom.  I calculated what my life insurance plus my investments would come to minus my outstanding debt and came to a number divided by four (two parents two sisters) and that was the amount I would leave them with.  It just was not enough.  This caused my heart to ache.  How could I be so unprepared?  This amount was not enough in my mind.  They would have to try and sell my house and in this market, that would be hard to do and how much could they get for it? 

These were my thoughts.  How would my family cash out once I'm dead.  Practical, cold, logical thoughts of: "my death is a foregone conclusion, but then what?"  It was not even regret.  All I could do was make sure the forms were filled out correctly.  I mean, I was already dead so might as well do what I can before going under.  Then something else occurred to me.  I needed to tell my friends.  I posted the news on Facebook but I needed to inform my other friends.  I sent an email to the two addresses I could remember.  One email was blocked by his company firewall.  The other got through and we exchange brief emails.  My final email was to tell a friend and former coworker that it was my honor to call him "friend." 

That was tough.  I realized then that I did not have time to tell the six people in the world who I call "friend" that I appreciated them, admired them, was honored to have known them, and only regretted not having more time to spend with them.  My surgery was to take place in a matter of hours.  It was after this last realization that I had failed my friends that I knew sadness.

So let’s see, on Saturday doctors and nurses were reassuring me that surgery would not be Sunday.  See, Sunday was reserved for emergency cases that came in over the weekend.  Sunday morning, they woke me up to tell me they were taking me to surgery.  Wait, what does that mean?  Am I an emergency?  What’s the rush?  What’s going on?  Anyway, there I am, in pre-op listening to the nurse explain what is about to happen.  Mostly, she told me what would happen AFTER surgery.  They will wake me up then ask me questions.  The quicker I answer the questions, the sooner I get out of ICU.  Next I meet the anesthesiologist.  He asks if I have any questions.  All I can say is, “just be careful.”  He pats me on the shoulder and says, “we always are.  Let me give you something to take the edge off.” 

And, I’m out.

I know nothing but complete black.  Vaguely, I have the sensation of three flashes of blue-white light on my right side.  I’m barely aware of being alive.  Ludicrously what little conscious thought I have searches for “the white light.”  Whether or not I would have tried to resist going toward it, I do not know.  Time loses meaning.  I know nothing else but black.  Then I hear a faint call.  No white light.  “Mr. Hunt.”  Still no white light.  Where is my white light?  Wait, where am I?  Oh, crap.  What happens when you go to the “other place?”  “Mr. Hunt.”  Wait a minute, that sounds like a woman’s voice.  “Mr. Hunt.”  Yes, that’s definitely someone calling my name.  I wonder what that means?

“Gasp!” 

I wake up with a start.  I’m surrounded by ICU nurses who are pulling hoses and wires (and hair) away from my body.  One nurse to my left has been calling my name.  I’m somewhat aware that she’s still talking to me.  What does she want?  Doesn’t she understand I’m in no mood to talk?  Wait, what’s she saying?  Wait, what did the pre-op nurse say?  Oh.  Maybe I should listen.

“Do you know your name?  Can you tell me your name?” 

“David Hunt”

“Do you know where you are?”

Okay, at this point, I’m in full on “answer the questions so I can get out of here” mode.

“Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.” 

I shit you not.  I said that.

 I am nearly blind without contacts but I am aware of the nurses exchanging looks.

“Do you know what day is it?”

“December 4th, 2011.  If I’m lucky.”  Again, I kid you not.  I caught on that the nurses knew I was okay from my previous answer.  This one was a warning shot that they had a fully conscious smart ass on their hands. 

“Okay, I think you’re okay.  What’s the square root of 16?” she asks sarcastically.

If there is anything I’m better at than quick, sarcastic, witty responses, it’s math.  “Four” I croak weakly.  The smartass nurse had turned away but laughter erupted from my right.  The nurse to my right pipes up, “Hey, he answered that one too.”

Sarcastic nurse turns back and (I assume since I’m still blind) smiles saying, “we’ve never had anyone answer that one before.”

Suddenly, I’m aware that I’m alive.  Wow.  Didn’t see that coming.  Wait, I somehow have an iv in each hand (to go along with the one in my arm), my feet are dangling off the end of the bed (apparently the beds are only for people under six feet tall), my neck is stiff, and I’m surrounded by women I can barely see and cannot touch.  Where am I again?  I don’t feel any burning…

Okay, so here’s what happened:  they shaved the back of my head and neck.  They cut me down the back of my head and neck and pulled back skin and muscle.  They cut a large hole in my skull.  They went in through part of my brain to get at the tumor.  They cut the tumor free and removed it (I presume through the hole but my sinuses HAVE been bad lately…).  They returned my skull and sewed me up (see picture in prior Cynical Sarcastic blog post).  They monitored me for a while.  They discovered that fluid had started to build up on my brain.  They continued to monitor me.  They decided that the fluid was NOT going to kill me.  They woke me up.

Now, surgery took one and a half hours.  I did not wake up until 4:30 that evening (prevening?).  My internal clock registered about ten minutes from “nighty night” to “Mr. Hunt?”  I had to stay in the ICU for an extra day (for a total of two) so they could closely monitor me.  They continued to come by and ask me “brain work good?” questions and my answers became more and more sarcastic:  “where are you?”  “a bed.”  “you’ll have to do better than that.”  “a short bed.”

It was all pretty much General Hospital stuff from here on.  As I mentioned before, I didn’t expect to be alive.  This was all “bonus time” in my mind.  Plus, the ICU is a terrible place.  Two broken necks, one guy with some undisclosed (to me) brain trauma (he kept answering “1985” to the question “what year is it?”  Freaked me out.  I thought, “wait, is that right?  Maybe I’m wrong and something bad happened to me.”), and worst of all one lady was brain dead.  I hope I have not described my ordeal in a way that makes you believe “wow, that’s tough what you went though” because I’m here to tell you what I went through was NOTHING when compared to what everyone else in that ICU was going through.  I woke up to the sobs and good-byes of the lady’s family.  The doctors were keeping her body alive until they could find patients for her organs.  They allowed her family in for a final moment with their beloved mother.  Hearing the sorrowful goodbyes, I could not help but share in their grief.  I pulled the towel over my eyes (there to keep the light out so I could sleep) and tried in vain to stifle my sobs. 

In a couple days I went home. 

Did I mention I’m the luckiest person I know?

Reviews and Updates

It's late Spring so I figured it was probably time for a little bit of an updated look for the website. Hope you all like the changes!

A quick few words of update regarding Bounce. Sales are continuing to move along and they are greatly appreciated.  One thing I would ask, if those of you who are purchasing / reading / burning the book don't mind, is that you write a review for me and post it.  Currently you can review the book on Amazon and Smashwords, but as of Friday it is also available for review on goodreads.com as well.  If you'll also notice, I've started a collection of the various reviews I'm getting on e-mail or on various sites and they are available on the blog via a link on the right side of the page.  I can't stress this enough kids - like it or hate it, buy it or burn it, authors need feedback from their audience.  Remember, the next book in the "series" is coming out in less than two months time.  You wouldn't want me repeating my mistakes, now would you?

Lastly, for those of you who are Barnes and Noble / Nook fans: at this present time B&N will not be carrying Bounce in their stores.  It "should" be available to order sometime in June.  The Nook copy will be available at the same time, HOWEVER, you can purchase the book in epub format via Smashwords right now and download it to your Nook with no issues.  If your hurry, and look for the sale post from earlier this week on the blog, you may even find a coupon to let you get the book for $0.99!!! HINT FRIGGIN HINT!!!

S.O.L. (Save Our Library)

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to put this as simply as I can: there are simply some things in this world that are worth saving.  Everyone has their own personal “precious” that they like to drag out on occasion as their favorite pet cause; whether it’s save the whales or plant a tree or stem cell research  or save the animals, they’re all worthy causes and worthy of our notice simply because they mean something to those talking about them.  I’m going to ask your indulgence today because my favorite cause is in dire need of help.

I’d like to talk to you today about Cleveland Library.

In the interest of full disclosure, I need to mention that I am the volunteer Marketing Director for this charity and that all of our charitable solicitation licensing etcetera is found at the bottom of our website, http://www.4042needs.org.

Cleveland Library was founded in August 2008 as an offshoot of Basic Needs Ministries.  The Library was part of a list of services provided by the charity including a food pantry and clothes closet that were originally founded in 2003.  Over the course of 2011 the other services were closed down due to lack of community support and Cleveland Library became the primary focus of the charity’s work.

Cleveland Library exists in its current form in a large warehouse space behind Peddler’s Village in the Cleveland Township area of Johnston County, North Carolina.  As an unincorporated township, Cleveland residents are legally considered to be either part of the Clayton or Garner population.  The ten mile service area for Cleveland Library consists of 165,000 residents, which is slightly larger than the last official census numbers for the Cary, NC city limits.  There are over 180,000 books located on the library property, with over 26,000 in the Children’s Area alone.  The Library provides a host of services from free internet access with Wi-Fi to free movie rentals and even the See Spot Read Program, which allows younger children to read to a therapy dog to practice their skills at reading aloud with judgment.  Cleveland Library even has a full adult fiction section in a separate book mobile which can serve as a mobile library if the need were to arise.

Right now, Cleveland Library is in significant need of help in two areas: volunteer support and financial support.

Let’s cover volunteer support first. 

The library takes in an average of one to two hundred new donations of books on a weekly basis.  Those books need to be received in, looked up for Dewey tagging, typed up, tagged, delivered to shelving, and shelved.  These activities are usually accomplished by volunteers.  Right now there are approximately 10,000+ books that are backlogged to be looked up.  That backlog significantly hampers the remainder of the process, and that is not even taking into consideration the daily circulation shelving or the massive book moves that need to be accomplished to simply get everything that is ready to be shelved in its proper place.  There is literally enough work for a small platoon of volunteers to work open to close on a daily basis for weeks to finally get caught the Library close to caught up.  Where does this hurt the worst?  On a given day there are usually two to four people on property working, one of whom is always our Director, Ron Still.

Now, on to the financial situation.

Cleveland Library is as transparent an operation for a charity as I have ever seen.  Our income comes from three sources: yearly memberships, donations, and our Director’s pocket.  Ron Still, our Director, is retired from the State of North Carolina and supplements any and all budgetary shortfalls directly from his pocket WITHOUT drawing any form of salary or stipend from the charity. At this time 100% of all income is going to attempt to keep the doors open, plain and simple.  At this present time it takes approximately 120 paid yearly family memberships of $35 on a monthly basis to cover all of our operating expenses.

Simply put, Cleveland Library is running out of money in an urgent way and is looking at potentially ceasing operation within sixty days.

You now know the who, what, when, and where of Cleveland Library.  It’s time to get down to the why. 

Why is Cleveland Library important?  Why is it worth saving? Why does this impact your life? Why should you care?

Cleveland Library is a private library, which means that since it does not receive any public or government funding it is not restricted by federal or state guidelines or mandates. The most important of these is in regards to lending practices.  The average school library in North Carolina limits lending rights per child to 5 books per week (albeit with some grade level variations).  Cleveland Library allows each card holder age five or older to check out 20 books at a time for a two week period.  Another major advantage for Cleveland Library is the sheer size of its collection:  over 180,000 books on property with more being received on a daily basis.  The children’s section is now over 26,000 books and the Library even has its own portable library container which, although it houses the adult fiction section regularly, can be used as a mobile lending library if necessary.  Some services that are on a charge basis in other libraries, such as DVD rentals and internet access, are also free of charge in Cleveland Library.

Cleveland Library needs your support.  If you live in the local area (Garner, Clayton, Cleveland, Raleigh, etc.) feel free to give us a call at (919) 661-6565 or email us at clevelandlibrarymktg@gmail.com to learn how to become a volunteer or to make a donation.  We have a donor information sheet readily available if you’d like information on becoming a library patron as well.

Thanks for listening kids.  Like I said before, sometimes you just have to take a moment and give some spotlight to the things that you feel are important.

I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled ranting and raving tomorrow.

Oooohhh... A Sale

Attention all e-book fans:

From 5/14 to 5/21/2012, Bounce will be on sale through smashwords.com for only

 $0.99

in your choice of e-book format. 

Simply enter the coupon code ED48X during checkout.

A Note for Amazon Kindle Users:

The updated Kindle file is active on Amazon.com's servers at this time.

If your previously purchased copy of the e-book does not auto-update to the current file, simply manually delete and reload the e-book to correct any typographic and content errors.

Thanks for your patience!



Happy Mother's Day

There is a reason they don't hire me to do church signs...

Mommy Porn

Don't Panic!

This post is totally safe for viewing at work, well, as safe as any of my posts are at least. (And yes, I ripped the pictures from Amazon, so consider credit given.)

I took a few days off from posting after an exhausting week of publishing a book and getting violently disappointed with North Carolina politics but now I'm back and ready to roll.

Let's wade right in this weekend with the issue of Mommy Porn.

For those of you who may be cringing in apprehension, no I'm not going to delve into the erotic connotations of the Time magazine cover this week that shows a woman breastfeeding her three year old.  To borrow a line from my nearly five year old niece: "That's just eww.."

No today I'd like to discuss the growing brew-ha-ha surrounding first time author E.L. James and her Fifty Shades Trilogy.  For those of you unfamiliar with controversy, Mrs. James is a former television executive and mother who wrote a fairly faniciful little three volume story that chronicles the relationship between a young girl and her domineering boss.  The books contain a pretty strong degree of erotic content and there are some highly explicit scenes of BDS&M depicted.  Normally you would expect these to find their way to the bargain bin in the erotica section of your local Barnes and Noble but, wait, there's a twist!  These books are currently the top three spots of the New York Times best seller's list and are being gobbled up by their target market segment like hotcakes. Dutifully thankful husbands are commenting online that they have driven hours around cities to find the second and third titles of the series after the wonderful effect the first one had on their wife. Mrs. James publisher has subsequently flown her to the US to do a multiple stop major city signing tour and the press circuit. Hell, even the movie rights to this hot potato have already been sold. As a first time novelist whose own work has outsold any of his initial expectations, I can only imagine the elation Mrs. James is feeling right now as her success spirals exponentially and I wish her the absolute best of luck. I think it's truly awesome for a rookie to come out and blow the doors off like that and I'm glad she has garnered the reception she has to date.

So where's all the controversy coming from? Libraries of all stupid places! The Fifty Shades Trilogy is being banned by a number of library systems throughout the country. Obviously the publisher has issued public statement after public statement denouncing the various bans and subsequently this has done nothing but fan the flames on sales.  If you google the phrase Mommy Porn right now you'll get links directly to the whole controversy from CNN, FoxNews, et al.  So what's the big deal, you ask? The issue isn't that the books are being banned, it's why they're being banned that's just absolutely ludicrous.  If you'll remember, it is no longer legal in most states to ban a book based upon the legal concepts of prurient interest or violation of community standards because those have been proven to be highly fluid concepts within any given community.  For those unfamiliar with the term, prurient interest is defined as a "morbid, degrading, and unhealthy interest in sex, as distinguished from a mere candid interest in sex." You have to give the Supreme Court credit; they occasionally get one very right.  The fun part is that since those old ultra-conservative standards for banning a book aren't in play any more in most of these areas, some of these granny-panties-in-a-bunch dicktards are choosing to ban based on the criticism that these books aren't well written.

Let me slow that down for those who may be skimming to the parts where I lose my composure over something and hit that one more time.  The reason a number of library systems are banning E.L. James' work is that it is not very well written, in their opinion.

Pump your brakes, pull the hell over, stop the car, get out and physically throw yourself in front of the next oncoming bus you heaping helping of dumb shit taco.  WHAT THE BLEARY EYED HELL GIVES A LIBRARIAN THE RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT IS AND IS NOT WELL WRITTEN? (In case you were wondering, that's when I lost my composure.)

Kids, I volunteer with Cleveland Library several days a week.  I literally touch five hundred or more books on a daily basis.  I also consider myself to be fairly well read over the course of my lifetime. I spend large portions of my days at the library discussing the merits of this book or that author with a number of people. During my time as a reader I have developed my own opinions about what makes a well written book and what does not, as I am very sure most of you have done similarly.

Does this make me a librarian? Does this magically grant me a degree in library science?

No, it makes me a critic. Pure and simple. 

Folks, I don't know about you but if I had to walk into Cleveland Library's adult fiction section and begin to clear out titles based solely on the merits of whether or not they were well written, just ... well... damn. After you figured out what standards to use to determine "well written" you'd probably be down to the fiction everyone lists as "Literature" and maybe a few masterworks written by the seminal geniuses of our time.  Sorry Janet Evanovich, your Stephanie Plum books may be funny as hell and total brain candy but you suck as a technical writer so therefore you and all your millions sold go on the burn pile.  My apologies Elmore Leonard but your work, which has not only set sales records but been the basis for over ten movies and several television shows, doesn't contain a single technically perfect novel and must therefore be dumped in the nearest refuse facility.  Hell, these knuckleheads probably want to flay Stephen King and George R.R. Martin alive and burn them on a pyre of their own books just because they caused them nightmares.

I have read all three of Mrs. James' books.  If that's "badly written" then what the hell am I doing even bothering to try.

And now we get to the Mommy Porn part of the whole issue. My simple question to these dumbass buttnuggets is this: have you actually LOOKED AROUND in a library lately and seen what's really in there? I hate to have to knock the dust out or off of these morons' collectively unused sexual organs or anything but for chrissakes there are erotically themed books in the INSPIRATION section. That's right princess Hanes Her Way with the festive little flowers, Tim LaHaye, you know the guy who wrote the Left Behind Series that somehow resurrected Kirk Cameron's acting career, wrote two sex manuals with his wife and they are technically listed under the same section in the Dewey system as the books that make you feel all fluffy inside because Jesus told Maribeth to save a kitten. A majority of public libraries carry the collected works of Poppy S. Brite.  This individual may actually hold the record for single serving size containers of fucked up consumed and publicly acted upon in one lifetime and yet their work is just fine for the stacks. And please dear sweet Lord forgive me but PLEASE DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SHELVES UPON SHELVES AND RACKS UPON RACKS OF BODICE RIPPING-HORSEBACK RIDING-CHEST BARING-CLEAVAGE EXPOSING-FABIO HAIR ENDORSING DRIVEL THAT HARLEQUIN FUCKING ROMANCE PUTS OUT EVERY DAMN DAY!  I'm sorry but when you start talking some bored housewife who feels the need to dry hump the laundry equipment because her husband is boinking the nanny, I'm willing to hazard the guess that Harlequin's bullshit is what she's holding in her other hand most of the time and not Fifty Shades of Grey. (Of course, from what I understand, that may be because it inspires activities requiring both hands but I digress.)

Mrs. E.L. wrote three books about a young girl in a twisted romance with a man who likes to dominate her, tie her up, and put his winky in her little no-no parts when its not exactly socially acceptable.  I CHALLENGE the people that call that Mommy Porn to read Anne Rice's (as A.N. Roquelaure) Sleeping Beauty series or for that matter Exit to Eden. Even The Story of O, which is considered to be the cornerstone book of modern BDS&M literature, is listed in most public libraries. But no, let some housewife from Hoboken show up for a book signing wearing a handcuff bracelet because a book helped her get her freaky back just a bit and Katie-bar-the-door-the-heathens-are-coming are we gonna try to ban that shit!

The reality of it all is that in most cases the whole banning argument is little more than a publicity stunt and we all know it.  The sad thing is that there are those out there who take these issues as an opportunity to do real damage to their communities by trying to force narrow minded idealogies on those who don't want or need to live by them.  I was honestly never more proud to know the Director of Cleveland Library, Ron Still, as when we concluded our discussion of this issue the other day and he promptly began shopping online to find where the best prices on a set of E.L. James' books. It also turns out that the Clayton Public Library has acquired a set as well. I would have never thought it but it apparently turns out that it requires a certain measure of audacity (read balls) to run a library in this day and age.  To both I say Bravo Sir!

For the life of me I still cannot understand why we even consider banning books.  It's as outdated an idea as foot binding and yet it just won't go away.  So, for my part, I'm asking all of my readers to run out and purchase all three of E.L. James' books.  Do your part!

Don't just take my word for it.  You can always go by comedian Bob Saget's review of the books:  "They're great ... I couldn't put them down, but that's because my hand was stuck to the pages."