Category Archive: Thoughts from the Heart

How to Love UNCONDITIONALLY, While still Alive

husband-wife1I’ve never been a parent so I don’t exactly know what Unconditional Love is all about.

I’ve come close a few times, but I think I was sleeping. I think I dreamt I loved Michele Bachmann, and woke up screaming.

I know. Some of you would have smiled about that, especially Mr. Bachmann. But I can’t help having a wary opinion about Ms. Bachmann’s policies and Congressional record. And when I say, “I can’t help it.” I really CAN’T.

I have opinions, and they don’t include agreeing with everything.

Still, you’d think that after 37 years of a happy marriage, I would have put together some semblance of unconditional love. I haven’t. I fake it. I’ve got a mental work-around that excuses my wife’s behavior; those few things she does that in my opinion get in her own way, like disorganization.

She would debate me about this, affirming that she’s very organized. But her daily quests for keys, her glasses, cell phone or wallet, that inconsequential stuff, tells a different story. And it takes time to find it all. And I’m a clock watcher.

Tick, tick, tick! Time is precious. I hate burning it for scavenger hunts.

My wife doesn’t like house searches either. So once a year she embarks on a mission. It’s called: Tidying Up. This includes my office. This means I go postal. I have only one room in the house that’s mine, and when she’s finished ORGANIZING it, its hers. I can’t find a damn thing because my wife has tidied up, putting my stuff into containers, inside bigger contains, inside of even bigger containers and nothing’s labeled!

Guys, you know what I’m talking about. Women love jewelry boxes. Why is our TOOL BOX part of their world? I do not need my wife sorting my pliers like earrings and pendants!

 

Still…I love her.

 

But like I said, we have this ritual…the fights about my off-limits office and those other things she does that drive me crazy. I rant. She rants louder, and always about something I did fifteen years ago. And NO, it has nothing to do with the subject on hand, but now everything’s my fault. I’M the bad guy!

“YOU’RE NOT PERFECT!” she yells.

“No argument there!” I shout back. “But this is not about ME! It’s about–”

“You think everybody’s stupid but you!”

“I never said that!”

“You’re too critical!” she shouts. “That’s why you don’t have friends!”

“WHAT?! I have friends!”

Guys, you know where this is going. Do all wives flip the fight? The rules of engagement are quite clear! ARGUE ABOUT THE SAME THING! I hate it when she cheats!

 

Still…I love her.

 

So much so, I bought her a Mac of her own. And you know why? Because my entire life lives on my hard drive and it’s going to stay exactly where I put it. No tidying up.

 

For a long time I thought that misplacing things was due to lack-of-focus; that if my wife were more like ME, the world would be a better place. But that’s not how it is in our house, and to be honest, if she were like me, I’d get bored in five minutes. I’m highly demanding when it comes to staying engrossed. I crave informed people and I listen to them. I need input.

My wife gives me input. She’s really smart. She’s a surgical R.N., an interior designer and antique dealer.

So if she’s so smart, why does she use the kitchen sink as a trash can? I hate that.

Why does she forget to charge her cell phone so I can’t reach her when she’s late. I hate that too.

Why does she insist on buying me shirts only a Yale law student would wear? I hate that the most, especially a preppy look! Why won’t my tongue lashings stop her from dressing me like a Ken doll?

I’ll tell you why. She does what she wants to do, and dog-gone it, I respect that. I do what I want to do too and she puts up with me. That’s a big deal. And I’m no angel.

I get frustrated easily, my patience threshold needs more work, I’m critical (as she points out) and I’m a perfectionist (sometimes). According to my wife, I think nobody can do anything better than me. Not true. I’m lousy in German and math.

But when it comes to psychology, I’m knowledgeable, and I’m starting to comprehend why my wife doesn’t finish a sentence before starting a new one, and why she misplaces things.

In her mind she’s jumping ahead, thinking faster than she can move and talk. And yet, unlike me, most of the time, she’s living in the moment. She doesn’t project future cause and effects. She doesn’t consider potential breakdowns like I do. That’s why I’m a good manager. I solve problems before they happen. But I also worry.

My wife doesn’t worry. She takes life as it comes. And every morning she wakes up HAPPY. Me? I wake up JEWISH, waiting for the next slipper to drop.

Actually though, this arrangement works for us. I steer around the holes and she keeps it mellow, until we hit our creative differences. But that’s as bad as it gets, a fight over the right size of a shipping box, where to move furniture or how to arrange my desk drawers.

 

Still…I love her.

 

I wish I could love my wife unconditionally, erasing my thoughts about how she gets from A to B, starting with C. And when I offer advice, and sometimes it’s harsh, she barks back, “With all I do for you, THIS is what you’re complaining about?”

She’s got a point. She’s the closest thing to PERFECT anyone can be. So why can’t she be totally perfect? She’s almost there! Way closer than me. If she could just stop losing things and finish a sentence and drive in a straight line, I’d love her soooooo much more.

Yeah, right…

I’d find something else that could be improved, just like I’m never satisfied with myself. In my world, EVERYTHING is conditional.

I have no idea how I got this way, scoring things the way I do. I want to stop the judgments.

But like I said, I CAN’T.

 

I don’t know how many people really love unconditionally. Maybe my mom. Maybe Warren Buffett and Taylor Swift. Maybe my wife, even if I’m critical. And I AM.

 

Still…she loves me. I’m a lucky man.

 

Originally posted on Curiosityquills. com.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/02/how-to-love-unconditionally-while-still-alive/

Touched by an Angel

Model looking upFor those of you who’ve been following my blog, you’ve noticed reoccurring themes. I’m writing again about angels in disguise – the real ones, the ones who hang out in front of Smart & Final and Fed Ex shipping stores.

Tonight I encountered another angel, one I dearly needed. I had sunk into a pit and couldn’t claw myself out.

 *****

This morning I was humiliated. So much so that I won’t tell you exactly how and why. Without going into specifics, I will say that after a call this morning to a guy named Rick in some bureaucratic cubical on his end of the line, I felt like I was getting jerked around.

You want it? We’re offering.

But I didn’t think I was supposed to get it.

Oh yes. You’re entitled by law.

That’s what they told me – fill out the paperwork and apply.

So I applied and then things fell apart.

This morning I was summoned to a meeting not meant for me, and finally telling my story to the group leader, she led me to an office phone where I waited thirty minutes for RIGHT PERSON to pick up for an interview. Rick eventually clicked on. With the tone of an impatient third grade teacher, he reminded me that I had been disqualified and I needed to fill out an appeal. If accepted, I would plead my case to a judge in court.

In other words, I’ll have to BEG for money.

Offended, insulted and angry, I told Rick I would never do that. Rick wished me a good week and we hung up. After that call, no way was I looking at a good week. Over the past ten years I had dropped below my expectations of what I thought I’d be doing at this age.

I had become thoroughly disappointed…with Irving Podolsky.

Now, I know everyone else would look at what I’ve built and advise me to re-examine my values. And I would agree with them. But I’m hardwired to believe that once I’ve accomplished a goal, it’s finished with depreciated value. And sure, the love I get from family is wonderful and precious, but when you’re not happy with yourself, it’s hard to appreciate what others see in you.

So all day I’ve been angry with myself and the world. And part of me knows this is all about being self-absorbed and the other part knows it’s about feelings I wish were controlled but aren’t. And as I’m driving to the Fed Ex Store to drop off things for my wife, I’m remembering my trip to my parents just last week and visiting their sick friends – like really sick, like close-to-dying sick. And I’m telling myself, Why are you unhappy? These other people are grateful for another tomorrow and they’re not complaining. Get your priorities straight, Irv! You’re fussing over is NOTHING!

That’s right, little Voice. You’re absolutely spot on. But I still feel defeated.

*****

I pull into the Federal Express parking lot. I have three small packages to bring into the store and as I grab the first two out of the back of my wife’s car, I notice a guy standing near the doors with his hands in his pockets. It’s 48 degrees at 7 pm so I know why his hands are stuck in his pants. He’s cold, and all he’s wearing is a light hooded sweatshirt over some shirt and jeans.

He calls out to me, “Can I help you, Sir?”

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” I yell back, thinking, does Fed Ex have a new service where they help people into the store?

But of course as I approach the doors, I see more of what he is – a beggar. And he asks me with incredible sincerity, “Can you give me a dollar? I’m so hungry. Just a dollar. Please?”

And now his hands are pressed together as if in prayer, as if he’s praying to me. And without another thought, I answer, “Yeah. On my way out.”

“Oh thank you, Sir! Thank you!”

I go into the store, drop the boxes and move behind a rack of shipping supplies to check my wallet for dollars. Do I have a single? Yes, there’s one. Do I have another? Yes. I have two more. I will give him three dollars, but for that, he’s going to tell me why he wants it. The man looks about 35 and seems to be healthy. Two arms and legs in place, and he’s clean. What’s his story?

Walking out with dollars in my pocket, I ask, “How did you ever get to where you are now?”

With a Hispanic accent he begins his story about losing his wallet and all ID, and  government check, and his words start merging together into sounds I can’t make out because he’s chattering like an AK-47 and all I can do is grab a few phrases as they fly by me, such as, “social security office, needing a sponsor but it can’t be his brother, locked in County a few times but only a few, the shelter’s full, in therapy and needing his meds,”then ending it with, “But I’m okay…

And it’s dawning on me that this poor man is certifiably mental, alone and cold, yet totally loving. And now he’s loving me, and I haven’t given him a dime.

So I extend the three dollars and he’s thanking me, but it’s feeling like a blessing and all my self-pity is getting pulled out of my pouting gut.

I don’t remember this man taking the bills but I don’t have them as I return to the car. I open the rear hatch for the third box and grab it, thinking that I’ll be passing him again. Another ‘Thank you’ will be embarrassing. I don’t deserve it. Then I close the rear door and pivot.

He’s gone! Vanished!

I scan the parking lot. No one is standing near the Fed Ex doors. I hear no footsteps walking away or see a shadow moving between parked cars. There is no evidence of begging anywhere.

And there wasn’t. I encountered an angel bestowing grace, veiled to all but me.

Sure, I’m romanticizing, but it happened as I’ve described it here. And like an earlier time when I donated ten dollars for the homeless at Smart & Final, I am again feeling uplifted. But this time, I have an urge to weep.

*****

As I chronicle this magic, it’s Monday night. For the past three days I’ve been thinking, thinking, thinking. My Wednesday’s blog is due again. What will I write about? What is important enough to ask eyes to follow my words? Why am I doing this? Why go on?

Now I know. I am a messenger.

 

Originally published at Curiosityquills.com.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/02/touched-by-an-angel/

Irv’s Out of the Closet

crowded-closetI’ve been building up to this.

So far I’ve stayed clear of confession ‘cause I’d hate to lose readers. But every week I need new things to write about and I’m running out of ideas, the ones where we all agree.

So I’ve been thinkin’, if I opened this door and exposed my hidden clothes, would you guys stick around to read about it? ‘Cause if you do, maybe… just maybe, I can go deeper into human stuff, this blog’s through-line.

After all, if we writers don’t come to terms with our inner selves and accept others the way they really are, how can we understand enough to write about all that? How can we build a believable character if we only look at people skin deep? How can we get into emotional shit if we steer clear of threatening stuff?

‘Cause the big question is: Are we still threatened, once we understand?

I don’t want to be threatening, but I can’t keep my secret a second longer. I was born this way, man! Knew it since I was ten.

Dear followers…I am…a LIBERAL.

*****

WOW! I feel so…liberated!

I bet some of you suspected this all along. It’s hard to hide that gnawing need to be myself, to pretend I’m like YOU when I’m not. But since I started this blog I’ve been trying to blend like white slices in the middle of the loaf. Not phony exactly, but not completely ME.

Well…NO MORE!

Now I’ll write about the headlines – political stuff – even WEDGE ISSUES! Yep. I’m gonna tell ya how I feel about… Well for starters, immigration reform.

I know, a yawn, until it gets personal. Well I’m gonna get personal.

YOU GUYS STILL READING?

Anybody out there?

Yeah? Four left? Fine. Here’s a story about three friends.

*****

MEET MARIA, CARLOS and EDUARDO

Maria, Carlos and Eduardo are siblings in their early thirties. Maria, the older sister, is managing 452 apartment units and finally dating men who grew up speaking Spanish.  Before that, LA “white” guys wanted her for themselves. For a businesswoman, she’s awesomely sultry.

Carlos, her younger brother, owns a moving and home staging company. His clients include famous LA interior decorators and designers. He’s married and has a three year-old son.

The youngest of the three, Eduardo, is also married with a two year-old girl, has a furniture restoration business and more work than he can handle. You book him a month in advance. Eduardo services Los Angeles antique retailers and designers.

Fourteen years ago these three were crossing the Texas/Mexico Rio Grande boarder in the dead of winter, in the dead of night, heading north toward survival. The raft was overloaded with six other Mexicans expecting to make it to shore in a teetering tub. But Eduardo fell overboard and was carried down river until he finally hit a rock near the bank. He held on until they fished him out of the freezing current.

He almost drowned, then spent the rest of the night turning blue in the icy wind as the group waited close to Route 90 for a truck to haul them to Fort Stockton and Highway 10 bound for California.

After a few weeks in Los Angeles they found menial jobs. Maria cleaned houses. Carlos and Eduardo waved down cars at Home Depot, taking any tasks offered. They worked hard, saved, and eventually moved into a four-room apartment in a middle-class part of Glendale.

Since Maria had taken a few years of high school English in Mexico, she was able to get a higher paying job cleaning a huge home in Hancock Park. The lady who lived there owned a thriving antique business and was looking for part-time handymen to work in her store and move furniture, do minor repairs and furniture deliveries.

But these three were undocumented and barely spoke English. So what did they do? Carlos and Eduardo took that seven-day-a-week job at the store and spent their money on English classes. Five months later the group hitched a ride to Washington State where they took driving tests and got Washington State driver’s licenses.

Within two years Carlos and Eduardo owned their own delivery truck and had taught themselves high-end wood working skills and refinishing. Sponsored now by American employers, the three pooled their money and hired a lawyer who moved them into the “system” as they applied for US legal status. Then, on September 11, 2001 the Twin Towers came crashing down and that put a stop to 99% of the green card applications.

While Carlos and Eduardo were moving up in the furniture business, Maria climbed her own ladder. She secured a second cleaning job at the house next door to the antique lady and worked for a wealthy young couple that owned rental properties. Within a year, Maria became their nanny, then housekeeper, then business assistant taking calls from their Spanish speaking tenants and arranging services from Spanish speaking service people.

You can see where this is going. Maria eventually became a multi-building property manager as her brothers left the antique store to expand on what they had learned and start their own businesses.

piggy bankIS THIS THE AMERICAN DREAM? UNFORTUNATELY NOT.

Although Maria, Carlos and Eduardo did everything they could to apply for legal residence, this country will not allow them to pay taxes or invest their money here.

They have bank accounts, insurance policies, driver ID’s, health insurance, and fill an economic niche in my community. Yet these hard working people cannot, by law, pay back the country that gave them their start.

Maria, Carlos and Eduard are now “family” and I’m impressed with their attitude. ‘Can’t’ does not exist in their vocabulary.

Have they ever built a fence? No. But they built our fence. Can they brick a patio? They figured it out and built our patio. Could they drive us to the airport? No problem. And yes, we pay them well for their help. And in return we get 100% loyalty, and even love.

That’s the way they are. They solve problems, live in the moment and appreciate what they have. They love their kids and care for their parents. They’re fully assimilated into the community because they’re responsible and great at what they do.

And yes, they compete against American citizens, but fairly. And when they get the job, it’s not because they’re cheaper. It’s because they’re better. And we all benefit.

But does the USA tax coffers? No. Our stalled government will not grant three successful entrepreneurs documentation, at least not yet. Consequently, Maria, Carlos and Eduard built rental properties in Cuernavaca. Not in LA.

What’s wrong with this picture?

This story is just one aspect of a very complex social/economic dynamic. If you have a comment, I’d like to hear it and I’ll respond to you.

 

This post was originally published on Curiosityquills.com.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/02/irvs-out-of-the-closet/

A THANK YOU FROM IRV

Thank you!

There’s an Uber Rule in blogging. KEEP THE POSTS SHORT!

I wrote about it last month, confessing that I break that rule all the time. I break all the blog rules, which should reduce my web exposure.

That’s the case. I don’t have many followers.

So if you’ve returned to my world to read this tome, and you read it to the end, you are part of a select group of very special people in my life.

 

You know me. I don’t know you. Can you imagine what this feels like?

Blogging to a group that leaves no comments is like lecturing in a huge hall of empty chairs where the listeners are seated behind a wall in another room. If there’s a reaction, I don’t know about it. If there’s discussion, I don’t hear it. The only way I can tell anyone’s listening is by counting your shares to friends and the site hits with Google Analytics.

You leave footprints in my house but leave without saying goodbye.

But no consternation implied. None of this is wrong. I’ve set it up this way, and I don’t know any other way to do it.

*****

There are two blogs that interest me. Both are hosted by women. They have a huge spread over the internet and get ton of comments for each post. Both women are famous now.

Blog number one is eclectic, switching back and forth between business advice and the exposure of her family traumas. She writes stories of struggle and receives I-know-what-you-mean condolences and sincere thank you’s for the soulful connection.

The second site is more structured and the host invites guest bloggers. They all follow her format, which is:

Lead in with a wise quote from someone smarter than you and me. Tell your down-and-out BEFORE story followed by your rise-to-success AFTER story. Establish how enlightened and spiritually evolved you are now, and end the post with your formula for everlasting bliss.

This site gets a slew of I-know-what-you-mean comments and sincere thank you’s for the soulful connection.

  • Blog number one’s message: Life is a battle you may never win but keep trying. I am.
  • Blog number two’s message: Life is a battle you can win if you just keep trying. I am.
  • Irving’s message: I have no idea what I’ll come up with each week, but if you keep reading, I’ll keep writing.

Obviously this approach is not the best formula for worldwide fame…or selling my novels. But like I said, I don’t follow rules. I don’t know how. I’m just glad I don’t get into trouble or hurt people.

*****

So this week’s post is about my appreciation of your company, the party I’ve thrown where I don’t meet my guests.

Woman blogger number one once stated that she writes her posts for validation and the feeling that she’s not alone. Woman blogger number two said she writes her posts to help us find happiness.

I write my blog because I’d feel like a quitter if I gave it up. Honestly, I have no driving need to get the word out. I started this blog because all marketing gurus said that an internet presence is a must for new authors. Right now it’s homework. But like I said, if you’re reading these words, then I may have some relevance in your life, and if that’s the case, I don’t want to let you down.

And when you share my post with others, I’m extremely flattered. I highly value your time, attention and respect. If I’ve sparked any new ideas or helped make your day richer in some way, I’m glad I can do that.

When that stops, I’ll stop.

I don’t know how long I’ll feel comfortable lecturing in an empty hall. But as I said, when it’s time to put down the pen, you’ll let me know.

One more thing: A special thanks to Jerry’s Cousin.

You have shared your thoughts with me since the beginning of these columns. I appreciate your words, JC, and especially your support. My sincere best wishes to you and your family.

And one more that after that last thing: Thank you, Eugene and Alisa, for inviting me to Curiosity Quills. You’ve helped me without asking for anything in return. Who does that anymore?

Irv

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/01/a-thank-you-from-irv/

How to Make a Day Special

iStock_000005196861XSmallIt’s 2:27 pm. I’m drinking my very best single malt, a Surfer’s sundown dram, #53.154, aged 17 years and one of only 462 bottles. Why am I drinking this malt in the afternoon? Why am I drinking at all?

My life is in flux right now. Income left me, and not on my terms. I’ve been out of work for months and I tapped retirement funds a year and a half early. This doesn’t mean I won’t take another project if one comes along. But it’s unlikely, and my first pension check made me feel old and financially vulnerable.

Now over the years I’ve attended enough self-help lectures to claim Guruhood myself. I know the think-and-grow-rich edict; assume money will never run out, BELIEVE in ABUNDANCE, that the Universe listens, that you only get what you expect, so expect GOOD things!

Don’t get me wrong. I think a positive attitude can make your world a sunny place, for people who believe it does. I want to believe it does too. I want to believe in belief, and have from time to time. Once I kept score about those times that I didn’t believe, spent the money anyway and did NOT fall off a cliff. I think safety stayed in place ‘cause residual TRUST was hiding in my heart.

So you’d think that after all these years, I would’ve acquired the faith to unquestionably BELIVE it’s all gonna work out, that the money will come for food and gas and those $400 Bose computer speakers I want. My eight year-old Harman/Kardon’s finally cracked.

And you’d think I would have memorized the saintly rules too; that by giving to charity and people begging in the street, abundance flows back to you. Give and you shall receive…or something like that.

IMG_0412On certain days, like today, I believe it, sort of. At least I give it the benefit of the doubt, because at Smart & Final, I have to. Everyday local folk set up their donation table outside the exit door, like the photo I provided here. As you stroll past them with your loaded cart, they ask you to help another soul stay alive.

Most shoppers avoid eye contact, pretending they didn’t hear the ex-battered women or recovered addict explain that the money he’s collecting is for those less fortunate. And whether you contribute or not, as you leave that space, he’ll bless you on behalf of the Most Powerful Force in the Universe.

I’m not thrilled about Smart & Final blessings, but when all you need are paper towels, tissues, distilled water and a bag of chips, you risk meeting the worthy-cause people with their pictures and signs and box where the money goes.

*****

So as I was saying, this day I was feeling somewhat optimistic and approaching the store, I saw what would be waiting for me at the exit – a bearded white guy my age with a money box for some noble cause.

And as I’m checking out, as I always do in Smart & Final, I’m asking myself if I’m in a giving mood. Do I feel needy or abundantly confident? And if survival looks promising, how much will I give?

You know, if you stick a bill into their box really fast, and hide it with your fingers as you push it into the slot, they won’t be able to tell if you gave a buck or five or ten.

Does anybody give ten? And if they do, does it really go to orphans, or to the people making us feel guilty with their pictures of a wretched world?

I hate being manipulated. I hate being pressured about anything, which is why I’m really bad at sales. The Golden Rule kicks in. And now the man at the exit with his short gray beard is talking about homeless people and how a dollar would help a poor soul from going hungry. I’m not listening, ‘cause as my eyes shift away, I’m thinking this sure feels like a guilt trip and I role my cart towards my car.

But then, lifting the hatch, I look back. Other people are ignoring him too. I know that’s his job, to get ignored until someone finally gives, but still, this makes me feel sad because he looks like he’s taking care of himself, like he got his life back together and is making a difference in some small way.

But wait. Suppose this is a scam, like those young men who knock on your front door and explain they’re working their way through med school by selling magazine subscriptions.

And then I think, scam or not, sometimes ya gotta take a chance. He was probably homeless once and somebody like me helped him get whole again. What’s a few dollars? I’m not THAT desperate.

So I look into my wallet. All I have is two tens. I pay everything with one credit card so I can rack up free airline miles and visit Mom.

Just two tens. Will he give change? Too embarrassing. I know! I’ll scoot back into Smart & Final and buy a candy bar. Nah. I hate candy bars. But the bananas are on sale.

WHAT AM I THINKING!

How can I be so cheap? What does ten dollars buy anymore? (Plenty. I don’t answer that.) Still, last night was sushi night and I blew away twenty-three bucks for 45 minutes of raw fish which departed this morning in my bathroom. I can afford to feed a poor soul, assuming the ten stays out of the pockets of that man at the table.

So I return my cart to it’s home and I walk over to the feed-the-homeless guy. And to show him how generous I am, I extend the folded ten spot instead of pushing it into the box slot.

And he says to me, in eloquent diction, “Thank you for taking the time to return here and support our cause.”

Wow! Revelation! This guy was never homeless. His clean and manicured nails, sporty jacket, new baseball cap, designer glasses, and especially his vibe tells me he’s from my world, and probably drives that shiny red Escalade over there.

I answer with a throw-away, “Of course.”

And he says, without looking at my bill in his hand, “Would you like a receipt for tax deductions?”

I shake my head, no, thinking, Why? So I can feel even more shitty about doubting you?

Honestly, this man felt like Jesus; kind, generous and all-knowing. There was something about his confident tone, his sincere appreciation of my trying to do the right thing, that subtly conveyed he was a better man than me. And without a “God bless you.”

Then, with a smile he let me go. My lesson was over and he turned his attention to a stout Black lady who was about to accept his grace.

I floated back to my car gleefully uplifted. Everything felt right! And when I got home I played my drums, called two friends, opened my best single malt and wrote this story.

*****

What’s the message?

Next time you approach a card table in a parking lot, stop and listen to the person asking for help. Your donation just might not be a donation at all, but the gift of joy coming back to you.

 

This post was originally posted on Curiosityquills.com.

 

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/01/how-to-make-a-day-special/

DYING – CAN YOU WRITE ABOUT THAT?

There’s a funny thing about dying. It’s happening everywhere – in our movies, our games, our books, on the news, in our families and schools and churches. But when it comes to thinking about our own demise, most of us push that to the back of the drawer.

“Nope, won’t happen to me. Not any time soon.”

That’s our grounding. And for anyone younger than twenty, real death is off the game board.

I find it interesting that our Western culture is obsessed with death, but in such a way that we pretend it’s no big deal. Why are fantasy stories so popular? Why have fairytales and myths been around forever? Because within this I-wish-it-were-so world, death IS no big deal. And in many cases, it doesn’t exit. Souls rise from their graves, gods become mortal, mortals become gods with forever-after lives.

Thousands of characters die on the silver screen every year and those actors continue to play in more movies where they die again. See? It’s not real.

Mortal Kombat is all about killing and the player’s last Fatality, which is a gruesome way of murdering his or her defeated opponent. Do the gamers die? Of course not. They live on and read the spin-off comic books, play the card game and watch the movies.

Yea! Death! So much fun! None of it’s real…until a psychotic young man opens fire in a theater or class room. And even then it’s a news headline; a concept of extinction, unless it’s someone you know and love.

How do our armed forces train our soldiers? They break down individualism to create a human combat machine which neutralizes the enemy. That ‘bad guy” carrying a gun is a target, like games in an arcade.

As a culture, as long as we have distance from the killing fields, we Americans have desensitized ourselves about death, until it knocks on our door. Then there’s pain.

WHAT DOES DYING HAVE TO DO WITH WRITING?

Nothing, if you’re creating a fantasy where your characters move back and forth over the threshold of death.

Everything, if you’re writing a story set in the real world.

But what IS your real world?

If you are molding a character without physical vulnerabilities or fears about vulnerability, what kind of jeopardy, if any, are you describing?

If your heroine isn’t scared for her life when she should be, as a reader why would you be concerned about her?

We all know that fear inhibits our performance and ability to make the best decisions. Fear makes us want to run. If every soldier did that, we wouldn’t have wars. Which is why fear is not an option on the battle field and there are many psychological ways of diminishing it. I won’t list them here.

But there’s a fact I will state: A suicide bomber, in real life or fiction, is not a hero. A hero is a person who is afraid to die and yet moves past those fears to stop destruction and save lives.

  • How much risk and fear are you allowing your heroes to feel?
  • How much of an internal struggle are you giving them to do the task they have to do?
  • How much stress are you applying on your readers to make them feel your hero’s tension?

These are tools of our dramatic trade. But guess what? In certain genres, real trauma might be best kept in the drawer, as it already is. And here’s why.

Audiences for books and movies vary, but I think most readers and viewers prefer to keep their personal vulnerability walled off from the book, movie or interactive game.

In other words, spectators wants to see or read about violence, but without becoming internally involved. Sure, readers expect emotional jolts. But those feelings aren’t personal. The carnage on the page is not in bed with the girl reading about it. And when she closes the book and turns off the light, there’s a feeling of satisfaction knowing it was all just a yarn.

And that’s fine. That’s entertainment.

*****

But there’s another level of writing that takes on more responsibility. It addresses death for real. The dying can be mental, as in dementia and advanced senility. Death can be psychological, as with the loss of control, like loosing the use of one’s body. Dying can be the heart break of lowering your beloved wife of fifty years into her grave.

There are many ways to die. As a writer, are you willing to feel death’s fear and loss to authentically put it into words?

And if you do write about it, why are you doing that? What are you trying to say by expressing and conveying pain and suffering?

If you are injecting scary thoughts into a story for the sake of a rush, then you are writing horror, and the message is: This story is an emotional roller coaster. But it’s not real. And as the reader, you are safe.

If you are depicting human vulnerability for any other reason, I would hope your message would be: Try to understand. Your adversary suffers as you do, but for reasons opposed to yours.

If you are authoring stories about kill-or-be-killed combat, perhaps your message will be: War destroys, rarely bringing peace forever. Collateral damage is the death of innocent people. Are there other ways to settle this conflict?

*****

I’ll continue to be frank here. With the current trends, most people would rather read about vampire romance and serial killers than a tale about real cancer or the senseless killing in war. Most writers would rather write about a handsome, sexy werewolf or young adult angst than author a story about a devoted husband accepting his wife’s deformity after a crash.

For the debut writer, the market for “real life” is limited. And writing “real life” is difficult. Still, it’s a learning process that should not be skipped.

Going inside to that sad place is not pleasant or even easy. But if you can reach those feelings, if you can reach your denied vulnerability and get it right on the page, you will also reach other souls yearning for uplifting truths. You will remind them how fragile we all are, and how easy it is to hurt someone else, and why we should avoid it.

One can kill a person’s joy with six cruel words, or kindle love with five of kindness. Will you think about that? Will you write about it? If you do, you’ll touch the spirit of your muse, and our hearts as well.

 

Soldier photograph from the Seattle Times

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2013/01/dying-can-you-write-about-that/

13 Rules for Survival

In 1995 I bought a used BMW. (Today they call it “pre-owed”).

I got the car because I couldn’t afford a new one and everyone told me BMW’s are a must-have. And for me it was, ‘cause I still drive that car. I found my darling through a car broker who sold me the loaded, lowered, pimped-out, nine-month-old 325is with only 11,054 on the odometer. It even had a phone mounted between the two front seats. And it looked absolutely new, as if it had never been driven.

Why did the car look shiny new? Because, as I later discovered, the body had been rebuilt after an accident. This revelation taught me my first car-buying lesson, which happens to be the first directive in the USED CAR SALESMAN’S HAND BOOK.

RULE ONE – Don’t mention any accidents unless directly asked. And IF asked, say, “Don’t worry about it. The car checks out.”

Well I DID check out that car, which is how I learned that my 325 was actually owned by the broker’s college daughter who ran a red light while staring into her visor mirror applying makeup and talking on the phone. I figured that out because the only two things that were worn out on that car were the ripped plastic hinges on the driver’s mirrored visor and the mobile unit’s hand set coil chord, which was stretched out from pulling it close to yapping ruby lips.

So when seeking a pre-owned car this time around, I planned on buying only a certified car from a dealer. It would be a Honda Element, and it would be used because they stopped making them in 2011.

*****

My wife has been driving her own green Element since 2003, when they first went on sale. She loved that car and it was perfect for her antique business until she hit a concrete road divider at forty miles per hour five days ago. Incredibly, she walked away from that mangled mess with only a scratched wrist. But she was rattled and reluctant to drive again. I knew I had to get he back in the saddle, and fast.

So I called Ray-the-Car-Guy (i.e. auto broker) who helped me find my Honda S2000 six years ago. After explaining that time was “Of-the-Essence” Ray assured me he would make my world whole again… for a thousand dollars. For that kind of commission, returning my calls and keeping an appointment would have been nice. Since he didn’t, I sent Ray away.

The next day I called Autoland and talked to Peter who also assured me I could now sleep at night. He would find me MY car in twenty-four hours. I asked him how he was going to get paid since he asked no up-front commission. Peter explained that he was a FREE service given to me by my credit union, which brings me to…

RULE TWO – Never tell your client that he always pays your commission, which is buried in that “great deal” you will find for him.

So the next day, as I was waiting for Peter to benevolently call his state-wide, “I know everybody” connections, I decided to call my own: The Honda dealer who services our cars. (Interestingly, NOT on Peter’s list.) This brings me to…

RULE THREE – Make the customer believe there is only one car in the world that matches her search, it just happens to be on YOUR lot, and that everyone else wants that car.

As I mentioned, my wife and I were looking for a 2011 Honda Element to replace the one she crashed because Honda discontinued the line two years ago. So yes, there IS a scarcity. But on day three, our quick Google search turned up five 2011 Elements in the LA area. They were all priced over our budget of $20,000. Still, there were five cars

Anyway, as I was saying, I first called our own Alhambra dealer and Charlie Brown answered the phone. Charlie taught me sooooo much about selling used cars, like…

RULE FOUR – You always were, and always will be, your customers BEST FRIEND, starting with your first words, “Hello, Charlie here!”

RULE FIVE – Remembering anything about that first conversation, except the client’s name and the car he wants, is OPTIONAL. If he makes it into your office, you can start to listen when his checkbook drops on your desk.

RULE SIX – Pick a salesman’s name everyone will remember, like Charlie Brown. And mention your children as you discuss the car, letting the customer know that you need THIS sale to keep your kids in school.

RULE SEVEN – Keep repeating Honda’s seven-year, 100,000 mile warranty. Do not tell the buyer that since the car you’re trying to unload has 30,000 and it’s weeks away from 2013, that warranty is actually for five years and 70,000 miles, and it’s just the drive train that’s guaranteed that long.

RULE EIGHT – Impress the customer with the fact that YOU are the “Fleet Manager” and hope he’s not smart enough to figure out that this bogus title is something you gave yourself.

Our meeting with Charlie ended with my wife and I telling the man that our next stop was Rick-in-Pasadena, who had verified over the phone that he had the identical car with half the milage for $1500 less. Charlie pointed to his kids on the wall. We left anyway.

*****

Dealership #2 was a whole different vibe. However, instead of Internet Manager Rick meeting us in the lot, we encountered Diego (Somebody) raising his arm for a “How ya doin’?” handshake. (His last name I cannot remember or spell.)

RULE NINE – If you insist on keeping your real unpronounceable name, give yourself something else the customer will remember, like a foot-long black ponytail and smile that won’t come off.

Diego was thirty-something and actually happy. I think he intuitively knew we had done our homework, had compared the other prices in town and that his offering was the lowest. The negotiations went quickly and we learned about…

RULE TEN - Make the customer believe the negotiations end on THEIR terms, even if it means prompting them to bargain for a lower price after they accepted your final offer.

Diego gave my wife another discount of $270. We just looked at each other. We knew the game, and Diego KNEW we knew the game. So we said yes again to his second final offer.

RULE ELEVEN – If all else fails, be honest.

Charlie Brown talked about being a straight shooter, Diego WAS one. So we bought the car, and even a few of those things “Consumer Reports Magazine” tells us NEVER to buy – like the dealer extended warranty and the upgraded alarm system.

RULE TWELVE – Never tell your customer that the insurance margin is 140% and that you could sell it for half and still make a hefty profit.

We knew this secret, so we bought the warranty for half and 30% off alarm system.

*****

So now I’m happy. I’m happy that we got deal we wanted but more importantly, I’m incredibly relieved that my wife is still alive and well. Buying the car distracted me from thinking about how close she came to dying or maimed for life. But she wasn’t. So life goes on as if the crash had never happened, except for the shiny new car.

Still, I keep thinking about the miracles: how my wife was protected, how we found the exact car we wanted, at the best price, at a dealership closest to our home, on our own. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t make that happen. My best friend was safe and still with us. Everything else was just a detail.

This unhampered flow reminded me of the most important rule of all:

RULE THIRTEEN – a Zen Buddhist saying that goes something like this: When you pine for something, you lose it. When it you give it up, you get it all.

Why does it take a car accident to coax me back into trusting Fate… and Faith?

Originally published on Curiosityquills.com.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2012/12/13-rules-for-survival/

Writing in Multi-Dimensions

With “How to Write Dynamic Dialogue,” we examined shaping characters by using rhythm and style techniques within dialogue. This week we’ll look at multi-dimensional writing, which is using words and phrases to carry multiple levels of information.

Three layers of data build plots.

  • Information that carries the story forward.
  • Information that adds to character development.
  • Information that fills in backstory.

Communicating all three elements within every scene is your goal. If you get two or more into a line of dialogue, that’s even better.

I’ll use the two writing examples from my last post to illustrate single element and multi-dimensional writing. First, the single level.

*****

“Does he think were all stupid?” Beth says with a bite in her voice. “Doesn’t he know we already know all this stuff?”

What does this first paragraph convey? Just one level information: Beth is insulted by what she read. It does however, set up the question, who is she talking about? Writers must set up questions throughout a scene which can only be answered by further reading.

The older man stays in his menu. The din of college chatter and tinny pop tunes envelope them both. “I don’t think Irv thinks we’re dumb at all,” he says looking up, “but sometimes obvious things are overlooked and he’s writing articles more as reminders than to-do lists.”

The information: Beth is with an older guy in a noisy college hangout. How old is Beth? We don’t know. And the older man seems to understand Podolsky’s writing more than she does.

“Well, I got bored reading his post. I didn’t learn anything new. And I don’t have time to waste for junk content!”

This is a repeat of Beth’s initial position: She doesn’t like what she read. Still, no character development, no backstory.

“You didn’t get what I said,” Dan retorts. “Irving is simply reminding us to use our real life’s experience as a guide for writing complexity. If we don’t observe complexity, we won’t be able to write it.”

We now know the man is named DAN with more explanation of Irv’s advice. What Irv writes is not as important as the couple’s argument. But there is nothing interesting about it. Why? Because we don’t have enough information to care about these people. So far everything written has addressed only one element: advancing the story. And nothing has changed so far.

“What are you doing?”

This last sentence was a set-up for the next line. We suspect Dan might be miffed about what is to come but there is not enough description to define that.

“Texting Dana,” she says. “Her birthday’s tomorrow.”

Okay, we now have two levels of information. We have a plot shift with Beth’s decision to leave the conversation. Deciding to send a message in the middle of a conversation also supports the character development. Beth can be rude and she would rather leave an intellectual argument than pursue it to its conclusion.

*****

What is missing from this scene? BACKSTORY and DETAILS, along with nuances of behavior. Information is expounded within dialogue and not action. That’s BORING! Why? Because there is nothing for the reader to DISCOVER.

The next version plants subtle clues as to what Dan and Beth are about. This kind of writing gives the reader something to figure out and a reason to be involved.

*****

“I’m NOT in the third grade,” Beth drawls, rolling her eyes. “What’s he thinking?”

First sentence tells us that Beth feels her intelligence was insulted. But by whom and why? If we can start a scene with a dramatic question, reader-connection happens faster.

She waits for an answer. But her friend, a man fifteen years older and looking very lawyerly, stays hidden behind his raised open menu.

This second, two-sentence paragraph, sets up the scene dynamic. We know that Beth is with an older man in a restaurant who is separating himself from her. More questions are raised. What kind of friend is he? Why is he annoyed with her? And why is he ignoring her?

“Oh…so now we’re playing, Ignore-the-Bitch.”

This third line is powerful. It establishes they have a history, that the man’s behavior is not new and that Beth believes her lawyer friend has a low opinion of her. Beth would never call herself a “bitch” which means she assumes he would, or maybe he has already. Either way, the tension is primed.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he says flatly. “I’m trying to order. And this place is so damn loud you’re screaming at me.”

Of course he’s ignoring her, and he’s angry. We know that because he hates the loud ambience of the restaurant. Did Beth choose this place? Is he annoyed about that? Or is there something else? (You see how the location ambience was worked into the dialogue as opposed to just being stated with description?)

Beth leans over the table, flattens Dan’s menu and whispers, “Irving Podolsky bores me.”

Question: Who is Irving Podolsky?

“Then don’t read his stuff.”

Answer: He’s an author. But is Podolsky the person Beth was referring to at the top of the scene?

“You insist I do.”

“Insist” is an important word. It reveals a clue about their backstory. We know he’s fifteen years older than Beth, and when an older man insists that a younger woman do something, it establishes dominance. Beth didn’t say, “you insisted,” implying once. She said “You insist I do,” suggesting a pattern and an established relationship.

His gaze drops to the pastas on the cardboard now lying on his plate. “You want to be a writer, Podolsky writes about writing.”

Question answered – Podolsky is the topic of conversation. And we also now know that Beth is a fledging author and that her older friend doesn’t think she IS one yet. That’s because he said “You want to be a writer,” and since he went back to scanning the menu when he said that, we can assume his encouragement is beginning to wane. He’s not pressing his advice with any eye-to-eye contact.

“Sometimes.”

A set up for the next line.

“He writes about life, not about characters in other romance novels.”

This line carries all kinds of info. On the surface it tells us that Beth reads romance and is writing romance.But it also subtly reveals that he doesn’t think Beth has enough life experience to be a serious writer, which means in his mind, she’s YOUNG. Could he be condescending?

“You’re calling me a hack?”

This line tells us that Beth thinks he IS condescending. And worse, that she’s cheating at writing by emulating other novels.

Dan flips to the wine list. “No. Just insulated.”

Now we know his name is DAN and he’s devaluing her by suggesting she hasn’t lived outside her bubble, which might be the case. But because he said that while scanning the wine list, he’s blowing her off. Why? What did she do to deserve this passive/aggressive punishment? (You see how we’re layering dramatic questions as well?)

“I wouldn’t be if you’d say more than eight words in my direction!”

Good. She’s calling him on it.

His eyes rise to hers. “Then take that damn phone off the table. You’ve texted three times since we got here.”

Okay, NOW we know why Dan so mad. Beth’s attention left him three times while she texted her friends. Dan was insulted. No, hurt. And through this scene he has retaliated by denying Beth his own attention.

Seconds pass in a stare-off. Beth’s face hardens. “Oh… So that’s it.”

Beth dismantles their mentor-lover relationship. She’s feeling controlled even more.

“If Dana’s so important, this should have been HER date.”

Is Dana Beth’s best friend? Probably, because Dan knows her, meaning this is not a first time issue.

“You’re jealous?”

(This is where the reader fills in the blanks.) Is Dan jealous? No. He feels neglected, which means he values Beth’s devotion and wants her full attention. He wants to make this evening intimate but she won’t do it.

Dan’s eyes stay locked onto hers, waiting for…an apology. It isn’t coming, at least not now. Up goes his menu. 

What Dan is waiting for, is Beth’s recognition that he cares for her more than a casual friendship (presumably with sex). If she doesn’t want him as much as he wants her, then she reduced him to a sugar daddy.

“You ARE jealous!”

Nope. She doesn’t get it.

More silence behind his wall. This date is not going well.

Dan just gave up and Beth has no real understanding why, which means this relationship will end soon.

*****

This polished scene is an example of multi-layering information. Single element delivery won’t engage readers anymore, not with the acceleration of everything else in the media and communications. And with all of us now trained in multi-tasking and thinking, we process information faster. Anything slower than we can handle is boring. And BORING in the cardinal sin of writing.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2012/12/writing-in-multi-dimensions/

How to Write Dynamic Dialogue

Let’s again examine the writing process.

And yes, for advanced writers much of this is obvious. But I’ll explore the nuances as much as this short article will allow me.

First…some basics.

  • Structuring a plot must be correctly managed before your story will engage your readers. And what are you managing? You are revealing and arranging selective information within a timeline. Knowing just how much, and when, establishes the skill of the writer.
  •  Setting up believable characters is just as important. Without your people ringing true, there will not be an investment in your story.
  •  Finally description comes into play, which is the art of combining story, characters and settings so they distract and then dazzle the mind.

These three elements must be mastered in order to capture and hold attention. Your words should become invisible, leaving only your ideas to float off the page.

And that’s really hard to do.

So for this post, let’s break down the art of story telling even further and dissect the craft of constructing dialogue.

*****

Beginning writers have a tendency to underestimate the significance of defining a character through speech, or the lack of it.

Have you ever read a story where all the people sounded the same?

Have you been bored by dialogue being used to convey only story points, instead of the way a character thinks and “sees” the world?

Speech patterns are like Koi fish. The shape of the animals are all the same, like the use of a common language, but each fish has a unique skin of many colors and designs, like different people rearranging sentence structure and choosing alternate words to describe similar events. Some people hardly speak at all. They express their thoughts with body language. A twitch can say a lot.

Silence…so important and yet generally ignored by novice authors. What a character does NOT say is just as important as what IS said. And the TIME it takes to start a conversation or respond is also a tool of revelation.

I’m talking about BEATS within a scene and spoken words. How many of you give your characters time to THINK about what they need to say? Are they always ready with a response? Back-forth, back-forth, back-forth. Is that natural?

Sometimes it is. But is that interesting? Wouldn’t you rather build hills and valleys into your scenes, as in the expansion and compression of time – or perceived time?

Suppose you’re writing a scene in REAL time, meaning the seconds it takes to read the scene is the same time it takes your characters to express the action.

When you’re describing a moment of introspection, you must add words to expand real time for the reader, slowing it down for your characters as well. Movies use a similar technique when multiple angles are cut together to express a single event, as in showing an accident or explosion covered by five camera locations.

To show instead of telling, describe expressive action throughout the conversation; like scratching a jaw, white-knuckling a steering wheel, yawning, or the darting of eyes to the clock on the wall. Body language tells a story. Don’t make it a contrived place holder.

Now a comment: Living a real life of texting instead of face to face conversation is not great training for a describer of human expression.

To write about people, you must interact with them, watch, listen and think about what you observed; especially shared FEELINGS beyond the physical gestures and vocal inflections. Communicating is deep and provocative when it’s intimate.

Texting is not communicating. Texting is sending directions.

Back to technique.

When writing a scene for the first time, just getting our thoughts out is enough. Dialogue, quickly thrown down for structure is adequate for outlining scenes.

The second pass adds the colors. This is where you mold words into rhythm patterns that match your characters. This is the time to rough up the speech and tinker with bad grammar and dropped pronouns.

 

(1) I have a third pass, and it’s about the beats of the sentences. I’m not a poet but I am aware of the rhythm of the syllables. Maybe, because I’m a drummer, I think of sentences as musical phrases. And these phrases have to flow and end on the right beat, even if it means substituting words of various syllables to get the cadence to flow.)

 

As an example of a third revision, the paragraph above was written unedited, straight from my head.

The following paragraph was rewritten taking rhythm into consideration, as well as more details.

 

(2) My third pass sharpens the beats in a sentence. I’m no poet but I AM a drummer. So I’m aware that syllables create rhythm and that sentences can sound like musical phrases. These phrases should ebb and flow like a song, ending correctly on the right beat. To create those patterns I substitute words: two syllables for three, three for one, arriving at a definable cadence.

 

Can you feel the musical difference between paragraph (1) and paragraph (2)?

Dialogue examples – a first draft, then a polish:

 

“Does he think were all stupid?” Beth says with a bite in her voice. “Doesn’t he know we already know all this stuff?”
The older man stays in his menu. The din of college chatter and tinny pop tunes envelope them both. “I don’t think Irv thinks we’re dumb at all,” he says looking up, “but sometimes obvious things are overlooked and he’s writing articles more as reminders than to-do lists.”

“Well, I got bored reading his post. I didn’t learn anything new. And I don’t have time to waste for junk content!”

“You didn’t get what I said,” Dan retorts. “Irving is simply reminding us to use our real life’s experience as a guide for writing complexity. If we don’t observe complexity, we won’t be able to write it.”

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Dana,” she says. “Her birthday’s tomorrow.”

The above example illustrates dialogue and two characters having the same talking style and time flow. Now let’s layer the scene, allowing for beats and added backstory.

“I’m NOT in the third grade,” Beth drawls, rolling her eyes. “What’s he thinking?”
She waits for an answer. But her friend, a man fifteen years older and looking very lawyerly, stays hidden behind his raised open menu.

“Oh…so now we’re playing, Ignore-the-Bitch.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” he says flatly. “I’m trying to order. And this place is so damn loud you’re screaming at me.”

Beth leans over the table, flattens Dan’s menu and whispers, “Irving Podolsky bores me.”

“Then don’t read his stuff.”

“You insist I do.”

His gaze drops to the pastas on the cardboard now lying on his plate. “You want to be a writer, Podolsky writes about writing.”

“Sometimes.”

“He writes about life, not about characters in other romance novels.”

“You’re calling me a hack?”

Dan flips to the wine list. “No. Just insolated.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d say more than eight words in my direction!”

His eyes raise to hers. “Then take that damn phone off the table. You’ve texted three times since we got here.”

Seconds pass in a stare-off. Beth’s face hardens. “Oh… So that’s it.”

“If Dana’s so important, this should have been HER date.”

“You’re jealous?”

Dan’s eyes stay locked onto hers, waiting for…an apology. It isn’t coming, at least not now. Up goes his menu.

“You ARE jealous!”

More silence behind his wall. This date is not going well.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2012/12/how-to-write-dynamic-dialogue/

13 Blog Rules that will Make You Famous

If you haven’t started your weblog yet, read no further.

There are over 164,000,000 million of them out there. The boat sailed eight years ago and the tide’s out now. Everything that can be written, HAS been written…in less than ten words.

Now, if you’re still insanely driven to say things in a big way, like getting internet famous, keep reading. The reason why I am NOT internet famous, is because I have yet to follow one rule I’m about to give you.

But that’s me. You’re YOU. You’ve still got a shot. So let’s start with WHY people search blogs in the first place.

Three reasons:

  • Information
  • Entertainment
  • Inspiration

Now if you’re already writing a popular blog, all of the above criteria have been met. And as you also know, strong attention and execution of any one of the three will drive traffic to your site. You stick to the formula: Stay focused on what you’re promoting, until you’re famous. Then it doesn’t matter. Then you can write about anything.

I’m not famous and not focused. I hop from format to format, subject to subject, hoping something will set fire in a colossal way. If it does. You’ll know it.

*****

 Okay, the thirteen magic rules…

1. Do NOT use more than 600 words to describe anything!

On rare occasions, like your birthday or bacon in bed, you can go to 800. But keep 800 super limited.

This article will take 1200 words. I like to seriously explain shit even if no one is reading it.

2. Do not use profanity!

Unless you’re a woman. In which case, spice your content with a smidgen of sexy words. Boldness impresses men and other women. It show’s you’re not afraid to swim with sharks but you’re still a lady in a wet suit.

When I curse, it just shows bad taste and turns away People-of-Faith, which I am not, but should be. I’d like to fit in somewhere.

3. Post content at least three times a week.

Make your site a destination. And give things away. Everyone wants and needs CERTAINTY and free stuff. If you can provide it, you’ll be popular.

I post once a week and give away IDEAS. So far, that product hasn’t exploded in sales. I’d write more often, but I need to let the content simmer for re-writes and polishes. I don’t have an editor.

4. Use an editor.

No matter how many times you read your words you will not catch all the mistakes. Also, an objective opinion will help keep your article lean, focused and engaging.

As I said, I don’t use an editor. I’m afraid she’ll tell me my stuff sucks and then I won’t have anything to submit on Wednesdays. So I blog blind and reckless. If I didn’t, I’d get bored following the rules, all thirteen of them.

5. Stay on topic week to week.

If you have a writing blog, write only about writing. If you blog about guppies, write only about tiny fish…until you get famous. Then you can write about sleeping on the couch after a fight with said spouse. Or you can spew heartbreak over a break up. You know, the juicy stuff!

I’m roped off from juice. My wife made me promise to keep her out of my blogs, and I’d be too embarrassed to get intimate, even if I HAD permission. So my posts aren’t racy, even when I make up drama for my mock therapy sessions. Since you all know it’s not real, you don’t immerse into the trauma. I understand. I hold back red meat…and sushi.

6. Keep it simple.

Make sure all information describes no more than three steps to total success. Whether it’s true or not, we all want to believe it.

I have issues with bending the truth. If achieving certain goals is hard for me, I assume it’s hard for you too and I’ll describe the obstacles. I’m not popular in the cheer leading department. But losers love me.

7. Keep it positive.

Explain how ALL problems can be solved, WILL be solved, and QUICKLY. That’s what Can-Do leaders do: they convince us we need to be close to them. And super-star bloggers do the same.

Again, not my style. I grew up in a Jewish neurotic family where we all pondered the worst possible outcomes, EVERY MORNING. This training makes me a great manager, since I conceive the problems and avoid them before they happen. But examining the downside flattens any encouragement I might give.

Really though, I AM positive, but in risk-averse ways. That approach doesn’t shine with inspiration. Maybe I should lie more.

 8. Unless you’re writing a How-To blog, keep it personal.

Mommy blogs perfected family drama down to a science. Misery loves company. The more you expose your domestic fights and bad sex, or a yelling match with your six year-old, the more people will relate and commiserate with you.

One stipulation: you have to be a woman to pull this off. Guys complaining they don’t get enough sex, marriage or not, is a total yawn…unless you’re famous.

Every time I get personal, I get boring, the unfortunate result of a happy marriage.

9. Don’t whine.

Unless it’s about domestic abuse: YOURS! Everyone wants to hear about that. And make sure you explain how you GOT EVEN, that universal fantasy about justice being served. But by no means, resolve anything! There should never be an ending to your blog.

My character Irv, HE whines. Or actually, he frets, but about ethics and doing the right thing. Nobody cares about doing the right thing. Everyone knows what that is. What people want to hear about, is doing the WRONG THING. That’s much more interesting. People in jeopardy have much more entertaining blogs.

10. Respond to only a few comments, IF you get comments at all.

This selective response gives the impression that the people to whom you DO respond, are special and they will return for more of your manipulated validation.

Since I’m lucky to get even one comment, I answer it. Besides, Mommy always told me to answer when spoken to.

11. Ask a question at the end of the article which needs to be answered with a comment.

This tactic doesn’t work but do it anyway. It gives people the impression you’re going through the motions of caring about them, or more importantly, their Google traffic.

I don’t ask questions. I give advice, which alienates everyone.

12. Don’t give intellectual advice.

People hate that. They want simple solutions to pressing problems. If you’re stealing their time to explain all the “why’s” and “how’s”, it’s time that could be spent surfing other people’s blogs for better answers.

 As you noticed, this article is INTELLECTUAL ADVICE.

13. Use pictures in your post and reference the source.

Or if you can, buy the licensing for a nominal fee. It’s standard practice to use pictures. No one likes to read but everyone looks at pictures, especially naughty ones.

Too many times I steal photos. If my blog ever gets famous, I’m busted. I’m hoping that happens soon…the FAMOUS part.

Photos “borrowed” from websites: The Guardian and She Knows Living

 

This article was originally published on Curiosityquills.com.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.irvingsjourney.com/2012/11/13-blog-rules-that-will-make-you-famous/

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