Ellyn Oaksmith's Blog - Posts Tagged "funny"
Twittering Away
I always feel an uneasy sense of guilt after I post a Tweet, which lingers about as long as it takes me to compose my next one. Which isn't long. Turns out I am obessed with being funny in increments. So the whole guilt and then do it again theme makes me realize that Twitter is a very Catholic medium. Or maybe it's only Catholics that feel guilty. Or just me.
Why, you might ask would one feel guilty about tweeting jokes? (Sample: When my daughter gets her driver's license I am joining 2 soccer leagues and making her drive me.) Because I was raised by people who taught their children that they weren't the most important people in the room. Sure, you could crack a well timed joke and yes, our family gatherings were a yell-fest but that didn't mean you had to yell louder than anyone else. Which is what Twitter feels like. Egotistical. Self-centered. Righteous.
Do I think that it's part of what is wrong with America? Heck no. Do I think our kids are slipping down a rabbit's hole of technology that will swallow them whole and make them into quivering wraiths with the attention span of coke snorting squirrels? Nope. (but that was super fun sentence to compose)
So why do I do Tweet? For one thing my agent, editor and Harper Collins encourage their authors to dive into social media until they are soaking wet. I haven't yet told them my theory that Twitter was invented by another writer who wanted to distract other writers from the competition.
Another reason is that it's fun. Turns out in my past life I was a joke writer. Not for Johnny Carson because I'm just not that good but maybe a lesser comedian. I can't name a lesser comedian because they weren't famous.
How to conclude this blog or essay or whatever the heck this little warm up to my fiction writing is called? Just to say that I love each one of you that take the time to read my Tweets, my Facebook posts, my Blog and God bless you if you buy my book -- (coming out on 2/12!!!) because you are the people I knew were out there when I was getting up at 5:00 am to write when I was the mother of toddlers, dreaming of the day that I would have the luxury of a real desk instead of the kitchen table. And the time to Tweet, blog and be a Real Writer. What I didn't know was back then I was a real writer. Very real. Okay, off to my day job.
Why, you might ask would one feel guilty about tweeting jokes? (Sample: When my daughter gets her driver's license I am joining 2 soccer leagues and making her drive me.) Because I was raised by people who taught their children that they weren't the most important people in the room. Sure, you could crack a well timed joke and yes, our family gatherings were a yell-fest but that didn't mean you had to yell louder than anyone else. Which is what Twitter feels like. Egotistical. Self-centered. Righteous.
Do I think that it's part of what is wrong with America? Heck no. Do I think our kids are slipping down a rabbit's hole of technology that will swallow them whole and make them into quivering wraiths with the attention span of coke snorting squirrels? Nope. (but that was super fun sentence to compose)
So why do I do Tweet? For one thing my agent, editor and Harper Collins encourage their authors to dive into social media until they are soaking wet. I haven't yet told them my theory that Twitter was invented by another writer who wanted to distract other writers from the competition.
Another reason is that it's fun. Turns out in my past life I was a joke writer. Not for Johnny Carson because I'm just not that good but maybe a lesser comedian. I can't name a lesser comedian because they weren't famous.
How to conclude this blog or essay or whatever the heck this little warm up to my fiction writing is called? Just to say that I love each one of you that take the time to read my Tweets, my Facebook posts, my Blog and God bless you if you buy my book -- (coming out on 2/12!!!) because you are the people I knew were out there when I was getting up at 5:00 am to write when I was the mother of toddlers, dreaming of the day that I would have the luxury of a real desk instead of the kitchen table. And the time to Tweet, blog and be a Real Writer. What I didn't know was back then I was a real writer. Very real. Okay, off to my day job.
Just Crazy Enough
I had heard, before Harper Collins published my book, that many writers obsessively check their book's ranking on Amazon.com or through other outlets. Mine debuted a week ago and I have yet to take a single peek.
Am I paranoid, disinterested or too insanely competitive to even look? No, I'm just the same person who walked my 5 year old to her first bus ride to kindergarten, anxiously holding her hand. I watched a huge bus swallow her little form, snap shut it's door and disappear down the winding road.
I trudged home holding my 2 year old's chubby hand, spending the day doing whatever chores and games the day required. I thought about my kindergartner but I didn't worry. She was a tough, smart kid.
When she came home I let her unravel the story of her day. I went to information night and signed up to volunteer after my daughter had made her first friend. When I showed up in the classroom my daughter ran up and said "hi," before returning to her blocks or letters or paint. This was her gig. I was a footnote.
Oddly enough, that's the way I feel about my book. If people love it, fabulous. But I already do. That time, care and love is already inside my book's pages. If people respond, it's because the book or story or characters hit a chord inside that person that already existed before they read the first page. Furthermore, people's tastes change dramatically from day to day, year to year. It's completely beyond my control.
After I put Adventures with Max and Louise on the bus, (feels like dog years, it's been so busy,) I went home to struggle with a rough draft of a book called Divine Moves. It's a complicated, ornery, hopefully funny book that is about 80 pages too long. My beloved and faithful first readers are helping me decide where to prune, sculpt and shape Divine... into something I can share with the world.
And when it goes on sale, I'll have another one waiting for me at home so I won't be tempted to spy on my own book. If I ever started, I feel like it would drive me crazy. And I'm already just crazy enough. Ask my friends.
Am I paranoid, disinterested or too insanely competitive to even look? No, I'm just the same person who walked my 5 year old to her first bus ride to kindergarten, anxiously holding her hand. I watched a huge bus swallow her little form, snap shut it's door and disappear down the winding road.
I trudged home holding my 2 year old's chubby hand, spending the day doing whatever chores and games the day required. I thought about my kindergartner but I didn't worry. She was a tough, smart kid.
When she came home I let her unravel the story of her day. I went to information night and signed up to volunteer after my daughter had made her first friend. When I showed up in the classroom my daughter ran up and said "hi," before returning to her blocks or letters or paint. This was her gig. I was a footnote.
Oddly enough, that's the way I feel about my book. If people love it, fabulous. But I already do. That time, care and love is already inside my book's pages. If people respond, it's because the book or story or characters hit a chord inside that person that already existed before they read the first page. Furthermore, people's tastes change dramatically from day to day, year to year. It's completely beyond my control.
After I put Adventures with Max and Louise on the bus, (feels like dog years, it's been so busy,) I went home to struggle with a rough draft of a book called Divine Moves. It's a complicated, ornery, hopefully funny book that is about 80 pages too long. My beloved and faithful first readers are helping me decide where to prune, sculpt and shape Divine... into something I can share with the world.
And when it goes on sale, I'll have another one waiting for me at home so I won't be tempted to spy on my own book. If I ever started, I feel like it would drive me crazy. And I'm already just crazy enough. Ask my friends.
Trying not to Sound Like an Idiot
Being interviewed for a magazine or blog is unlike any other experience in my life. Writing responses is easy. My approach is the cliff diver's. Throw oneself off the rock and hope for the best. Sometimes it works. Sometimes you read what seemed so clever 5 days ago and cringe. The tougher trick is sounding intelligent in person.
Yesterday, after dealing with a family crisis, running in heels and what I hoped was a clean outfit, I met with and was interviewed by a lovely writer named Julie. She writes for 425, a local magazine. We'd met last spring when she interviewed me for an online article for Knockers, which is what Adventures with Max and Louise was called when it was self published. She's a writer, mother and painter so we had a lot to talk about.
It was a fun, lively conversation. Julie understands all too well the demands of juggling writing, kids, a part-time job and yes, she even paints portraits on commission. I have no idea where she finds time to do half of this, let alone raise 3 kids.
Things went swimmingly until Julie asked me how I felt about my supposed success. I stared off into the busy cafe, wondering what to say. Luckily Julie's 5 year old daughter provided some distraction, so I had a moment to think. I knew, without a doubt that this was murky water.
If I said I didn't feel like a success, I'd sound ungrateful. I have a book published, something I've dreamed of for years. But it's one book and early days. Who knows what could happen to it?
After cobbling together a response, I asked Julie to read my answer back to me. I wasn't at all sure what I'd said. It was one of those moments where it felt like I was watching a movie instead of doing the actual talking.
I had said something about "not trusting success, trusting work instead." Julie looked closely at me, because we'd talked about how hard it was to craft a painting, or article or book to the point you'd want to share it with other people. And how bad it felt when you jumped the gun. I'm pretty sure she thought my answer was reasonable, something she'd agree with herself, were she in my position.
Given that Julie manages to write, paint, teach and manage 3 kids, I'm certain, at some point, she will be in my position. I just hope that when her time comes, she has someone interviewing her as talented and sympathetic as she was yesterday. Because when she's running in heels, breathless from whatever the day brings, someone ought to be there to help her come up with the right answer.
Part of success is getting to meet people like Julie. And having a chance to keep writing. And that is more than enough.
Thank you for reading.
Yesterday, after dealing with a family crisis, running in heels and what I hoped was a clean outfit, I met with and was interviewed by a lovely writer named Julie. She writes for 425, a local magazine. We'd met last spring when she interviewed me for an online article for Knockers, which is what Adventures with Max and Louise was called when it was self published. She's a writer, mother and painter so we had a lot to talk about.
It was a fun, lively conversation. Julie understands all too well the demands of juggling writing, kids, a part-time job and yes, she even paints portraits on commission. I have no idea where she finds time to do half of this, let alone raise 3 kids.
Things went swimmingly until Julie asked me how I felt about my supposed success. I stared off into the busy cafe, wondering what to say. Luckily Julie's 5 year old daughter provided some distraction, so I had a moment to think. I knew, without a doubt that this was murky water.
If I said I didn't feel like a success, I'd sound ungrateful. I have a book published, something I've dreamed of for years. But it's one book and early days. Who knows what could happen to it?
After cobbling together a response, I asked Julie to read my answer back to me. I wasn't at all sure what I'd said. It was one of those moments where it felt like I was watching a movie instead of doing the actual talking.
I had said something about "not trusting success, trusting work instead." Julie looked closely at me, because we'd talked about how hard it was to craft a painting, or article or book to the point you'd want to share it with other people. And how bad it felt when you jumped the gun. I'm pretty sure she thought my answer was reasonable, something she'd agree with herself, were she in my position.
Given that Julie manages to write, paint, teach and manage 3 kids, I'm certain, at some point, she will be in my position. I just hope that when her time comes, she has someone interviewing her as talented and sympathetic as she was yesterday. Because when she's running in heels, breathless from whatever the day brings, someone ought to be there to help her come up with the right answer.
Part of success is getting to meet people like Julie. And having a chance to keep writing. And that is more than enough.
Thank you for reading.
