Aimee Mayo's Blog
January 19, 2021
PUNCTUATION CAN SUCK MY #!%&:
I hate punctuation… I'd kick it’s little ass if I could. Punctuation has been FFF-ing up my life up for over thirty years.
I got my first diary on Christmas Eve when I was eight years old— the same night, my dad shot himself. From then on, I wrote endlessly… a stream of consciousness… using my own little flow of dots and dashes.
As a kid, we moved constantly. I changed schools 8 or 9 times before fifth grade — so I missed compound sentences, comma splices, and conjunctions completely.
In middle school, my stepdad was obsessed with my report card, and punctuation kept me grounded for six weeks at a time— I missed most of the spend the night parties, slow skates, and football games on Friday nights. Every boy I liked broke up with me because “who wants to go with a girl that can’t go anywhere.”
The worst blow came when I was in junior college and entered a statewide essay contest. My American Literature teacher, Mrs.Ross kept me after class and said, “I’ve got some fantastic news! You won the contest!"
A couple of seconds later, Mrs. Clark (the dean of the school ) knocked on the door.
I overheard her talking to Mrs. Ross out in the hall. "Yes, we all agree she wrote the best paper, but we can't give this award to someone who doesn't understand basic punctuation and grammar. Honestly, I don't know how she graduated high school."
It went from pride to shame in seconds.
I’ve felt insecure and embarrassed about my skills ever since. But, I found a way to make it as a writer, the one place I could without understanding punctuation-- -As a SONGWRITER! And I've been doing it professionally for twenty-five years.
I made the “Songwriters Bad Grammar Hall of Fame” and went #1 on Billboard with my song, "My Best Friend," recorded by Tim McGraw (and written with my friend Bill Luther.)
The first line says, "I never had no one I could count on, I've been let down so many times."
The name of my last publishing company with Warner Chappell was "The Queen of Dot Dot Dot ... Music." That's because I still feel dyslexic and use… the ellipsis or his buddy Dash wherever I don’t know what to do.
I know there are a lot of comma counting out there-- who know all the rules and love to point them out. Honestly, when I see someone sprinkling semicolons everywhere-- I think what a dickhead. Spelling and math, the answers stay the same, but people are still arguing about an Oxford comma. It's getting better because most texts are just a three-paragraph sentences.
I don’t know who made up these stupid rules (the nitpicky parts), probably the same people who decided bullshit was a bad word.
Some of my favorite sentences from literature are run-ons.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." Jack Kerouac
I know the easy ones— use a period at the end of a sentence, and my two other favorites- the … the ( parentheses) and !!!
It’s the comma that’s a little bitch! I know to use a comma when you take a pause, or make a list-- example--apples, bananas, and grapes.
Emailing editors and literary agents — I was on eggshells that my mistakes, would be like glowing neon splatters under a black light in a motel room.
Finally, l found one punctuation rule I could remember for these little shits. FANBOYS - it's an acronym for FOR, AND, NOR, BUT, OR, YET, and SO. And FANBOYS follow comma girl everywhere she goes.
Or that's what the fucking teacher said, and then an editor I worked with on my book told me, "Remember with commas- when in doubt leave it out."
WTF!?
I don't know if I'm the only one that struggles with this, but I would love to.
I got my first diary on Christmas Eve when I was eight years old— the same night, my dad shot himself. From then on, I wrote endlessly… a stream of consciousness… using my own little flow of dots and dashes.
As a kid, we moved constantly. I changed schools 8 or 9 times before fifth grade — so I missed compound sentences, comma splices, and conjunctions completely.
In middle school, my stepdad was obsessed with my report card, and punctuation kept me grounded for six weeks at a time— I missed most of the spend the night parties, slow skates, and football games on Friday nights. Every boy I liked broke up with me because “who wants to go with a girl that can’t go anywhere.”
The worst blow came when I was in junior college and entered a statewide essay contest. My American Literature teacher, Mrs.Ross kept me after class and said, “I’ve got some fantastic news! You won the contest!"
A couple of seconds later, Mrs. Clark (the dean of the school ) knocked on the door.
I overheard her talking to Mrs. Ross out in the hall. "Yes, we all agree she wrote the best paper, but we can't give this award to someone who doesn't understand basic punctuation and grammar. Honestly, I don't know how she graduated high school."
It went from pride to shame in seconds.
I’ve felt insecure and embarrassed about my skills ever since. But, I found a way to make it as a writer, the one place I could without understanding punctuation-- -As a SONGWRITER! And I've been doing it professionally for twenty-five years.
I made the “Songwriters Bad Grammar Hall of Fame” and went #1 on Billboard with my song, "My Best Friend," recorded by Tim McGraw (and written with my friend Bill Luther.)
The first line says, "I never had no one I could count on, I've been let down so many times."
The name of my last publishing company with Warner Chappell was "The Queen of Dot Dot Dot ... Music." That's because I still feel dyslexic and use… the ellipsis or his buddy Dash wherever I don’t know what to do.
I know there are a lot of comma counting out there-- who know all the rules and love to point them out. Honestly, when I see someone sprinkling semicolons everywhere-- I think what a dickhead. Spelling and math, the answers stay the same, but people are still arguing about an Oxford comma. It's getting better because most texts are just a three-paragraph sentences.
I don’t know who made up these stupid rules (the nitpicky parts), probably the same people who decided bullshit was a bad word.
Some of my favorite sentences from literature are run-ons.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." Jack Kerouac
I know the easy ones— use a period at the end of a sentence, and my two other favorites- the … the ( parentheses) and !!!
It’s the comma that’s a little bitch! I know to use a comma when you take a pause, or make a list-- example--apples, bananas, and grapes.
Emailing editors and literary agents — I was on eggshells that my mistakes, would be like glowing neon splatters under a black light in a motel room.
Finally, l found one punctuation rule I could remember for these little shits. FANBOYS - it's an acronym for FOR, AND, NOR, BUT, OR, YET, and SO. And FANBOYS follow comma girl everywhere she goes.
Or that's what the fucking teacher said, and then an editor I worked with on my book told me, "Remember with commas- when in doubt leave it out."
WTF!?
I don't know if I'm the only one that struggles with this, but I would love to.
TO ALL THE DOGS I'VE LOVED
My favorite dog I've ever had is Girlfriend. I've come to learn that your love-meter with an pet is kind of a mutual thing. Girlfriend is 75% French Bulldog, 12.5 Pug and 12.5 Boston Terrier, and 100% super-freak. She's the craziest, funniest, most unpredictable dog I've ever known. They say dogs emulate their owners, so I don't know what that says about me.
She is so jealous that you have to call the other dog to get her to come flying into the room. She's addicted to Nicorette, attacks vacuum cleaners, and weed eaters. She loves to play, and pees in paper plates then puts herself in time-out. And she LOVES to watch TV, especially dramas late at night. A couple of years ago, it was just me and her awake, and we were watching that super serious movie, Still Alice, with Julianne Moore. It's about Alzheimer's. I was almost in tears, and Girlfriend turned around and looked at me like — can you believe this shit?
She's codependent (maybe I should say we're codependent.) She's like a little armrest right up under me every night. She loves me more than any dog I've ever had. When we went to Europe for two weeks, she got stress-induced gastritis.
Then there is Batman— he's a black pug with a weight problem. He's always looking at you like he's trying to crack a safe. All he cares about is food and Girlfriend. But he's the most eternally optimistic dog I have ever seen. If you get up to go to the kitchen or the bathroom, or anywhere else, he follows just in case you might give him a piece of food. It usually works.
We lost our other dog Tina last year. She was a loner, unbelievably loyal, and kind of like an angel on earth. She didn't give much affection or want it and never fully trusted people after her first owner. The note with her at the Humane Society said "possible abuse, and that she was abandoned there because she was barking at chickens." Duh, isn't that what dogs do bark at birds.
Tina had short hair and looked like a normal dog when we got her, but within six months, she looked like the Big white creature from the movie-- The NeverEnding Story. People would say, "Dude, that's the biggest dog I've ever seen," or "That dog looks like a cartoon." We never figured out what breed she was. But she was the best guard dog ever. She patrolled the yard and kept the coyotes at bay. She sat in the sun next to the swing set and watched our daughter Lola every time she went outside.
We've also had dogs that were a little screwed up. When our boys were little, we got an Airdale Terrier, and I told our five-year-old son, Levi, he could name the dog. He jumped up and said, "Universal Studios!" Since I couldn't really see myself standing in the yard, shouting Universal Studios every day, I told Levi we'd go get ice cream if he picked a different name. So he settled on Harry Potter.
Harry was mental from the get-go. He probably did $10,000 worth of damage in his lifetime. He tore up pool floats, furniture and bit a hole in a gigantic bouncy house we rented right before my son Oscar's fourth birthday party. He ate everything too —including a whole 100 count box of Nicorette.
One day we were in the studio writing a song when one of our co-writers looked out the window and said - "Is your dog suppose to have that?" Chris and I looked out the French doors and saw Harry standing there with a full smoked turkey in his mouth. "Oh my God!" I flew outside, Chris right behind me. Harry made sure we saw it, then he took off running. We thought he had stolen it off the neighbors dining room table. Later that day, we found the ripped package on the porch that read "Happy Holiday's" from our accountant. From then on, every year, he found the turkey first.
There have been so many dogs I loved throughout my life — Harper, Benji, Jasper, and Rosie, my little copper Pomeranian. She lived with me in basement apartments when I was broke. Then I got her a friend- Gus. He was a Brussels Griffon, and Rosie was his world. She was killed by a coyote, and it was heartbreaking. After she died, Gus mourned her so much that he moved across the street. The neighbors had a Beagle mix and a dog door, and we just couldn't keep him here.
https://vimeo.com/498482738
She is so jealous that you have to call the other dog to get her to come flying into the room. She's addicted to Nicorette, attacks vacuum cleaners, and weed eaters. She loves to play, and pees in paper plates then puts herself in time-out. And she LOVES to watch TV, especially dramas late at night. A couple of years ago, it was just me and her awake, and we were watching that super serious movie, Still Alice, with Julianne Moore. It's about Alzheimer's. I was almost in tears, and Girlfriend turned around and looked at me like — can you believe this shit?
She's codependent (maybe I should say we're codependent.) She's like a little armrest right up under me every night. She loves me more than any dog I've ever had. When we went to Europe for two weeks, she got stress-induced gastritis.
Then there is Batman— he's a black pug with a weight problem. He's always looking at you like he's trying to crack a safe. All he cares about is food and Girlfriend. But he's the most eternally optimistic dog I have ever seen. If you get up to go to the kitchen or the bathroom, or anywhere else, he follows just in case you might give him a piece of food. It usually works.
We lost our other dog Tina last year. She was a loner, unbelievably loyal, and kind of like an angel on earth. She didn't give much affection or want it and never fully trusted people after her first owner. The note with her at the Humane Society said "possible abuse, and that she was abandoned there because she was barking at chickens." Duh, isn't that what dogs do bark at birds.
Tina had short hair and looked like a normal dog when we got her, but within six months, she looked like the Big white creature from the movie-- The NeverEnding Story. People would say, "Dude, that's the biggest dog I've ever seen," or "That dog looks like a cartoon." We never figured out what breed she was. But she was the best guard dog ever. She patrolled the yard and kept the coyotes at bay. She sat in the sun next to the swing set and watched our daughter Lola every time she went outside.
We've also had dogs that were a little screwed up. When our boys were little, we got an Airdale Terrier, and I told our five-year-old son, Levi, he could name the dog. He jumped up and said, "Universal Studios!" Since I couldn't really see myself standing in the yard, shouting Universal Studios every day, I told Levi we'd go get ice cream if he picked a different name. So he settled on Harry Potter.
Harry was mental from the get-go. He probably did $10,000 worth of damage in his lifetime. He tore up pool floats, furniture and bit a hole in a gigantic bouncy house we rented right before my son Oscar's fourth birthday party. He ate everything too —including a whole 100 count box of Nicorette.
One day we were in the studio writing a song when one of our co-writers looked out the window and said - "Is your dog suppose to have that?" Chris and I looked out the French doors and saw Harry standing there with a full smoked turkey in his mouth. "Oh my God!" I flew outside, Chris right behind me. Harry made sure we saw it, then he took off running. We thought he had stolen it off the neighbors dining room table. Later that day, we found the ripped package on the porch that read "Happy Holiday's" from our accountant. From then on, every year, he found the turkey first.
There have been so many dogs I loved throughout my life — Harper, Benji, Jasper, and Rosie, my little copper Pomeranian. She lived with me in basement apartments when I was broke. Then I got her a friend- Gus. He was a Brussels Griffon, and Rosie was his world. She was killed by a coyote, and it was heartbreaking. After she died, Gus mourned her so much that he moved across the street. The neighbors had a Beagle mix and a dog door, and we just couldn't keep him here.
https://vimeo.com/498482738
January 9, 2021
TALKING TO THE SKY TITLE
I found the title for Talking to the Sky one night when I was walking around in our driveway.
I'd been working on my memoir for three or four years and still had no idea what to call it. Nothing felt right.
I looked up at the stars and asked, "what am I gonna call this book?"
That's when it hit me— TALKING TO THE SKY. The Sky is where I have always gone, when I had questions that were too big to ask anybody else, and when I felt lost in my life.
As a kid, when I felt powerless and alone, I loved to climb a tree or lay on a towel in the yard and stare up at the clouds and dream. The Sky was kinda like my imaginary friend. In the daytime, I liked to pretend she had on her favorite faded jeans and a white cotton T-shirt, then at night, she wore a little black dress and all her bling.
I went to the Sky when I was a teenager — the night I almost ended my life before it had even begun. And again, the night my first husband beat me up and bit me in the face.
I'm not sure who I'm talking to — God, The Universe, Angels, My Dad. But, I believe something somewhere is listening to our prayers.
I'd been working on my memoir for three or four years and still had no idea what to call it. Nothing felt right.
I looked up at the stars and asked, "what am I gonna call this book?"
That's when it hit me— TALKING TO THE SKY. The Sky is where I have always gone, when I had questions that were too big to ask anybody else, and when I felt lost in my life.
As a kid, when I felt powerless and alone, I loved to climb a tree or lay on a towel in the yard and stare up at the clouds and dream. The Sky was kinda like my imaginary friend. In the daytime, I liked to pretend she had on her favorite faded jeans and a white cotton T-shirt, then at night, she wore a little black dress and all her bling.
I went to the Sky when I was a teenager — the night I almost ended my life before it had even begun. And again, the night my first husband beat me up and bit me in the face.
I'm not sure who I'm talking to — God, The Universe, Angels, My Dad. But, I believe something somewhere is listening to our prayers.
WRITING THIS BOOK
I could write a book about the crazy shit I've gone through while writing my book, Talking to the Sky. It's been a 13 year soul-testing, heart-wrecking, mind-bending journey through the process. I've had a spiritual breakdown, got TMJ, and my eyesight just pretty much just said, "Fuck you," and left. My OCD went into overdrive, and every day that I sat down to write, I started over on the chapter I had been working on the day before because I knew I could do it better. This went on endlessly day after day. I struggled with paralyzing self-doubt and fought that little nonstop fucker in my head that won't shut up... "You don't know what you're doing. You're never going to finish this book. You've wasted over a decade and everybody thinks you're fucking crazy."
I got to the point where I couldn't even talk about my book without crying. I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't know how to do it, but it felt like something in the universe wanted me to write this book. Even when I prayed for God to take this dream out of my heart, it didn't budge. It was running my life and felt like a rotten abscess that I just had to get out, but I didn't know how to finish it. I was lost in words that were all beginning to look the same. My world is like that movie A Beautiful Mind, except for me, it’s words instead of numbers. I was stuck for years writing and rewriting. The book worked its way into my dreams, and I felt like I would never finish it.
I went everywhere I could think of for help. I drove to Monroeville, Alabama to stalk the legendary and reclusive author, Harper Lee. To Kill a Mockingbird is one of my favorite books and one of the biggest books of all time. I thought if anybody could help me, it was her, but that trip turned into an absolute heartbreak, mind- rape, nightmare disaster, and I'll probably never be all the way over it.
I went to the Tony Robbins event, Unleash the Power Within. I loved it so much and got so pumped up. I felt almost ecstatic. My husband Chris almost shit his pants when he found out that in the spur of the moment, I purchased tickets to the next Tony Robbins seminar. The tickets were $10,000 and it was in Fiji. the plane tickets were almost $3,000, but I needed help.
The second seminar was called “Business Mastery.” It must have been meant to be for us to go to that event. Tony Robbins and I got in an intense, ten minute screaming, cussing, surreal showdown and it was awesome. By the end, we were both crying. You know you’ve got some crazy shit going on if you make Tony Robbins cry.
I can't believe I'm posting the audio, but it happened in front of over 200 people and it helped a lot of them and made me realize how -- we really are all the same. Everybody's aching for something. Here's a link to the audio. It's intense, crazy emotional and vulnerable, but if it helps anybody out there, it's worth it.
I drove to Georgia to take a writing class from Pulitzer Prize winning author, Rick Bragg. He's from Alabama and our hometowns are 15 minutes apart. I asked him so many questions in a row, so fast that he started yelling at me and cussing, "If you'll let me answer the damn question."
I talked to one of my favorite authors, Maya Angelou, on the phone. The first words she said to me, "I'm so glad the deciding genies have put us together," and chills shot down my arms. WHEN I imagine the voice of God, it's hers.
I went to the Oprah seminar, Live Your Best Life, and randomly met her in the workout room where I had one of my most embarrassing moments (and almost nothing embarrasses me). I told the actor Jamie Foxx what happened backstage at an awards show. he laughed so hard choked on his drink.
The Oprah story is nuts and I’ll BLOG ABOUT THAT LATER...
Eventually, I realized that even the most influential, inspirational people in the world didn’t have the little golden key I was looking for. I had to find it inside me. I think it was fear paralyzing me and the overwhelming feeling that I did not know what I was doing.
Only God knows the mental hell I put myself through with this book and my OCD. I know I've got some kind of soul scars from this shit, but the simple fact that I finished my book proves to me 100% for sure that anybody can do anything. It would be easier to write songs backwards and climb Mount Everest in a blindfold than the shit show I WENT THROUGH trying to finish this book. I'm on the very last edit and I feel like I'm about one good night's sleep away from a psych ward. I totally get why authors load their pockets down with stones and walk into lakes or stick their heads in ovens. The suicide rate is off the charts for authors, and now I know why, because writing books drives people fucking crazy. I have no true idea of why I wrote my memoir except for that I never had a choice. My prayer is that it helps people. That will make it worth it. Just like the first line OF THE BOOK: "All my greatest gifts have come wrapped in ribbons of pain."
https://www.talkingtothesky.com/blog/writing-my-book
I got to the point where I couldn't even talk about my book without crying. I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't know how to do it, but it felt like something in the universe wanted me to write this book. Even when I prayed for God to take this dream out of my heart, it didn't budge. It was running my life and felt like a rotten abscess that I just had to get out, but I didn't know how to finish it. I was lost in words that were all beginning to look the same. My world is like that movie A Beautiful Mind, except for me, it’s words instead of numbers. I was stuck for years writing and rewriting. The book worked its way into my dreams, and I felt like I would never finish it.
I went everywhere I could think of for help. I drove to Monroeville, Alabama to stalk the legendary and reclusive author, Harper Lee. To Kill a Mockingbird is one of my favorite books and one of the biggest books of all time. I thought if anybody could help me, it was her, but that trip turned into an absolute heartbreak, mind- rape, nightmare disaster, and I'll probably never be all the way over it.
I went to the Tony Robbins event, Unleash the Power Within. I loved it so much and got so pumped up. I felt almost ecstatic. My husband Chris almost shit his pants when he found out that in the spur of the moment, I purchased tickets to the next Tony Robbins seminar. The tickets were $10,000 and it was in Fiji. the plane tickets were almost $3,000, but I needed help.
The second seminar was called “Business Mastery.” It must have been meant to be for us to go to that event. Tony Robbins and I got in an intense, ten minute screaming, cussing, surreal showdown and it was awesome. By the end, we were both crying. You know you’ve got some crazy shit going on if you make Tony Robbins cry.
I can't believe I'm posting the audio, but it happened in front of over 200 people and it helped a lot of them and made me realize how -- we really are all the same. Everybody's aching for something. Here's a link to the audio. It's intense, crazy emotional and vulnerable, but if it helps anybody out there, it's worth it.
I drove to Georgia to take a writing class from Pulitzer Prize winning author, Rick Bragg. He's from Alabama and our hometowns are 15 minutes apart. I asked him so many questions in a row, so fast that he started yelling at me and cussing, "If you'll let me answer the damn question."
I talked to one of my favorite authors, Maya Angelou, on the phone. The first words she said to me, "I'm so glad the deciding genies have put us together," and chills shot down my arms. WHEN I imagine the voice of God, it's hers.
I went to the Oprah seminar, Live Your Best Life, and randomly met her in the workout room where I had one of my most embarrassing moments (and almost nothing embarrasses me). I told the actor Jamie Foxx what happened backstage at an awards show. he laughed so hard choked on his drink.
The Oprah story is nuts and I’ll BLOG ABOUT THAT LATER...
Eventually, I realized that even the most influential, inspirational people in the world didn’t have the little golden key I was looking for. I had to find it inside me. I think it was fear paralyzing me and the overwhelming feeling that I did not know what I was doing.
Only God knows the mental hell I put myself through with this book and my OCD. I know I've got some kind of soul scars from this shit, but the simple fact that I finished my book proves to me 100% for sure that anybody can do anything. It would be easier to write songs backwards and climb Mount Everest in a blindfold than the shit show I WENT THROUGH trying to finish this book. I'm on the very last edit and I feel like I'm about one good night's sleep away from a psych ward. I totally get why authors load their pockets down with stones and walk into lakes or stick their heads in ovens. The suicide rate is off the charts for authors, and now I know why, because writing books drives people fucking crazy. I have no true idea of why I wrote my memoir except for that I never had a choice. My prayer is that it helps people. That will make it worth it. Just like the first line OF THE BOOK: "All my greatest gifts have come wrapped in ribbons of pain."
https://www.talkingtothesky.com/blog/writing-my-book
