Random

I read the news today, oh boy

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I want to write about writing and books and how great it is to be productive again. But, then I read the news. Another shooting. Another act of violence. Another story about someone dying because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or because they are at the end of their rope and think that their only option is to take someone with them for a cause.

As a writer, I try and use empathy to drive the emotions of my fictitious characters and the branded writing of my day job. Given a particular situation, how would a person feel? So, when I see these stories (police shooting innocents, people shooting police, religious zealots slaughtering as many people as they can), I immediately try and put myself into the shoes of the aggressor:

How did we get here? How on earth did we arrive at this very moment of action? What small event triggered the cascade that eventually led to this one? When was the point of no return? When did this become inevitable? When did this decision, this plan, this action, become the logical choice? Or the only choice?

My Mom used to say, “Well, some people are just sick in the head.” I don’t buy that. These things that have filled our news feed over the last weeks, months, years… they’re not random acts carried out by madmen. They’re planned and plotted by people whose algorithm for life has led to this final question and the only answer is Yes.

I can’t answer the ‘Why?’ of it all. I don’t know. I’m not there. I’m a white male in my early 40s who has a good job and a steady family life. My complaints are few and relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I don’t feel oppressed. I don’t feel like I’m treated negatively based on the color of my skin. I’m not afraid to go to work and do my job. I don’t worry about my safety every moment of every day. I don’t feel like entire countries are trying to destroy my religion. But, there are people who do feel this way… and not just as a passing thought. It dominates their lives.

Now, before someone claims that, by empathizing, I’m agreeing with their actions. Not in the least. I’m trying to raise a child in this world. And, as I’ve always told him, violence is not the way. But, merely condemning violence without trying to see the root cause is foolish. Through empathy, we can begin to try and understand, hard as it might be, what drives us all as human beings. Why we make the decisions we make. Why we do the things that we do. A little more understanding from everyone could go a long way toward making this a world where mass shootings and destructive violence are a thing of the past.

Thanks for stopping by and listening to me waffle on. Have a peaceful day.

Tally Up Twitter Tuesday – 2/10

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Twitter-Bird

Tweets from the last week that you might find interesting!

What Were They Thinking?

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questionmarks

Being a storyteller and working in advertising has its advantages. Each feeds the other to a degree. Storytelling is often about selling an idea. And some of the most memorable ads ever created were those that told a compelling story. So, that may be why a few of the “stories” told during last night’s Super Bowl commercials left me scratching my head.

Not every ad has to tell a story. Sometimes the funniest, most memorable ads are irreverent (though I’m often challenged to remember what those ads were for). But, if you’ve got an ad that’s supposed to tell a story, that story has to make sense. Beginning, middle, end. Compelling message that’s pulled through in the last act. Tough to do in a 60 second spot, but some ads pulled it off. I mean, the Budweiser dog being saved by the horses? It’s such a gimmick! But, it’s a gimmick that works. Dog gets lost, dog struggles to find his way back home, dog is saved by his friends at the last minute, friends reunite, and we live happily ever after. It’s simple, effective storytelling.

And then we had the Nissan commercial. Dad races cars (Nissan’s specifically), so Dad’s never home, and Mom and son watch his races, and the kid gets in trouble (I think) as he grows up, and then he’s leaving school and Dad’s there to pick him up in his new Nissan and… that’s it? And, as if that wasn’t poor storytelling in general, you’ve got Harry Chapin’s depressingly ominous Cats in the Cradle playing in the background the whole time. I was so absolutely confused by the message of this ad. Absentee parenting is absolved by the kind of car you drive? For the life of me, I couldn’t resolve the story or the message. Did it stick with me? Yes, but for the wrong reasons.

By now, you’ve probably heard of the Nationwide commercial, even if you didn’t watch the Super Bowl. The spot starts out whimsically, with a child talking about all of the things he’ll “never get to do.” Ride a bike, get cooties (animated into fuzzy little creatures), learn to fly, etc. Each “I’ll never…” gets progressively more dream-like and we’re feeling bad for this little boy because he has all of these ambitions and dreams that he’s probably just too small to realize. And then comes the sucker punch. the little boy looks into the camera and explains why “he’ll never.” “I couldn’t grow up because I died from an accident.” then the camera cuts to an overflowing bathtub, and open cabinet under a sink, and a toppled flat screen TV, with the phrase “The number one cause of childhood deaths is preventable accidents.” Uhhhhh…. what?! My son, who sometimes has issues separating reality from fiction (he walks along the edge of Asperger’s), happened to be watching that commercial. “Wait… did that boy die?” he said. I was stunned. I had no idea how to explain a commercial I was still having a hard time processing. “It’s not real, Buddy. It’s fiction.” “Oh.” The message? Maybe it was to counter Allstate’s “accidents happen,” but it felt more like “stop letting your kids die in accidents!” Yikes. Sorry, Nationwide, but you started telling a fantasy and ended with horror/tragedy. That’s not a crossover anyone wants to see.

Oh, and then there was that dancing cartoon foot with a fungal infection. Um… no. Just… no.

Did you watch the game? Did you have a favorite commercial? One that left you scratching your head? Let us know in the comments and thanks for stopping by! 🙂

A Vote for Simplicity

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I was browsing TED talks the other day, looking for some inspiration. I’ve been in a rut lately, both in writing and in life, in general. It might be seasonal. Maybe I need to up my vitamin D. Anyway, I found this video, which I invite you to watch. It’s a fascinating look into the success (at least in Norway) of simplicity. But, I think it speaks volumes to a need and desire to slow down and take in the scenery. So often, we lose sight of even the simplest of pleasures in our lives because of the “stuff” that gets in our way; work, significant others, children, family. The idea discussed in this TED talk started with a really long train ride. I’m curious to see where it goes next. And I know I would watch this channel at least for a little while if I could.

BTW… who is watching that cow? 😉

Here Comes the New Year… Same As the Old Year?

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I guess that depends on how you look at 2014. Good year? Yes, let’s repeat and grow. Bad year? Let’s not do that again, thanks. Meh year? Let’s make some changes for the better.

I had a meh year. I got some writing done, but nowhere near the amount I wanted to. I published Danny Dirks, which was great, but I’m struggling to get on with other projects now. The holidays were a complete waste of time for me. I got nothing accomplished and I blame part of that on simply being burnt out from my current job situation. The rest is just sheer laziness.

So, with some unintentional respect to Taylor Swift, I’m trying to shake it all off. That’s what a new year is all about, right? This strange feeling that something is starting over. That it’s an opportunity to change our habits by dropping the bad ones and making better ones. That, perhaps, we’ll look back this time next year and say, “Yes sir! May I have another just like it!” I need one of those. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a year like that. A great year. I mean, truly great, where I looked back and loved every minute. Maybe my expectations are too high? Or, maybe I’ve never dedicated myself to the changes that could make the year great.

Anyway, I’ve started reading more regularly, which always helps. Now I’ve got to get back into a regular writing schedule. In February, my regular commute into NYC will be over, so I’m hoping some things will get back to normal, but not the “meh normal”… the “working-to-be-better normal.” 🙂

So, how was your year? Good? Bad? Meh? And what are your plans for the new year? What, if anything, are you going to do differently?

Can I Critique a Man Booker Award Winner?

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NarrowRoadDeepNorth

Sure! Just like anyone can critique your books and my books (and boy have they!). It’s really that simple, right? In a country that loves to tout it’s freedoms, there’s an abundance of people willing to give you their $0.02. Sometimes that criticism is based in knowledge and understanding. Sometimes it isn’t, but the fact remains that it’s everyone’s prerogative to provide commentary on the written word.

So, mine happens to be about a Man Booker Award winner and the book is The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Let me start out by saying that the book is written very well. The command of language is clear and the author’s ability to describe emotion and conflict is outstanding. Really well done. The story deftly jumps back and forth between present and past and closer past. I was really enjoying it. Then, this historical fiction suddenly became a romance. Was it part of the story? Yes. But, it became so flowery and fanciful that it really pulled me out of the flow.

It hasn’t stopped me reading. In fact, it pushed me to get back to the good stuff and I’m glad I did. Flanagan has a lot to say about life. But, now that I’m 4/5 of the way through, I keep scratching my head about those 3-4 chapters. They’re part of a pivotal plot point, so it’s not like they’re superfluous. It’s the approach I didn’t like. It was the sense that I’d started reading another book in that section and the all-too-obvious ending fell flat.

I started reading this because one reviewer made a comparison to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, one of my all-time favorites. Doesn’t grip me the way that book did, but it’s still a fine read. It’s subject matter isn’t pleasant though, so be careful. WWII POW slave camps described in every wretched detail. It’s horrific and haunting. If you do happen to read it, or have already read it, let me know if the romance throws you off as it did me.

Christmas is only 3 days away! Can you believe it? 😀 

Said in a meeting yesterday…

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“For some, you have to water down the paper bag more than others.”

~By me, in regard to the ineptitude of some people. 😉

In Which I Lost My $#!@ for a Moment

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It takes a lot to get a rise out of me. It’s usually a slow building kind of thing that then explodes in a fury of jumbled words and phrases that make no sense and result in me apologizing profusely (usually to my wife). Sometimes I can ward off said rise by warning certain pokers that the bear is not amused. But my son (who just turned 9) is a different story. As any parent knows, children are an unending source of frenzy-inducing moments. Sometimes they make you laugh and sometimes they scare the living crap out of you.

In a recent episode of the latter, he and I were getting a gallon of milk at the local grocery store. I’d just picked him up from his after-school and we just needed to run in and run out. We got to the register and I waited for the girl to charge me, ran my card through the reader, grabbed my bag, turned and saw… nothing. My son was gone. I looked back up the aisle. No. Looked out into the little glass vestibule. Nope. Started panicking slightly and headed into said vestibule, only to lock eyes with my son, who was now standing in the middle of the crosswalk… in front of two stopped cars.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I said, hands raised in the air in absolute astonishment. He had just turned around, having apparently noticed (finally) that Dad was nowhere to be seen. He stood there for a moment, probably torn between getting run over and returning to me; certain grief in either case.

I was lost for words only momentarily as I dropped a “J.C.,” which was followed by a stern walk back to the car and pretty much me losing my $#!@ for the next 15 minutes. “What were you thinking!? You need to pay more attention! That’s how accidents happen! Did you even look when you entered the crosswalk?! Since when do I let you walk without holding my hand in the parking lot!”

When I was done, I was exhausted. Coming back down from my frenzied high, I said to him, “Well, congratulations on scaring the crap out of Dad for the first time in a long time.” By the time we pulled into the parking spot at home, he’d apologized several times. And, despite me having raised my voice to its greatest extent, he didn’t cry. I think he was in too much shock.

At this point, I decided to use this incident to motivate him in a chore he hates. I used my quiet voice. You know that voice… the one that’s slightly more scary than the raving one? The one your parents used that told you that you’d crossed some invisible line and sh!t was about to get real. “Listen. We’re going to go inside and you’re going to go into your room and start cleaning. You do that and we won’t have to discuss this with Mommy. Deal?” “Ok, Daddy.”

Now, before you get riled up at me not telling my wife, understand that I did tell her… after he went to bed that night. He’d had enough and I knew that it wouldn’t improve the situation if we started back up again as soon as we walked in the door. My wife agreed. She said, “I thought he was awfully quiet and obedient when he came in.”

Kids! Gotta love ’em, right?! RIGHT?! ;-D