Sometimes it’s hard to blow your own horn.
I recently attended a music festival to try to sell some of my books when I overheard one musician say this about my writing to another musician: “His writing reminds you of a clarinet — a wind instrument.”
Tag Archives: word play
Book jacket blurbs you may never see
Blurb for the memoir of Bob the electrician:
“His story was electrifying. Certain to have a positive impact on your life.”
Blurb for mortician’s erotic horror novel:
“His debut novel will keep you up all night and leave you feeling stiff the next morning.”
Blurb for a pharmacist’s self-help book:
“This book is the perfect Rx for what ails you.”
Blurb for a plumber’s thriller:
“This book leaves you drained.”
Blurb for a pet groomer’s memoir:
“His brush with death will leave you panting for more.”
Blurb for a firefighter’s collection of short stories:
“His wit is only matched by his striking ability to fire the reader’s imagination.”
From Wikipedia:
A blurb is a short summary accompanying a creative work … The word blurb originated in 1907. American humorist Gelett Burgess’s short 1906 book Are You a Bromide? was presented in a limited edition to an annual trade association dinner. The custom at such events was to have a dust jacket promoting the work and with, as Burgess’ publisher B. W. Huebsch described it,
“the picture of a damsel — languishing, heroic, or coquettish — anyhow, a damsel on the jacket of every novel”
In this case the jacket proclaimed “YES, this is a ‘BLURB’!” and the picture was of a (fictitious) young woman “Miss Belinda Blurb” shown calling out, described as “in the act of blurbing.”
The name and term stuck for any publisher’s contents on a book’s back cover, even after the picture was dropped and only the complimentary text remained.
To blurb or not to blurb, that is the question.
How my mind works
Sometimes when someone asks me a question, my mind goes on a rambling spree. Below is such a spree based upon an issue that came up at work. I place it here not because it is a masterwork of prose, but because sometime stuffing a response full of absurdities is the best I can do. Call it “How my mind works.”
My un-sophisticated wild donkey guess:
They (whoever they are) decide to re-open the contract for bids because they are looking for a version of the bids for separate (but equal) running of our place and the other one.
Then after another round of bids, public presentations (or whatever they are called), and an extension or two to get past the mid-term elections, the decision is made to either award one contract or two based on a giant rock/paper/scissors contest held on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool.
The entire event is MC’ed by Martha Stewart, who will show how to make origami and lovely wedding and holiday center pieces out of the loosing contract bids.
The looked inside his collapsed mind and all they found was a hollow laugh a pile of pumpkin seeds.
The losers will immediately file protests and lawsuits, claiming that the winner used disabled ringers who could only form rocks or paper with their arthritic fingers, and that bid information was leaked to retired generals by doctors’ wives and shirtless FBI agents, semaphoring in information about where the disabled ringers should stand to have the best chance of winning.
And there will, of course, be Congressional hearings at which octogenarian nuns with broken wrists will smile beatifically from the backs of the rooms as Senators and Representatives thump their chests and try to impress the doctors’ wives with their persiflage if not their perspicacity. All the while retired painters enhance the Congressional dome with a nice shade of blood red.
This event, in its entirety, will be carried live on Comedy Central, where the Daily Show will become a never-ending event unto itself, as – Thelma and Louise style – the federal government plunges over the financial cliff and into the abyss of absurdity from which it came.
We will all sit in stunned amazement, then slowly link arms as we rest on the Group W bench, and sing in slow undulation: “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / Walk right in it’s around back / Just a half mile from the railroad track / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant – excepting Alice.”
Filed under absurdity, How my mind works, Photo by author, Sunday silliness
Monday morning writing joke: no accounting for taste
Sometimes, there’s just no accounting for taste.
I tell ya, I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. I just got back from my quarterly beating … I mean meeting with my accountant. We went over my deductions as a writer. He said I should be careful what I claim. After we’re done and I’m leaving, he leans over and tells his partner, “He writes books nobody will read and checks nobody will cash.”
Since when did accountants become book critics? Cook ’em, yeah, but read one and have an opinion? Next time he puts his two cents in, I’ll make sure it’s in the right column, the one for trash. I know only too well where that one is.
Filed under cartoon by author, Monday morning writing joke
What I’m working on at the moment
I edit, write, design, edit, even do some the photography for a neighborhood newsletter for the historic neighborhood in which I live. Below is what I am working as part of the newsletter. I did not take the photos, but have cropped and processed them. They were color. They are now black and white, because the newsletter is printed in black and white.
Some of my neighbors went on rafting trip a couple of months back and the photos are from that day trip. The poem, “The Captain said,” is mine.
Neighbors Lauren Rider (left) and Pete Creel (right) head into some rough waters.
The Captain said
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he said it to our face.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
the river sets the pace.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
and then he said no more.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as we sailed away from shore.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as the river tossed us about.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as some of us wanted out.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
steering for the roughest part.
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he’d said it from the start.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as the waves thumped into the boat
The boat is fine, the captain said
as some of us tried to float.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
Come back again next year.
The boat is fine, the captain said —
but captain, I hope you’re not here.
Pete Creel takes an unplanned dip in the river.
Pete said the best place to sit on the raft was in the center, but two people had quickly seized those seats before he and Lauren could get in. He said he also felt that at times the captain / person steering the raft, aimed for the roughest patches of water to make sure he and the other members of the crew got their money’s worth in experience.
Filed under neighborhood, newsletter, poetry by author, writing
And now a word from our sponsor…
…the great wearer of the shield, cummerbund, and sometimes toga; great chair of the The Terrestrial Modernity of it All committee brings you:
The TerMoiall Thought of the Day:
“Remember, you are here for a reason. It may be an absurd reason, but even absurdity has its place, and you have a place in it. So revel in the absurd moment. Consider it a Cosmic Return on Investment Karma or CROIK. Even if it is a Stupid Hard Irritating Time, remember this CROIK of S*** shall pass.”
Filed under TerMoiall, Wednesday wit
Monday (morning) writing joke: hair of the dog
Writing tip: keeping tabs on your favorite writer can be surprising.
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. I went into a bar that caters to well-known writers.
I told the bar tender, “Give me what your best writer has most often in here.”
She promptly handed me the tab.
Freeform Friday: Ramparts of Obscurity
I stand on the ramparts of tautology
Forever eschewing any hint of scatology.
But don’t ask me this fine day
To bind my obfuscations away.
For where o’ where would I be
If I could not in confidence convolute thee?
Oh, where o’ where, pray tell
Would my alliterations have place to dwell?
I am but a humble servant of words
Trundling through this world of the absurd.
A land of regret full of monsters who fete
On a mind that will now be quiet.
Filed under 2012, Freeform Friday, poetry by author
Sunday silliness: Ripped from the headlines:”Girlfriend upset that parents are dating”
[Editor’s note: This is more than the headline or a line from the article, though the title is a bit odd: Girlfriend upset that parents are dating. The girlfriend of one of the parents. Dating her? I thought the title and letter/response was worth posting. It is from the “Ask Amy” advice column that appears in my local newspaper.]
Girlfriend upset that parents are dating
DEAR AMY: My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost two years.
(Ed. note: Each other, I assume, but this point is unclear. They could have been dating several people for a total time of two years.)
We plan on getting married someday.
(Ed note: Isn’t that what they always say?)
Yesterday we found out that his mom and my dad have been secretly dating.
(Ed. note: I guess it is a secret no longer.)
Neither his mom nor my father seems to see our problem with this. But if they continue dating and decide they want to get married, doesn’t that mean my boyfriend and I would now be brother and sister?
(Ed. note: Ah, the human genome conundrum.)
Is there any way I can talk sense into them?
–Betrayed
Once upon a half-cocked notion…
DEAR BETRAYED: If you truly believe that your boyfriend’s mother and your father marrying would turn you to into siblings, then — please — do not get married and procreate.
(Ed. note: Definitely good advice.)
If your respective parents are single and available, then there is no reason they can’t (or shouldn’t) date.
(Ed. note: Except maybe the chance that they could produce a half-Betrayed child.)
However, while there is nothing you can (or should) do to prevent these two adults from dating, you do have a right to express yourselves. Mainly, you should do your best to communicate your discomfort to both parents. They should do their best to be open with you.
If these two got married and you also got married, you and your guy would become both step-siblings and spouses.
(Ed. note: and the step-mother would also be the mother-in-law and the step-father would also be the father-in-law. Think of all the money and headache that would be saved at Christmas and other holidays, especially if the young couple has children. And if the older couple has a child, too, then you have a step-child that’s stepping all over the human genome! Oh, the humanity!)
Ripped from the headlines: Would you want to be this man?
Suppose one morning you woke up, and over breakfast opened the morning paper to find this ad thanking you for services rendered?
Would an advertisement such as this flatter you? Notice the heart border?
Such was the case for Mr. George Brownridge because of a shopping rip he arranged for some women. Something done every year. Some details here: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2178757/George-Brownridge-thanked-pleasing-15-women-entire-day-hilarious-newspaper-ad.html
Once made aware of their possible … ah … screw up, the ladies had this ad published:
An apology for any misconstruing of information.
No word as to whether Mr. Brownridge felt appreciative or deflated by the apology.
Filed under 2012, Ripped from the headlines
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