Stupid Things I Said Last Week

I’m faced with the opportunity to either work on the post that’s in draft status, work on my novel, work on editing, go frolic in chilly weather, or continue to sit on the couch and start something new. Guess what I chose!

Anyway, I was thinking about all the supremely stupid things I do during the week, and I came to the conclusion that most of the things I say are incredibly stupid.

The Simon Reaction to Social Situations

Sometimes they make me come off as arrogant, pretentious, or worthless. I’ve got enough self-esteem to put myself in none of those categories, but that doesn’t mean that, somewhere in my genetic makeup is the following:

if socialInteraction = true then

charm = kinda

funny = kinda

selfDeprecation = Full

turn

intelligence = off

abrasiveness = on

else = Write

NOTE: It’s been a long time since I’ve coded anything properly. Don’t try to put that into any programming language, please.

How do I know this is a genetic thing? Because my Dad has the same problem I do. (For example: He once called me up to tell me about how he insulted an old lady by insisting that the person in front of him was served before the old lady because, “Holy shit, she was scary.”)

So nu, I was in the kitchen, shouting randomly, because that’s what I do when I’m alone in the house (the dog doesn’t seem to mind), and I realized that, hell, I might as well start putting these up on the site. After all, I’ve got no distractions around and if I just sit around watching Seinfeld clips, as I usually do on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I’ll feel guilty for not having done anything during the day.

So, in no particular order, and reaching back in time just a bit, here’s a non-exhaustive list of stupid/pretty mean things I’ve said over the past week. If any of you have the ear of a deity, you might want to tell him/her/it that this is my way of confessing, and they should not banish me to a hell/limbo.

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How To Destroy Your Writer-Editor Relationship

Burning Bridge

The course of your career

As an obscure – one might say “unknown in every sense of the word” – writer, I get a lot of requests. Like these: “Want to write a paper for me?” or “Hey, write me a press release;” or, “Stop sending me things to read;” or “Stop writing me these messages, you are freaking me out;” or “This is a cease and desist order.” Sometimes, the requests are directly related to my experiences as a four-time Published Author, and most of those queries are stuff like “Should I abandon all hope of making money off of writing?” The answer to that, of course, is a resounding, fatigued, “Yes.” Sometimes, though, the questions are about how to write, or, similarly, how to go about the writing process.

While I’m not going to give you a thorough answer here – there are an absurd amount of blogs trying to do that already, and most of them give the same advice – I will give you valuable advice about your relationship with your editor, because I’m not cool enough to have an agent – yet. You see, your relationship with your editor (or agent, but for the sake of keeping it close to me, we’re going with editor) is one of the most important ones you’ll have. The editor is the person who sees all those first drafts, all those manuscripts covered in blood and coffee stains. The person who gets frantic e-mails that read something like one I sent recently:

Dear Hypothetical Editor,

I’m worthless. Everything I write is drivel. I’m going to resign myself to the knowledge that being an office cog is the only worthwhile thing I’ll contribute to society. The only thing I can write well is a note on a check that says, “Thanks for your business.” This writer’s block will never end, and I’ll never deserve an advance on a book. Please burn all of my manuscripts.

Sincerely,

Aaron Simon

And then they’ll get frantic e-mails that read like this (generally right after the preceding one):

Dear Hypothetical Editor,

I am the BEST. WRITER. EVER. Check this idea out, if you can handle it: A Jewish secret agent is pitted against an evil anti-Semitic organization bent on destroying EVERY SYNAGOGUE IN AMERICA. He’s on the case and on their trail, but when he meets a beautiful Iranian girl associated with the organization, who will bend in their beliefs first? Also: he owns a talking parakeet that houses the soul of Samson.

I smell a trilogy and MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

Signed The Best-Sellingest-Author-Ever,

Aaron Simon

So, all that in mind, I present: How to Ruin Your Writer-Editor Relationship

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The Handicraftsman’s Guide to Painting

Now, some of you might not know this, but I am a master Handicraftsman. (You know handy-mans and craftsmans? They’re below the rarely-obtained level of Handicraftsman. It’s kind of like the super-secret über black-belt in karate. In fact, we make the Freemasons look like chumps.) I rarely show people the extent of my abilities, since, if I did, I’d be out there painting and building everything people ask me to. Which would be a lot.

My last project.

If you doubt me, here is a picture of one of my constructions. You may question why the picture is in black-and-white, and my answer would be: Because in order to showcase that which is art, you must present it as art. Note the subtle use of nouveau-trash. I bet you don’t even know about that architecture style. Don’t feel bad, not many people do. It’s French. The structure – which I refer to as the Irony Heap – took four months of planning, three months to construct the frame, and an additional three months to construct the exterior. Yes, ten months may seem a long time to spend on a single construction, but I assure you: When you’re a Handicraftsman, time becomes something that’s secondary to perfection.

But I’m not coming at you today to talk about how to build something so striking as the Irony Heap. I’m here to talk to you today about the proper way to paint the exterior of a home. Or, if you need to, a car. They’re one and the same thing, and you use the same paint to cover each of them.

You see, my Mom is painting the front doors of her condo in Nashville and, as her son, I realized that it was my duty to help her. (Well, she told me this would take the place of rent, so it’s very much the same thing.) Without further ado – or, adieu, ah ha, ha – I present the Handicraftsman’s Guide to Painting.

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