Greetings ghouls. It's that time of year to surrender your machinations for just a moment to heed my curse of required viewing and reading, burnt offerings that exemplify proper horror.
For you bloodthirsty types, just go ahead and return to your corner of purgatory. If I have to explain to you that gore does not equal terror, then you don't belong in this crypt. Go revel in your sanguinary satire while the rest of us feel a real chill to the marrow.
And our first fright may have single-handedly restored the crown to American cinema for horror. The Witch is elegant, authentic, and most of all, a cringe symphony. It begins by locking you in the 17th century, forcing you to listen closely to the archaic English. When religious persecution causes a family to be banished from their colony, the cruel frontier deals them much more than just back-breaking work. Oh indeed, there is a witch who will entrance you and an uncharted direction with disturbing revelations.
John Carpenter worshippers will likely spot It Follows as a tribute to the director, especially from the soundtrack. If you were a teen in the 80s, there will be no escaping the haunting stroll down memory lane from the style of this chiller. There's one caveat. It Follows is better than just about all the low Bs of said decade. The story gets to the point in the first scene then never relents.
Rated R, David Cronenberg's remake of The Fly gets all over your skin like a swarm, but has fun. Compared to Jaws which was rated PG, the insect tale is actually quite tame. By today's standards, you may even find it okay for kids, but I'd suggest only if they are in double digits.
After the People Lights Have Gone Off, a short story collection by one of my fellow Coloradans Stephen Graham Jones, is the creepiest prose I've read all year. You won't be disappointed...which means you might lose a little sleep. Keep an eye out for them slick shadowy things. And for heaven's sake, don't turn around too fast if you feel a hot breeze on your neck.
All these postings about the similarities between writing stand-up and fiction, and I missed the big one. I mean gargantuan. If it had been a dinosaur it would have devoured me.
Perhaps it suddenly rang in my ears after studying Deacon's advice featured on here last month, or because I just wrote a routine that's been heavy on my heart, or due to me plotting a YA novella. Whatever the case, the skeletons under both arts revealed themselves to me.
Why do you like to write? For sure, there's a vanity element to it. Yeah, it's fun as well to turn a phrase or describe something colorfully in sparse wording. But if you shine the light deeper into your soul, you'll spot the real reason.
Because we're all bursting to tell the truth.
Lies surround us day to day like a growing breeze. Propaganda, the internet, advertising, your job -- they all spread it on thick in some way. It's so inconvenient to tell it like it is. So, in an artist's creative way, we like to sneak the truth in without bludgeoning the audience with it.
You've created these unique characters. The plot is tight. Your dialogue is cool. With much deliberation, you clipped parts that would slow the pace. And somewhere in that word count, you put your heart out there...because it's a safe place to do so.
Of course, our convictions can differ from others'. I find that where we all disagree the most is on the perception of a problem or how to solve one more than if something is day or night. But I digress. The point is: We all have two cents burning to get off our chests.
When I dismissed writing cutesy standup and went for a subject I feel strongly about -- the truth as I see it -- the payoff felt much better. We'll call it that artistic angle of persuasion.
For instance, optimism (or what it has morphed into in today's society more succinctly because there are no other good names for it) is annoying to me because it appears to ignore reality. Never wanting to offend anyone, yet dying to blurt out the way I see it, I worded my routine this way:
I'd love to be an optimist, but it's hard for me to understand them. They're mantra is, "The glass is half full." Well, if I'm on the couch with a half a highball of scotch and I got to get off my butt to pour some more, you can bet I'm going to drink what I got first. What do you know? Contrary to their cult beliefs, the glass really is half empty!
With my first ‘attempt’ at comedy in 2010, I met David
“Deacon” Gray, veteran comedian and New
Talent Coordinator at Comedy Works. We’d actually been introduced online
through a mutual friend because we’re all from Oklahoma, but with the face to
face acquaintance, I realized why they called him Deacon. A preacher’s brother, his kindness and guidance are
treasures, especially in the comedy business. Humbly and with consummate
professionalism, he offers pointers to his flock. For instance, he stresses to
newcomers the need to say or do something to help the audience like them
immediately when they take the mike.
Now writer friends, doesn’t that sound familiar? Hook the
reader on page one. Create a character with whom the bookworm can identify and
admire. Funny how entertainment and
arts have these techniques in common.
Speaking of scribing, Deacon has a Bachelor’s of Arts in Journalism with an English minor from
Oklahoma University and it shows. An author can listen to his hilarious act and
detect attention to word choice, brevity (the old less is more rule),
elaboration if needed, and of course that old literary device: irony. Just listen
to how sharp and fresh his performance is.
He is an inspiration to watch and I’m glad I know him.
Honestly, I get a little star-struck around him.
Welcome to Chiseled in Rock, Deacon!
CIR: I’ve been dying to ask you this: Have you ever pursued
publication?
DG: The short answer is no, I’ve never submitted anything
I’ve written to a publisher.
The only experiences I’ve had that might be similar involve
self-publishing. Growing up in Oklahoma gave me a strong DIY streak: I learned
to make my own fun. So, for three years immediately after college (1991-94), I published
a zine in Norman, Oklahoma. It was named the Oklahoma Comic Review, and featured comic strips, political
cartoons, puzzles, and, yes, a monthly column by me. Usually it was just new
jokes I wanted to try out, but sometimes I would write a column in character. I
remember one column was supposedly written by the Review’s plumber.
Then, in 2003-04, I published a couple issues of a smaller
zine called Gray’s Journal, which was
really just an excuse to print the pieces in my notebook that were too long or
too weird for the stage. One was a happy alternate ending to Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery. Another was an intervention
for a man who said, “wassup” too often. I think the longest piece was three
pages. That might be the closest I’ve come to writing and publishing prose.
CIR: A common tool used in prose and stand-up is the simile.
It seems the more I try to come up with a good one, the worse it gets regardless
of whether it’s meant for profundity or wit. Are they best from you a la
seat-of-the-pants?
DG: To me and my
way of communicating, simile and metaphor are absolutely critical.
So much of what we do as comedians is getting people to
shift their perspective, to see something routine from a different
point-of-view. And there are times when the ideas we are trying to convey might
be too sublime, too blunt, too odd, or too much of a stretch to state simply. Metaphors act as verbal ambassadors and
provide the audience/reader with a touchstone with which they can get to the
ideas more easily or more elegantly.
For instance, there’s a huge distance between saying,
“Donald Trump is a racist,” or saying, “Donald Trump is your racist uncle.” The
first idea is too on-the-nose, too politically charged, and too open for
interpretation (i.e. too broad). The audience is left only with the choices of
agreeing or disagreeing, usually based on their prior experience and opinions
or what they think the comic means by ‘racist.’ It’s not likely that you will
change anybody’s mind with the first statement.
But by employing a metaphor, the second idea is softened,
personalized, and makes it easier for the audience to identify and understand. Everybody
has a racist family member, so that communal idea provides a step to what you
are trying to communicate about Trump. And, most importantly, that step makes
it more likely that the audience will accept the shift in POV.
CIR: When writing a joke, do you follow a method, or jot
down something that strikes you as humorous, maybe both?
DG: I don’t have a method, unless endless repetition and
rewriting counts as a method.
In most cases, an idea will occur to me, usually provoked by
something I’ve seen, read, or heard. Sometimes the idea will present itself in
complete joke form, but usually I just pick up on something about the idea that
I find absurd or ironic or grandiose. Then it’s up to me to cast it in joke
form.
For instance, I looked at my notes from last night, and I
had written this: erotic novelties. I saw that on a sign on Santa Fe last
night, and something about the word ‘novelties’ clanged in my ear. It’s not a
joke yet, but I can see the premise in my mind: is there anything truly ‘novel’
about what they sell in that store? What would it take to catch me by surprise?
The next step will be to write it out in joke form, and see
if I can refine it to match my voice. Then I will try it on a stage somewhere.
CIR: Do you test a bit with anyone to see if it might ‘push
the limits’? The reason I ask is I’ve never heard you perform anything that
rubbed the audience the wrong way.
DG: I think part of my personal maturation as a comedy
writer was discovering that I could be subversive without poking somebody in
the eye. As a young comic, I had plenty of material that was edgy and
provocative. And that material worked fine… for a particular crowd. Anyone
outside of that small group usually saw it as heavy-handed, obvious, and
self-righteous. ‘Oh, you’re in college and you think war is bad? Didn’t see
that coming.’ There was no surprise in those jokes; no revelation.
At some point, I switched to a sugar-pill approach. The idea
now is to slip difficult ideas into bubbly material so that the audience
doesn’t see it coming. I think that’s a thousand times more subversive, and
also provides for bigger laughs because the audience is surprised. One of my
biggest joys is making an audience laugh at a difficult idea with a light
presentation. That way there’s irony in both the words and the performance.
Here’s a recent joke that might help illustrate the idea.
“My parents were Baby Boomers, so that makes me Generation
X.
Now we’re into the Millennials, and, after that, is the
Probably Fucked’s.
Then the What Did You Do To The Planet’s.
And then the Ooo We’re Thirsty’s.”
Didn’t see that environmental message coming, did you?
CIR: How important is it to cultivate following online?
Probably like comedians, writers, who often tend to be introverted, are
constantly nagged by agents to do so.
DG: It’s important if you are looking for commercial
success. Like it or not, most consumers do their shopping online now, and
social media drives people to your product. Also, a good online example of what
you do can often lead to more work. I’ve been booked for gigs off of videos I
have posted online. And there are lots of stories of comedy writers who got job
interviews based on their Twitter presence.
CIR: Did you always know that comedy was your calling?
DG: I always knew I wanted to write and perform comedy, but
I didn’t know that it was possible to make a living doing it. I grew up very
sheltered in Oklahoma in the 70’s. The idea of being a stand-up comedian was
about as likely as running off with the circus.
I remember the first time I was booked in the comedy club in
Oklahoma City (in 1986). The booker gave me the dates, the number of shows, the
comics I would be working with, and then offered me $250. That stunned me. I
had never been paid for doing any kind of performance.
CIR: From my point of view, your job as coordinator must be
difficult. With the tons of comedians in Denver wanting their shot, I think
you’re constantly queried—almost like a literary agent. What do you do to shut
down?
DG: The most difficult part of my job is the reality of the
occupation: many are called and few will make it. Almost all of the young
comedians believe they are only one good set away from a big break that will
lead to their own Comedy Central series. But the reality is that stand-up is a
difficult job that requires a lot of work, luck, and discipline to survive.
Out of a hundred comics, only ten have the talent and skills
to succeed. Of those ten, seven will quit. The remaining three will have a
career, but only one will get any fame, and that fame only lasts a second.
So, with those odds, it’s wildly important that you love
what you do. My happiest day in comedy was the day I stopped chasing fame and
started writing comedy that was true to me. And, ironically, that was when I first
started having some success in the business.
When you love what you do, you never shut down. I spend my
time away from comedy thinking of ways to produce more comedy. If I went to the
beach, I would just think of jokes about the beach.
CIR: Thank you, Deacon!
Friend him. Follow him. Buy his CD. Catch his standup when
you can.You too, will be hailing his
humor.
Did you know that Weird Al Yankovic majored in Architecture?
I’ll get to the nexus of this posting in a moment, but I have to cheer how much
that fact came as no surprise to me. He has always struck me as a balanced right and
left brain. He started high school at age 12 because he was so ahead of the
curve.
Nothing in my past is worth boasting about to that degree,
but I was a science major as well with my eyes always wandering to the heavens
of creativity.
And now my point: I embrace science in spite of all my
artistic endeavors. So when I share with you very real fears about technology,
you can bet I’m not being flighty. Come with me as I write my most horrific
piece, because unlike my creepy fiction, this is REAL. I’ll try to make it just
a little bit funny so you won’t bolt outdoors and scream, “The world is ending!"
Deaths will increase due to texting and driving.
Can you imagine the old cowboys complaining about the horseless carriages, and how
those big pieces of metal colliding with others would cause fatalities? Surely an
opposition group pointed this out back in the early 1900s. We pressed on anyway
in the name of speed and convenience. Want to hear the scary part? A demographic
exists out there that can’t even begin to fathom WHY THEY SHOULD WATCH THE ROAD
INSTEAD OF THEIR PHONE. They grew up in Techworld so it’s normal to them to
have eyes on a screen all of the time. Put all those lawbreakers on horseback
and I bet they wouldn’t give a damn about the gossip from their besties.
Identify Theft is so bad that YOU can’t even get
to YOUR accounts because of all the protective measures on them. Just wait
until it’s time to start drawing your 401k. Don’t be surprised if you’ll have
to send in a swab of your skin for DNA tests monthly just to get your check. I
actually carry cash most the time now. If someone robs me face to face, at least they only
get off with a few bills and not my whole damn life. Identity theft actually makes
muggings look BETTER. Our money is safest through paper transactions only now.
Television used to be free. Remember that?
Everyone complains about the economy, but if we weren’t forced to foot the bill for cable (because that’s the only way to
get your local stations now clearly), you’d have more disposable income. With
the ‘pulling of the plug’ on analog broadcasting in 2010 to supposedly upgrade to digital receivers that don’t
work unless you live 5 miles from the TV station, now you have to go without just the regular old news unless you shell out for the internet—another expense we didn’t use
to have.
Just like road rage reared its ugly head in the
80s because traffic reached an all-time high and drivers, disconnected from
being actually face to face with another person, did abominably stupid things
like hit their brakes in a huddle of cars, endangering everyone on the road,
social media has emboldened morons to new heights of asinine aggression because
they are not in proximity to the people they hurt. Most of us, when we go to a
get-together, were raised to be cordial to the other folks, in spite of
our differences. This means keeping your mouth shut about politics and religion for
the most part because you’re simply not going to agree with everyone on
everything. In a way, there’s nothing actually social about social media,
because the correspondents don’t ‘feel’ each other. The reason we have a law
that forbids yelling fire in a crowded house is because some turds actually did
just that. So, as more lamebrains carelessly stir the hornet’s nest on the internet,
lying, provoking, they can actually threaten our freedom of speech.
Phones are insanely expensive! Friends, they’re
not that complicated of a device. But you have to pay between $300 and a
thousand dollars for a new one and they don’t amount to much more than a radio.
Seriously. The word ‘wireless’ just means radio waves, the exact same ones you
used to listen to FM and AM with, except it’s digital. If you don’t believe me,
ask any engineer. And you have to get on a plan with that phone. A contract. This
is progress?
It comes down to this: The tech
industry is convincing consumers that they need things that they don’t actually
have to have. And then they’re taking just about ALL of your money in doing so.
And too many consumers are using the technology recklessly. Hopefully I was careful with my rhetoric on this 'tech' device. Thank God it's still free.
Of course technology has helped us in so many ways. Not the point of this article, though. Arrogance and 'turning our brains off' are the real dangers. Lest we forget, the Titanic was a technological marvel. But not a one advancement in engineering on that ship could have prevented the disaster caused by the smug, thoughtless imbeciles who touted it as unsinkable.
Everything that has anything to do with wealth and fame in
the arts is competitive. And honestly, competitive is too soft of a word. You’re-more-likely-to-get-attacked-by-a-shark-on-a-mountain-then-drown-in-a-bowl-of-Jello,
if that were a word, is more fitting.
That’s what comedy has in common with writing novels: It’s
tough to make it. Last time, I promised to look at the similarities between the
two pursuits.
The Slush Pile: An affectionate term for the stack of
manuscripts on an agent or editor’s desk, blocking your quick attention. A lot
of times, you don’t get any
attention unless the publishing pro knows you or sweet talks someone into
reading all of his or her backlog of submissions. That I know of, there’s no
cute jargon for this waiting list in comedy, but it’s alive and well. The
kicker is that the traffic holding up the ‘look see’ of your first chapters—besides
apathy from the recipient—is usually hacks destined to give up (like me) when
they discover the alarming amount of effort it will take for moderate success. Comedy venues are clogged with these too.
It takes a minimum of ten years to make it. Bryan Callen—Google
him and you’ll recognize his face—says that he doesn’t give advice to new
comedians, but he warns them that it takes a decade to get somewhere with it,
however that’s defined. The same goes for writing. Stephen King started at age
8 and got his first short story in print at 18. And Carrie, his big break, came
years later. Think about it. You could become a doctor or lawyer way faster.
Oh yeah, there are workarounds. Just like a turnpike pass,
you can pay for quicker rejection. Contests abound in both worlds. In comedy,
the pressure to wobble out onto the stage is intense enough. Add to that a
competition and you get lovely stomach pains. But the entry fee is usually
cheap. In fact, when I competed at the Comedy Works, I adopted the attitude
that the fee of $20 is the equivalent to buying a ticket just to watch the act…only
I got a bonus of getting to be up there too!
Theft of intellectual property goes on in both arts. It’s
probably worse in comedy. The ever cool Mario Acevedo said that someone in
Germany put their name on one of his books on Amazon. It looks like someone did
that with my Tattoo Rampage as well.
Funny thing is: it doesn’t bother me about my novel. The joke’s on them. They’re
not going to make any money off of it either! And with the stand up, two of my
bits have been stolen and turned into internet memes. Comedians are known for
swiping material.
Now for the filthiest word in the business, worse than any
string of F bombs a slimy comic could bark into a mike…marketing. Yep. The big
shots in comedy, just like publishers, harp about online presence and all that
nausea. The reality is: Unless someone with power or fame endorses you or you
invest your retirement nest egg into ads, at the most, you’re going to beg for
free plugs and inflate your ego so erroneously that it’ll come crashing down
like a texting driver on a mountain road once it finally hits you how you’ve
prostituted yourself out. I see these poor young comics working themselves to
death on social media and in dive rooms, yet they’re not gaining one inch of notoriety.
Average consumers wouldn’t recognize any of their names. Same goes for writers
out there trying to hustle without any backing. Believe me. Like a wide-eyed
hick, I fell for that blow to ‘get yourself out there and network’. It’s not worth
it. Of course, get out there and meet people because someone might be that voice who gives you the noticeable accolades, but leave the marketing to people whose job it is to do so.
Forgive me here as I end this article with the difference that drew me to the stage and
ultimately killed my drive for submitting manuscripts. Success doesn’t have to
be money. I would have considered myself a hit if people, other than friends, would have simply read
my work. Fellow writers, it just doesn’t happen unless you’re New York pubbed. I’ve
seen strings on Facebook where someone would ask for a reading recommendation.
I’d jump in and say, “Mine.” But because my ‘publication’ is just another one
of those E disasters, I was ignored. Who could blame them? But when someone
chuckles at my wit, I feel success. Unlike wishy washy feedback from critique
groups and editors, you know if your
joke works or not right there before the audience. I can scribble an idea down
in one day, tell it in front of a crowd that night, and feel that much craved payoff
which most writers never get…unless they’re famous. Simply put, it’s magic. The
coolest prose I ever wrote, getting a literary agent, the news that a Hollywood
dude wanted to pitch my story to studios—none of them thrilled me like the roar
of giggles at the Comedy Works for my sets. It’s a kind of writing—and comedy
most definitely is writing, a much more difficult genre—that gives just and
bountiful rewards for the effort. Sweet laughter.
As a super villain might say to the protagonist, “We are
very much alike, you and I.” (The bad guy—usually flaunting a British accent—always
has to tack on that ‘you and I’ as if it weren’t obvious already). But if it’s
a good story, that statement is usually true because that’s part of what makes
it a compelling yarn: The hero and antagonists are from similar backgrounds,
the latter choosing to use his or her abilities selfishly. Such is but one of
the thousands of techniques a storyteller must know to entertain a reader. When
I fiddle with humor, the super villain’s maxim rings in my ear because, as I
give it my all to make you laugh, I realize that there’s a lot going on behind
a simple joke just like the inner-workings of a plot.
For instance, if you’ve been scribbling for any time at all, my author friends,
no doubt you’ve been taught to answer these questions when starting a story
usually in the first paragraph: Whose head am I in? Where am I? And what’s
about to change? By addressing these prompts, the book will be more engaging
immediately and that’s important when a potential reader knows little about the
title and is trying to decide whether to get on the ride or not. In other
words, hook ‘em. Well, just like that my comedian friends are taught to GET TO THE FUNNY. Don’t
take a mike and blather on about yourself without at least saying something
that is meant for a laugh in the first 10 seconds. If you think ‘a funny thing
happened to me today’ is the way to tickle the crowd’s funny bone, you better
wear a cheap shirt because you’re going to sweat your ass off when your boring life
bombs up in front of the pack.
It astounds me. The most common
problem I see with amateurs is they’re so full of themselves, they forget that
they’re actually servants. Yep. Servants. They want to get paid to be
entertainers. Customers are only going to pay for what they want. Amateur
comedians and writers are so broken, so in need of approval and love, they
forget to ask: what would my customers love? I used to sit in critique groups
and try to tough down a hack’s boring story. When we gave so many of them
constructive, courteous feedback, they’d reject it. It’s almost as if they were
bursting to say, “I’M NOT GOING TO PLAY WITH YOU ANYMORE!” The conundrum to me
was: If they just want to write for their own satisfaction, then why the hell
are they joining a club to learn how to craft a book for commercial submission? They must have thought: I'm so amazing they're going to worship me and call their industry contacts to gloat about this unfound author!
But there's a lot of work before you get there. This leads me to the great Robin Williams. Watch him and his
comedy seems effortless. Seems. It's not easy. Sure, he was gifted, but Robin employed the
comedy technique to the T. Lest we forget, the master improviser studied Drama at
Julliard. He originally wanted to be an actor. Comedy, one of his natural
inclinations, came as a path to stardom. John Houseman (The Paper Chase) was one of Robin’s mentors. Anyway, one can see
Robin’s formal theater training when he launches into voices. Countless hours of practice preceded those gags that looked breezy. Also, most bits have these
element: Attitude, topic, setup, literary device, and act out. Robin always executed
his jokes precisely to the technique.
Attitude: The comedian takes the subject and applies one of
these attitudes to it: Hard, scary, stupid, or weird. The attitude can be
implied, but is often times stated outright.
Topic: It could be relationships, politics, religion (all
commonly used), or cars, astronomy, whatever.
Setup: A statement that’s NOT humorous, meant to inform the audience
what the joke is specifically going to exploit.
Literary Device: a simile, metaphor, or some clever play of
words to look at the setup differently.
Act Out: Pretending to be a character with physical movement
and or saying something.
Here’s one of Robin’s jokes (keep in mind it was performed
in the 80s):
“Piercing is weird. I come from San Francisco where there
are a lot of people into body piercing. They got to where they look like they’ve
been mugged by a staple gun. Fifteen earrings here, a little towel rack there.”
I won’t belabor you with pointing out all the initial build
up—most of it is obvious—but the gag is a simile or literary device (LIKE they’ve
been mugged), and can’t you see him pointing at his ears and body for the
imaginary piercings, using one of his thousands of voices? That’s the act out.
There’s discipline behind any art or performance that isn’t
readily noticeable by the masses. If you don’t know these and you’re wanting to
make a living in entertainment, and you think you're already great, try some humble pie. Learn your craft.
Another similarity. As writers, we are taught to watch word
repetition. The best comics are mindful of this as well. When I go to an open
mike, an obvious amateur will beat certain words to death. Profanity is common.
I don’t find profanity offensive, but what the hacks don’t understand is if you
lean on the F bomb in every sentence, it actually bores the audience just like
using ‘was’ too much in a manuscript bores a reader.
George Carlin, one of the filthiest stand ups of all time,
of course flung the dirty words around. What most people don’t know is he loved language. When he used profanity,
it was always ALWAYS for effect, most of the time when he was performing an act
out. George pained over every word he put in a routine and polished them for
optimal laughter. If it didn’t work, he cut it. Yes, he edited just like any
well-rounded author should do. Less is more.
There are lots more similarities between comedy
and fiction. My next observations will be in the actual industry; who you know,
average time it takes to become a pro, getting paid (Now that’s hilarious!), and
more on the lovely subject of arrogance.
Ah, those make-your-life-better publications abound don’t
they? Until a few years ago, arrogant snot that I was, I didn’t give them much
credit. That was before my great depression. Later, some hardbacks truly ‘showed
me the way’ to get better whereas others regurgitated common sense. All a
matter of perspective I suppose.
It’s uncanny that this
business/self-help book happened into my goofy present outlook – How to Fail at
Almost Everything and Still Win Big by Scott Adams. Yes, the cartoonist of
Dilbert.
Just weeks ago, I’d finally learned to quit yearning for carrots
like a toothless mule and instead enjoy the ride. You see, my goal a few years before was to become a
solvent writer if not published by New York. Moderate success came along, but
not to my expectation. Oh the agony! Any genre that I thought could get me
across the finish line is what I wrote. Go ahead. Call me a word slut. I’ve
been a very bad boy and deserve it. Anyway, the work proved to be life consuming.
Rarely did I have any fun. (Insert images of Nicholson maniacally typing ‘All
work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ here). I love putting words on paper
but gee whiz Beav, plotting novels, a humongous undertaking, started making my
pea brain anguish over the dubious payoff – not to mention the weeks or months
to complete the 1st draft. No wonder writers are always depressed!
So, comedy called me again. At first, if felt like going
over to someone’s backyard to play horseshoes. Relaxed. Fun. It takes place at
a neighborhood bar open mike. Because I’m not good at being idle, I soon
schemed up some directions for my ‘hobby’. Now let’s get real. At 50, my
chances of becoming the next Bill Murray is about as likely as Donald Trump
learning modesty. That, and due to my failure to snag the gold with writing, I
stopped short of declaring a goal.
I think I’ve stumbled on to something.
Scott Adams is a winner. Yet his take on ‘making it’ was refreshingly
contrasting to most success advice. On goals he writes:
“To put it bluntly, goals are for losers. That’s literally
true most of the time. For example, if your goal is to lose ten pounds, you
will spend every moment until you reach that goal-if you reach it at
all-feeling as if you were short of your goal. In other words, goal-oriented
people exist in a state of nearly continuous failure that they hope will be
temporary. That feeling wears on you. In time, it becomes heavy and
uncomfortable. It might even drive you out of the game. If you achieve your
goal, you celebrate and feel terrific, but only until you realize you just lost
the thing that gave you purpose and direction.”
Adams suggests other ways to better yourself rather than
obsessing on the end result. A touchy-feely, roll-with-it approach is what
rewarded him after years of dinking around and constantly regrouping. I should
point out that he owned two restaurants, designed video games, rose to middle
management in banking, and numerous other ‘attempts’ that were most impressive.
I’ve had a scattered career life also, but for far too long
I was hell-bent. Now, his words are preaching to the choir.
Check out his 2 cents on persistence. God, I love this:
“The smartest system for discerning your best path to
success involves trying lots of different things-sampling, if you will. For
entrepreneurial ventures it might mean quickly bailing out of things that don’t
come together quickly. That approach might conflict with the advice you’ve
heard all your life-that sticking with something, no matter the obstacles, is
important to success. Indeed, most successful people had to chew through a wall
at some point. Overcoming obstacles is normally an unavoidable part of the process.
But you also need to know when to quit. Persistence is useful, but there’s no
point in being an idiot about it.”
My Dad was a Mr. fix-it, Grandpa a carpenter. In a
respectable trade, persistence is a virtue and it was instilled in me like
Adams touched on. Unfortunately, I carried it with me into the arts thinking it
would guarantee progress. It took a
while, but I wound up proverbially following Hank Williams’ lyrics to “scat
right back to my pappy’s farm.”
Adams has solidified the optimistic view of my experiences
though. With all these failures, I’m ready to play them for their true worth. I invite you to give How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big a read. You may find that you're actually a conqueror.
Gusto Dave (Taylor Swift's male opposite...Tyler Slow)
