JAPAN & FRANCE HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE!!!

 

Dispatches From the Coronavirus Days #9- Vaguely Humorus Edition

There isn't much to laugh at right now and any attempts are no doubt strained. However, even in the midst of bleak tragedy, there will always be idiots sent forth to amuse us. That's why I'm starting with

Florida Man got Elected to Office to Share a Cure: A County Commissioner from Florida whose last name, of course, is Culpepper claimed he had found a Covid-19 cure which he happily shared with the world. Citing a non-existent doctor on a non-existent segment on the One America News Network. That miracle cure? A blowdryer aimed right up the nose. That's right. According to Culpepper, since the nasal passages are the wettest part of us (no comments, please) the blowdryer can be used to kill the virus before it moves on to the lungs. Culpepper was later called out on his cure claim and issued an apology for instilling false hope. His reasoning? He was trying to give hope to those without health insurance. Let's file this one under well-intentioned/indicative of our healthcare system.

China and the Gay Mafia are to Blame: One of the many truly frightening things about the Trump administration is how so many of them, sans Trump, of course, are insane religious fanatics. Case in point: Ralph Drollinger, a minister who leads  morning prayer meetings every Wednesday for the president's cabinet. In a series of blog posts and *ahem* "study guides," the former college basketball player turned clergyman alludes to God's judgment without fully commiting to the idea that this particular virus is the outcome of it. He did, however, mention the Chinese as if they maliciously released the virus on us, also as if they haven't suffered the most from it so far. He also, somewhat masterfully, implicated homosexuals and environmentalists. This is the person to whom Mike Pence, Betsy Devos and Ben Carson listen WEEKLY for spiritual guidance. If that isn't tragically and horrifyingly hilarious, what is?

Teenagers Eating Corn are Tired of being Quarantined: If that title doesn't make sense to you, it's probably because you know how to spell "Quarantine," unlike several online folk who spell it like this:

Embiggen the image and see for yourself.


Eye-talians Don't Play: I've already written about the teenagers who think spitting on produce during a global poandemic is cool and funny, but I'd love to see them give that a try in Italy. If this video of a man getting his ass handed to him for spitting on produce is any indication, Italian justice suits the offense.

Profiteering, it's not just for Vulture Capitalists Anymore: We all know there's a whole pond of scum doing their level best to profit from his horrible tragedy from Hobby Lobby CEO David Green, who refuses to close for "shelter in place" orders unless the power is turned off and various other businessmen and politicians. But who says it has to all be negative? Well, certainly not whoever compiled the list pictured below:

Ah, gallows humor. Eases the pain...for about eight seconds.

I'll see myself out, but first, a meme that is both poignant and funny, especially to this kaiju fan:

"Besides, he'll probably only kill the slower, elderly people and I'm sure they're willing to sacrifice themselves so the economy doesn't collapse!"

More to come~



Read previous Dispatch here.

Small Presses (A Brief Thought-Stream)

I subscribe to a certain weekly email newsletter that graciously provides lists of upcoming anthologies that are open to submissions. Most of my recent published work has been due to this list, so my gratitude is boundless. Therefore, please note this is not in any way a criticism of the compiler(s) of the weekly list. Instead, it's an observation about the level of expectation smaller publishers often have when it comes to their anthologies.

Anyone who has submitted fiction knows the pay-scale isn't exactly encouraging. There's a double-edged sword these days. There are more markets looking for work than ever before (I refuse to refer to my work or the work of others as "content") and the Internet has made it the easiest it's ever been to submit to them. So on the up side, it rarely costs anything to send out one's stories. No more self-addressed stamped envelopes, for the most part. On the down side, however, the innumerable smaller publishers can't afford to pay very much.

That's perfectly understandable. And while the amount of money involved should not dictate the quality of what they're seeking (I know this flies in the face of supposed conventional capitalistic wisdom) it should dictate what they require in addition to receiving said work.

What I'm getting at, quite simply, is if you can only pay someone twenty dollars for their hard work, don't also expect them to do additional work before you will even deign to consider reading it.
That is not a privilege you should possess until you can at least pay semi-pro rates.

I don't write this as someone who hasn't been on the other side of the submission wall. I have edited and published a magazine as well as two anthologies and never once did I require anything further than the story itself and any agreed upon edits/rewrites. I certainly wasn't full of myself enough to require a written proposal before I would even read their work. Why not charge a submission fee while you're at it?

Better yet, here's a urine sample and a list of the last five people I slept with.

I'm all for lofty goal-setting and aspirations of literary godhood, but come on. Twenty bucks barely fills most gas tanks these days. The "exposure" claim has been debunked far too many times for me to lend it any credence. Publishers are not supposed to remind us of employers that act like their workers should be grateful for minimum wage despite it being a law they have no choice but to observe.

You're supposed to be better than those low-lives. You're supposed to understand what writers go through both professionally and personally. Since your reach exceeds your grasp, try wrapping your hands around a big pile of perspective and get over yourselves~

Shameless Self-Promotion and why I still avoid it.

Yesterday I was chided by a co-worker as we walked into one of the libraries I work for to start our day. She and I have worked together for at least two years  now if not longer and somehow she had never heard that I was a published author.

Keep in mind, this is a library. A place that could potentially carry my work and larger collections containing my contributions. Most of the people I work with know I'm a writer, although some of them may not know how much I've actually had published. Some of you are probably reading this in disbelief, thinking about how if you were a published author, everybody would know about it. I have no problem with that, it's just not how I have chosen to live my life.

I am by no means an extremist, however. I have a colleague from my old writing workshop days who doesn't tell co-workers anything about her secret identity as a published author. She prefers to keep the two parts of herself separate. I don't mind mixing them because, to my way of thinking, they aren't separate.

Being an author isn't a "side-hustle," that loathsome, ubiquitous expressions notwithstanding. It is the direct end result of being a writer. The author completes his or her work and sees it published and, gods willing, read by at least one dedicated, lonely individual out there living in a Unabomber-style shack, with apologies to The Simpsons. It is the final manifestation of all those undeniable creative urges we have felt since we can remember. The need to tell a story, to express one's self, cannot be reduced to a mere "hustle" to obtain extra cash. We'll leave that to dubious success stories such as the so-called "Food Babe and this guy.

So, when pressed to talk about my writing, a small part of me feels like a cheap huckster if I go too far, which I define as mentioning all the low, low prices my work can be purchased for if you just act now! 

What do I look like, one of those brazen self-publishing fanatics who fell for the algorithm-manipulating strategy of the mid-2000s?

I suspect my co-worker felt out of the loop more than anything else. When I told her I post on Facebook about my work all the time, she told me she only went on Facebook to read my bizarre, funny rants. I didn't have the heart to tell her she basically has seen my writing in that case.

However, in the interest of not alienating anyone who might be unaware of how or where to find the bulk of my published work, click this link.

CONFIRMATION RECEIVED

My short story, "Time of Expansion" will be appearing in the Horror Zine's physical magazine in the Spring 2019 issue. This marks a return to publisher/editor Jeani Rector's award-winning publication  for me as I have not had a story published there in at least five years.

More on this as it becomes available!

Open Letter to a Certain Reviewer (The post where I get a lil' petty but not very)

Foreword: It still makes me giggle uncontrollably when I say I Googled myself. The images it conjures up instill in me a certain middle school level glee and I do not apologize for that. What I will apologize in advance for, however, is the minor descent into writer pettiness you will bear witness to if you keep reading this post. Who am I kidding? Most of you wouldn't miss that for anything!

Well, today you can consider me the Aaron Spelling of bloggers; far be it for me to not give the audience what it thinks it wants.

Dear Reviewer,

Sometimes I Google myself. I'm not proud of it but I'm a lonely, lonely man and when I'm alone in the dark, certain alluring thoughts enter my mind and I --- Never mind that. This letter is to follow up on your review of one of my short stories from 2011. That's right! Two-thousand ELEVEN. 

Before you start thinking you've been in my head like Thanos has been with Tony Stark, (That's a Marvel Cinematic Universe reference, which I'm sure you consider yourself above) I had forgotten about the review until today, when I decided to go against the laws of my religion and Google myself to a satisfactory conclusion. 

I do that on occasion so I can see if there's any new me-related information online that I can share with the readers of this blog. I actually ran across two reviews of my work by you, both from different editions of a particular publisher's annual anthology, and neither was favorable. And that's okay. One cannot go into this field and expect nothing by praise and positive responses. There will be be those who dislike what you offer no matter what it is. I certainly have authors I feel that way about and I would have to be a fool to think I wouldn't have the same effect on others.

So, please do not take the following sentences as an indictment of your absolute right to hate what I wrote, Reviewer. In fact, much like working in a laughingly named "Right-to-Work State," as a reader, you have no obligation to explain why you dislike anything you read. As a reviewer, however, a certain amount of comprehension is expected and, dare I write it, encouraged? Judging by your dismissive review and its incorrect conclusion about my story, I am confident you do not grasp stories that don't spell out their concepts and plots in easily digested bursts of exposition. 

As they say these days, "Do you, man." That means be who you are without feeling pressured to be someone else. Sorry if it wasn't clear the first time.

I suppose if pinned down, I would be forced to say my main issue with your review was its tone. As pointed out earlier, arrogant dismissiveness should come with a working understanding of the thing being dismissed. Your review did not because you obliviously admitted to missing the whole point of the plot. Where I come from --this place called Earth-- that negates your entire point of view. If you aren't even able to tell whether or not the fate of a character is Option A or B when it should be clear by the end, I can forward some sit-com pilot scripts that might be more in line with your comprehension level.

If you think I'm being petty or an asshole or both, you're right. Your review inspired me to act in kind, except in my case I actually comprehend what I'm discussing. I Googled you, too. I found a much older man than I'd expected, which was a tad disappointing. I saw your one professional sale, which was surprising, but I commend you for reaching that level. It doesn't appear as though you ever did again, and that's okay. At least you can say you did it. But I don't think you feel that way about it. I think you're angry at every story you read that doesn't meet your narrow-minded standards precisely because you didn't continue to reach that level. I can only hope you were being intentionally obtuse when it came to my story (and a few others in the anthologies) but something tells me your confessed inability to understand things that aren't made clear is also the reason those professional sales didn't keep happening.

I'm going to bring this letter to a close now. I've already devoted more time and space to your review than you did to my story. Let me close by saying I have also worked as a reviewer. Perhaps because one of my three great writing mentors taught me to focus on the written work rather than the author's intent, I at least make an attempt to be fair-minded. I don't have much patience for bad writing but I also know that's a subjective term. I hope I never become like you and forget that. 

Not-So-Warmest Regards,

Christopher Nadeau
Author

Something New is Coming in 2019

Without revealing too much, a new type of blog featuring me and one other person is on its way. I won't reveal its nature just yet but once it's up and running, nobody who knows either one of us should be surprised. It's something we've been talking about for years and we finally decided to make a go of it.

I have done a similar blog before but this one has a different approach.

Check back in a few days for more info and, most likely, a link!

<---- These people are waiting with bated breath!