… in which she waxes philosophical regarding 50 Shades of Publishing

I get asked questions about publishing frequently, whether by e-mail or at book signings and events. Usually I shrug and mumble something about luck, because it does feel kind of arbitrary. But I thought I’d use this opportunity to answer as many of those questions as I can.

To make it more entertaining, let’s start by discussing Fifty Shades of Grey – since it’s one of those anomalies we really can’t use as a basis for any true conversation about publishing. But it’s always the kind of example writers pull out of their hats when they have dollar signs in their eyes and naiveté in their hearts.

So, Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James… The plot isn't exactly new, though I do find this cookie-cutter premise (used widely over the years) slightly creepy; vulnerable young woman, brooding older man, the former wishes to capture the latter's heart, thus achieving equality and love by physically submitting to him. Yeah, good luck with that. I'd expect this couple to either end up Jerry Springer or Dr. Phil's couch if this were real life. But when a book blows up like Fifty Shades, and you can’t get through two paragraphs without cringing or laughing, you want to know WHAT THE MOTHERFUDGESICLE THE BIG DEAL IS. What are you missing? So I went on a quest — and by quest I mean bought my sister a copy for Christmas and told her she had to read it and then be vigorously interrogated. Since I knew I probably wouldn’t get through it, someone had to take one for the team. And by the team, I mean me.

           Oh, I tried. Sweet baby Jesus, I tried. See normally, this is what you do: Pick up a book they say is all the rage. You read a few passages, think Meh and put it down. That’s fine. That’s okay. I shouldn’t judge it by the fifteen or twenty 3 and 4 page samples I managed to choke down. Maybe I just happened upon all the creepiest, most oddly written bits. I should sit down and give it a fair chance in all its read-in-one-sitting glory before I eviscerate it... with love. Right. Fine. I sit down and start turning pages.

          An hour of my life later (which I will never get back) I had to stop. Just not my cuppa. And that’s fine because it certainly is someone’s cuppa. A lot of someones.

EXCERPTS:

~“I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey-flavored popsicle. I suck harder and harder … Hmm … My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.”

~"‘Why don’t you like to be touched?’ I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. ‘Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.’ ” 

The book has its own Wikipedia page, fan clubs, been dubbed mommy porn, inspired chuckles, ire, and newfound sexual shenanigans for flagging married couples… allegedly. It’s even spawned Culinary erotica. I give you Fifty Shades of Chicken.

           One man even assaulted his girlfriend with steak sauce after she refused to stop reading the book. Come on! I wish someone would threaten assault by condiment on their partner after reading passages from one of my books! I’d wear that steak sauce as a badge of honor. And then there’s the Judge in Brazil who ordered 50 Shades of Grey removed from bookstore shelves.

      So, that’s how you do it, people. That’s how you sell books. We can all chuckle to our generic-buying, Walmart-shopping, collective heart’s content. FIST BUMP, E. L. James. You get mad props from me. Who cares what some elitist readers think when you’re raking in the royalties?

        Of course there are valid criticisms to be made. And not just about 50 Shades, but the dumbing down of literature as a whole, an argument that I’ve had all too often, given I’m an avid book buyer/reader and find it harder and harder these days to connect with what the NYT Bestsellers list has to offer. The argument that “at least it gets people reading” is like saying, “another McDonalds will get more people eating.” My answer to both is the same – everything in moderation is great, but too much grease can give you diarrhea. You know what I mean. I’ll let you pull the rest of that metaphor together yourself.

     So, as an obviously biased writer who believes life’s too short to read a badly written book, I took my questions to the readers – two women I respect and admire: one being my sister, another being an “Anonymous Popular Mommy Blogger who refused to use her name because you people are judgmental bitches.” I hope you’re proud of yourselves.

      This is what Sis had to say:

     “The sex part of the book was not good. Childishly written, even. She refers to her vagina as “down there.” That’s creepy as far as I’m concerned. Whenever she's turned on, Anastasia says things like: Holy Crap! or Holy Moses!" 

EXCERPT:

“Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow! … He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length. Oh no … Will it? How?”

Sis continues. “In my head I kept picturing Dorothy trotting along the yellow brick road singing Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! Not sure that’s the visual I’m supposed to be having every time Anastasia gets horny. And Christian started speaking like a cowboy half way through. ‘Mighty fine, ma’am.’ Not sure what that was about – but again, creepy. I don’t think the author understands the importance of leaving a little to the imagination, either. I felt like she’d written me into a corner of predictability and I couldn’t get out of it. Also, I wanted to throat-punch her inner goddess by the end of the book. I wasn’t interested in her POV, frankly. I think the author missed an opportunity when she didn’t write it from Christian’s perspective. I was way more interested in what he was thinking, but I never really knew because she just kept referring to him being “in a mood,” but it was never clear what that mood was because it was the only time she wasn’t overly-descriptive in the book.  The rest of the time she used too many adjectives. Bad adjectives, repetitive adjectives.”

YET ANOTHER EXCERPT:

“Sitting beside me, he gently pulls my sweatpants down. Up and down like a whores’ drawers, my subconscious remarks bitterly. In my head, I tell her where to go. Christian squirts baby oil into his hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness—from makeup remover to soothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought it was such a versatile liquid.” 

    Whores' drawers, indeed.

    This is what my “Anonymous Popular Mommy Blogger who refused to use her name because you people are judgmental bitches” had to say:

    “Look, I went to college. I've taught English, am a librarian, and actually get paid to write sometimes. I'm supposed to be one of those folks who can discern between Virginia Woolf and E.L. James.  Having said that, I think people just need to sit down, fan themselves, and be calm. Who honestly thought this was going to be great literature? It's a fantasy! And it's a fantasy based upon a monogamous, committed relationship. It doesn't need to defend itself. It's erotica. It just is. As a story, it is of some interest. Can a damaged soul heal enough to love? What is the fine line between sexy and kinky?  Should fantasy become reality? And it's interesting from a psychological point of view. But great prose it is not.  Nor did I expect it to be. So what is the value of shredding her style? I read it for a book group, and read the other two so that I could intelligently moderate our discussion.  (At least, that's the story I'm sticking to.) Though most of the actual writing made me cringe, I was engaged enough to stay up late reading to find out what… happened. My husband didn't read a single page, but he has many favorable things to say about it as well. Which brings us full circle to the point, I think.”

    “You know what, Jeni? Use my name: Leigh Merryday. Feel free to mention that I thought long and hard about being anonymous because of all the judgmental bitches out there but valiantly strove for truth instead.”  *nods sagely*

      (Now you can see why I like Leigh.)

    So, friends, the take-away here is: writing is subjective. What I think is pure shit, someone else might get something from and that’s great. That’s life, baby.

      Now… on to the subject at hand: Publishing!

     Something to remember: Publishing is a business, not an art. Well, there may be an art to it, but everything that’s published certainly can’t be considered art. Agents and publishers are here to make money and you better get nice and cozy with that premise. Sure, they may occasionally get a bee in their bonnet and publish something they personally related to, assuming sales will be low, but for the most part, if it won’t make them money EVEN IF THEY LIKE IT, they’re not going to spend their time and resources on it.

    Okay, so you’ve written the next Great American Novel. (Have you spell checked it, gone over it for flagrant adverb/adjective abuse and point-of-view issues? Have numerous other people (who don’t share your DNA) read it and given constructive feedback? Have you crafted a one page query letter and researched the agents and/or small publishers that might be amenable to what you’ve written?)  
   First, let me say that there is no right answer here. Everyone has to make their own decisions based on what they write and where they want to try and get published. It’s about many things including genre, platform, how much control you wish to have, and the realities of an ever-changing publishing world. If you write genre stuff with mass-market appeal, I’d say get that query letter and synopsis ready and start querying agents. Because that’s really the only way you can get access to the large publishing companies. Most of them don’t take unsolicited queries unless you’ve been referred to them by someone. Plan on dedicating a good year on querying, though. That route isn’t a fast-track. Patience is a virtue.
      Another choice is to query small publishers on your own. Many of them accept submissions directly from writers. But first do your homework. Look at their publishing track record and contact some of their authors to see if they are happy with their experiences. If you find yourself the lucky recipient of a contract offer, treat yourself to a little happy dance. THEN CAREFULLY GO OVER THE CONTRACT. In every case this is important. I can’t stress this enough. CAREFULLY GO OVER THE CONTRACT. Having a lawyer who deals with contract law take a look at it is usually a good idea. 
     Make sure you’re comfortable with the royalties being offered; make sure you understand what’s expected of you as well as what you can expect from the publisher. Things like confidentiality clauses and, let’s say, what happens if they fail to publish after a particular period of time elapses is of particular import. You need to cover yourself in the event that they don’t live up to their end of the bargain, and make sure you’re okay with all of the fine print in that regard.

Another thing: E-book royalties. Pay attention to this. These days, there’s a good chance the bulk of your sales will be digital sales. As far as I’m concerned, any publisher, big or small, offering a paltry 10% royalty on e-books should be ashamed of themselves. Seriously, there is NO OVERHEAD in preparing a book for e-book distribution and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise (other than the editing already done for the dead-tree version) they should be taken out back, dipped into a vat of honey and unceremoniously dumped into the bear cage at the zoo so we can all partake of the ensuing festivities.

Sure, with a publisher, what you’re buying is their ability to get your book to a wide audience. But what THEY are buying are YOUR WORDS. Only you can decide the true value of those words.

Pardon the vulgar metaphor (or don’t, I don’t give a flaming poo) let’s take a look at the pimp/whore relationship:  Sugar Daddy will justify his “business” practices in any number of ways, including the fact that, but for his existence, the whore in question wouldn’t be safe in the shark-infested waters in which they’re… performing. Also, he'd argue, he's the one supplying the “johns” and fishnets, right? Well, I’d argue that it’s still the whore who’s on her knees (or back) doing the dirty job of bringing in the dough for Pimp Daddy so, ultimately, it’s her place to say whether or not her cut is sufficient. Or, find another profession.

Most small publishers worth their salt will offer a 50/50 split on digital royalties, and for my money, that’s fair. I couldn’t tell you what the Big 6 offers, (or is it 5 now?) but I stick to my earlier assessment – if they’re offering less, shame on them.

In some cases, depending on how small the small-publisher is, and how much they are able to market your book, you’d make more money self-publishing than you would even signing their 50/50 split. This is another area you really need to research and consider, since many small publishers don’t have the budget and/or connections to get your name and work out there to a wide audience. That’s just reality.

Then, there’s self-publishing. Perhaps you’ve tried both options outlined above and haven’t had any success. You say, “Fine! I’ll publish this book on my own!” Good for you. Now do your research. I could wax poetic about self-publishing but there are far too many good sites and articles out there — Google self-publishing and prepare to spend an inordinate amount of time learning about everything from preparing an e-book for distribution to marketing. I will say that self-publishing is all about self-promotion. It’s a full-time job so don’t expect sales if you’re not hitting social media hard and on a daily basis. Also, do yourself a favor – get a good editor. There’s nothing worse than a crappily-produced self-published book. (Except, perhaps, a crappily-written, mass-produced, best-selling piece of drivel.) Also a good cover is important.

Basically, it’s up to each individual author to decide where their work fits best and then be informed about what they should expect. With “big publishing” you have less control in exchange for their vast sea of publicists, marketing geniuses, and the mound of cash they have to back that up. You can probably expect to sell a butt-load more books if you’re lucky enough to go that route but it’s not the road for everyone.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have some pretty damn good experiences with both traditional and self-publishing. But I know many who have not. I’ve heard some horror stories this year. Personally, I like working with small publishers. I did have one experience that left me feeling a little… stabby.

The not-so-nice side of publishing, particularly with small-publishers, is that there have been a glut of recent companies who have found themselves floundering in the current economy and their authors have suffered for it. The main thing I’ve heard is a lack of communication with those they’ve promised to publish. Not answering e-mails. Putting off questions. Not paying royalties in a timely manner… or not at all. These are things you’d (hopefully) see less of when working with larger publishers but again, I’ve heard a story or two in that regard as well.

Once you’ve signed that contract, you’re under a legal obligation to stick with the terms of that contract. That goes to the authors as well as the publishers. Getting out of a contract when it appears a company is tanking can be harder than it seems, particularly if they’re not answering their e-mails. Or putting authors off with various and sundry excuses.

So, here’s my final piece of advice and it comes from the purist in me, as a reader: don’t write if you don’t love doing it. As with everything in life, it’s about the journey not the destination. If you don’t have fun getting there, you’ve wasted a shitload of time and that’s a shame. Write because you can, because you’re good at it and you can’t imagine doing anything else. That way, you can’t lose.

I’ll let someone more talented and wise than I have the final word: (It should be noted that this is posted on the corkboard at my local library. Apparently, librarians agree.)

So You Want To Be A Writer

by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don't do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don't do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don't do it.

if you're doing it for money or

fame,

don't do it.

if you're doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don't do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don't do it.

if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,

don't do it.

if you're trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,

don't be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don't be dull and boring and

pretentious, don't be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to

sleep

over your kind.

don't add to that.

don't do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don't do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don't do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was

A Plea to the Producers of the Amazing Race

It’s no secret that Kat Nove and I would love to get on the show The Amazing Race.

(Let me clarify: It’s no secret that Kat would love to get on the Amazing Race. She assumes that I feel the same. But I have no interest in rushing around a country with a producer filming my every stumble and wheeze - culling the most embarrassing bits for public viewing, only after getting a bunch of painful inoculations in order to visit a country I probably couldn’t find on a map. I only grudgingly acquiesced when she suggested I compile a video plea, because she is my best friend and that’s what best friends do. Damn. It.)

Okay, so if I’m to get on this bandwagon, there are some things I’d like to suggest to the producers of The Amazing Race, having watched snippets of a few seasons, again grudgingly, to please Kat. She assumes I need to bone up on Reality TV 101 and, you know… how the race actually plays out. I don’t much care because there’s not a snowballs chance in the arse-crack of Rush Limbaugh that the two of us could complete that entire race.

We are not in the fittest of fit condition. We’ve got charisma, confidence and personality in spades - but all of our combined upper body strength is in our mouths. You won’t find a six pack, eating disorder or head of blonde hair between us. (Unless an anorexic, bleach blonde aerobics instructor happens to be standing between us.)

Neither of us are apt to win a sprint unless we’re paired up against Newt & Callista Gingrich - and even then, I’m assuming those two play dirty. Newt could easily trip Kat with one of his big ‘ole feet, which would cause her to fall on top of me, allowing Callista to climb over the already sweaty pile of Decker & Nove and make it to the finish line, dragging her chubby hubby behind her.

But, here’s my question: Where are all the Reality TV worthy oddballs? People we can really sink our teeth into? Here’s my dream cast for the next Amazing Race:

A pair of nuns

Two gay guys who argue like an old married couple

An Italian grandmother/granddaughter team who have to be ‘bleeped’ every fifteen minutes because they have naughty mouths.

A magician and his dimwitted apprentice

A sheep farmer and his wife

Brothers who own & operate a sex toy manufacturing business in New Jersey.

An old nudist couple who have trouble keeping their clothes on.

An alcoholic biker couple on the verge of divorce.

Two politically incorrect humor writers (hint, hint)

A pair of karaoke rappers who have gained moderate celebrity in their Podunk town.


KAT: Wait, why do YOU get to pick the cast, Jeni? Here’s my dream cast:


Two old white male politicians who have been voted out of Congress by their constituents. America and the other contestants always need someone to hate while watching the Race.

Two paroled convicts, who between the two of them have more tattoos than brains.

Two disgruntled NRA members who can’t believe they can’t carry automatic weapons across Europe.

Two sisters, one a former Miss America contestant and the other bitter and resentful.

Two pet therapists. Imagine the hilarity if any of the challenges involves pigs or goats.

A former Vegas showgirl and a third-rate standup comic who have been married, divorced, married again, divorced again, and who are now dating.

A mother and her middle-aged “mommy’s boy” son.

An octogenarian and his twenty-five year old wife.

Two politically incorrect humor writers (my friend Jeni and I could cover that base)

A drill sergeant and his Goth son.


JENI: Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way… Below are a sampling of the questions and our answers from the application. I’ll let you decide if we sound like a pair of contestants you’d tune in to see fumble their way through a leg or two of the race before being carted off on a stretcher following a mid-air heart attack after being forced to bungee jump from the Eiffel Tower.


What is your current occupation? Please describe in 2 words.

JENI: Homemaker, writer

KAT: Bookseller, writer.


In two sentences, please describe what you do.

JENI: Mine the house for shit-pebbles hidden behind the furniture by my toilet-challenged ten year old autistic son while fielding obsessively compulsive questions from my fifteen year old (also autistic) son. Then, I write about it. Also, I do laundry and cook dinner, neither very well, according to my husband.

KAT: I wait on the type of people who suggest I should join a 12-step program when they don’t like my polite and honest answers to direct questions.  I write stories so funny sometimes I pee my own pants.


How will these skills help you to win the Race?

JENI: I am a multi-tasker; I have dealt with enough bodily fluids that I don’t get queasy easily, and I have a good handle on my gag reflex and temper, respectively. Also, I’m prone to forgetting to flip on that internal “edit” button most people have that keep them from discussing their hemorrhoids in public. Let’s be clear, producers. This question isn’t about any skills I have that might help me win the race - it’s about any qualities I might have to drive up ratings. Also, I’m thinking with me on board, you’ll have at least one sponsor clamoring to buy time during your show. (Preparation-H™)

KAT: I can forever erase the image of the Ugly American by always being polite to even the rudest of cab drivers.  At strategic moments in the game, I can cause my competitors to waste time changing their panties/boxers, thereby giving my team the edge.


How did you meet?

JENI: I’ll let Kat take this one… I need a bathroom break.

KAT: We originally met on a writer’s workshop online.  We instantly recognized each other as literary soul mates (Jeni will try to claim she coined that term…don’t believe her.  As a writer, she’s a gifted liar.  Of course, she would NEVER lie on this application.) We had never met in person before April Fools’ Day of this year. We both traveled to Vegas and it was if we’d known each other since kindergarten.


What do you hope to gain from participating in The Amazing Race with your partner (besides winning)?

JENI: Getting out of the house. Did you not suss that out from the mention of the two autistic kids?

KAT: I’ve always dreamed of traveling.  Taking an entire day to get across Texas is not what I had in mind.


What communication issues do you have with your partner that you would want to address while on the Race?

JENI: Kat (like my kids) has toileting issues. Apparently I’d be required to be at least 50 feet from the bathroom door at any time she needed to pee and 50 miles away should the need to evacuate arise. I would address this by regularly tormenting her in this regard, since the idea of going to the bathroom anywhere out of her comfort zone (the bathroom at her house) is most certainly a mental health issue for her. I already see a sub-plot forming. (I hope I get paid extra for all this technical support I’m providing the production staff.)

KAT: Jeni and I agree on everything other than bathroom etiquette. I see no reason to post photos on the Internet of me sitting on the toilet, while she wouldn’t be averse to filming an entire documentary discussing bodily functions in graphic detail… while sitting on the toilet with her panties around her ankles.


What is the biggest disappointment you have experienced from your teammate?

JENI: She has steadfastly refused to videotape herself belly dancing so I can post it on YouTube. We’re working through it.

KAT: A script she wrote and entered in a contest. It lost to one that had the word boner in the title. I wish she would have asked my advice. I write great titles and it’s obvious all movie titles should contain the word boner to guarantee ticket sales to the male teen demographic.  Her title is Far from Happy and she would have won if her title had been Far from Happy Because I Can’t Get a Boner.


How did you resolve it?

JENI: I Photoshopped her head onto the body of an overweight Belly Dancer and sent it, via-email, to sixty of our closest friends and all of her co-workers. Because, that's how we roll.

KAT: Too late to resolve it now, but in the future I think you might see titles of her upcoming books changed to:  The Peacock Mirror Reflects My Boner – I Rather Be  Engulfed in Flames Than Have to Deal With Your Boner – Waiting for Karl Rove to Give Me a Boner:  That Will Never Happen Because I’m a Woman, Stupid.


What famous person reminds you of yourself?

JENI: Bette Davis

KAT: Jon Stewart, when he had the goatee.


What famous person reminds you of your teammate?

JENI: Truman Capote

KAT: Will Ferrell whenever he’s topless.


What is your biggest pet peeve about your partner?

JENI: The above mentioned toileting issues and her inability to discuss said issues. I’ve suggested therapy. She’s suggested I mind my fu*%^ng business.

KAT: She won’t come live with me. Something about her autistic kids and the great school they go to up in Michigan. I tell her there are schools here. Texas is ranked 51st in the nation in education!  Woo-hoo! We’re #51! (Think District of Columbia in case you’re assuming we also suck at math.)


How are you and your teammate most alike?

JENI: We have the same sense of humor as well as a great love of coffee, chocolate and cigarettes.

KAT: Our writing styles are a bit different, but due to our near-identical twisted senses of humor, we’re a perfect fit.


How are you and your teammate most different?

JENI: On paper, I’m the balls of this operation. In real life, while Kat has no problem approaching strangers with odd and often disconcerting requests, I prefer not to bother my fellow man with such trifles. That’s me: ballsy on paper, a big ‘ole puss in real life. Kat is the exact opposite. She won’t even jump into a randy forum thread if it looks like it could get ugly. But ask her to eat leftover food off someone else’s table at a restaurant and she’s your gal.

KAT: Jeni’s voice sounds like a chipmunk in heat and mine makes me sound like a middle-aged, three-pack-a-day transvestite.


What is your opinion of foreigners?

JENI: Foreigners are people too. I’m very foreigner friendly. In fact, I would probably enjoy foreigners more than most of my immediate family.

KAT: I once married a foreigner and am open to marrying another if the price is right.  Sort of a reverse Russian bride thing.  I have foreign relatives from Mexico & Vietnam and favorite foreign customers from Great Britain & New Zealand.  I can only hope foreigners are as receptive to Texans as I am to them.


Are there any locations in the world to which you absolutely will not travel? If so, identify where and explain why.

JENI: I’d rather not spend the night at Karl Rove’s house, though I would if it was one of the stops on The Amazing Race itinerary. I’d do it, but I wouldn’t like it. Also, he’d better lock up his unmentionables, because I’m a wanderer and won’t stick to the designated areas.

KAT: While I’d be interested in scoping out Dick Cheney’s hidden bunker, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be allowed to leave. So that’s out. Other than that, I’m open to anyplace. CBS does take out kidnapping insurance, right?


Do you speak or read any foreign languages? If so, which one(s)?

JENI: My husband is Puerto Rican, so I speak a little Spanish, but only the vulgar words. Basically, enough to get me laid… or arrested. Also, the nuns taught us the Hail Mary and Our Father in German, French and Spanish, but I don’t remember any of it now - though if I’m required to do anything involving heights, I’m sure it will all come flooding back.

KAT: I can read any foreign language written in English – understanding it is another thing.  I understand a little bit of Spanish, a little bit less of French, German and Italian, and almost no Danish.  My one Danish word is Dansk.


If given the choice, would you rather compete with 10 other people for $1,000,000 or split the million and give everyone $100,000 each? Why?

JENI: What? I don’t understand the question. I’ve never been good at math.

KAT: Really, being nominated is the important thing. Wait! That’s my practice speech for my upcoming Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay. To be honest, it would be cool if every team got to split $100,000.  (Jeni’s legs are pretty damn short and I’d hate to lose at the last minute because I have to piggy-back her to the finish line.)


Do you have any phobias?

JENI: I don’t like the sound of that question…

KAT: I have the weirdest phobia on the entire planet, a phobia which should guarantee high ratings.  I can see viewers having Amazing Race parties for the sole purposes of hoping I’ll be exposed to someone …hey, wait a minute! I’m not letting millions of people know my phobia. That’s just asking for trouble. Producers, I can control it. Really. I mean it. Nothing for you to worry about.

JENI: I will absolutely reveal Kat’s ridiculously funny phobia if it gets me out of doing anything I’m scared of doing.


~*~

For the comments portion of the questionnaire, I (Jeni) proceeded to pitch them a better reality show concept, based on The Amazing Race model:

Amazing Race: Chunky Edition

All contestants must be at least 20 lbs. overweight and longtime smokers. Contestants will be given a strict diet they must adhere to during the entire race, which contains no sugar, saturated fat or carbs. Any contestant found cheating with regard to food or smokes (on first offense*) will be subjected to a loss of 4 hours of race time, and public humiliation in the form of mud-wrestling a native of whatever country we’re visiting, while wearing a bikini (applies for women AND men).

*Second offense - Immediate expulsion from the show with a parting gift of two King Size Nestle Chunky™ bars to comfort them on their humiliating trip home.

(NOTE TO PRODUCERS: That’s one more sponsor! You really should hire me.)


Finally, (in desperation) here’s our video plea:

Vegas!

Kat Nove and I managed to return from our whirlwind trip to Las Vegas without getting arrested, tasered, or contracting any sort of communicable diseases.

We received a bunch of great dares and performed some of them (mostly Kat) but chose to skip some because of lack of time, patience or inclination. There were plenty of “Put a Little Rudd In It” moments, which you can see on the video below, as well as Kat snagging leftover food from abandoned restaurant tables. (Thanks, Kay!)

Below is a list of Scavenger Hunt dares submitted by Twitter friend Diane, as well as our “excuses” for why we might not have attempted some:


1. Down a shot (or have anything alcoholic) at each of the following locations!

KAT: Taking shots at every place on the scavenger hunt was just asking for the early release of Hangover 3, starring Miss Calculate and Boozy McBoobs. I did have a beer in every casino where I could get one for free. (Memo to Casinos: Hire more cocktail waitresses!) Jeni was a total puss and drank club soda all weekend.

JENI: I was dehydrated!



2. Don’t want you wasting away.  Better go get re-hydrated and don’t forget the salt!

KAT: Not sure, but we think you wanted us to go to Tacos and Tequila at the Luxor. That’s a long walk from the Mirage. I lost a shit-load of money at the Luxor while it was under construction and I'm still pissed about it. Screw the Pharaohs!

JENI: I only eat tacos prepared by myself. You have no idea what they put in those things. No idea!


3. “Gambling Portion”:  Take a spin and hope you get 1000, otherwise you could always ask to buy a vowel.

KAT: We lost approximately the same amount of money playing Wheel of Fortune that Vanna White spends on facelifts.

JENI: We may have lost gobs of money, but I got all tingly down there every time I hit SPIN and the canned audience applause commenced.


4. You won’t have to worry about Gladiators anymore, but on occasion you may hear the Titanic, Marilyn or Maggie playing.

KAT: We spent some time speaking Italian to some statue’s penis at Caesar’s Palace. We believe that fulfills this portion of the scavenger hunt.

JENI: Said penis conversation will be posted soon and will double as our plea to the producers of The Amazing Race. Kat insists we get on the show - probably so that millions of viewers can see how out of shape I am - right before I keel over and die, garnering huge ratings.

KAT: Quit your whining! Premature death sells books!


5. Don’t expect to get your youth back or meet the cast of Ocean’s Eleven here.

KAT: We made it to the Bellagio, we stayed at the Mirage, but once again, the MGM Grand was a bit far to walk. Let’s blame Jeni.

JENI: I told you MY ANKLE HURT!


6. A tropical rainforest with waterfalls, lush vegetation and indigenous creatures in Vegas.

KAT: We saw three indigenous roaches at the Mirage. Okay, so we’re lying. The Mirage was a nice place to stay. We backed out of the habitat because it was $17.50 for hotel guests and that money was better spent on gambling!

JENI: I have the National Geographic channel at home. That’s as close as I need to get to indigenous creatures of any variety.


7. They are one-half and two-thirds the sizes of the originals.  Be sure to get a “Sugar” fix while you’re there. 

KAT: We spent just enough time in The Paris for Jeni to get video of the restroom. The chocolate was cheaper at Walgreens, but we did take our picture at The Sugar Factory.

JENI: I really appreciated the dares that involved us taking a quick snapshot in front of a sign before moving the fuck on to the slot machines.

8. George Clooney (ahhhhhh yes), Whoopi Goldberg, Jerry Springer…”grab hold” of your favorite star and try not to get arrested in the process.

KAT: At Madam Tussaud’s Wax Museum, Jeni placed her hand on Elvis Presley’s ass, which I thought was creepy.

JENI: I may be the only person in the free world who would rather touch Elvis’ wax ass over his real one.


 8. If you “Believe” that “Carrots” can improve your vision and lessen your “hot flashes” …have I got a Pyramid scheme for you?

KAT: What’s up with this challenger and the Luxor? Too far to walk... I saw Carrot Top at my last disastrous visit and kept pulling my bra out about six inches because of stabbing pain. Chris Angel’s Believe is there, but at least one of us has no idea who the hell he is. (Me.)

JENI: Have any of you noticed that Kat is passive-aggressively blaming me for all the places we couldn’t hike to? I hurt my ankle on day two! I think I did a magnificent job of pushing through the pain, even with her calling me a pussy seventy-five times a day.



9. The “Dare” portion:  Steak & Eggs for under $10 between midnight and 6 am.

KAT: We didn’t do this, but we did spend $29.99 for a FUCKING buffet our first night at the Mirage. After that, who had ten bucks for steak and eggs?

JENI: I would have eaten Chex Mix all week if it meant having more money to gamble with.

~*~

Our other winner, Kay, had a few dare suggestions:

I'm going to need one/both of you to ride someone's pet. Bonus points awarded for service animals. If you are unable to do that, I'm going to need you to ride someone's (mobility assistance) ride. With or without the owner also using the device.

KAT: I looked everywhere for a yapping poodle to squash, but had no luck. I finally sat on the lap of the most adorable old man who had broken his hip. The overexcitement caused him to have a heart attack. We rode in a cab with his adorable old wife to the emergency room, but he was dead on arrival. We consoled her and promised to be at the funeral, but that was a bullshit lie. We didn’t even call to check on her like we promised. You know how you lose track of time in Vegas when you’re having fun.

JENI: Yeah… what she said.


Might there be any interest in eating something found in a food truck/cart's trash bin? Or something left on a discarded table in a restaurant?

KAT: The challenge to eat food off someone else’s plate was no challenge at all. If I don’t have to pay for it, it’s a win/win for me.

JENI: The entire vacation was a win/win for me because Kat did most of the dares. I’ll gladly let her call me a pussy all week if it means she’s the one that has to endure the public humiliation. (See her complete the dare in the video below.)

~*~





Random people signing the copies of Waiting for Karl Rove:

Hot cops!

Tourists from Brazil:

Drunk Winnie the Pooh:

Sign-board boys advertising the local Drag Show:

Kat riding the zip-line! (Again, I pussed out.)

Sgt. Sexy feeling Kat up:

If you’d like to give her a little Twitter love, you can follow @Sgtsexxxy (pictured on the left)

Finally, for those of you who haven’t seen it, here’s the book trailer for Waiting for Karl Rove.




We'll get our Amazing Race Plea up ASAP, as well as a montage of bathrooms where the signed copies of Waiting for Karl Rove spent a little quality time.

Thanks to all who participated in our Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge. We had a fantastic time!

Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge

Kat Nove & Jeni Decker will meet for the first time (in person) in Las Vegas on April 1st. (The day of fools, how appropriate!)

To celebrate us taking Sin City by tit-storm, we’re announcing the “Vegas Truth or Dare Challenge.” Your job, should you choose to accept it: send us your questions and/or dares. We will live tweet the answers from Vegas, as well as proof of each accomplished dare, in the form of pictures and video.

What would you like to see us doing in Vegas?

Here are the rules:

1. No nudity. (Nobody needs to see that.)

2. Nothing illegal. (Actually, we’re willing to work with you on this one. Misdemeanors will be considered, felonies will not.)

3. Jeni will not eat any form of bug. (Kat can be talked into eating anything - but it’ll cost you.)

4. Nothing that requires Jeni to run. Jeni does not run.

5. Nothing that includes feces or any type of bodily fluid. (What, are you an idiot?)

When we return (hopefully with all of our teeth and no tattoos) we’ll be doing a book giveaway. Two lucky winners will each receive a copy of Waiting for Karl Rove, which will most certainly become COLLECTOR’S ITEMS.

Why, you ask?

Because the books will fly with us to Vegas, and when the winners receive them, will have the actual signatures of some of the characters from the book - including but not limited to:

Black Elvis
Two old ladies playing slot machines
A happy couple getting hitched at The Little White Chapel
… and any celebrities and/or politicians we run into (accost) while there.

So, let ‘er rip - and be creative, for Jehovah’s sake. Submit your questions and/or dares as comments below, or to us on Twitter: @Jeni_Decker @katnove @WaitingforKRove . Don’t forget to leave us your Twitter handle or some means of contact should you be the winner!

NOTE: We will also be taking video comprised of scenes from Waiting for Karl Rove as well as our upcoming sequel, Waiting for a Plot: or What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, Especially If Someone Slips You Some Roofies. So stay tuned for updates because we’ve already arranged for the use of a dead body for Karl Rove’s room!

Fool: A Novel by Christopher Moore: Hit that shit.

I don’t normally review well established authors because, frankly, what’s the point? They already have a mass of followers who get all juicy down there over every witty turn of phrase and well placed adjective, all sufficiently lubricated and happy to spread the good word.

That being said, after reading Fool: A Novel by Christopher Moore I felt the need to proffer a review for the sake of my fellow readers and writers who have not yet partaken. Yes, I know I’m late getting to this gang bang - in fact so many of my author friends recommended it, knowing it was right up my alley, given my propensity to adore all things irreverent and funny - particularly that of a cheeky nature.

Their collective suggestions had become a nattering mantra in my head to which I’d reply, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll GET TO IT !” My “to read” list is a long and winding road paved with good intentions, not enough hours in the day, and two autistic kids who are sucking the life out of me as we speak.

Only after reading something online regarding its sexual content did I add Fool to my Kindle, under the guise of “research.” My work-in-progress has a great deal of sexual content and is written in first person from the male POV, so I’ve spent months reading all kinds of books with similar content in order to see how other authors handled it. I should also note, I’m a 43 year old woman sidling up to menopause with all the grace of a cat having been launched down a Slip-n-Slide with a shuffleboard stick.* But the truly disturbing and unexpected side effect resulting from the onset of the shriveling of my uterine walls (and girlhood dreams) has to be my naughty bits resonating like a tuning fork. Yes, sir, my bunny cunny* is, all too often these days, hopped up on Red Bull and ready to rumble.

Reading this glut of coital literature probably isn’t helping matters any, but I do want to mention that I don’t think the sex in Fool is even close to being over the top. Bawdy, perhaps, but certainly not vulgar or titillating. At least by my standards. But I just finished reading Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and all three installments of The Rosy Crucifixion (Sexus/Plexus/Nexus) so having plumbed the depths and debauch of all that is Mr. Miller, perhaps my not-so-delicate sensibilities have just been numbed to the point of delirium by all the cunt he described, revered, manhandled, masticated, sautéed, flambéed… yeah, that guy liked him some va-jay-jay.

But who among us…

Wait, where was I? Oh yes, Fool - a re-telling of Shakespeare’s King Lear, narrated by Pocket, the court jester or “fool.” Along with his amusing but slightly daft sidekick Drool, there are a myriad of other characters, including the king’s daughters, plenty of buxom laundry women, a full court of hangers-on, and a ghost… because, apparently, there’s always a fucking ghost.

Let me just say that while I can appreciate The Bard as much as the next gal, while his works are often funny, more often than not, getting through Shakespeare’s offerings is as laborious as trekking through a shallow river of molasses - against the current, wearing a snow parka and cement Timberlands.

That said, Moore’s retelling is extremely accessible, with laugh-out-loud lines aplenty. My first hearty guffaw came with the opening of chapter two. I laughed so hard, so long, and so loudly while sitting outside Thing One’s middle school, awaiting the final bell, that a group of football players lifting weights congregated on the lawn, directed a collection of looks at me that would have been more appropriate had I pulled down my pants and shat upon their school mascot while humming Clair de la lune.

“I found Drool in the laundry resolving a wank, spouting great gouts of git-seed across the laundry walls, floors, and ceiling, giggling, as young Shanker Mary wagged her tits at him over a steaming cauldron of the king’s shirts.”

I think this line perfectly illustrates the tone and tenor of the sexual content, so if this offends you, Fool probably won't be your cuppa tea. Also I assume you’ll be voting for Rick Santorum, so you and your moral superiority can kindly skip away from this review now, and keep your ten inch vaginal wand away from my who-ha, thank you very much.

The thing that stands out about the writing is Moore’s seemingly endless self-assurance within his craft. That, or he’s as good at faking it as a hooker who’s already been paid and is now yelping with wild abandon in the hopes of getting a big tip.

This being the first of Moore’s work I’ve had the pleasure of reading, I plan to go back and sample more, in an effort to find out if this confident writing style is something he’s always had, or something he’s nurtured over the years. Either way, no matter. He creates an atmosphere so the reader can feel certain he’s got the reins well in hand and we’re free to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Moore’s firm grasp of how humor should play out on the page is no more evident than when he parsimoniously peppers the “thirteenth-century speak” with modern day phrases that deliver a one-two punch with glaring accuracy and delectable wit.

My only question is why Hollywood hasn’t pulled her head out of her fat ass and turned this gem into a movie, already. If dialogue is king, Moore’s already done all the heavy lifting. It seems a no-brainer. Think a Merchant/Ivory production meets Mel Brooks - if they met somewhere in the middle, the result would be brilliant.

VERDICT: Hilarious, unparalleled one-liners aplenty, and lots of naughtiness. A classic example for writers to study with regard to hitting the comedic beats.

There are few humor writers who are able to sustain the laughs, as well as my attention, from cover to cover. For me, his book falls into that category, along with A Confederacy of Dunces, and all of David Sedaris’ work. This isn’t because I’m some humor elitist, but because humor is my reading preference of choice, whatever the genre, and I hold its writers to a higher standard, however unfair that might be. To me, humor is that important.

A writer friend, author Greg Crites, said this to me recently: “Make someone laugh and you’ve earned your oxygen for the day.” God, but that’s the truth. There is no more universal language than laughter. We might not all agree on what’s funny, but I think we can all agree how important it is to laugh - to find the humor in the absurdities of life.

To be the person who makes someone else laugh is as much a privilege as it is to be the one doing the laughing. So, good on you, Mr. Moore. You’ve earned your oxygen for the day - and then some.

Friends, if you haven’t already read it, hit that shit. Hit it!











* Blatantly swiped from Fool.

* Have I used this line in a blog post before? I can’t remember, thanks to the memory loss that accompanies the hot flashes and heart palpitations.

Step Away from the Cliché

Javier Boredom
1212 Superior Lane.
Road to Welleville, USA
RE: Book Pitch

Writers are full of clichés just as old barns are full of bats.
… anything you suspect of being a cliché undoubtedly is one and
had better be removed. ~ Wolcott Gibbs

Dear INSERT AGENT NAME HERE,

Haven’t you had just about enough of manuscript submissions so rife with trite expressions, their heady stench wafts around your inbox long after you’ve hit the delete button?

Writers who employ such pathetic, phoned-it-in-because-I-wanted-to-get-5,000-words-written-today phrases and ideas, which have become the epitome of flotsam bobbing down the proverbial river toward the graveyard of good intentions, will absolutely benefit from my book Step Away from the Cliché.

To transform lackluster seen-it-all-before prose, writers can utilize the handy annotated glossary to look up cliché “keywords” and “phrases” that will turn their customary dreck into dazzling nuggets of literary genius.

Just like Glen Close’s character in Fatal Attraction, sluggish, cliché-ridden prose is hard to ignore. But if writers insist on upping their word count with drivel, at least the drivel should be inspired. Short words are lazy words, let’s be honest. (NOTE: Roget’s Thesaurus is a good companion to my book.)

“Live and learn” could be transformed to “Subsist, observe, and sip a nice cup of coffee while you ponder your lack of alternatives.”

“What goes around comes around,” says your protagonist as he stares (under hooded eyes) at the “villain.” I don’t know about you INSERT AGENT NAME HERE, but when I read lazy dialogue like this, I want to chop the author’s arms off and feed them to my pet iguana. They don’t deserve appendages when they could have written something like this:

“Karma’s a sarcastic bitch and she’s got a wicked backhand.”

At approximately 310,000 words, Step Away from the Cliché is certain to be a must-have for the robust manual-buying body of aspiring writers who lap up every published book on the “art” of writing in the hopes of producing the next vampire tome that has you agents creaming in your Fruit of the Looms.

If you think this book has legs, (and I think we both know it does) you’ll also be interested in my other work in progress - a two part series for screenwriters: Step Away from the Voice Over and Step Away from the Cheesy Flashback and/or Montage.

INSERT AGENT NAME HERE, should you decide to take me on as a client, you’ll be making 15% off me for years to come. I am nothing if not prolific.

Much appreciation in advance for your solicitous (and astute) consideration on this matter,

Javier Boredom

~*~

Blatant Self-Promotion: Menopause, Slim-Jim's, Hemorrhoids, Zombies, Vampires...

What do the above all have in common? Well, if you're menopausal and happen to eat, say, twelve Slim-Jim's, (in a hormone-induced rage after a sweaty, sleepless night) you'll probably get a case of hemorrhoids.

But, what they have in common here are books. Behold, a cornucopia of schlock delivered with brilliant literary prowess:

Waiting For Karl Rove by Kat Nove & Jeni Decker

Who are we?

Kat Nove is a native Texan who loathes cowboy boots and would rather insert a colony of fire ants into her ear canal than listen to country western music. Her last wish is to have her ashes placed in the gas tank of her ex-husband’s most expensive vehicle. Many Russian porn bots visit her blog at http://katnovian.com/.

Jeni Decker lives on a farm in rural Michigan with her husband, two autistic sons, some chickens, the occasional pig, her dog, and an albino frog named Humbert Humbert. She has two books coming out in the fall of 2011; her memoir I Wish I Were Engulfed in Flames http://amzn.to/r63afS and Far From Happy, (PD Publishing).

Kat’s a half-bottle of Stoli away from a twelve-step program and Jeni has suggested that, perhaps, if she doesn’t get out of the house soon, she’ll be spending time in the local pokey for multiple murders. (Don’t judge her.)

See, the thing is, we’re struggling writers and we’ve just self-published a book called Waiting for Karl Rove - an utterly improbably road trip memoir. Think Thelma and Louise—only Thelma’s menopausal, Louise is an erratic big-mouth with a penchant for discussing her hemorrhoids, and they’re on a road trip to wrestle an apology from Karl Rove by any means necessary.

We self-published because Big Publishing is at a crossroads right now. (By crossroads, we mean a steaming, hot mess.) There's a reason literary agents are as irritable as Dick Cheney’s bowel after a bucket of greasy chicken. It’s because they constantly see very talented writers passed over for those who have written the newest vampire tome about angst ridden teens, not to mention former Vice-Presidential candidates from Alaska who have little to say but a huge platform from which to spew it.

It’s truly a sad state of affairs, but it is what it is. And here’s what it is: Beelzebub is driving the gravy train called Big Publishing and rather than stoking the engine room with coal, he’s tossing in shelter puppies and the virginity of pre-pubescent girls, lighting a bonfire sans intégrité under all our asses. It’s just easier to give someone like Heidi Montag or that disingenuous James Frey a publishing contract than take a risk on new (risk-taking) authors. (Or authors who might alienate an entire political party).

Until we manage to get Young Republicans and the entire NRA creaming in their skivvies for a signed copy of our latest book, we’re forced to clamor for new and interesting ways to promote (pimp) ourselves. http://amzn.to/ohbBjg

PREDICTION: Waiting For Karl Rove will soon have Rush Limbaugh crapping his pants, Geraldo Rivera shaving his mustache, Jon Stewart begging us to be on The Daily Show, and Karl Rove tapping our phones. http://bit.ly/9lcahB

We’re giving away a couple of copies on Goodreads this month, so be sure to hop on over and enter:

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Waiting for Karl Rove

by Kat Nove

Giveaway ends September 01, 2011.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

A Fit of Hissy is a mélange of schlock, a cornucopia of wisdom; observational satire, short stories, delectable musings, and the occasional song parody.

A Fit of Hissy is available in Kindle:
http://amzn.to/mRqFAO

It Was a Dark And Stormy Night ~Pill Hill Press

Among the other horror parodies in this book you'll find my Twilight parody, aptly titled Twilight: A Parody

A Dark and Stormy Night Anthology is available in Kindle:
http://amzn.to/p0kLmE

You can pick up the book at Pill Hill Press:
http://bit.ly/bQxfPG

And last, but certainly not least...

Zombies Ain't Funny (the brain-child of Greg Crites at http://veinarmor.com )is an anthology of humorous zombie tales.

Early reviews:

This conversation piece overflows with hilarity, both in the original stories read alone and double the fun in audio with the narrator's unique voice. Highly recommended, and I challenge you to not laugh! ~ Dream Catcher

This is a solid collection of short stories about the always loveable undead. If you like zombie stories, it's worth picking up! ~Mark D. Ellestad

This book is available on Kindle: http://amzn.to/nfgAJb or you can get the paperback and/or audio version at Greg's website: http://bit.ly/p00wR4

And for a treat, you can check out my contribution to the zombie anthology, McGarrigles Bed, Breakfast & Smoking Cure Farm, as read by Greg Crites:




So get on over and buy some books. Those extra-large Pull-Ups (for autistic kids who can't seem to get the concept of shitting on the toilet) aren't buying themselves. Besides, if you're like me and have overdosed on all the recent debt ceiling drama (AKA: WTF is going on in Congress?!?) you could probably use a laugh.

Angst and Autism…

Last night Jake came out of his bedroom sobbing and handed me the above letter...

Let me digress and set this up for you...

This week we all had a great time at the beach, as well as going bowling and to the arcade with his cousin Max, (who is visiting for the summer) but it seems Jake is starting to think about Max returning to Florida when summer vacation comes to a close. He’s also experiencing a surge of hormones mixed with teenage knowledge that has him feeling self-conscious, unhappy and unsure of almost everything he does.

When Max first arrived, Jake quickly realized they didn’t necessarily like to do the same things they did when they were much younger. It also became glaringly apparent that the vast chasm between the neuro-typical boy and the non-neuro-typical boy had become even more vast. Where, when they were five, his cousin just laughed or dealt with all of Jake’s autistic ‘quirks,’ now Max found it harder (and sometimes frustrating) to understand where Jake was coming from. His up and down moods and acting out.

With high-functioning autistic kids, often their behavior manifests itself in what would normally look like rudeness or tantrums. The key is being aware of where these behaviors come from - in Jake’s case, his fears and feelings of being ‘less than’ other kids his age.

Jake has few friends because he has trouble communicating with others. He doesn’t immediately understand how other people think and feel, and often his reactions to them seem impolite or off-putting, even though it comes from a place of not ‘getting’ the other person. Autistic people are often socially inept because they are very literal thinkers. Jake only understands how his mind works and has to be told how others feel - unlike most of us, who can suss out the meaning of an emotion based on body language or facial expressions. In essence, most of us take for granted the things that autistic people have to learn, rather than innately know.

Jake’s sudden morose mood culminated in him writing me a letter to express his feelings. He sat while I read it, waiting patiently so we could then discuss it:

[TRANSLATION of the letter above in case you can’t read his writing]

Dear Mom,

When Max leaves I will be sad
because I will have no friend.
I decided I don’t like my friend
Cody because he thinks of life
with no meaning. I’m also sad
that when you die I don’t
know what to do. I will be very
sad and I just can’t live without
you because I will not have
anyone to love and follow orders
and keep me safe. I’m just
soooo sad right now and I don’t
know what to do. I love
You very much Mom

Love Jake

This is what you’d call a truly heartbreaking parenting moment. What do you say to your fourteen-year-old kid when he tells you he’s afraid of what will happen to him when you die? How do you make it better for him so that he doesn’t spend every day of the rest of his life obsessing about existential things like heaven and hell? Not to mention not-so-existential things like his future well-being…

I got him calmed down by telling him that he was tired from all the activity of the day - doing my best to make light of such a huge topic, so as not to further alarm him - but in the back of my mind I kept thinking, He’s right. He’s worried about the same things I worry about. This kid is just smart enough to understand the frightening aspects of life, but not pragmatic enough to push them to the back of his mind like the rest of us do when we know something is out of our control.

His daily inner monologue is a perfect storm of fear and confusion that ultimately creates a tsunami of angst for someone already suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder.

I get choked up thinking about my kids’ futures. It’s my biggest fear as a mother. I think Jake could make it if he could rid himself of his debilitating fears and insecurity. He’s an odd little duck but he might be able to trundle through life, bobbing and weaving much like his mother does on a daily basis.

Jax is another matter, altogether. He’s blissfully unaware of even the existence of social ineptitude. He’s on a stage of his own and we’re all bit players, coming in now and again to offer clothing, shelter and affection. Jax is barely verbal and even though he’s making great strides, at almost ten years old, he doesn’t understand basic concepts and is able to speak, but only enough to get his needs met - and even then, only to those who understand his ‘language.’ He’s unaffected by social mores or his lack of appropriate actions because they do not exist within the context of the production he’s starring in. They don’t exist for him yet, anyway. I almost hope they never do. What you don’t know exists can’t hurt you… as much.

Some days, I think Jaxson is the lucky one. He is able to skip through life without the kind of worries that plague his older brother.

But one day I won’t be here… and neither will the rest of their family. Who will take care of my adult children when they’re unable to take care of themselves? There might come a day when I’d have to realistically consider a group home. Even writing those words make me shudder because calling this a last resort is a vicious understatement.

There isn’t a horror movie in the world that’s as frightening to me as wondering where my children will end up when I am no longer around. I’m certain I’m not alone in this fear because it is something many parents of disabled children have to deal with. But on a personal level, it feels very isolating. It is my cross to bear and it will never go away.

So, tomorrow I will continue to laugh and take everything in stride, shoving the worry into the depths of my mind - that special place I reserve for things that are mostly out of my control. But today I worry…

… and spend a little quality time in the bathroom, longing for the days when a nice bong hit could fix anything.