The Process of Getting Published

Today, as practice for my future teaching job, I shall instruct the class. The topic shall be: getting published.

For those aspiring writers out there I shall attempt to explain, in great detail, the process of getting published. Well, I would attempt this, however we have limited class time so I'll have to trim a bit of the fat.

Getting published goes like this. The zealous would-be author spends painstaking hours and expends grueling stomach churning effort in order to assemble a big steaming pile of feces. The writer then proceeds to fling large chunks of feces at the publisher until he does one of the following:

A. Has his/her self-esteem bulldozed and surrenders to the shit out of crushing despair
B. After being thoroughly coated decides that shit, in fact, is a good thing.

One way or another the aspirant wins. The key to this method is knowing that as long as you can reach deep within your belly for more material and you have a mighty enough colon to take repeated rejection you can, inevitably, force the publisher into submission.

In fact the job of a writer could be described as a similar process. The writer seeks to reach an audience and elicit a strong reaction. This reaction may be depression, self-loathing, or some similarly negative emotion which falls under option A. It might be joy, love, laughter, internal glowing, or what-have-you in order to fall under option B. We want people to react and we want them to accept that what we have to offer, regardless of how malodorous it may be, is the best big piece of stool they've ever encountered.

Incidentally options A and B can be extended to other aspects of life. Trying to find the love or your life or even just the love of tonight? Fling your pathetic wads of feces, crappy pick-up lines in this case, and tales of your pathetic life until they find you so pitiable that they fall madly in love in an effort to shut you up or soothe their own despair (its contagious). This is, again, option A. You can also fire witty joke after witty joke, compounded by numerous yarns of your grand exploits, until they suddenly can't remember that you're fat, warty, and unemployed. Instead all they know is that this fat, warty, and unemployed person is vastly appealing and they should toss them down upon the bed and make sweet warty love to them. Option B.

Comedians use options A and B in order to get their audience to laugh. Ever notice that not all of a comedian's jokes are funny? Sometimes they just shoot so many at you that eventually you either laugh because they're pathetic (maybe deliberately? you don't know) or because one or two ended up being hilarious.

Action movies used these options as well, hurling scene after scene of gratuitous violence/sex at you until suddenly it is awesome or suddenly you feel despair that you are nowhere near as cool/sexy as the protagonist.

Most tellingly of all is that this method was first used by monkeys kept in cages. Long ago monkeys hurled their feces out of their cages at nearby tourists and/or scientists until these passersby decided out of wilting self-esteem that monkeys were awesome, or became so coated by the filth that they determined monkeys were inherently hilarious. This technique can also be known as the 'Flying Monkey Technique', as named by The Wizard of Oz which uses flying monkeys as a fantastical element in order to distract from nonthreatening villains and boring protagonists. On a side note the most realistic characters are the munchkins, who vote for the prettiest candidate and are willing to sacrifice innocent lives for their temporary convenience.

To bring things full circle (yes, there's still a circle) the class, you, has been subjected to the Flying Monkey Technique the whole length of this blog. Tell me class, (see, I hadn't forgotten the framing device) did you learn anything today?

In Which the Blogger Teaches Himself to Write

Within three to five years (pending injury, illness, explosions, etc.) I am likely to be a college professor. I have been known to wax poetic (read: hammy) about such grand topics as life, philosophy, and the funny wiggly way that sperm moves. Most of my poetic (read: hammy) discussion involves gesticulating wildly and making off the wall metaphors. I have been known to say 'thingy' as a replacement for a word that genuinely exists. Surely I am the stuff of Ancient Greece! The sort of teacher that encourages their students to examine the minutia of life, the universe, and occasionally a good book.

On a more serious note (addendum: hardly) my key subject and area of expertise is creative fiction. My style has been described as postmodern (read: confusing) and high concept (read: weird) by former teachers and readers. I have a dry wit (vociferation: title plug) and occasionally cheesy (vociferation: title plug ii) sense of humor. I have a lovely fiance to whom I will soon be married and other than my personal convictions she's the only thing in life I'm serious about. She too is a writer, though of the non-fiction/poetic (read: poetic) genre. She also happens to be something of a Renaissance Woman of the Arts. Gal has started an at-home crafts business and has more artsy hobbies than anyone this side of Leonardo da Vinci (declaration: brotha be dead). You can follow her blog Retail Therapy and enjoy her unique brand of humor, though I warn you that she can be serious as well.

What will this blog be about you ask as you wonder how much this guy will meander about. There's a circle. I'll loop back around, I swear. Likely I will discuss my thoughts about the past, my future, and occasionally I will use personal life events as framing devices. There is a high probability (ejaculation: 100%) that I will discuss current and future literary projects. Especially of note I will think out loud (read: in text format) regarding my ongoing project that I plan to use for my grad school application. My first choice is the Iowa Writer's Workshop, though I will branch out and look at other places. By taking the GRE I will be able to increase my chances of getting a teaching assistant-ship to pay my way. Regardless of whether I get this position the MFA degree would qualify me to teach at a university level, something that I'm beginning to find more and more interesting as time goes on. I think I would be a fantastic (addendum: and fun) teacher for students who actually want to learn. I'd probably kill High School students. College students have more of a zeal for learning and there aren't as many restrictions on your behavior and teaching method as there are below the university level. It'll be a long road, three to five years even, but I think I can make it.

See. Told you I'd loop back around.

P.s. Like how I made a perverted joke while still using the word 'ejaculation' appropriately? Me too.