Have we gotten lazy with our writing or has Twitter and Face Book given nonchalant writer's permission to raise their voice?
First and foremost... I love how this nation has turned into a Social Media driven communication machine. Even if you text: Burp. It's still writing. One burp and instantly I'm reminded of all the other burps I've heard.
My brother's and I would lace our guts with hot Pepsi then recite the lyrics of Walk This Way from Aerosmith.
It took ten years for my wife to set free a burp publically. Good girls from Chicago don't do that! Who was she trying to fool? I knew she was setting free a blast of stomach gas because she tried to let it slip through her nose!
See what texting: Burp does!
What's it going to take to convince you to complete a sentence. Crap! Why did I have to take it there? No day passes in radio that I'm not bombarded with 15,000 run on sentences that switch nouns so fast that its completely impossible to grab air before touching the final word.
Listen to the Jocks spinning your favorite tunes! Check out the newscaster's attempting to spill their guts on the latest big wow action. Preachers! Bankers! Police officers vowing to clock you in at 53 in a 35. All speak too many words!
The DVR hooked up to that flat screen is the most beautiful piece of art on earth. I don't have to watch the commercials. I would! If there was "less" to digest!
This Blog is already too long. I should have said, "Thanks for texting. Writing is righting."
But hell no! I had to get hooked up on a burp.
It's when you burp and fart at the same time that freaks your friends out. They don't know if they should run or cheer on the music maker. Clearly I can see them counting to ten in their head. Any scent sent after eleven automatically gets blamed on the dog.
My good friend writes the other day. Her reaction to reading the second draft of my new book Scrambled Eggs.
"Where does this stuff come from? I can't adlib. I can't fill out an employment application without embarking on a journey of 1,000 mistakes."
Here's my secret. Burp. Everybody does it. Some try to hide it. Other's play with it like melted chocolate ice sitting in bowl. The moment you take that last bite... you're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to get more. Sure you can stand up. Rush to the kitchen and spoon in another twisted mix of sugar. But you won't appreciate it. The burp is no different. Let one hang and within seconds your memory stick is flooded with mental downloads of comparisons.
If guys could fart the alphabet it would be the hottest joke in comedy clubs.
Write! Paint a room. Tell your readers exactly what it looks like when a burp feels like its vibrating your throat and it ends up shooting out your nose. And it's wet. Ohhhhhhhhhhh!
What?
I'm a writer! What did you expect? A radio commercial with 39 seconds of copy stuffed into a 15?
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Pictures Of A New Book: Part Thirty Eight
Have we gotten lazy with our writing or has Twitter and Face Book given nonchalant writer's permission to raise their voice?
First and foremost... I love how this nation has turned into a Social Media driven communication machine. Even if you text: Burp. It's still writing. One burp and instantly I'm reminded of all the other burps I've heard.
My brother's and I would lace our guts with hot Pepsi then recite the lyrics of Walk This Way from Aerosmith.
It took ten years for my wife to set free a burp publically. Good girls from Chicago don't do that! Who was she trying to fool? I knew she was setting free a blast of stomach gas because she tried to let it slip through her nose!
See what texting: Burp does!
What's it going to take to convince you to complete a sentence. Crap! Why did I have to take it there? No day passes in radio that I'm not bombarded with 15,000 run on sentences that switch nouns so fast that its completely impossible to grab air before touching the final word.
Listen to the Jocks spinning your favorite tunes! Check out the newscaster's attempting to spill their guts on the latest big wow action. Preachers! Bankers! Police officers vowing to clock you in at 53 in a 35. All speak too many words!
The DVR hooked up to that flat screen is the most beautiful piece of art on earth. I don't have to watch the commercials. I would! If there was "less" to digest!
This Blog is already too long. I should have said, "Thanks for texting. Writing is righting."
But hell no! I had to get hooked up on a burp.
It's when you burp and fart at the same time that freaks your friends out. They don't know if they should run or cheer on the music maker. Clearly I can see them counting to ten in their head. Any scent sent after eleven automatically gets blamed on the dog.
My good friend writes the other day. Her reaction to reading the second draft of my new book Scrambled Eggs.
"Where does this stuff come from? I can't adlib. I can't fill out an employment application without embarking on a journey of 1,000 mistakes."
Here's my secret. Burp. Everybody does it. Some try to hide it. Other's play with it like melted chocolate ice sitting in bowl. The moment you take that last bite... you're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to get more. Sure you can stand up. Rush to the kitchen and spoon in another twisted mix of sugar. But you won't appreciate it. The burp is no different. Let one hang and within seconds your memory stick is flooded with mental downloads of comparisons.
If guys could fart the alphabet it would be the hottest joke in comedy clubs.
Write! Paint a room. Tell your readers exactly what it looks like when a burp feels like its vibrating your throat and it ends up shooting out your nose. And it's wet. Ohhhhhhhhhhh!
What?
I'm a writer! What did you expect? A radio commercial with 39 seconds of copy stuffed into a 15?
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