New
WriterWorld Theme Park
Many who know me have come to accept (so they say),
my quest to become an ‘author’. I use that particular word to differentiate
from the word ‘writer’ which I take to mean someone that hasn’t been paid. If I’m
wrong, keep it to yourself. I really don’t care. I’m not looking up the Webster’s
definition.
As one can see in my towering and insightful previous
post, I’m new to the game. Like any clueless buffoon, I pick up info on the virtual
street, glean what I can from agent’s websites, read the established rumor mill
blogs, etc. Since I’m already writing novels, in many ways this is akin to
learning skydiving basics after you jumped from the plane. That’s probably why
there’s such a narrow margin between ‘successful
new author’ and ‘the dimwit that had
to be picked up from the ground with a wet/dry vacuum’.
Since learning tools are essential and since fun is…well…fun,
I’ve come up with an idea for an exciting new theme park that informs, thrills,
amuses, enlightens, and in some cases, kills.
No onto the virtual tour:
The
Social Media Labyrinth:
This complicated learning experience has one
entrance and three exits. In between is a series of interactive screens asking
question, your answers control servos that open select doors, permitting you to
continue to the escape you earned.
Are
you a hopeless Pollyanna that sweats corn syrup with every saccharin response?
Then you are funneled toward the exit that has a
charming elderly couple that wants to introduce you to their three dozen cats,
show you four hours of slides from their trip to Moose Jaw, and question you on
why the grandchildren had to grow up. Answer wisely or they put strychnine in
your tea and scones.
Are
you a bi-polar mess that puts every disturbed thought on the web?
A licensed therapist is standing by to hear your
inner pain. After that a video presentation is viewed by a drill instructor
that tells you to smarten up and get-the-hell-over-yourself. Bring your
prescription card. A pharmacy counter is also part of this exit.
Did
you play the game right? Did you increase your following and charm everyone you
connected with?
CONGRATULATIONS! You have done the near impossible.
In return for your genius, you are greeted upon your escape by a flashing neon
sign, asking, ‘That’s great, but did you get any actual writing done?”
There is a bar under the sign. Draft beer is a buck
a glass. Box wine is available by the bucket.
The
Back-Patting target range:
This interactive and exciting game has you blindfolded,
listening to ten fellow new writers/beta readers. Nine will tell you that your
manuscript has the makings of a timeless epic that enthralled from start to
finish. One will inform you its completely incomprehensible and you need to start
over. The blindfold is removed and you are challenged with hitting the truthful
soul with a thrown rock. Choose wisely or you are forced to join the panel of
ten to engage the next participant. Bring your own helmet or rent one for $5
prior to entering.
The
Ride of the Red Pen:
The premise is simple. Upon entry you are handed a
poorly formatted, thoroughly mediocre 150,000 word YA vampire fantasy and
proceed to a cornucopia of specialized editors. Each one reads through and
marks up sections with fountain-pens refilled with your blood. If you survive,
you emerge victorious holding a 10,000 word instruction manual on how to
convert a walk-in closet to a guest bathroom. You are required to sign a disclaimer
before entering. No jewelry, cash or gold fillings are given to your next of
kin.
Publishing
Thunderdome:
Answer three questions pertaining to your chosen
means of publishing. Answer well and you get to select a deadly weapon to
compete against another two writers that were STUPID enough to choose different
means from yours. Three go in, one comes out. Martial Arts instruction
self-pubber’s are excluded from competition.
The
Trail of Tears:
Mostly instructional, this allows new writers to
watch a moderately successful published 'author' reflect, through a video montage,
how much of their life was lost due to their chosen craft. After the display, a
licensed accountant comes in and hands the person a revolver with a single
bullet. The challenge is to see if the writer pulls the trigger, after being
informed with a series of charts, that they’ve been working for two decades at
$.015 per hour. Wear a raincoat. Avoid the front row.
As you can see, this will be a tough sell. Funding
is difficult in these trying times but I feel the premise is solid. Join me
soon for part two where we explore my ideas to inform through terror.
I’m also open to other ride ideas, so feel free to
share.
Pleasant dreams…muahahahahahahaha
I don’t like knives. I’ve carried a few. It’s part
of doing business these days. Sometimes when you have to make a point, a blade
can make a statement…if you know what you’re doing.
