I have mentioned before that I always have an imaginary audience in my brain whenever I sit down to write at the keyboard. It has been quite a while since I thought about it so last night I decided to take roll. I was a little surprised to find all of these people in my brain, and I am a little worried about how crowded it's getting up there.
I've made no secret that the main person I write for is Ray Orrock. The more seasoned locals know exactly who that is. The newly transplanted among us may have only heard of him or have no idea that he was a humor columnist for our local paper while I was growing up. After I finished school, and writing assignments where you could be told that your ideas were inferior if you didn't conform, I found my voice. Of course it's a written sort of voice since I am absolutely crippled by being an introvert, but it's still a voice. I wanted to be Mr. Orrock and make a living making observations and jotting them down for the public to read. I didn't imagine that anyone would care about my musings until a teacher wrote me a note in college. I took a liberty with an assignment and wrote about something that had happened to me and how it made me feel. I included a little note apologizing for not sticking strictly to what she asked, and telling her that if she read it to the class I would move out of the country. She wrote back that feelings were important and powerful things to write about and that I had done a wonderful job with my paper. She encouraged me to continue along this track. For this reason Mrs. Lynn Passek has a seat of honor next to Ray.
Additionally Dave Barry, another well known humorist and the only person I have ever written a fan letter to, stops by my cranial observatory from time to time. I have his simple response to my fan mail on the wall next to my side of the bed, next to Sylvia's picture. I'm not kidding, you can ask her. Seriously, go ahead, you're not going to make her think I am any more weird than she thought before. Imaginary Dave started coming to sit in when people started comparing my writing to his. I mostly invited him to stay because I brazenly stole a bit he does about fantastic names for his bands in high school. I just don't want people to get the idea that I thought of it all on my own. It's sort of a kleptomaniacal homage to this wonderful writer. Coincidentally, "Kleptomaniacal Homage" was the name of my band in high school!
Another person who is always present is my wife Sylvia. If I start to write something and think that she wouldn't like it, be disappointed by it, or consider it to be just too far over the edge...it comes right out. She always keeps me from getting into trouble, in writing and in life. I mentioned the other day on Facebook that my main goals in life were as follows: a) Find a very pretty girl who's got a smile that makes me melt. and b) try to get her to show it to me as often as possible! Having her shake her head and say that my mind just doesn't work the same way as other people's is just fine and dandy as long as she is smiling when she says it! It's almost as good as getting paid...almost. You people are welcome to start paying me to read this you know. I'll give you my address if you like.
Other people who happen to come by my noggin nook are in my family. Mostly they shout things like, "You can't tell THAT story!" or "Really? You should be embarrassed!" My mom keeps reminding me to wear clean underwear in case I get into an accident, but I think she wandered in from another room. There are friends, neighbors, and acquaintances who I write for but I can't always tell who they are since most of the time they are covering their faces with their hands, looking down, and shaking their heads.
My old Pastor Paul McKowen gets to sit in from time to time. He was a wonderful storyteller and he used to talk about how, in the middle of the sermon, he would hear coughs, sniffles, sneezes, and all sorts of fidgeting become silent whenever he would utter the words, "That reminds me of a story..." He was a brilliant man and I was always ready to hear one of his stories. There was one time when....well, maybe I should stay on track.
A recent visitor, and unwitting editor, is an education consultant who came to our school site for a number of years. Miss Julie, as my students called her, would guide students toward well-developed sentences. She would push my groups of 2nd graders to add 'finishers' to their sentences, (in my classroom)where(through guided practice)how(because they make sentences better)why(every time she came)when. She visits whenever I have a sentence that is just not working for some reason and I need to tweak it a bit.
Loads of others come walk around on mini tours depending on the subject I'm writing about. When I write about confusing government bureaucracy Abbott and Costello come by with their baseball uniforms on. When I need to write a silly sound or spell out a word that has no business being in a paper written in English, Jerry Lewis. When I want my writing to have an accent, Schwarzenegger. When I write about things that go bump in the night, Dean Koontz. And when I write about 14th century Euclidean geometry who stops by but none other than Carl Friedrich Gauss! I secretly hate when he walks around in my brain, he never remembers to wipe his feet!
Today I have a new person in the audience. It's a friend from church who was encouraging me to write a book last night. He seems to think it would be worthwhile for me to do it. Let's say that I did write a book and it got published. A lot of people would read it and then they'd start sending me letters about their favorite parts. Well I would be so grateful that I would have to invite them to the literary soiree at the Gray Matter Lounge. I'm not sure I could handle all of those people! I am having to have everyone come by in shifts as it is! No books for the foreseeable future.
Now if you'll excuse me I think I need to write something about Alice from the Brady Bunch. Gauss just tracked mud all across my brain pan.
I've made no secret that the main person I write for is Ray Orrock. The more seasoned locals know exactly who that is. The newly transplanted among us may have only heard of him or have no idea that he was a humor columnist for our local paper while I was growing up. After I finished school, and writing assignments where you could be told that your ideas were inferior if you didn't conform, I found my voice. Of course it's a written sort of voice since I am absolutely crippled by being an introvert, but it's still a voice. I wanted to be Mr. Orrock and make a living making observations and jotting them down for the public to read. I didn't imagine that anyone would care about my musings until a teacher wrote me a note in college. I took a liberty with an assignment and wrote about something that had happened to me and how it made me feel. I included a little note apologizing for not sticking strictly to what she asked, and telling her that if she read it to the class I would move out of the country. She wrote back that feelings were important and powerful things to write about and that I had done a wonderful job with my paper. She encouraged me to continue along this track. For this reason Mrs. Lynn Passek has a seat of honor next to Ray.
Additionally Dave Barry, another well known humorist and the only person I have ever written a fan letter to, stops by my cranial observatory from time to time. I have his simple response to my fan mail on the wall next to my side of the bed, next to Sylvia's picture. I'm not kidding, you can ask her. Seriously, go ahead, you're not going to make her think I am any more weird than she thought before. Imaginary Dave started coming to sit in when people started comparing my writing to his. I mostly invited him to stay because I brazenly stole a bit he does about fantastic names for his bands in high school. I just don't want people to get the idea that I thought of it all on my own. It's sort of a kleptomaniacal homage to this wonderful writer. Coincidentally, "Kleptomaniacal Homage" was the name of my band in high school!
Another person who is always present is my wife Sylvia. If I start to write something and think that she wouldn't like it, be disappointed by it, or consider it to be just too far over the edge...it comes right out. She always keeps me from getting into trouble, in writing and in life. I mentioned the other day on Facebook that my main goals in life were as follows: a) Find a very pretty girl who's got a smile that makes me melt. and b) try to get her to show it to me as often as possible! Having her shake her head and say that my mind just doesn't work the same way as other people's is just fine and dandy as long as she is smiling when she says it! It's almost as good as getting paid...almost. You people are welcome to start paying me to read this you know. I'll give you my address if you like.
Other people who happen to come by my noggin nook are in my family. Mostly they shout things like, "You can't tell THAT story!" or "Really? You should be embarrassed!" My mom keeps reminding me to wear clean underwear in case I get into an accident, but I think she wandered in from another room. There are friends, neighbors, and acquaintances who I write for but I can't always tell who they are since most of the time they are covering their faces with their hands, looking down, and shaking their heads.
My old Pastor Paul McKowen gets to sit in from time to time. He was a wonderful storyteller and he used to talk about how, in the middle of the sermon, he would hear coughs, sniffles, sneezes, and all sorts of fidgeting become silent whenever he would utter the words, "That reminds me of a story..." He was a brilliant man and I was always ready to hear one of his stories. There was one time when....well, maybe I should stay on track.
A recent visitor, and unwitting editor, is an education consultant who came to our school site for a number of years. Miss Julie, as my students called her, would guide students toward well-developed sentences. She would push my groups of 2nd graders to add 'finishers' to their sentences, (in my classroom)where(through guided practice)how(because they make sentences better)why(every time she came)when. She visits whenever I have a sentence that is just not working for some reason and I need to tweak it a bit.
Loads of others come walk around on mini tours depending on the subject I'm writing about. When I write about confusing government bureaucracy Abbott and Costello come by with their baseball uniforms on. When I need to write a silly sound or spell out a word that has no business being in a paper written in English, Jerry Lewis. When I want my writing to have an accent, Schwarzenegger. When I write about things that go bump in the night, Dean Koontz. And when I write about 14th century Euclidean geometry who stops by but none other than Carl Friedrich Gauss! I secretly hate when he walks around in my brain, he never remembers to wipe his feet!
Today I have a new person in the audience. It's a friend from church who was encouraging me to write a book last night. He seems to think it would be worthwhile for me to do it. Let's say that I did write a book and it got published. A lot of people would read it and then they'd start sending me letters about their favorite parts. Well I would be so grateful that I would have to invite them to the literary soiree at the Gray Matter Lounge. I'm not sure I could handle all of those people! I am having to have everyone come by in shifts as it is! No books for the foreseeable future.
Now if you'll excuse me I think I need to write something about Alice from the Brady Bunch. Gauss just tracked mud all across my brain pan.
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