We discussed this in an earlier post about ‘Eraserhead.’ I don’t like surprises. I’ve got a week constitution–for months, nay years, after I saw ‘The Ring’, I couldn’t even begin to approach the bathroom in the dark. The theme of this week’s ‘Illu Frito’ is ‘Suspense,’ exactly that which I don’t like. Not suspense on the screen and not suspense in my life.
But suspense has my fucking phone number! (Don’t know how he got it, even I don’t know my phone number!) This has been a very suspenseful week or two.
Right now, my book is being reviewed and considered for possible material at a teaching conference. (Is it okay to talk about this stuff in a public place? Gee, I hope so.) Well, I’m not saying anything bad or particularly revealing and even if I am not picked, I am already honored at being considered, no hard feelings, but to be perfectly honest, the suspense is starting to kill me. If I’m picked, I get to go to Las Vegas this fall. =) Every day that I don’t hear back from the lady who probably has a billion other concerns on her plate, I tell myself: God, your book is too (insert a May shower of disparaging adjectives here).
I’m doing a telephone interview with another lady next week. (!!) I get three minutes to talk about why I wrote about what I wrote about and why I picked my media. It’s being recorded and I hope I don’t screw up. They sent me a sample audio, so I have an idea of what and how to talk. It was the lady who wrote Persepolis (the graphic novel.) I was like Holy Shit, I’m doing an interview and being put into the same data base as the lady who wrote Persepolis!!!
Is this real life? (No, this is the internet )
I got into an argument with my mom today because some distributor, after ordering a fuckton of my book, decided to actually crack it open and LOOK at the damn thing and they decided it was too profane. So they want to send the whole shipment back to my publisher. (Again, don’t want to give TMI on the internets, so that’s all I’ll say.) I told my mom that was ridiculous–she said if I don’t want to be censured, I should start writing about ‘nice’ things. Her argument:
‘Victor Hugo didn’t need all that foul language to write his wonderful books.’
‘Victor HUGO,’ I shot back. “Was probably also lambasted for writing about child prostitutes, hunch-backs, beggars, sewers, poverty, riffraff and jailbait when there were all these society ladies sitting around in their parlors in white gloves, aching to be immortalized!”
Then we got into an argument (sort of) about being gay, which was also a lose-lose situation.
“If you have the right to write your controversial opinion,’ she says, ‘others have the right to try to stop you from expressing it.’
‘But I am not FORCING anybody to read what I have written. I am simply making it available. They, however, are trying to force people to NOT read it, by making it less readily available. Doesn’t that make them wrong?”
Not in the eyes of my mum.
Am I wrong?
Am I the asshole?
Sometimes, talking to my mom makes me feel like a really big asshole.