If I Had Been Kafka’s Gregor Samsa

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” – Franz Kafka

I have not been able to read a printed book on the train for some years now. My hands and arms and I can’t quite manage holding a book, in the needed position, without significant pain. Flipping through the pages of a book was my favorite thing to do while commuting… When the pain forced me to make a change, I started people hearing while riding.

People hearing is just like people watching, but with eavesdropping included. I’m not talking about spying or trying to overhear other people’s precious secrets. No, I wouldn’t enjoy that. I am referring to letting my ear near conversations others might be having on the bus, in line to pay for groceries, at the airport…   

Yesterday, while riding the 1 (the 1 train, that is) from Manhattan to The Bronx, my people hearing curiosity and I were served several treats:

- a woman with two dogs, said to one of the pups, “If you’re mommy’s very good girl, and you pee on that asshole’s rug, mommy will give you bacon.” I never found out who the asshole was.

- a very old man (no, he didn’t have enormous wings), told an invisible friend, “Cut your nails when they’re looking. Hit them in the eye. Hard in the eye. That’ll stop it.” I’m still wondering about the identity of the ‘it’ that needs stopping.

- a girl told her companion, “If I’d been the Gregor guy, I would’ve eaten my whole family. Some assholes deserve to be eaten.” I’m quite glad to inform you that I wasn’t the only people hearer who shook with laughter at the imaginative teenage girl’s cannibalistic choice of imagery.

It’s very likely that I will never stop missing the joy of reading a paper book while riding the bus or train. But I am grateful for the unexpected (and rather uncanny) gift that came out of the change. Now, if my skull and I could only get rid of the image of a teenage roach devouring the unsightliest of familial meals.

via

 - linked to the Interactive Moonlight Musings, over at Poets United, where my favorite person in the whole wide world, invites everyone to write an article (in 369 words or fewer) inspired by the Positive Side of Change.

Why Would Chewbacca or Cousin Itt Wear Tiny Braids?

What feels like a gazillion years ago, I wrote a web serial set in a world were myth had spilled into reality. One of the main characters was a ciguapa, a kind of land-siren who could enthrall anyone who saw any part of his face. He was a good guy. So, to protect others, “He wore sunglasses, and used his long living hair to craft a mask of thin braids around his face.”

Yep, that’s exactly how I described it. Then, a few months ago, my writing partner was reading the old manuscript, and not exactly containing her mad cackles, pretty much asked me, “What’s Chewbacca doing in your story?”

The moment the words left her mouth, I saw exactly what she meant... and burst into laughter. I’ve tweaked the description since then. The character no longer looks like Chewbacca or Cousin Itt in tiny braids. Still, whenever I’m writing a scene with that character in it, I can’t help thinking, Hey, Chewie.

for Poets United Moonlight Musings: the Interactive Edition, #2 (“That’s Not What I Meant”, where I invite you to write about misread words that conjure hysterical interpretations, about grammatical errors (horrors?) which change the meaning of a piece, about descriptions (which we thought brilliant) that end up filling our readers’ minds with images we can hardly recognize)

“Cousin Itt”, by @GroovyGothic

gloriously-haired Chewbacca, via Some Nerd Thing

Negative Criticism Helps No One

The title of this post and the senryu in the image aren’t telling lies. But they aren’t sharing the whole truth either. Negative criticism doesn’t have to be useless.

In writing, for instance, negative criticism can be inherently nasty, disapproving, and cowardly—sometimes it’s even true—but it doesn’t have to be a waste of spit or time for everyone. Being able to keep a cool head, while one’s work is being ripped apart by someone who has nothing constructive to say, can be informative (and therapeutic).

The informative portion shows itself in two ways: 1) most negative criticism tells us more about the person spewing it than about whatever they’re criticizing (and  knowledge is power); 2) if the nasty critique includes some truth, well… why not turn a baddie into a goodie and birth some improvement out of the insult?  

“Tell them about the therapeutic part! Tell them about the therapeutic part!” says one of the impish little voices in my skull (I have many). The therapeutic portion is my favorite. I love it because regardless of how things go, I always win. How so? you may be wondering. Easily (after some practice).

First, I remind myself that knocking people’s teeth out is illegal (and hard on the knuckles). Then, I do my best to approach things as objectively as I can:

1) If the negative criticism holds any truth, I thank the person for their input and correct things accordingly (if I like them, I try talking with them about their communication skills).

2) If the criticism is just fallacious nastiness (garnished with self-loathing and spite), I thank the person for their input and then ignore them—contradicting this kind of people is dangerous and useless (also, seeing the look on their faces when they realize just  how powerless their nonsense truly is can be rather entertaining (and therapeutic).

See? Win-win: if I go with one, I help myself and another; if I go with two, I get free if-slightly-impish therapy.

What about you, my Wicked Luvs, how do you deal with negative criticism?

written for Poets United Moonlight Musings: the Interactive Edition, #1 – write a short article (in 369 words or fewer), which explores negative criticism