Yes, I’m annoying, too. You put up with my eccentricities and weird habits. You tolerate my ego and crazy mood swings. You sigh when I arrive late to your meeting in that purple and orange glow-in-the-dark outfit I thought was a really cool find at the Goodwill store. But now it’s my turn to tell the rest of the world how weird you are. This is just a lighthearted look at:
Ten Ways To Annoy
Poets & Writers
(Feel Free to Add Your Own)
#10: “Give me an autographed copy.” What am I? The copy fairy? Do I look like I have a printing press in my house? Are you my mother? My daughter? If not, shut up! I get two free copies. Someday, when I publish my novel, maybe I’ll get five.
Okay, I know when you say this, you’re just trying to be conversational. Maybe even nice. But it comes off as patronizing. A doctor said this to me. Seriously. My reply? “Sure, doc. How about you give me an autographed copy of a FREE office visit?”
#9: No, I will not write your eighth grade kid’s book report for him, even though he’s going to fail if I don’t. You should have made lil’ Cheesy Mac turn off Guitar Hero and read Lord of the Flies two months ago. But give junior a few years, and he’ll probably be my boss at my day job. Then I’ll write all his reports for him.
#8: Please. I know you mean well. But please…I’m begging you. Stop giving me ads for poetry contests you clipped from the side of a cereal box and asking me why I haven’t entered any of them yet.
#7: Your stories about your cousin or your friend’s friend’s latest squeeze who wrote a book at the tender age of twenty and is riding high on the New York Time’s best seller list are just plain cruel. Am I jealous? You bet! Here…shove this butter knife between my ribs. It would feel much better.
#6: Likewise, I don’t want to hear about your nephew who works at Hallmark and entered the “Poetry of America” contest, won first place, and for just $289.95 is now a published poet in a beautifully leather bound anthology. Now I’m just being mean, but sorry…your story makes me want to kick your ass.
#5: (For good small town folk): Please stop asking me to read my poems at the Ladies’ Auxiliary poetry/arts and crafts booth at the county fair. Please. Trust me. You wouldn’t like it. If you ask me one more time, I just might do it for giggles.
#4: If you write cleverly rhymed poems about love, fluffy kitties, mythical dragons, or teddy bears, please stop sending them to literary magazines. There is a market for you on the net. A really, really big market. Or go to the Ladies’ Auxiliary poetry/arts and crafts booth at the county fair. You’ll be a big hit.
#3: When you feel the need to talk about literature in my presence, but you’re not really into it. “Uh, that Emily Dickinson has some amazing commentary about the condition of life and uh, women and stuff.” Yawn. Yes, I’m being mean again. But really…you don’t have to do this. We can talk about politics or the weather or any number of things.
#2: This one almost became number one. You know you’ve said it. “I’ve got this really good idea for a book I want to write about that time my husband and I went water skiing in Cancun, and we saw a barracuda and found this amazing little restaurant off the beaten track where everybody spoke Spanish.” Heavy sigh. “If only I had the time to write it.”
Garsh, Minnie. I’ve got a ruler and a sketch pad. Maybe I’ll design a new wing for the Metropolitan Museum of Art…heavy sigh…if only I had the time.
#1: (DRUMROLL PLEASE) When I’m at home during the day, I am working. I might not have a shovel or a briefcase in my hand. But I am working. If my door is closed and I’m not answering my phone, that means I’m not available to:
a). babysit
b). spearhead committee meetings or bake sales
c). listen to a story about your root canal.
Give me a few hours. If I’m on a roll, it might be a few days. But I will come out and happily raise a glass with you, pat your babies, admire your dogs, and listen to your stories until dawn.
Am I mad at you? Nah. You know I love you, world. You know I do. You can even create a blog about all the stupid things I say about your occupations, and I’m sure I’ll laugh.
I don’t really expect you to know all this. But now you do. So I’m going back to work now, okay? See you in a few days.
Amen Julie
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Thanks, Scot. I knew you’d understand. Have a good one. -Julie
Sounds like you’re defining your time, space and energy - what you have room for and what you don’t. Streamline. More people should do this. It may make us less “likeable” but I can live with that (and do). Why suffer fools gladly?
So true, Sara. So true. That nice gal syndrome is hard to break. I wonder if this is just a small town problem? I wonder if other writers have so many personal demands on their professional time? Maybe they knew how to say no long ago.
I’m giving up a lot of things in the next few weeks. Some I like giving up. Some I don’t. But it will be a sweet relief to have more uninterrupted time to write. Maybe a little sleep, too! Thanks so much. -Julie
Nice, polite Southern women never say “No.” They smile when someone is boring them, apologize for tears, are ever gracious, and never, never show their behinds!!! (A good butt showing is an art form.)
Ha! That’s so funny. I do the smile thing. I call it “going to my happy place” when somebody’s telling me something boring.
But I’ll have to say, I’ve known some very tough Southern women in my day. At least I wouldn’t sass them, that’s for sure. I enjoy keeping my teeth intact.
You’re right…it’s an art form. Knowing the difference between being nice and letting people take advantage sometimes gets blurred. Maybe it’s a common theme women all over the world share, because of the way we’re socialized. The tough women I’ve known were usually raised to be that way through circumstances (like economics).
Take care & thanks for your great comments, Sara. Talk to you soon!
Lovely. And I can relate to every point, in the now or in the past, even still, to this day, with the “why haven’t you entered this contest?” BS
Thanks, Rodger. People who aren’t in our world don’t quite get the “serious humor” of this.
I don’t understand a thing about the world of an artist or a carpenter. But I respect what they do. I wouldn’t dream of giving an artist an ad from a match book cover. “Draw Binky the Clown and win $500!” I’m guessing they have to deal with crap like that, too.
Creative types are the Rodney Dangerfields of the working world…no respect…no respect at all. That’s why I’m glad so many of us support each other.
Thanks for dropping by!
MAJOR rolling on the floor laughing going on here.
I have an artist friend lives in a very small community. And her mother lives next door! She became so frustrated by thoughtless interruptions that she made a sign for her door. It was a circle with a moveable arrow and it was divided into pie slices. Each slice of the pie described her activity of the moment and whether you could, or would even want, to knock on that door.
Like, “MEDITATING - DO NOT DISTURB UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, UNLESS YOU ARE OBJECTIVELY IN EXTREME CRISIS” and “DOING HOUSEWORK: ENTER ONLY IF YOU WANT TO DO IT FOR ME BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY BETTER THINGS TO DO” and “ARTIST AT WORK - DISTURB ONLY IF YOU’RE AT THE POINT OF DEATH AND REMEMBER YOU’LL PROBABLY HAVE TO POINT THAT OUT” and “HAVING TEA AND COOKIES AND STARING OUT MY FRONT WINDOW - PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION” and “I’M SO FUCKING LONELY I COULD SCREAM - WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN????”
I think it stopped a few people. And her mother refused to enter a place where a woman used such awful language!
That is hilarious!!! I am SO going to make me a sign like that. Maybe I’ll put evil clowns on it. HA! The tea and cookies cracks me up.
Mother next door? I feel so badly for your friend!
If I forget to lock my doors, a certain neighbor lady just walks in. If I’m typing, she talks while I type.
On several occasions, she has caught me coming from the shower buck naked. I scramble for a robe or a dish towel or something, and she proceeds to tell me about her latest home remodeling project. No kidding!! I SWEAR the next time she does it, I am going to drop the towel and dance for her.
I love the sign, though. My wheels are turning now. Evil clowns, PMS warnings, etc.? I love the spinning pie chart. If I can find a scanner, I’ll post it and show you what I come up with.
OMG. I must burn the doggerel. (#4)
And no one around here understands “GET OUTTA HERE!!!” (I gave up on polite requests long ago). I like the pie idea. How does your phone know what the arrow’s pointing at, though? hmmm Oh that’s right, we don’t HAVE to pick it up.
HA! Yes, I should learn to be more direct and just say GET OUTTA HERE! Sara’s comment did help. I’ve been showing my butt more lately (not literally, of course). But it might be literal if that lady keeps pestering me when I get out of the shower. Tee hee…
I do have the phone worked out, though. I let the machine answer. And I don’t own a cell phone. Can you believe that?? I really am a weirdo, but I like it that way.
Thank you for your comments, Nan! Sorry I’m so slow in getting you linked up. I’ll get you up there today. I always intend to, and then I get distracted by shiny objects and forget where I am. HA! HA! Unfortunately, that’s not too far from the truth.
Thanks again & take care.