Help Me Refill My Word Tanks With Blog Juice

Holy Crap! 2010!

Man, “blog juice” sounds like a euphemism for bile or something. Our one dog loves to drink deeply and sloppily from the water bowl once in a while, gorging himself on so much water that he walks away and, 30 seconds later, disgorges what is essentially “water vomit” onto the floor. One might refer to this clear, viscous goo as “blog juice.”

Moving on.

So, somewhere along the way, this blog became at least 50% a “writing advice” device. It’s astounding that you people listen to me, because man oh man, I am a giant baby-headed dipshit. I barely know which hole in the t-shirt my head should go through much less how to conjugate a verb or write a compelling protagonist. And yet, the vague, uncertain democracy of the Internet has spoken. You addlepated deviants haven’t yet caught onto the fact that I don’t know what I’m talking about and that whenever I rock the writing advice, I do so usually to help myself work through a conundrum, further implying that this blog exists only for my selfish whims.

What that means is, in 2010, I’m going to keep spewing my fake truth!

Get excited.

Now, I’ve got like, maybe a dozen future writing topics hastily sketched out. Subjects may or may not include protagonists, time management, publication, editing, the shape of narrative, killing your darlings, and so on and so forth.

But those topics won’t get me through a year’s worth of writing chatter.

Sure, I can make stuff up as I go. It’s what I do. Writers make shit up.

In a perfect world, though, I’m tailoring some of these writing topics to your needs instead of my own petty whims and foul urges.

Hence, I’m politely asking you to step up to the plate and tell me what writing or writing-related subjects you find pressing. Give me a subject, and I’ll yammer on endlessly about that subject. Because that’s how I do.

Oh, and “politely asking” means, if you don’t disgorge writing topics in much the same way that my dog disgorges his own H20 blog juice, I’m going to come to your house and do terrible things.

I’ll defecate in your oven. I’ll throw your remote controls in the blender. I’ll gently teabag you while you sleep. I’ll change your voter registration. I’ll fill your fish tank with grape soda. I’ll leave behind a dozen squalling infants, for which you will be legally responsible, because I’ll yell “Not It!” before I run out the door — and that shit will hold up in court. I’ll kill your plants be peeing on them. I’ll eat all your delicious food and replace it with exact replicas made of wax and plastic. I’ll convince your loved ones to join a cult and together we’ll build an altar to 1980s sitcom characters in your living room. I’ll delete your porn. I’ll steal your nose and use it for diabolical purposes. I’ll loose a starving wildebeest into your bedroom closet. I’ll run your coffee beans through the bowels of a Persian cat with feline gonorrhea and then brew you a hot, fresh cup just before you awaken. I’ll live in your fridge. I’ll kill a man dressed as Santa with one of your own steak knives and leave him in the chimney to rot. I’ll hack the power grid with your personal PC and then send Photoshopped pictures of you pooping in George Washington’s mouth to the FBI’s cybercrime division. I’ll rub my junk on all your favorite things and foods. I’ll lick your spoons after I eat a big bucket of cottage cheese. I will fill your car with squirrels. I will fill your toilet tank with hermit crabs. I will fill your nightstand drawer with my seed.

See? Politely asking.

So, get to gettin’ — right now, toss me ideas. Writing topics, I guess, though if you’re hellbound to hear about other shit, I can do that, too.

Don’t make me come over your house.

Don’t make me.