So I do a lot of ranting and bullshitting about the shiny, angry things that flit into my head. Therefore, the various personalities struggling for domination of my brain real estate are telling me it’s time to do a pick-me-up post. Time for me to SLING THE LOVE around. Time for me to blow smoke up your proverbial bums and make you want to gag on how nice I’m being. That’s right. I’m going to write about what inspires me. Who inspires me. My heroes. Heroines (and no, not the shoot-up drug that makes you look like a tarted up Slim Jim wearing hole-laden jeans after you take it, but you know – girl hero.)
I’ve known Marty for about . . . eh. Five years? More, maybe? The interesting thing is that he’s Super Liberal (and he’ll tell you he’s a card carrying member of the Pinko-Commie brigade). I’m more moderate in my political views, so there’s been plenty of times where I don’t necessarily jump on board with whatever thing it is he’s touting. However. This guy BELIEVES. He believes hard, and he is always championing the underdog. He wants to save the fuckin’ world, and honestly if anyone I know could do it, it’d be The Officer. He’ll help anyone he deems “non-toxic.” If you need a shirt, he’ll give you his (as long as you’re not an asshole or a douchebag.) He works with some of the most terrifying children on the planet to try and rehabilitate them, so he doesn’t just give up on people because everyone else has. Also? He’ll share his own stories of hardship if it’ll help you get through yours. This guy is the best friend /anyone/ can possibly have, and my only regret is that I don’t get to spend much time with him anymore. He’s busy, I’m busy, and the bastard lives too far away. It’s not fair.
So I don’t know Chuck Wendig. I’ve never met him in person, I’ve never shaken his hand or sniffed his trash (that may change at World Con, the poor bastard). But that doesn’t mean I don’t admire him. Why? It’s simple. The guy is a full-time legit work-at-home author who takes time EVERY SINGLE DAY to hand out free writing advice to those who want to make it in the industry. He doesn’t have to do that. In fact, people pay a lot of money every year to get writing advice from professionals, yet here’s this profane penmonkey doling it out for nothing more than a web-hit and a poop joke. He’s like the wordsmith soup kitchen, and what he’s dishing out? Is good stuff. It’s valuable stuff. It’s stuff he learned from walking the path. It’s also bullshit free. The guy isn’t going to promise you a million dollar book deal or the ability to shit sparkles and unicorns after reading his articles, but if you listen to him, he can make you better at the craft of writing and that’s a big honkin’ deal.
(Also, if you read my blog and haven’t bought any of his books, FIE UPON THEE AND GET THEE TO A NUNNERY. OR NO, NOT A NUNNERY BECAUSE THEY DON’T ALLOW SWEARS THERE. GET THEE TO A BOOKSTORE SO YOU CAN READ HIS STUFF.)
We all have those people we grow up with that sort of fall off our radar post high school. Folks change. Childhood Hillary is not who adult Hillary became (though at times the similarities in maturity level are /distburing/. BURPS ARE FUNNY HA HA HA. Anyway.) The people I knew are not the people I know now. Some friends remain, and some people drift back into my life after a long absence. Enter Heather. Heather was one of my best friends growing up. I remember swimming at her house during the summer as a kid. I remember slumber parties (I think that was where someone got the brilliant idea to freeze my bras. Why are teenaged girls such bitches?) Anyway, Heather and I fell out of touch for . . . oh. A decade. At least. And I wouldn’t exactly say we’re buddy buddy now, but more circling each other on the internet. Let me tell you something about Heather, though. Heather works with addicts to get them un-addicted. She’s involved in AIDS testing and drug abuse prevention and recovery programs. She supports GOOD CAUSES. And it’s not just something she does for a paycheck. She doesn’t just talk the talk, she walks the walk, too. Last week, Heather did a health fair at the biggest high school on the eastern seaboard and they wouldn’t let her hand out free condoms with her AIDS prevention pamphlets, so you know what she did? She parked her ass at the fast food restaurant across the street and told kids to come get them there. That takes balls of steel, and I admire that. A lot.
Wow, I’m up to three people and almost a thousand words. I’m going to have to do another installment of this later on. There’s more, I swear. YES I LIKE MORE THAN THREE PEOPLE, but I blab so much sometimes I lose track of what I’m doing. The shiny is too much. I get so distrac . . .
(Stay tuned for Part Two.)