Today is the National “The Princess Bride” Status Day on Facebook. Since TPB is one of my favorite movies of All Time, I thought I’d take this opportunity to share with you some of the life lessons I’ve learned from this oh-so-excellent movie.
1. “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone telling you differently is selling something.” This quote by Westley may seem a little cynical, however, if you keep this in mind you’ll be able to resist the lure of late-night infomercials. If a life lesson doesn’t hurt, you probably won’t get much out of it but an empty wallet. Oh, and exercise equipment you’ll never use.
2. “I just work for Vizzini to pay the bills. There’s not a lot of money in revenge.” Inigo Montoya would know — after all, he spent 20 years chasing the six-fingered man for killing Montoya’s father. Although Montoya does finally receive closure, the point here is revenge isn’t going to pay your bills.
3. “Well, I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” Your situation may not be ideal, but you can work with it. Westley looked at the Fire Swamp as more of a challenge than an obstacle. There are beautiful things to appreciate in any circumstance.
4. “Yes, you’re very smart. Shut up.” Nobody likes a know-it-all, especially Grampa. And if you piss Grampa off, he won’t tell you any more wonderful stories. So, shut your mouth and listen.
5.”You truly love each other and so you might have been truly happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the story books say. And so I think no man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will.” Here is the proof — the story books are fulla shitzki. I knew it, now here’s proof in black and white. There is no “happily ever after”, but there is “and they lived until it was time to die.” I like the second ending better — it’s honest and probably a lot more interesting.
If you haven’t even seen The Princess Bride, you are missing out. It is one of my favorite “feel good” movies, with everything from magic, revenge, true love, danger, humor, and drama. All that AND life lessons…it truly doesn’t get better than that.
I looked up from sweeping the floor in the cavernous warehouse, and saw something I never expected to see. Something that made me rub my tired eyes and wonder if I had been smelling too much solvent.
Sure enough, it was a cowboy leading a horse and I could have sworn something about him was familiar. Of course, I grew up around a few cowboys, but that was a long time and a whole life ago. They weren’t great memories he was stirring up.
I swear to God, I’m not lying. He had on boots, chaps, and a big old dirt-colored cowboy hat. I could hear the heels of his boots clocking against the cement floor and his spurs jingling.
“Hey!’ I cried. “Why the hell have you got a horse in here? The damned thing is shitting all over my floor!”
“Darlin’, don’t be so fussy. You always were a fuss-budget, Jamie,” was the answer.
Oh, I knew that hateful voice and my face flushed.
“You asshole,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing here? I’m the janitor of this building but I’m ain’t picking up your horse’s shit. Git out. And take the shit with you.”
Lord a’mighty, it was Percy McGill, and eternity wouldn’t have been long enough for me to never see his face again.
“Jamie, darlin’, I’ve come to get you and take you away from all this,” Percy drawled. He lifted his head slightly as he came near, and I could see that smile, those eyes, through a red mist.
I stood there in my janitor’s coveralls, ball cap on my head and dirt under my fingernails. I could feel my face starting to crumple, but I wasn’t going to let it. I smelled the odor of horseflesh, and shivered.
“If I need rescuing, I can rescue myself, pal. This ain’t cow country and you ain’t no shining knight on that horse. You’re a horse’s ass, and you can kiss mine. Now git on out, a’fore I call the cops.”
Percy stopped where he was and the horse stopped behind him, as well behaved as Percy wanted his women to be. He didn’t expect this kind of response, I could tell, and I was glad I had him off-kilter. I had to keep it that way or things could get ugly.
“You’re a feisty lil’ filly, I’ll give you that. Not such a fine lady now, are you?” He sniffed. “Your daddy sent me to find you and I aim to bring you back where you belong. I’m your destiny, Jamie , so come on and fulfill me.” The snide smirk on his face was more than infuriating.
“I’m not sixteen anymore, you idiot. This is a free country. You been fulfilling yourself for so many years what’s a few more? I’m happy where I’m at, and tell Daddy I ain’t a bale of hay to be tossed around with no never-mind.” I could feel my pulse throbbing in my temples.
Do you think any of this pierced that hide of vanity this jerk carried around? Hell no, his skin was as thick as a rhino’s and he was just as stupid.
“C’mon Jamie, you know there’s something here and you want it. Stop fightin’ and come on home back where you belong.” He looked disdainfully at the overalls I was wearing and the cap on my head, and my blood started to boil.
“You’re not fit to lick my boots,” I told him. “You just want me for the ranch, and believe me when I tell you, you’ll never get it. I’m off limits to you. I’d rather marry that horse.” I gritted my teeth.
Percy flushed and looked murderous. “Now Jamie, that was mean. What did I ever do to you that made you feel this way?”
That opened the floodgates, and ten years of pain and regret came rushing out.
“Remember a certain innocent sixteen year old girl, Percy? Remember the promises you made to her?” I stood, trembling, my hands wrapped around the broom with a death grip. “Remember what she did when she realized you wanted me instead, all for the ranch?” Tears threatened and that made me even madder. “Becka was my best friend and you used her and tossed her aside. Do you even visit her grave? You should. You’re the reason she’s there.” I felt like stomping my foot, but I was a woman now, not some stupid little cowgirl. “Now git on out of here. You ain’t never gonna be nothing but a lousy ranch hand because you ain’t never getting me.”
He didn’t even look ashamed. He looked pissed and I dropped the broom and stood fast, just like my daddy taught me, because I knew what Percy was capable of. He swung himself up on the horse, and came to get me. I felt the adrenaline pumping, making my legs feel like lead. I pulled the pearl-handled snub nose .38 my momma gave me for my sixteenth birthday from my back pocket, and fired. Right between the eyes. The horse reared and Percy fell off.
Percy is now at rest in a tiny plot behind the warehouse, covered by the new dumpster that came in last week. When he didn’t return, I’m sure Daddy got the message. I sent a card to Becka’s mother, and I bet you’re wondering about the horse.
I sold him for a pretty penny, and I daresay he don’t miss Percy neither.
It’s hard for me to be wordless. Oh, I have my moments, but they are few and far between. It’s a blessing and a curse, as anyone who has spent any time with me knows. Heh.
****
A potpourri of sorts, today.
– I am very sad to read of the death of Captain Phil Harris. For those of you who are unfamiliar, he was the captain of the Cornelia Marie on the Discovery Channel’s show, Deadliest Catch. This program deals with fishing for crab on the dangerous Bering Sea, and once you see an episode, you’re hooked. I loved Captain Phil, he was my favorite. The guy was a force of nature. During one fishing expedition, he suffered a blot clot that passed through his heart and lungs…and kept on fishing. He didn’t know anything else, didn’t want to know anything else — he’d been fishing since he was seven years old, and at twenty-one was one of the youngest captains to run a fishing vessel in the Bering Sea. My condolences to his sons, Jake and Josh, and to the rest of his family. He was a mighty man, and will be sorely missed by millions.
– Women are a mystery, as many a confused male can attest, but these Women of Mystery offer that little something extra. Today, they’ve posted some very interesting flash fiction contests that might be of some interest to my fellow flashers. Check it out, I know I will.
– Speaking of submitting, Flash Fiction Online is accepting submissions and they pay for them, too! Publication here counts toward the requirements for membership in the SFWA, and that’s a definite plus.
– Speaking of flash fiction, I was able to polish up a piece I wrote a while back, and I’m going to post it Friday for #flashfriday. It started out as a romance and turned….well, twisted. I know, try to contain your shock. I actually giggled through most of it, which just goes to show you how twisted I am and why I don’t write romance. Heh.
– And, because no day is complete without a time-waster or two, not to mention if you’re as sick and tired of this nasty winter weather as I am, a friend of mine sent me this link to help lift the February doldrums. Anything that provokes a smile in February is a wonderful thing.
So much for a Wordless Wednesday, right? Maybe next week. Heh.
Tags: deadliest catch, flash fiction, phil harris, SFWA, submitting, time waster, wednesday, wordless
Yes, that’s right. Monday is the new Saturday, at least for me, and I have to say I like Monday dressed up in Saturday’s clothes a lot better than what it usually wears. Of course, having a day off is most unfamiliar these days, but so far I’m digging it.
The Big Project has gone well, although it has been extended for another two weeks. This means fiction is still on hiatus, since writing 70k words in 4 weeks on the same subject tends to wear out the brain cells. That being said, I’m working on a piece for #fridayflash just in time for Valentine’s Day. I wrote it a long time ago, but it needs a good overhaul and some serious editing. I hope I can have it done by Friday.
In other writing news, check out this post from author Peter V. Brett on the e-book wars. He nails it dead-on, I’m thinking.
The Super Bowl was amazing this year, and although I’m not a Saints fan (sorry, the Giants have had, and always will have, my football heart) it was nice to see them win. I will admit that sometimes the commercials outshine the game, but not this year. In spite of that, this was my favorite Super Bowl commercial and it just tickles me to no end:
****
And finally, if you are at all interested in health care reform (and you should be!) check out this brilliant link from Kenny Wyland, who very effectively debunks the more persistent and stoopid of health care reform myths.
So, since it is a day off, I’m going to see what kind of trouble I can find. Heh.
Tags: ebooks, health care reform, monday, saints, saturday, war, writing
You may remember this post from a company I did business with this past summer. I have been remiss in updating the full story, and for that I apologize. Let’s catch up, shall we?
On October 14th, almost two months after the project was completed, I received a payment from an unknown (to me) source. Not knowing from whom the payment originated or what it was for, I was concerned I had received it in error, so I emailed the source with an inquiry, and an offer to return the money (less the fees involved in the transaction.) In return, I received a very nice email from a new PIC (Person In Charge) saying that it was payment for the services rendered to this company, and the former PIC was no longer a PIC, and a sincere apology was offered for my inconvenience. I politely replied that these things happen, and I appreciated the payment. I further stated that I hoped we could continue a working relationship, but in the future I would require a deposit upon my services.
The PIC thanked me for my patience and understanding, and said they totally understood my position.
The End. Oh, wait…not The End.
In December I received another message from my financial institution, saying that the payment had been disputed, but since it was over the dispute period, no action had been taken. Confused, I emailed the originator of the dispute, asking what the problem was and how could I fix it?
Now, as if this whole thing wasn’t weird enough, it got weirder.
The originator of the dispute told me to return the money. That’s it. No other information. Now, I’m just a wee bit irritated because I have no idea what’s going on.
We swap a few emails, and this person was claiming that the payment was made out of their account without their knowledge or permission, and they wanted the money back, like NOW, because it was close to Christmas and they had to buy gifts. Um…
I forwarded the information I had regarding the payment and wished him good luck with his mission. I have no idea who this person was, or how someone could make a payment to me out of their account without their knowledge, and the whole thing smelled fishier than a three-day-old octopus washed up on the beach. This person (are you confused yet? Because I sure am) said this whole thing was a scam, and “we’ll get them”. We? Scam? All I know is I finally got paid TWO MONTHS LATE for services I rendered, so I haven’t been scammed. I think. I’m so confused.
I emailed the PIC I spoke with in October, and they told me it was a mistake, the dispute had been withdrawn, we’re all cool. I never did get an explanation of what was really going on, and at this point, I’m over it.
The End…oh, wait. Not The End.
Today, I received an email from someone I’ve never heard of demanding I take this original post down. That’s all the message said — “Please take this post down immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.” Um….
So, I emailed back and said hello, who are you and why would I delete it? It’s the truth.
Response? One line… “You got paid, hence it’s not true.”
I still have no idea who this person is. So, I emailed back and asked again.
It’s the head of accounting.
****
I just want to say, for the record, I did eventually get paid, although that part is wreathed in mystery, which is really not my problem and I don’t care. I am a reasonably nice person, and I try to conduct myself in a respectful and professional manner. What is really irritating me here is the total lack of professionalism and respect on this other end. I don’t think I’m out of line here. If you want to discuss a problem, I’m all ears. If you want to start demanding, like I’ve done something wrong, well, talk to the hand.
This is my blog. This is my experience. Period.
Beware. That’s all I’m saying.
His red hair flamed against the cobalt blue of the California sky, his white teeth flashing in a charm-filled smile. His cocoa brown eyes warm, and full of love.
Bristly cheeks, a hearty laugh. Big hands, gentle in his touch and deft with a painter’s brush. “Look, princess,” he’d say. “What do you see?”
A world of color, a maelstrom of emotion too mature for young eyes. The heart of an artist speaking the only way it knew how – with oils and strokes, palettes of hues and whorls of feeling.
He never came in rescue from the monsters of childhood nor the tears shed in the face of life’s bruising. Never chased away the unworthy boys; never walked down the aisle with his princess on his arm to give away. He never held his first grandchild, or even seen his face.
He was not there, or ever would be, yet he lingered in every curve of my heart. I thought I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I would turn, only to face my fear. He lived; he was dead. Dead to me, but alive to his second, and favored, family.
Thirty years later, all I have is an enameled box filled with the remnants of a life that should have been.
I opened the box and released my father’s ashes on the California hillside.
Tags: #fridayflash
Yes, I should be working; I have a tight deadline to meet this week. However, I am often seduced by the fiction part of my chosen profession (like I chose it, instead of the other way around, that’s so funny!) and so I have a few links to share with you I think you might find useful or amusing.
First of all, a good friend of mine passed along a new market for short fiction. Blue Crow is accepting new submissions, deadline March 15, 2010.
Second, I found an Evil Editor and I’m soooo happy our species is not extinct. Don’t let the sharp humor scare you — there is a lot of excellent information here to which more writers and editors should pay attention. Including myself.
Looking for an agent? This is the blog for you. I might not be ready yet, but I will be soon, and it never hurts to keep an ear to the ground.
And wrapping it up for today, are you writing an online serial novel? Have you thought about taking your writing to the next level? Check out Digital Novelists, an innovative and fabulous community of writers exploring the power of profitably writing fiction for the web. An absolutely stellar bunch of people, and they get my hearty recommendation.
It’s supposed to be Tuesday, but it just feels like Monday dressed up in Tuesday’s cast-offs. The pants are a little too tight, but I’ll just have to make it work. Speaking of work, stop distracting me with shiny things…heh.
Tags: links
I have been having technical difficulties with the website lately, and nothing but the run-around trying to get it resolved. This makes me cranky. Couple that with a Monday and a decreased caffeine intake, and what do you have? Ohhhh, it’s not pretty.
However, we shall persevere.
I have been neck-deep in non-fic work, and while I’m very happy that I can make some kind of progress at chipping away at the pile of bills which grow fangs in the night and try to eat me in the morning, it has severely curtailed fiction-type endeavors. This does not make me happy, but it is what it is. I will say that anyone who tries to tell you writing for a living is easy work is a damned liar and you should beat them with a shovel.
I’m halfway through the Big Project, applied for a couple more gigs that seem up my alley, and am hurling words at a rate of about 2500-3500 per day. Considering that’s on the same subject, I’m satisfied with that although my brain likes to tell me otherwise.
Speaking of which, no, I have not completed the last three chapters yet. Pallas yells at me almost every night. She just does not get the concept of earning a living. I tell her when she can pay the bills, she’ll have my undivided attention, but until then I’m the boss of this rodeo. She laughs at me.
I’ll be so glad when that wench is written out and over. At least, for this round.
****
That’s the update. I’ll leave you with this comedic tidbit, which cracks me up:
And, it’s a cold one! Frigid, even. Holy moly, these single digits are killa. Makes it difficult for the brain cells to fire.
I realize I have taken a hiatus from blogging, tweeting, and general internet stuff, and most of that was not on purpose. Oh, you have your usual holiday issues, then some health issues, and of course, the ever-present real-life drama issues, and next thing you know, a whole month or more has passed by with nary a blog word written. Although only one out of the three have actually been resolved, it’s past time to dive back in to the blogosphere. I hope I haven’t lost all two of my readers (heh) but I’m willing to work hard to woo you back into the fold.
Let’s start with some Twitter-love, shall we? #Fridayflash is still going strong, and a “Best of” anthology is planned. For writers, I strongly urge you to participate in this weekly exercise, because…well, because it is so much fun! As a reader, I urge you with equal fervor to make the rounds and read…there is some astounding talent out there, and you won’t be sorry. As a matter of fact, I suspect you’ll thank me profusely and maybe even name your first born child after me. Yes, the stories are that good. Check it out.
The latest Twitter hashtag that’s come to my attention is #storystarters. How cool is this? Clifford Fryman had the brilliant idea (while in the shower, heh) to post 50 “story starters” to “kickstart creativity when your muse is a no show.” Each #storystarter is 125 characters, and he started posting them today in batches of five. I can see the potential for it to catch fire in the same way #fridayflash did. According to Cliff, who was kind enough to respond to my nosy questions, the idea is to provide a daily place to post or take advantage of a prompt. He posts three per day, usually. The 50 #storystarters were the result of a Twitter challenge Cliff posted, in order to raise awareness. It worked! He met the challenge, so today starts the posting marathon of the fruits of his labor. Anyone can participate and post a #storystarter by simply using the hashtag. He encourages people to first of all, write! And direct message him or Tweet the link to any story inspired by one of the story starters.
Cliff has tentative plans to release his personal story starters in a free e-book around NaNo time, but the future of #storystarters is still in the infant stage. The potential is shining and exciting. You can follow Cliff on Twitter here, and I highly recommend you do so… there could be more challenges to come, and you don’t want to miss them!
Cliff and I agree that Twitter has been a huge benefit, and he considers this his way of paying it forward. That’s the great thing about Twitter — many fine, talented people who are generous with their time and talents. I love Twitter.
I’ll be keeping a close eye on this, and have already scribbled a couple of #storystarters on my trusty notepad for future reference. Very cool, and the gods know that muse of mine needs a good poke now and then.
****
This is my latest earworm by DJEarworm — a seriously talented young man. Dare you not to do some chair dancing when you see it 
****
Well, this is a start on getting it on with the new year. I have expectations tempered by a realistic outlook. This ain’t my first new year, but hopefully it will be better than the last two have been, which in all honesty, have sucked the hairy nutz of Lucifer. One thing I can say about the last sixteen months in particular…I may have been bent, but I am not broken, and I still have hope. I’m gonna take that and run with it.
I have been a long-time fan of The Police. When Kellie approached me about posting this Q & A of hers with 
Stewart Copeland, I was thrilled and honored. Make sure you visit Kellie — she’s a Most Excellent writer, and she has a unique voice I quite admire.
Thanks, Kellie, for this. You totally rock, mygirl.
Stewart Copeland has been evacuated from Lebanon, locked up in Zaire, and inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. He has performed with Sting and Andy Summers in the Police, Les Claypool and Trey Anastasio in Oysterhead, and Gene Simmons and Stephen Stills in his youngest daughter’s grade school fundraiser. He has composed scores for opera, film, and ballet, acted, directed, danced with Pygmies, judged a reality TV talent show, and whupped Prince Charles on the polo field.
Copeland’s life has been anything but ordinary. It comes as no surprise that his life’s story isn’t either.
In September Copeland added book author to his already impressive, if haphazard, resume with the release of his memoir, Strange Things Happen: A Life with The Police, Polo, and Pygmies. Relayed as a series of anecdotes, the book’s loose narrative details select adventures and misadventures of his life, from his childhood in Beirut as the son of a CIA spy through the last notes of the Police’s thirtieth anniversary reunion tour last year. Written by a man who “instinctively say(s) yes to almost any creative endeavor,” this drummer’s memoir goes well beyond sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
Thanks to the Friday Project, the U.K. publisher of Strange Things Happen, I had the opportunity to submit a few questions to Copeland about his writing experience. Here he talks about his background as a writer, the stories that inspired the memoir, and the decision of which tales to tell-including what he says is the real reason why he glossed over the formative years of the band that made him famous.
1. In a conversation with Rachel Burden for BBC Radio 5, you mentioned that when you were younger, you didn’t expect to become a musician: you said you had gone to college, started a magazine, and thought you would end up either in the entertainment industry or as a publisher. Please tell us a little bit about your background as a writer. How did you get started? Did you write stories as a child? Did you have any formal training or plan to pursue writing as a career?
Just about the only thing I got good grades for in school was creative writing, but no, I never saw myself as a writer. I wrote copious stream of consciousness journals, but that was just to untangle my mind. Publishing the magazine (”College Event”) was fun, but the writing was all technical.
2. According to reports when your book was first announced, HarperStudio approached you about writing a memoir after reading a few of the “Dinner Tales” and tour diaries you had posted on your website. What, if anything, motivated you to write those stories down and post them online? Had the possibility of writing a book ever crossed your mind before?
Some of these adventures were so inspiring that they had to be witnessed on the spot. As one escapade followed another, I began to amass a growing folder of these stories. Even amateur writers need to be read, so I started posting them on my little website. It only took the slightest clamor to inspire the grand vision of a whole book. Just as I was getting started, the Police reunion tour happened, and the last chapters wrote themselves.
3. The structure of Strange Things Happen made it possible to be selective in which events of your life you chose to include or exclude. The early history of the Police, for example: you jump from the beginning of the band as narrated in the voiceover from your film Everyone Stares: The Police Inside-Out to the aftermath of recovering from the band in just the turn of a page. Later you dedicate some very funny pages to brief hours spent with Incubus, the Foo Fighters, and Rage Against the Machine, but you don’t talk at all about your two or so years with Animal Logic. How did you decide which stories or periods of time to represent and which to omit? Are there any you wish you had included but were unable?
When I hit the 80,000 word mark, the publisher started groaning, and I had to put down the pen. I’ve probably got a whole ‘nuther book with just the stories that have been suggested since I finished this one. Jamming with Alice Cooper, publishing that magazine, sky diving in Rio, Animal Logic, Ben Hur, and many more. I’ll get to it.
So what about The Police Round One? The official excuse is that the story has been told by all three of us already with two books [Sting’s Broken Music and Summers’ One Train Later] and a movie. But really the truth is that I did try to write some Police Tales from back in the day, but the pen just would not move across the page. I was grumpy for too much of that time, and the poisons began to re-circulate whenever I tried to conjure up the scenes. The reunion tour fixed all that, and I just didn’t want to go back to status quo ante. And there are those two books and a movie.
Kellie M. Walsh is writing a book about a flag that stalked Stewart Copeland around the world. Read her essay “My Love-Hate Relationship with River Phoenix” featured recently on PopMatters, and follow her on Twitter.
What You’re Saying