“…it’s hard to remember exactly what I was waiting for. Although I do know that it was something wholly unfamiliar and thrilling. Like a new colour, one I’d never seen before. Not a mixture: no trace of blue or yellow or red. What would that look like? Even though our physical world makes the existence of such a thing basically impossible, I’d still really like to see that.”
~ David Rakoff, in TAL’s Promised Land episode and his book “Don’t Get Too Comfortable“
In what way is this “electronics”?
NB: And the search term was “hat” (All Departments).
That’s right kittens, IT’S SNOW CAKE TIME!
Thanks to BR for the sprinklespiration.
p.s. Jerry, you can stop sending me photos of snow now. Ktks. 
I am asked, fairly often, how much what I write gets edited before publication.
The answer is that it varies. Some publications edit more extensively than others. Some have a stricter “voice”. But, to answer the question, and because I loves me an empirical answer — here’s a lifecycle of a short little something I wrote recently, submitted to a publication with a Very Strong House Style. Hold on to your version control socks!
Version 1 – Short “proof of concept” test:
An early short version sent to editor for style check — I know when I’m in the cheeky danger zone.
“Once upon a time, there was a burrito. And that burrito didn’t have grapes in it. And the burrito didn’t know what it was missing, because it didn’t know that grapes in a burrito are awesome. But then one day, the good people at The Drake Hotel said “don’t be sad little chicken burrito, for you shall know fruit!”
And lo! The chicken curry burrito was made. And it was good. And its goodness went forth and multiplied, with zippy apples, and crunchy walnuts. And unto the walnuts and apples was added creamy curry and tender chicken. And the burrito saw that it was delicious, and it said “let me be priced so reasonably that all the people might enjoy my bounty!”.”
Result: Editor agreed it was funny, but wrong style for publication.
Version 2 – For realsies this time:
“The Drake Hotel pities the fool who doesn’t have time for a sit-down lunch. No, actual
pity. In the form of making us sandwiches, so that we can grab them and go. Aptly titled
their “Grab + Go” menu. (Decidedly more congenial than “Grab + Get Out”)
Nothing says grab and go quite like the mother of all one-handed sandwiches, the
burrito, so we tried The Drake’s Chicken Curry version. And, for the win: these
pitywiches aren’t the standard shrink-wrapped, cardboard-laced, essence du cubicle
fare.
Look at that picture. Now back to me. Now back at the picture. Yes, those are grapes.
Burritos didn’t know what they were missing and what they were missing was grapes.
It’s fruitapalooza in the Chicken Curry Burrito. Yes, there is chicken (nice’n’moist). And yes, there is curry. But when the chicken turns his back, the fruit understudies steal the spotlight. Juicy grapes, zippy apples, and crunchy walnuts. All unexpected, and all delicious, and all priced at the extremely reasonable $5.95.”
Version 3 – Editor’s edit:
“The Drake Hotel is showing a bit of mercy to busy office workers who don’t have time for a sit-down lunch. Their new (and aptly titled) “Grab + Go” menu features one-hand-required burrito-style sandwiches that break away from shrink-wrapped, cardboard-laced cubicle fare. The chicken curry version is fresh, filling and even surprising. Yes, it comes with moist meat and just the right amount of spice, but its most impressive features are fruit and nuts: juicy grapes and apples, set off by crunchy walnuts. Available when the café opens at 8 a.m., the sandwich can be procured mid-commute and even stays crisp until midday.”
Version 4 – My edit of the edit:
“The Drake Hotel is showing a bit of mercy to busy office workers who don’t have time for a sit-down lunch. Their new (and aptly titled) “Grab + Go” menu features one-handed “Type + Eat” sandwiches that break away from shrink-wrapped, cardboard-laced cubicle fare. The chicken curry burrito version is fresh and filling. It comes with moist meat and just the right amount of spice, but its most impressive features are fruit and nuts: grapes, apples, & walnuts. Available when the café opens at 8 a.m., the sandwich can be procured mid-commute and the grapes and walnuts ensure the sandwich is still both juicy & crunchy by midday.”
::::
So peeps. When you say “that doesn’t really sound like you”, now you know why.
Next week: “We’re humped” ; )
… says “What up?”
First try at using a pen & tablet. The resulting Reindoodle:
Shamelessly modified from a christmas card I bought today. : )
Great. Now the post title totally has me needing to draw his butt.
BRB.
ETA:
Oh little reindeer. Your posterity is showing!
The first person ready to go in full scarves and mittens at the front door reserves the right to sing distracting songs while the second person scurries around looking for wallets and socks and keys.
There were flurries in Toronto this morning (w00t!!!), so I thought it fitting to sing something “seasonal”. In category, if not spirit. ; )
See this morning’s impromptu lyrical genius below. Sung to the tune of “Winter Wonderland”. If you can’t make the lyrics fit, you’re not squooshing them hard enough.
“In the meadow you will build me a snowman
And I’ll check to make sure you did it right
If you didn’t, I’ll be very an-gry
And teach you about the importance of symmetrical spheres.
Later on, you’ll be cryin’
But it’s meee who’ll be dyin.
Cuz you didn’t do it properly
And I’m ashamed to be seen with you
Walkin’ in a winter wonderland.”
ETA: Husband’s reaction? “Oh yeah, you’re definitely not allowed to have kids.”
What do they have in common? My revised copy for a lunch pick. One of them has got to make it through!
Nah. Not really. In fact, I wouldn’t be the teeny tiniest bit surprised if none of them make it through. That’s how you know they’re finished making it sound like them: when it stops sounding like me. In the end, it’ll probably say something like “the moist chicken was delightful, and had us coming back for more!”. (Oop! Spoiler alert! CHICKEN!)
I try to swallow my voice and write in theirs, I really do. But some days, it just feels dirty. And maybe chalky? Just a soupçon?
My voice will out.
p.s. I also used the word “pitywich”. COME ON!
p.p.s. This is my second pass at copy after my first version was rejected flat out. While it made my editor laugh, it wasn’t “right” for the brand. But, I ask you, what can possibly not be right about a lunch review as biblical parody?! Other than eternal damnation, I mean.
I’ll post V1 once the final version’s online. : )
The child in me (“No candy thank you. Unicef?”) just ran in a circle screaming “OMIGODOMIGODOMIGOD!!!”, and then fell over in excitement.
AND THERE’S MORE WHERE THIS CAME FROM.
My tummy hurts.
Update: If you ever wonder if sugar-bans lead to addiction, allow me to share this morning’s IM exchange with my big brother:
me: CANDY
him: Candy candy candy candy canday
me: candycandycandy
If I believed in omens, and these were Ye Olde Tymes, White Squirrels would totally be good omens.
As I do not believe in omens, and these are Ye Modyrne +1m35, White Squirrels will have to settle for just being FLUFFY & BADASS.
Did You Know?: While the acorn-hucking, baby-tripping regular park squirrels only listen to thrash metal, white squirrels prefer standards. I mean, they’re cool with a bit of Metallica now and then, they just know what they like.
I hear the easy way of doing things is amaaaaazing.
Me though? Trial by fire. All. The. Way. That’s why it’s called Trial by Fire bitches. Because if it was called “Trial by Fluffy Bunny Rabbits”* it wouldn’t be worth doing. If I’m going to learn to do something it’s going to be hard and mean and a real renameyourpethamsterandpouryourchocolatemilkonthefloor bitch of an undertaking.
Which is why The Universe decided it was important that instead of this bollocks about “learning incrementally” and “step-by-step” approach to riding, the heavens should part and dump some brimstone on my poor n00b bike riding ass.
I checked the weather report. I budgeted the time. And yet, 10 minutes into a nearly 3 hour ride home, something hit my visor. Then another thing. Then another. Things that were shaped an awful lot like oh holy shit you’re kidding me rain.
As it got colder. And darker (country roads don’t have streetlights little city mouse). And wetter.
But like the fucking champion I am, I did it. So if you saw a very very (very very) wet person on Saturday night (and you may have, since I single-bikedly cut across most of the GTA), driving along with their visor up (so. much. rain.) and a gleam of crazy in their eye, possibly shouting something like “AHAHAHA I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!! GO BIKEY GO!”, that was me.
Still. One of the better moments of my life? Pulling into the parking lot.
One of the other better moments? Submerging hippo-like into a very hot bath. Until it got cold, and I got out to order motherfucking chicken wings and onion rings, because when your hands look like this You. Need. Chicken Wings. Like. Now:
The End.
P.S. That’s a total fucking lie.* “Trial by Fluffy Bunny Rabbits”?! How fucking awesome would that be? Think of the robes alone! Gavels made out of carrots?! Would they be tough but fair? Cruel and mercurial? What would the bribes look like?! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.
P.P.S. Fight, win!
