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My horoscope, that is.
Not to be confused with Alzheimer's, "Alt.heimer's" is a term that the Slang Dictionary defines as "a condition afflicting chronic hipsters who can no longer recall if they like something genuinely or ironically. Example: 'As Ron stared at the hideous leather pants and retro Star Wars sheets he'd just purchased, he realized his Alt.heimer's was advancing with terrifying speed.'" I bring this up, Scorpio, because you urgently need to determine whether you're infected with Alt.heimer's. APRIL FOOL! You don't have Alt.heimer's. But it is crucial that you take inventory of what things you genuinely like and what things you merely like ironically.
Hmmm. I was infected, until a few months ago, when I started getting rid of stuff. Like most American consumers, I have more stuff in my house than I will actually ever use. Unlike most American consumers, I feel no need to keep it. Nothing would please me more than to have closets I can walk into, and an attic that holds only my Christmas decorations. I thoroughly cleaned my closet during the holidays and dumped a whole carload of clothing and craft items on the nice people at Goodwill. I plan to do the same thing to my son's room over Spring Break. And this summer, the attic gets it. All my mother-in-law's stuff that we kept for her during a sudden move will be given back to her to store. All the boxes we kept because "we might need to return it/we might move and want to pack in them" will go to the recycling yard. All the books I haven't touched in ten years will be posted to Paperback Swap or else given to the library sale. At last my home will reflect the things I truly love - writing, reading, belly dance, pirates - and nothing ironic will remain.
Doesn't it sound lovely?
I can do the same thing to my writing. When I was revising the novel for Tor the first time, Denis pointed out something that bothered him in the reading. The male lead kept calling my protag by a nickname that had no solid basis. I just liked it. The trouble was that it didn't read true for any reader who wasn't me. I was holding on to it because it tickled me. It was a whim, a joke I was telling myself. I'd loved it ironically. Now that the book has been through four revisions (okay, the last one was very small, but it still counts), it is full of things that I love authentically. Which means that readers who are not me will be able to love it, too.
Not to be confused with Alzheimer's, "Alt.heimer's" is a term that the Slang Dictionary defines as "a condition afflicting chronic hipsters who can no longer recall if they like something genuinely or ironically. Example: 'As Ron stared at the hideous leather pants and retro Star Wars sheets he'd just purchased, he realized his Alt.heimer's was advancing with terrifying speed.'" I bring this up, Scorpio, because you urgently need to determine whether you're infected with Alt.heimer's. APRIL FOOL! You don't have Alt.heimer's. But it is crucial that you take inventory of what things you genuinely like and what things you merely like ironically.
Hmmm. I was infected, until a few months ago, when I started getting rid of stuff. Like most American consumers, I have more stuff in my house than I will actually ever use. Unlike most American consumers, I feel no need to keep it. Nothing would please me more than to have closets I can walk into, and an attic that holds only my Christmas decorations. I thoroughly cleaned my closet during the holidays and dumped a whole carload of clothing and craft items on the nice people at Goodwill. I plan to do the same thing to my son's room over Spring Break. And this summer, the attic gets it. All my mother-in-law's stuff that we kept for her during a sudden move will be given back to her to store. All the boxes we kept because "we might need to return it/we might move and want to pack in them" will go to the recycling yard. All the books I haven't touched in ten years will be posted to Paperback Swap or else given to the library sale. At last my home will reflect the things I truly love - writing, reading, belly dance, pirates - and nothing ironic will remain.
Doesn't it sound lovely?
I can do the same thing to my writing. When I was revising the novel for Tor the first time, Denis pointed out something that bothered him in the reading. The male lead kept calling my protag by a nickname that had no solid basis. I just liked it. The trouble was that it didn't read true for any reader who wasn't me. I was holding on to it because it tickled me. It was a whim, a joke I was telling myself. I'd loved it ironically. Now that the book has been through four revisions (okay, the last one was very small, but it still counts), it is full of things that I love authentically. Which means that readers who are not me will be able to love it, too.
