mkf joins a writing group

there are all sorts of reasons i've avoided doing this, not the least of which is fear of finding myself in the midst of yet one more group of civilians who will never in a million years get me--and, of course, that's exactly what's happened.

i mean, they seem really nice--mostly grandmas, single women and soccer moms, with a couple guys thrown in--they've all been writing for years, and their bio's read like a cross-section of america.  happy, shiny people all, putting their best face forward to the group.

i put it off as long as i could, but just now submitted the following:


I've given thought for the better part of a week to how i should introduce myself to my new writing group--I mean, seeing as it's my first go at this, do I go the safe route and try to ingratiate myself to all these new people who seem so nice, or do I tell the truth?  So I mixed a cocktail, because booze always seems to show me the way.

See, when I think of myself as a writer at all, I tend to think of myself as a writer in the grand tradition of Hemingway and Fitzgerald--not the talent part, of course; just the drunk part.

I never wrote growing up--not outside of school, anyway.  Nor, for that matter, did I drink much.  I only discovered these things later in life, and they came together four years ago in the form of a blog.  What started out as political ranting morphed into something else one night when a random song from my past came up on iTunes and triggered a memory at just the point when the vodka had overcome the voice of the inner critic that had always told me i couldn't, and I wrote the story.

It wasn't a great story, but it was something.  They got better over the years, or at least I like to think so.  Problem is, I dunno if the world agrees--and, for the longest time, I think I've been trying to avoid the answer to that question.

It's fairly easy for the author of an unsuccessful blog such as mine to rationalize the fact of his failure--lack of exposure, clueless clickers, Twitter-dulled attention spans--but far more difficult to escape the scrutiny and judgment of a small group of writers who are also, presumably, true readers.  Am I toiling away in obscurity because I'm merely undiscovered, fellow group members, or is it because I suck?

(It's also fairly easy to write whatever and whenever the drunken spirit moves me, but a different thing entirely to do it on demand, as I'm finding out with our first assignment.)

Thank you, Gotham Writers' Workshop (oh, and Amazon, and your too-convenient "Buy With One Click" feature), for this opportunity to maybe answer these questions--or screw you; I guess we'll see.


they're gonna love me, right?

so what happened to my guy? (concluded)

The great criticism of Mitt Romney, from both sides of the aisle, has always been that he doesn't stand for anything. He's a flip-flopper, they say, a lightweight, a cardboard opportunist who'll say anything to get elected. 

The critics couldn't be more wrong. His legendary flip-flops aren't the lies of a bumbling opportunist – they're the confident prevarications of a man untroubled by misleading the nonbeliever in pursuit of a single, all-consuming goal.  

Yet unlike other politicians, who at least recognize that saying completely contradictory things presents a political problem, Romney seems genuinely puzzled by the public's insistence that he be consistent.  It's an attitude that recalls the standard defense offered by Wall Street in the wake of some of its most recent and notorious crimes: Goldman Sachs excused its lying to clients, for example, by insisting that its customers are "sophisticated investors" who should expect to be lied to. 

i struggled with the second part of this post, because i couldn't for the life of me come up with a way to present my problems with this guy in a way that hadn't been done a thousand times before--and then matt taibbi came along and did it for me.  the above quotes from his recent, superb rolling stone piece (mashed together for my own purposes--sorry, matt) perfectly encapsulize and explain the great mitt romney conundrum with which i've wrestled for so long; namely, how a guy who is so seemingly principled in so many aspects of his life can justify, in his own mind, being such a hypocritical liar.

the answer:  he honestly doesn't think he's doing anything wrong.

and once you grasp the enormity of this truth about the man who would be king, i want you to read the referenced article--every word--and then send the link to everyone you know.  because if you think the mental disconnect which allows such breathtakingly complacent hypocrisy is limited to his policy positions, just wait'll you get a load of how this man who decries debt and promises america jobs actually did business.

*     *     *     *     *

i gotta admit, i watched with dark amusement as the ramp-up to the republican convention dovetailed perfectly with the formation of a hurricane that looked like it might turn out to be katrina's little brother. because i knew exactly what was gonna happen--hell, i could almost write the news copy in my head, accompanied by footage of white, fat-cat republicans partying in air-conditioned comfort in tampa juxtaposed with images of barack in shirtsleeves in louisiana, aiding and comforting the victims.

but, unbelievably, that didn't happen--turns out the obama campaign was so intent on chasing every last buck that it blew a golden opportunity, let mitt get there first, and ended up playing awkward catch-up after the fact.

you don't get do-overs often in life, but mr. taibbi has just handed the obama camp one on a silver platter--everything that is needed to completely destroy mitt romney in the eyes of the undecideds is contained within this article.  will they use it?  i dunno--they've played it pretty dumb so far, and they may not even need it--but i hope they do, because it's something every voting american needs to know before they step into that little booth in november.