Snakes Ain’t Shit: Becoming a Blog Whore and Other Random Acts of Dissonance

I am sorry to say that the following is a little bit of This and a little bit of That. Sometimes some of the very best stuff gets left out because it doesn’t fit within a certain theme. On occasion, I like to circle back to pick up these orphans in what I like to think of as a “deleted scenes episode”. I am such a fan of this sort of thing that I will absolutely rave over a mediocre film if it contains a bloopers and outtakes reel after the closing credits. Truth be told, I don’t own a blu-ray where this feature hasn’t seen more action than the movie itself. So, from my perspective, the greatest moment in all of cinema history can be found in the “bloopers” at the end of Toy Story 2. Hopefully this insight eases your pain as we cobble this mess together into something almost as attractive as Frankenstein’s Bride.

As I have noted on prior occasions, I am not a huge fan of the social network, but I do maintain a Facebook account for the purpose of posting pictures of my kids for family and friends to view from afar. Despite my general distaste, on occasion something of interest is posted and one in particular caught my eye this very morning. A friend posted the following quote on another user’s wall: “If you were bitten by a venomous snake, I would suck the poison out faster than a horny vampire. And then we would skip away. Cuz skippin’ is cool and snakes ain’t shit.” Perhaps it is my rather unusual take on the world, but I find this prose to be . . . well . . . touching. In fact, if I ever renew my vows with my wife, this is definitely going to be included. I think it says so much more than “in sickness and in health”, don’t you? This mention of renewal serves as the only segue I can possibly concoct to move us on to our next topic.

As a way to keep things fresh and new I am going to mirror this project for a while at a new site: www.whereisjackbutler.wordpress.com. My intent is to reach a broader audience in hopes of turning this project into a legitimate published work. Over the past several evenings, I have spent a fair amount of the wee hours sifting through the varying internet resources relating to blog production, circulation, publishing and writing in general and have come out sleep deprived and completely confused. The one thing I seem to have a fairly firm grip on is the fact that I am too lazy and too frugal to make much of an impact in the blogosphere. Tips ranging from hosting your own blog so as to not have to depend on the free services of Blogger and WordPress to shamelessly plugging yourself in shop windows have left me scratching my head. It would seem that one of the keys to getting a REAL book published is to show that you already have an established audience. I know this to be true because many of the most well known and wildly popular book series out there right now initially faced massive rejection from agents and publishers alike. Until they obtained a following through various means, they remained shut out of the publishing world entirely. This inner sanctum seems harder to crack into than a bank vault and for the first time author, it is a little like the proverbial blind man in a dark room looking for a black cat that isn’t there.

Success seems to hinge on one’s ability to shamelessly self-promote themselves. I am a master at self-proclamation, but self-promotion is a horse of a different color. A horse that won’t just stand there with a dumb expression on its face when I tell it to do so. And so, I have done what I must. I have smeared on a thick layer of fire engine red lipstick, pulled on a patent leather miniskirt over tattered fishnet stockings, and traded my converse for a pair of pink stiletto heels so that I may parade myself around the blogging community looking for a sailor or two that might be literate enough to give my little blog here a cursory review. I guess the theory is that if you turn enough literary tricks, you might get picked up by a pimp (literary agent) and eventually your clientele will go from the average John surfing the web for a light read to the silk stocking set at an upscale publishing house. For now, I guess I will be shaking my little ass on the street corner, hoping someone comes along in a long white Cadillac looking for a good . . . read. Wish me luck, Sugar. R