Interlude: Birthday Shopping (Epiphany 2)

Just doing a spot of shopping for my nephew’s third birthday party tomorrow. Ended up buying a K-2SO for myself, because that guy rules.

Had a funny thought just as I was going to sleep last night.

My lanttumies, Vuta, has been reading The Final Fall of Man. Given that he’s not a big reader, and it’s a series of books in a third language for him, and they’re very challengingly-written books, I really should give him more props for that. Big respect, Vuta. Big respect.

But what occurred to me as amusing was that, on a few occasions, he has berated me for possibly-intentionally writing bigger, fancier words than I needed to, as though I’m all wrapped up in how smart and educated I am, and how I can use complicated words and so on. He said he’d struggled with the urge to give up reading the series (Eejit was the main offender, I started out with some hard writing), even to throw the book across the room.

At first I was a bit stung by this, but then I realised … he’s right. I am proud of myself, my writing ability, my textual intellect. It’s what I do. It’s my gift.

It’s as nonsensical to criticise me for that as it is for me to criticise Vuta for being proud of his military, martial arts and weapons background. Every time he posts something on Facebook about soldiers kicking arse and taking names, I need to check myself. I need to remind myself that my mild eye-rolling response to his passion is exactly the same as his response to mine.

I’m not saying I’m about to start learning martial arts or shooting bows. But I’m going to give him more of a chance when he geeks out – or whatever the army-man equivalent is … I want to say jocks out? – over the passions in his life.

Thanks, Vuta. Never change.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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4 Responses to Interlude: Birthday Shopping (Epiphany 2)

  1. andy says:

    Before your head gets too big, should I mention the wrong word used on page 59 of the kindle version of Bonshoon? Lol

    But seriously, one of the reasons I like your books is the smart writing (most of the time.)

    • stchucky says:

      Dude! Don’t even get me started. No matter how many times I edit, and I get four very good editors to edit, I get the paperback in front of me and open to a random page and boom, there’s a freaking typo.

      What did you spot in Bonshoon, though? I’m unlikely to do any new editions at this point, but never say never. I’m still struggling with the hardcovers.

  2. andy says:

    Lol, it was about orders clue had receiver instead of received. Simple spelling error. Just thought it hilarious that I was reading about your “textual intellect” literally minutes before running across this error.

    Your editors do good work though, better than the majority of the kindle unlimited stuff out there.

    • stchucky says:

      My editors do a fantastic job. Ugh, and yeah. Stupid things the autocheck doesn’t find.

      True story, I was intending to use the word “intellecty” as a Creepy and Hatboy in-joke. But you know, the classical irony of it will have to suffice.

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