Books for kids, teens, & those who are young at heart

Category: Writing (Page 71 of 73)

Dumb, Dumber, and Dumber-er Jokes

The hubby, my brother, and I were watching TV the other evening when the hubby made a joke (many of our jokes revolve around the shtick of one person saying something like “That’s stupid” and the other person saying “You’re stupid”). Later my brother made a pretty bad joke and the hubby said, “That was even dumber than my joke.”

I quickly said to the hubby, “Hah! You just called your joke dumb.” My brother responded (and this is so typical for the two of them to gang up on me!), “Not necessarily.”

That got me thinking…which always means trouble. I argued that in order for joke B (the bro’s) to be dumber than joke A (the hubby’s), joke A has to be dumb as well. In grammar terms, that means there has to be the positive (definition 20)—dumb, tall, beautiful—in order for there to be a comparative (definition 4)—dumber, taller, more beautiful.

Of course, the hubby and bro decided that I was wrong. My brother said, “So does that mean the statement ‘You are dumber than Bill Gates’ says that Bill Gates is dumb?” I said, “Yes.” Just like it doesn’t make sense to say “My brother is smarter than a pencil” because the pencil really doesn’t possess any qualities of smartness, it wouldn’t make sense to say someone is dumber than Bill Gates if Bill Gates doesn’t possess some quality of dumbness.

Now it might make sense to say “My brother is sharper than a pencil,” which at least makes more sense because—although in a punny way—the pencil and my brother both possess qualities of sharpness. Yet, it isn’t really that simple, but we’ll get back to that later.

The boys continued to argue for their point, and the debate really just went in circles for awhile. I think I may have eventually convinced them that from a purist point of view, there really should be a positive in order for there to also be a comparative, but in the real world, it’s just not practical to interpret a comparative statement that way.

For example, a guy says, “That chick is way hotter than that butt-ugly one.” From my argument, he’s saying that the butt-ugly chick is on some level hot, which is not at all what he meant to say. Unless, and this is the real sticky point in this whole thing, you take into account the negative side of the positive.

I know, how convoluted can we get here? But stick with me because I think my brother has an interesting point (and, oh, how I hate to admit that). Can the opposite of the positive (dumb versus smart or hot versus ugly) be considered on the same scale? In that case, you could say someone is dumber than Bill Gates and not have Bill Gates be dumb at all. Instead of the positive of dumb, Bill Gates would be the negative of dumb (i.e. smart) and the comparative would still work.

Definitely something to think about! And for all of you brave souls who made it to the end of this post, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic.

I Asked Author Cindy Pon a Questions and She Answered

I’ve made an Internet appearance again! This time in print form and not picture form. I posed this question (it’s the first one listed) after reading Cindy Pon’s YA fantasy book Silver Phoenix, and she chose to answer it in vlog form.

Here’s a bit more about the book and a link to Cindy’s contest (I selfishly posted these so I could be entered twice into her contest! Her artwork is awesome!).

I’ll finish by stealing a question that Cindy always asks her guest authors: Who is your favorite literary crush? Check out the comments to see mine.

Running in the Land of the Midnight Sun

The summer solstice rolls in on June 21st, ushering in the warmest days of the year (at least for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere). This is the longest day of the year, which when looking at the symbolic meaning of lightness and darkness, means we are truly approaching the high point of the year.

My father once said that the summer solstice always makes him want to jump in a car and follow the sun north to see how long the day will last. My sister and I sort of did this one year. We actually hopped on a plane—not the one we were hoping to get on, but that’s a story for another day—and headed north…first to Seattle (which we weren’t supposed to go to) and then finally to Anchorage, Alaska.

We were there to run the Mayor’s Midnight Sun Marathon (find our results here…look in the 5:06 range). We raised over $11,500 for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, thanks in large part to sponsorship by William B. Meyer, the man and the company.

We have many, many, many stories, adventures, and pictures (which are all from the pre-digital age, so they have to be scanned in before they make it on this blog) from our marathon training and that trip. You may read about it in our memoir Loose Bowels & Butt Chap (see comments). Oh wait, it’s not yet published…okay, it’s not even written yet. This is a good start, though.

The Eastern PA SCBWI Conference Intro

My picture has hit the Internet again! I attended the Eastern Pennsylvania SCBWI Poconos retreat. It was at the Shawnee Inn, which surprisingly was only about a two-and-a-half hour drive from good old CT. Many attendees who reside in PA had longer drives than I had.

The weekend was—as my 9-year-old nephew would say—awesome! The members of the Eastern PA chapter of the SCBWI were so welcoming. I didn’t know a single person (except for my roommate, whom I had only met on-line…scary, I know…but really quite safe…I mean, we write for children, not exactly the scariest group of people), but everyone was super nice and acted like they actually wanted to get to know me.

I made a lot of new friends, got to meet the guru of children’s writers’ websites Verla Kay, and gave wedding advice to super-cool YA author Lara Zeises. The previously mentioned roommate posted all her pictures on her blog, and I just happen to have a starring role.

More on this event coming soon!

Observations on the Train to NYC

I recently headed down to NYC for one of the SCBWI Writers of Lower Fairfield County Editor Evenings (mine is the middle grade novel…and how great is it that I’m referred to as an author?). As usual, I took the hour-and-a-half train ride into Grand Central.

I often go into the city with the girls. (Here’s a kind-of-old picture of “the girls” at the Hard Rock Cafe. I’m the cute one!)

When I’m with the girls, the train rides fly by. We usually have so much catching up to do that the ride is over before we’ve run out of things to say. The focus is on us and not the world that streams past the windows.

However, I took this most recent trip alone. I brought a book, but the scenes through the glass grabbed my attention. It wasn’t the beauty of life that interested me; it was the real scenes of life that caught my imagination. I appreciate that Metro North Railroad takes a direct route from point A to point B and doesn’t try to send the train through the most picturesque areas.

My little tour of the wrong sides of the track gave me much to think and dream about. And I was able to do it from the safety of my train seat. Here are some of things I saw:

  • A beat up compact car (possibly a Hyundai Accent) sits in a parking lot behind some kind of apartment complex. It’s purple, and not a deep night-sky kind of purple, more of a dark lavender kind of purple (not my first choice for a car color). The back quarter panel on the passenger’s side is all banged up, and the back tire on that side is flat. I wonder what story that sad little car has to tell? An adventure? A tragedy?
  • A young boy hangs out with his friends at a school playground. He’s waving to the train, or maybe he’s waving at some other object in the same eye line. He’s got a big grin on his face. Is the smile sweet? Mischievous? What do his friends think of his enthusiasm?
  • Three cops cars are parked side-by-side in the back parking lot of some large store. They’re hidden from the road and no other cars are near them. What are they doing there? Slacking off? Planning some big bust?

There are so many stories being told when you take a few minutes to look out the window.

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