Square Pegs

As always, we are excited to present new ideas in literacy. Okay, perhaps it’s not so new — our friend Jean imported a similar (but not the same) concept from her work in Britain — but it’s a cool approach to involving kids in literature. After all, there’s nothing like a book report to suck the soul out of a novel. Now, we’re going to admit upfront: we’re not the good person everyone believes we are. We realize the following quote was meant to elicit sympathy. We get overt manipulation. But given that we often feel like we grew up

We are quite possibly the only writer in the greater Los Angeles area without the screenwriting gene (we were tested, and it’s definitely missing). But does that reduce temptation when something like Bravo’s Situation: Comedy comes up? Of course not. We can experience twisting jealousy and seething envy as well as the next person. Probably better because we have a lot of practice. If the screenwriting gene didn’t skip you (or if it did — hey, it’s comedy, who knows!), read the rules (which we can do), complete the application (we are the Queen of Completing Forms), and write the

We have willfully ignored the the fact that Pamela Anderson “wrote” a book (though we applaud her for admitting the extent of her authorial input) in favor of the twists and turns of the Norma Khouri affair. In the beginning, we wanted to believe Khouri. Then things grew murky, and we had to admit perhaps we were wrong. Which we thought was a shame given the subject matter and the loss of credibility she created for herself. Now she’s saying, okay, I made some stuff up, changed a few things around, but the basic story is true. She’s also saying

Ah cliché — where would we be without it? No, seriously, where would we be? Sweating over posts because we can’t think of anything clever to say. It’s not that we lack imagination, it’s simply that sometimes there are no words. Thus we fall back on, yes, the tried and true. Any regular consumer of books, writer of books, reviewer of books, or editor of books will recognize the language that is literary jargon. It is supposed to be shorthand that creates an instant identifier for us. Sadly, astute readers have another view of the whole thing: laughoutloud, as in

Just the other night, our friend Jim was complaining that he had fewer hours in a day than most people. We, being difficult and annoying, questioned him closely until our cross-examination revealed that Jim, indeed, has fewer hours in the day than most people. It’s simply a matter of defining hours as “time to spend on the Internet*”. Today, we feel much like Jim**. So many cool things to explore and share, so little time. Of course our cats don’t begrudge any time we spend on our vocation, but they do require grossly overpriced food. Thus we must focus on

In an effort to save your bleary eyes, we will refrain from posting the husband’s thoughts on the music industry. Suffice to say, he has sufficient experience in various capacities to assure his views are well founded. Loud, but well founded. We will, however, summarize because his thesis is germane to our posting: the music industry doesn’t get it. It is easy enough to extrapolate this rant to other entertainment industries. Just yesterday, we had an email exchange with a friend on the subject of promotion. We talked about how hit-and-run promotion doesn’t work — the online audience too jaded.

Some would think a piece from today’s Page Six column would have us on a censorship rant. Except it’s hard to suggest an author is being censored when they are cooperating fully. So, okay, strike censorship (unless someone is in the mood to argue the part where the reader is not being allowed to make adult, informed choices…we find that an appropriate topic). Some might even think we’d rant a bit about the loss of quality that comes from deleting terms and placing bizarre descriptions in brackets. Except we find it funny beyond belief. If it were us (and clearly

Our bookclub has always non-gender exclusive. Actually, considering who attends our meetings, we’re not even species-exclusive. Yes, the husband tries to paint our club as female only, but how is it that he’s always encountering men at our meetings? Right, because he’s fishing for excuses not to read Edith Wharton. He has, of course, promised to lead the discussion when we tackle Gravity’s Rainbow. He takes incredible pride in the fact he’s read the thing cover to cover (we usually get stuck when the phallic imagery moves from subtle to downright funny). All of this is our way of saying