Man, life can be tough. Just when you think you got things figured out…
News flash: there’s this generational thing, see, that sneaks around behind you and you don’t see it when you write and write – you’re a writer, so you probably already know this.
But one day, smacko, bango, it hits you right in the face and you gotta wonder, whaaaaaaat?
Is my bald spot that big? Blind spot, I meant to say blind spot…
Two of the readers of my newest novel – soon to be published only by me, I fear – felt that my dialog, my humorous byplay between characters, was sitcomish, and, gulp, dated.
Dated? DATED? What? Last time I heard that term, it was on the radio! On the 5 o’clock news! On Network Television! I’m trying to make a joke here about stuff that’s out of date – last time I heard that was on a cassette tape!
Dated. Me. I can’t believe it. Gobsmacked. Guttered. You mean references to Fred Flintstone and Gilligan’s Island and Scooby Doo aren’t current? What am I supposed to do? Quote Harry Styles? Even that’s out of date. Annette? Arnelle? That woman with the smoky voice that sang “Roooomur, rumor has it…” Adele, that’s it. She released an album. See? I’m current!
Sitcomish is just as bad. Me. My dialog. Sitcomish. Just shoot me. Oh, wait, that was a sitcom. Aw gee, Scoob… dangit!
So, what can we do? What is to be done?
Because now these friendly comments make me feel like a geezer. Me!
I saw the Rolling Stones in concert last week. Mick Jagger isn’t a geezer, and he’s 78.
So how did I get to be a geezer? Why me?
I’m gonna have to pull my pipe out the pocket of my cardigan sweater, put on my ratty old slippers and think about this while my wife knits me a blanket for my rocking chair. I’ll just reflect on the good old days and things will go back to normal.
I’m coming, Elizabeth!
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