Things I Don't Give a Rat's Butt About

I am super glad the world is such a diverse place with such diverse people in it. But on a day like today when I feel like I've been stretched out like pantyhose a size too small, I come to realize there are things in this world I just am not interested in.

Football, for instance. The rest of my bunch is happily tuned into the Cotton Bowl, but I have my headphones plugged in and am writing blog posts and working on my ill-considered WIP (yep, Lost fanfiction - but I swear I'm doing the mental work on my other stuff at the same time). Monday (I think) is the National Championship and everything will stop here in Alabama as the Tide plays LSU. I love my people and will support them with fried catfish as they watch, but I swear I don't give a rat's butt about the game.

I have also found that I do not give a rat's butt about most of the stories that pass for news nowadays. I worked for a newspaper for a while and discovered that very little real news happens. Truly most of what's reported is gossip. Real news of important events that will shape the economic and social future of the world isn't nearly as juicy as who's got a baby bump or who's been arrested for drunk driving, so these stories just don't get as much airplay. Consequently, coverage of an important trade summit will take a back seat to some story about Celebrity X trading in her old mansion for a new mansion. I just don't give a rat's butt where Lady Gaga lives (as long as she doesn't move in next door).

Finally, I am having trouble caring about dinner. What's for dinner? is the clarion call of the nation starting about 5:30, but I am just not in the mood to cook these days. Sometimes I get all enthused about trying a new dish, but right now if it doesn't try to eat me, I am happy. Tonight's football meal was purchased at the local fish and steak house because I don't give a rat's butt about cooking dinner. If Lady Gaga is coming over for a meet-the-neighbors party, she can have fried catfish from the Front Porch Restaurant along with the rest of us.

What I do care about is that my folks are all happily watching a football game with their bellies full of fried catfish (that I didn't have to cook) and that none of them are pregnant or driving drunk or Lady Gaga. That's worth a whole bunch of rat's butts.

"That Ending Sucked!": On Payoff in Fiction

Let me be straightforward---I don't write "literature." Now, that's not to say that I don't try to write well and with literary value. But the primary motivator in "literature" is seldom entertainment. Literature seeks to ask questions and make us think. I hope it makes us better people for having read. And I hope my readers find some really good takeaway value in my stuff as well. But I am all about payoff.

I want people to finish the last page of my stuff and say, "Wow! My questions were answered, my hopes were fulfilled, my expectations were met, and I feel satisfied." Just like after Thanksgiving dinner. Payoff. I love that feeling. I love finishing a book and wanting to hug it to my chest to continue that deep sense of completion. Payoff.

Now, I've read books that were excellent and well-written but left me troubled and pensive in a bad way. Madame Bovary comes to mind. I just wanted to beat the hell out of so many people at the end of that stupid book.

TV shows are the same way. I know that it's got to be the hardest thing in the world to write a series finale. After all, this is TV. People want payoff. And when shows pull unexpected endings--St. Elsewhere and Newhart immediately come to mind 'cause I never watched The Sopranos---people discuss whether or not that unexpected ending gave them payoff.

Take, for instance, Lost. I am beside myself right now since I just finished the show last night. Was that crazy ending payoff? Did I seriously expect payoff? In what way did the show fail to pay me what I expected given the amount of time I invested in watching it? I am still thinking about that.

Because when we read/watch something, we are investing ourselves in it. The closure we get or don't get off of it is the pay we earn by reading. We know if Nicholas Sparks's name is on the cover, part of our payoff will involve major character death and many kleenexes. But what if you're not expecting that? I completely quit reading Katherine Kurtz's Deryni series many years ago because of her tendency to introduce characters I loved just to kill them off mercilessly later. That wasn't the pay I was after!

I have been so thrilled with the reviews The Blacksmith's Daughter has been getting. It has been called enjoyable and a fast, fun read. I am delighted! That's the exact payoff I wanted to deliver. I wanted to take the reader for a ride that they would find interesting and fun, with dashes of deadly peril and romance just to make it extra zippy.

After all, who finished watching Star Wars: A New Hope and wasn't thrilled to see the heroes prevail and Darth Vader spin off into space? Knowing he was out there to come back was part of that excellent payoff. There's nothing wrong with a happy ending.

Maybe I'm just not angsty enough. Maybe I like things tidy. Maybe I don't like to be reminded of my mortality every time I pick up a book or watch a show.

So for all of you out there who'd like to escape the grim realities of life for a little bit, I'm going to keep writing.

Because I believe we can all use a little payoff sometimes.

PS Lost Rant: WTF?!! They are where?? My sci fi/fantasy island expectations just went out the window and my mortality has been stripped bare. I went through eight kleenexes in reunions---OMG James and Juliet---and somehow I still feel robbed. Crap. WTF. End of Lost rant.