Thomas McAuley is a San Antonio fiction writer who broods over weird stories. Bizarro stories. Absurdist stories. Whatever label, they're strange stories about impossible things and written with normal, solid language.
Bizarro fiction is a contemporary literary genre, which often utilizes elements of absurdism, satire, and the grotesque, along with pop-surrealism and genre fiction staples, in order to create subversive works that are as weird and entertaining as possible. The term was adopted in 2005 by the independent publishing companies Eraserhead Press, Raw Dog Screaming Press, and Afterbirth Books. Much of its community revolves around Eraserhead Press, which is based in Portland, Oregon, and has hosted the BizarroCon yearly since 2008. The introduction to the first Bizarro Starter Kit describes Bizarro as "literature's equivalent to the cult section at the video store" and a genre that "strives not only to be strange, but fascinating, thought-provoking, and, above all, fun to read."[1] According to Rose O'Keefe of Eraserhead Press: "Basically, if an audience enjoys a book or film primarily because of its weirdness, then it is Bizarro. Weirdness might not be the work's only appealing quality, but it is the major one."
Absurdist fiction is a genre of literature, most often employed in novels, plays or poems, that focuses on the experiences of characters in a situation where they cannot find any inherent purpose in life, most often represented by ultimately meaningless actions and events. Common elements in absurdist fiction include satire, dark humour, incongruity, the abasement of reason, and controversy regarding the philosophical condition of being "nothing."[1] Works of absurdist fiction often explore agnostic or nihilistic topics.
While a great deal of absurdist fiction may be humorous or irrational in nature, the hallmark of the genre is neither comedy nor nonsense, but rather, the study of human behavior under circumstances (whether realistic or fantastical) that appear to be purposeless and philosophically absurd. Absurdist fiction posits little judgment about characters or their actions; that task is left to the reader. Also, the "moral" of the story is generally not explicit, and the themes or characters' realizations—if any —are often ambiguous in nature. Additionally, unlike many other forms of fiction, absurdist works will not necessarily have a traditional plot structure (i.e., rising action, climax, falling action, etc.).
The absurdist genre grew out of the modernist literature of the late 19th and early 20th century in direct opposition to the Victorian literature which was prominent just prior to this period. It was largely influenced by the existentialist and nihilist movements in philosophy and the Dada and surrealist movements in art.
I'd like to put my writing on hold for a very special day, for a very special someone. My wife, Nadine. She and I got hitched when I saw 21, a rare young age. 22 years later, we remain hitched, a rare feat in these days when marriages seem to fall apart all around us. And we're both youngest children, so statistically, it would have been more likely to have seen a unicorn than to have reached this milestone.
So what's the secret to our longevity? There are a few.
Nadine and I are interested in good communication skills. She and I have always had an interest in good customer service and that involves clear communication, patience and grace. That's probably the biggie. We even took a Better Communication course when our communication wasn't as strong as it could have or should have been.
We each came from parents who, themselves, remained married. You've heard the correlation time and time again, that if you see good marriage skills -- and that's what they are: skills -- modeled by your parents, the likelihood of your own marriage staying intact is hugely increased. I think that was another biggie. I'm not sure if I had looked for a girl whose folks were still married, but I'm sure, at some level, that mattered. Btw...both sets of parents were HAPPILY married. Their relationships wouldn't have factored in positively had they been unhappy.
But the bottom line is, she and I are awesome, individually. She's got plenty of reason to love me and I have just as much reason to love her. In fact, I don't know a single couple out there who is comprised of a couple of awesome...er folks. We're great.
I had written recently about my feeling pulled in a dozen directions by the different categories of art I enjoy producing. I was at a low point in my writing. I remembered how much I enjoyed my time at Michael Vaughn's gigantic Nashville studio that overlooked the Cumberland River from 1st Avenue. I remembered all the poetry -- yes, poetry -- and stream-of-conscious writing I did at Mazzio's in Murfreesboro. I remembered the many summers spent in acting classes at M.T.S.U. I remembered my band, Placebo Effect, that, though short-lived, produced some wonderful unique music. I listened to songs I had hand-coded in Reason since that time. Most recently I started re-listening to old Siouxsie & the Banshees, music that, along with The Cure, Killing Joke, pre-shit (80s) David Bowie, and Joy Division that formed the sound track to my teens.
I revisited all of this and realized that I hadn't abandoned those artistic directions as much as I had mourned having made the logical adult choice to focus on the one that I could a] pursue with the requisite skill and b] integrate into my life with a wife and two boys (high school and college aged). I can size up my potential fairly well and 'm not the sort to chase a dream at the expense of not knowing my family.
Writing was and is the best choice for me.
So how do I keep my non-writing-related artistic interests alive? Two things (that are arguably one thing):
Stop drawing distinctions: People have an innate desire to categorize music, painting, people, everything. If I consider all my art as Art, then I won't really be abandoning anything. And, like prunes, that brings me to number two;
Run with the concept of Art with a capital "A": I would be wise to incorporate all my non-writing artistic interests into either the writing itself or my artistic life, my writing career path. Readings might be more interesting with a short song. I could provide my own illustrations and/or marketing art. I can create the music that accompanies the audio book. There are too many combinations to go into here.
The bottom line is, if you've got many artistic interests, you don't need to pare away the others when you choose to focus mainly on one. All of them can exist and breath.
Above is the 1982 low budget video of the bat-shit crazy, shapeless song, Circle by Siouxsie and the Banshees in a particularly odd stage in their career. Note the presence of Robert Smith, their guest guitarist for two albums and front man of The Cure, on keyboard and reel-to-reel. The official members of S&tB called him "Fat Bob."
My story is mine OR the mad mood swings of an artistic man
One thing I know for sure, to swipe a segment name from Oprah herself, is that my moods are free and unpredictable as the weather. One day, I'll be all gloom and doom and next I'm the king of hope and confidence. When I was younger, I floundered, trying desperately to find meaning behind these swings. Now, in middle age, I'm glad to have the perspective to understand that they are largely what makes me Thomas McAuley. The up and down and side to side movements of my emotions are what fuel my art.
Reading my most recent post, one might think I had thrown in the towel regarding my Appalachian story, Forever By His Side. I may have made my crisis out to be the end of my writing. But my expression turned out to be nothing less than cathartic. I believe that in that post, I even suspected it might end up so, that I would feel different soon enough, that often enough the ugly middle stage of art wears the masks of depression and hopelessness.
It was so. No sooner had I clicked Publish when the words, "It's my story," came to me.
Proof that the ugly middle stage is not an empty necessary -- it is a painful time with a purpose. When one encounters that dark point in the creative process, he is facing the turning point of the work. It's a test. Often it's a simple question of experience. Knowing that discomfort is coming and that it will pass with a belief and commitment makes the pain more tolerable. But sometimes, like yesterday, it's a larger question, one of character. I can't remember being faced with as large a challenge to my story, indeed my craft.
In the end, that was the point. It's my writing. It's my story. For all of its benefits of working with others to hone one's craft, the challenges can be pretty daunting, especially to a pleaser like myself. In another life, I would have been a great butler. I like doing things for others, so NOT taking criticism, NOT changing my path per someone's suggestion is sometimes difficult. Sometimes I'll not even notice that I've vitally and wrongly changed my bearings after hearing others' critique of my work.
Here's to hoping that middle age brings me the wisdom to keep my ship pointed right. It's my story, and though I don't need to be a butt about it, I do need to build the confidence and wisdom to separate good HELPFUL advice from good but SITUATIONALLY OFF-TARGET advice.
I suppose I'm not alone in that I enjoy a variety of artistic outlets. In no particular order:
Writing
Fiction
Non-Fiction
Poetry
Creating Music
Guitar/Bass
Electronic
Painting
Movie-making
Photography
Graphic Design
Web Design
Leather Work
Acting
And I wish sometimes that I had time to devote to all of them. Worse, sometimes I wish I had not focused myself so strongly and narrowly on fiction writing alone. Neglecting my need to feed my other artistic needs has caused the occasional crises, leaving me few options.
If I let force myself to write, knowing that I'm passing up rare inspiration non-writing inspiration, my writing is uninspired and ungratifying. But if I follow my non-writing inspiration, I fall further behind in my writing, causing me great stress.
Take my current situation. I've been writing and editing my 80-something page Appalachian story, Forever By His Side, for a long time. The process has been a learning experience and at times supremely enjoyable, but it's also been exhausting. Recently I've found it difficult to discipline myself to complete its final edit.
I'm still editing, but I'm just having a hell of a time dedicating the correct energy toward it. My greatest fear is that I make the story worse instead of better by working in such a state of mind. I've written before about the ugly middle stage of the creative process, so I keep telling myself that that is all I'm experiencing. Still, I'd love to have a bit more certainty that my diagnosis is correct.
Anyway. I'm a writer at heart and have been doing it long enough to know that with some time -- and maybe a nap thrown in there for good measure -- it'll all get back on track.
Sometimes I dream that I'm the type of person who can focus on writing in the same way a stage parent focuses on the "talented" one at the blind expense of the other children. To write as if it were my whole world. To never think of a tune or an image or a funny action. In the end I can only be myself and that means being pulled mentally in a dozen or so directions most of the time. I guess I don't have that "Nothing else exists" gene some folks enjoy.
Should I use straight or curly (smart) quotes in my manuscript?
I ask myself how I could have never asked myself this in all my years of writing. I ask myself how did I miss this being written about or spoken about in all the writing-related articles I've read and meetings and critiques I've attended.
Should I use smart (curly) quotes in my manuscript?
Damn and crap.
Well, if you're like me -- and I doubt there are few of you out there who are not amateurs -- the short answer is no. You should NOT use smart quotes in your manuscript. A short search confirmed that the vast majority of folks who will be looking at or using your manuscript require straight quotes.
Most simply state that fact. Like this item from writing-world.com:
Turn off "smart" (curly) quotes in your word processing program, if you are going to transfer that document to e-mail. This includes curly apostrophes. These do not translate well in e-mail, resulting in a manuscript that is littered with weird symbols -- a manuscript your editor will not only find hard and frustrating to read, but will have to go to great lengths to "fix" for publication. Do not use a keyboard-generated "m-dash"; use " -- " to indicate a dash instead. Do not use symbols at all if you can help it; you never know what an accent mark will turn into at the receiving end.
But others, like this fun, angry post from an absolutewrite.com forum member, say it with more gusto:
Curly f^cking quotes have no place in a decent manuscript. Or anything else, other than a letter or report intended to impress a herd of suits. Destroy them utterly. I have seen such hideous things pasted in forums, etc., etc., with question marks or other mysterious characters spattered through the text.
That's not to say that EVERYONE requires straight quotes. The folks at iUniverse require curlies, stating:
One of the reasons we ask for specific items, like smart quotes (curled quotes) instead of straight quotes, is that it gives your work a subtle, added professionalism that is well worth any extra effort.
So, like everything else related to submitting your manuscript, the best advice is to read guidelines carefully, never assuming anything.
If you don't, guaranteed, just after you hit SEND, you'll read that your target publication requires manuscript to be in Old Dutch and hand-written in your best approximation of all-caps Hobo font.
My younger son attended a drama camp all this week. It's crap traffic and a 40-mile round trip, so it made about as much sense for me to work downtown at various coffee houses, library branches and other free WiFi spots rather than Local Coffee, my normal digs. I had done the same last year with reasonable success, so I didn't fear finding hotspots or safe places to work. I was looking forward to this being another big adventure in downtown San Antonio.
But it didn't exactly work out the way I had hoped. My work volume was off the charts, so I couldn't afford to hop from locale to locale. I ended up sticking pretty much 100% to McDonald's since they had refills and pretty amazingly good WiFi service. The worst of that was odd looks from workers there and having to re-login every two or three hours. But that was barely an inconvenience.
I learned when to and when not to talk. I kept my head down. I ended up not smiling or talking as much as I had last year. I found that about every time I did, I got the same responses -- "Could you spare...," "Do you think you could...," "Do you have...," "I've been a little down on my luck..."
Not my idea of fun, but again not too bad. A shame really. I'm a little split about the help/don't help thing. I'd love to help folks out but I still haven't sorted out whether I'm really helping or hurting someone. I guess the best advice is buy folks food or gas but don't hand them cash.
I suppose I'll be back to Local next week. At least it'll be off and on between there and home until school starts up in the middle of next month.
In a way, I'll miss the semi-nervous focus and unusual sights, sounds...ok, and smells that I encountered this week. Here's to hoping my younger boy is involved in that camp again next year.
I read an article recently in which one of a variety of established authors were asked to contribute their own "Deadly Sin" of writing. You know the lists. If you've ever done any study of the craft of writing, you will have read a dozen or more lists like that without trying.
Some of pointers:
Sticking too close to the outline
Getting too involved in non-writing matters
Losing the story for the researched details
Reading others' work too little
Emulating/immitating others' work too much
But the one that stood out was maybe the simplest. Laziness.
When I first read "laziness," I assumed the author was referring to discipline.
Find time to write often.
When you do write, write a meaningful amount.
Stay focused on teh work while you write.
Then I thought, maybe he was referring to research and editing.
Do your homework -- double-check your details
Try for a deeper meaning and emotion
Give adequate thought to POV, voice, characterization, etc.
Or maybe he was referring to caretaking over one's career:
Give thought to whether what you're writing is the correct genre, etc.
Seek out and accept criticism with grace.
One you write, polish until its ready to submit.
Once you finish a work, submit.
Be professional at all times when dealing with everyone in the industry.
It turns out, the author was talking about challenging oneself. The article said, "Like great art, books aren't ever finished -- they're abandoned. (In other words, don't just finish writing your rough draft and call it a day.)"
Terrific advice, I thought.
Demand quality of yourself.
Push yourself to a higher standard.
Stay motivated to do so, even if you've reached a certain level of success.
But then I thought about all the thinking I had done before finally reading that one deadly writing sin and was shocked at how many and vaired opportunities one has as a writer to be lazy.
Writing is the fly paper of laziness, it would seem.
Like Everest, maybe writing success is a temptation to so many because of the monumental challenge. And maybe the lure is not as much a challenge to our creativity as it is to our discipline.
Receiving excellent critique feels better than getting the writing right the first time.
Imagine you have a shiny new Audi (insert whatever other car inspires you). If that car screams along rough back roads better suited to four-wheel-drive trucks, it won't get far. Now, imagine you've got printed directions to get to wherever? You know not to start at step five when step one is the one that gets your Audi out of the driveway. Finally, imagine you've finally got your can on the street and you're following the directions as they're intended to be followed. Now reach into the glove compartment. There's a grenade in there. Pull the pin and sit it in your lap. Good. Only a mile to go until--
Boom!
In the same way, even if the writing is strong, if you're writing the wrong thing, if you're starting in the wrong place or if you've included some story-killing aspect, you haven't wasted your time all, but you can't stand on pride and pretend it doesn't need to be fixed.
With all the confidence in the world, I submitted the first section of my nose-picking story to my critique group a couple days ago. The writing was tight, save some typical line edits and misspellings. But there were some things enough wrong with, according to my critique mates, that it may need some rethinking. Not Wady-esque rethinking -- fortunately only the sort that WILL require a rewrite, but NOT a wholesale redo.
I'm thinking most of the changes will be omissions. The first draft checks in at 85 or so pages but I can chop that nearly in half, making the story 10k instead of its present 20k. My beginning should come ten or so pages into the current draft. Two characters need to be combined into one. What was I thinking there? And I've decided to pursue an alternate ending to what I had originally written, one that move the story more quickly to the end, something that my critique mates assured me was necessary, given the bizarro nature of my subject matter.
Even if the changes will end up being pretty major, I don't have any fear I'm falling into a third edit spiral (the first being Wady and Forever By His Side, which took a year, and the second, Susurrus, which took six months and four rewrites). I have learned a lot in the last year and feel that goes not only for the writing but for editing as well. I know far better now than I did even last summer, how to take certain suggestions while I listen to but choose not to act on others.
One of the other main complaints about my nose-picking story was my seemingly arbitrary use of first person as opposed to third omniscient one might expect. While I see their point -- and to be fair, only two of my had this complaint -- my choice of POV was not a choice based on my needing or wanting the best tool. I chose first person strictly because of it's jerkiness, possibly because of its diary-esque quality. I heard the story in first person and wrote it as such. I'll trust my creative instinct on this one. When I have painted or have created music, I tend to get the medium, style and choice of instrumentation correct, even if good arguments can be made regarding the benefit of other options.
Last, my friends did come up with a possible title for the nose-picking story which I find particularly apt: Deeper
Maybe. *pinches his chin*
I've said it before -- receiving critique is not easy, but it doesn't have to be difficult either. I don't know what I would do without my critique partners and our uber-productive meetings. What a terrific gift, to have four other brains steering your story than you can fit into your one skull.
The value of reading your own work aloud cannot be minimized
No matter how confident you feel about a draft you've finished, whether it's your first or your tenth, until you hear it aloud, it's not ready to share or send.
That should be the end of the post. That's really all there is to know about the topic. Just read the work aloud, in a mirror, to a wall, to your dog. You'll see. Come up with all the arguments you want to the contrary. You'll be wrong to say otherwise.
Normally, I am not someone to dig my heels in. I have possibly too developed an ability to see the other side of a given argument, but I've seen this be the case without fail. I've been utterly positive that the piece I've finished it exactly the way I want it, that it can't be improved upon. I'll "know" this because I will have read it -- in my head, not aloud, mind you -- sometimes several times without catching a rough spot. I've sent pages out feeling this false confidence. When critique night rolls around, I'll never less than amazed at how differently the work sounds once finally read aloud.
Have I made myself clear yet?
So write your first draft, then your second, then run through it again for "final" changes. Then read it aloud. You'll have at least two of these additional passes before your draft is genuinely ready to send out.
If all this seems like too much work, ask yourself if you're confident enough in your pages that if someone were to invite you to read them in front of an audience, you would step right up to the podium without blinking. If you have such confidence, one of three things is the case, you're a long-seasoned pro, you've read your pages aloud and had them critiqued or you're an idiot/masochist.
Even my Ibanez S520 WNF can't keep me away from my writing. Waaahwahwah!
The cavalcade of distraction continues past me, but I remain strong.
Dr. Who tried and came up short. Playstation's FIFA 10 fought mightily but could not bring me down. I vanquished the lures that were my bicycle, a healthy well of unused time and Groupons with their promise of almost-free cuisine.
Like orcs on a scrubbed plain, they stared, bloody-faced and panting at my will. I never met their eyes. I typed on.
Then, with the subtlety of an obscure song playing at the edge of my consciousness, I saw her stepping toward me, head lowered and eyes fixed. Her shoulders countered the swing of her hips. She was a delicate magical creature, out of place on the gored battlefield, kicking her long white dress as she neared. Time slowed as she approached or perhaps it was she who slowed time.
I only realized I'd been holding my breath when I exhaled. The sound broke the silence I had also missed. My fingers had stopped their motion on the keyboard as had the lesser temptations in front of me. We all were enthralled by her approach. They moved only enough to allow her past, looking away or down then back to her, at her heroin beauty.
Nearly upon me, her milk-white skin transformed to grays and silvers and honey browns. Her neck elongated. Her body shrunk and widened. What should have been horrifying and grotesque affected me in so opposite a way as mind told me it should, it was my own growing attraction that horrified me.
I watched her transfiguration unblinking, my breath so shallow, it grew hot in my throat. Her bizarre beauty anchored me so solidly, the notion to turn was as foreign to me as a refusal of food might be to a beggar. I knew I would remain until whatever she became appeared.
At last, she was ready for me, floating so near, offering herself.
I reached out, knowing that is what she willed. I held her. She allowed me to. I touched her everywhere and she submitted to my touch. I let my eyes linger over every moment of her new shape and she was unashamed, even proud. I laughed, knowing that she could not misunderstand me.
I had seen her for only these short moments, but I knew everything about her. I had lived with her every important day of my life. I loved her.
Ok...
Enough of the weirdness. I bought an Ibanez S520 WNF last weekend and have suffered seven long days of puppy love since. But, oddly, despite her near perfection, I have been able to discipline myself away from her to work, write and spend time with my wife and boys.
Like the Tubes put it to eloquently in the early 80s, she's a beauty. Just look at her. And the fellow I bought it from really REALLY knows his stuff. I used to work at Gibson Guitar factory in Nashville, so I know what to look for. No spiral to the neck, no rough frets, perfect tune locked down up top, wheels centered to allow plenty of tuning in either direction. He added some forward bow to allow just the right amount of distance for the way I play. He offered to do the next setup when I replace the string, too. I'll let him.
But, again, the important writing-related part of this post is that even with a supermodel guitar in the house, I'm still writing. Mostly editing, actually, but DOING writing. I was very afraid that I would get nothing done. Instead, I had one of my better writing weeks for a while.
I've said over and over that I never suffer from writer's block, but I realized that's not exactly true. What's closer to the truth is that I seldom suffer from writer's block -- the actual cliché staring at a white page or a still cursor -- for more than a minute, two minutes if I include my blogging.
I think writers block is not a shortage of ideas. Instead, it is one of two things:
The inability to decide between a number of ideas, any of which might work; or,
Any number of fears, most of which fall under the heading "Fear of Failure."
But really, each of these are different shapes of fear. But in every case, fear is not a wall but a test, almost a dare.
My career as a graphic designer and web designer has forced me into those fear-inducing positions so many times that I've learned how to identify an idea that will probably work and running with it. You can never know what will work. There's always that chance it won't, but there are three truths that push me forward:
There's nothing as motivating as lack of choice. I get paid to produce designs and the clock is ticking. Deadlines clear your head. Sitting there doesn't help you meet a deadline. You must feel the clock ticking, go with your gut and learn to choose and run blind right out of the gate.
There's no such thing as wasted time when it comes to creative efforts. That is, so long as you're clicking keys. If a story idea fails, if you've got the wrong POV or tone, etc., at least you've documented that failure. And,
Failure is often not failure. Back in '94-'96, I painted -- oils, alkyds, acrylics. My instructor at the time clued me in to this very important fact: In the creation of any creative work, one passes through what he termed the "ugly phase," the uncomfortable and inevitable middle of the work where the artist either loses faith in the original idea or is displeased with the current phase in its execution. It looks, to him, ugly. He urged me to press through, in fact ignore these doubts, that the ugly phase would pass and that trust would pay dividends nearly every time.
Let me expand on that last one because I think it's a biggie that not enough writers -- or any other creatives, for that matter -- don't know about. Let's say you truly do have a work that fails. You push through the ugliness and it still falls flat. Staying with my painting example, you don't have to keep looking at the ugly canvas. Paint over it. What's cool about painting over the unsuccessful work is that you paint on a vastly more interesting surface than the blank canvas you started with on your first attempt.
I believe the same idea holds true with writing. If you fall short on the first go, you can only do better on your second pass because, in effect, you're writing over the previous pass's words. You're running across a field with which you already have gained some familiarity. You're more likely to miss the holes that snagged your foot on the first go-around.
So face the fear and type. The more you do it, the less it resembles fear. If anything, fear is a hard choice between good ideas. Knowing that you can't really fail, even when you fail, should help you get started every time.
I'd like to put my writing on hold for a very special day, for a very special someone. My wife, Nadine. She and I got hitched when I saw 21, a rare young age. 22 years later, we remain hitched, a rare feat in these days when marriages seem to fall apart all around us. And we're both youngest children, so statistically, it would have been more likely to have seen a unicorn than to have reached this milestone. 
One thing I know for sure, to swipe a segment name from Oprah herself, is that my moods are free and unpredictable as the weather. One day, I'll be all gloom and doom and next I'm the king of hope and confidence. When I was younger, I floundered, trying desperately to find meaning behind these swings. Now, in middle age, I'm glad to have the perspective to understand that they are largely what makes me Thomas McAuley. The up and down and side to side movements of my emotions are what fuel my art.
I suppose I'm not alone in that I enjoy a variety of artistic outlets. In no particular order:
What an interesting week this has been.
I read an article recently in which one of a variety of established authors were asked to contribute their own "Deadly Sin" of writing. You know the lists. If you've ever done any study of the craft of writing, you will have read a dozen or more lists like that without trying.
Imagine you have a shiny new Audi (insert whatever other car inspires you). If that car screams along rough back roads better suited to four-wheel-drive trucks, it won't get far. Now, imagine you've got printed directions to get to wherever? You know not to start at step five when step one is the one that gets your Audi out of the driveway. Finally, imagine you've finally got your can on the street and you're following the directions as they're intended to be followed. Now reach into the glove compartment. There's a grenade in there. Pull the pin and sit it in your lap. Good. Only a mile to go until--
No matter how confident you feel about a draft you've finished, whether it's your first or your tenth, until you hear it aloud, it's not ready to share or send.
The cavalcade of distraction continues past me, but I remain strong.
I've said over and over that I never suffer from writer's block, but I realized that's not exactly true. What's closer to the truth is that I seldom suffer from writer's block -- the actual cliché staring at a white page or a still cursor -- for more than a minute, two minutes if I include my blogging.