CSotD: Monday Short Takes
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In today's Between Friends, Kim asks a question that all writers — and creative people in general — face, or, at least, ought to.
The key is not what people want to read but what you want to say.
It's not that hard to see what is popular but there is that old Hollywood gag that what you need is sincerity and, if you can fake that, you've got it made.
I doubt there are a lot of best-selling anythings who don't on some level enjoy what they do.
Back when I was trying to be JD Salinger, people sometimes said, "You should write a (genre) book! People love those!" but there are two problems with the suggestion.
One is that I had a higher goal. If I were trying to make Roman-style marble statues, suggesting I try crafting bobbleheads instead would seem kind of silly.
There may be people making bobbleheads who secretly — or openly — dream of some day sculpting Minerva Triumphant, but they don't conflate what they do for a living with their greater goals in life.
And if you make bobbleheads, you'd damn well better enjoy making bobbleheads, whatever else your dreams.
And I'd apply that to cartooning as well: If you are a cartoonist who would like to be Picasso or Rubens, that's okay, but if you are a cartoonist who would rather be Picasso or Rubens, you're in trouble.
Here's another part of the puzzle: You can run a diner and enjoy it. It does not follow that the owner of a successful diner would rather be chef at a four-star restaurant turning out exquisite French dainties.
Nor does his enjoyment of making really good burgers make him any less than the chef who drapes pimentos over tiny chicken cutlets.
Nor is it the case that one of them is only working for money while the other is an artiste, unless you're willing to concede that the division could go either direction.
So Kim wants people to want to read what she wants to say. Fair enough.
What I found was that I had — with considerable help from professors and well-intentioned friends — fooled myself into thinking that writing had a high road and a low road, that being Salinger was a worthy goal while being, say, Ernie Pyle or Nellie Bly was wasting my talent.
Took a while to free my mind from that.
First step is to stop wanting to do the things you think you ought to want to do, and just do what you want.
Whether it involves pimentos or french fries is irrelevant.
Juxtaposition of Changing Times

(Pickles)
These two strips share a delightful willingness to confront their own old fartedness.
I remain as puzzled as Janis over the whole bra straps and underwear thing. The braless fashion didn't last, because, once Maidenform and the rest realized that young women weren't buying bras anymore, they backed off on the heavy canvas and began using lighter fabrics that allowed nipples to protrude so that you could look braless and perky at the same time.
Or perhaps it was a comfort issue, because, a half century later, there are young women who virtually live in their sports bras. Whatever.
But the visible straps — even of clashing colors — are as much a mystery as guys with the waistbands of their boxers on display and they've all got tags hanging out and dagnab it, what the hell ever happened to decency and good manners and telephones that were anchored on the wall like God and Alexander Graham Bell intended?
Meanwhile, I don't know anyone under 50 named Linda. Or Nancy or Sharon. Or Steve and certainly not Stuart.
And I don't think I know anyone under 75 who has even heard of Linda Darnell.
Frank James Cooper changed his name to "Gary" for the city in Indiana and then people started naming their boys after him, but we seem to have recovered.

I did a story on naming babies in 1990, at which point these were the most popular names in our area. Fun story and you might enjoy the read.
That chart should also tell you why, in compiling honor rolls, we eventually quit calling the schools to confirm spellings.
What greater gift than a name your child will have to spell out for somebody several times a week?
Anyway, Linda and Gary may rise and fade, but Michael isn't going anywhere.
The Whole World Is Watching
(Bart Van Leeuwen, Netherlands)
If you want to be really depressed about things — and I know you do! — head over to Cartoon Movement and check out the newsroom to see how many cartoonists around the world are watching Dear Leader with horrified laughter.
Or I suppose you could take comfort in knowing that you're not imagining things and you're certainly not alone.
I'm still working my way through the book but, while it's quite entertaining, I'm not finding it terribly compelling because, so far, everything in it is stuff we already knew, or at least could have known if we had had our eyes open.
Which first of all makes me wonder about the whole Steve Bannon angle, because, while it's nice to have a scapegoat and I'm sure the windmill would not have collapsed if Snowball hadn't sabotaged it, the things I'm reading in the book didn't necessarily come from Bannon.
It's more like a compendium of rumors we read in the Washington Post or NY Times or saw on CNN or Politico or the Hill or just about anywhere but Fox and Friends.
Which of course means it's all fake news from the MSM. The odds of anyone saying, "I really liked Trump until I read this book" are, precisely, to the nearest thousandth, zero.
Okay, one more bit of Old Fartedness:
I remember when I used to see the tabloids in the supermarket and wonder how many gullible nitwits would fall for such obvious nonsense.
And then they counted the votes.
Meanwhile …
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