Lovemaking secrets of the Hurricane Spin Mop

So the other night I was flipping through the channel guide on my TV and one channel was showing something called “Lovemaking Secrets.”

I was intrigued.

This is not to say that I have anything to learn in bed.

Quite the contrary. I’m always teaching the Missus new stuff.

How do I know?

I ask her. We’re very big on communication.

Me: “Hey baby, did I teach you anything new this time?”

The Missus: (every time) “Yeah. Self-reliance.”

So I must be pretty good, right?

Right.

But never one to assume he has reached his full potential, I decided to take a peek at this exclusive content on something called the BUYIT2 channel.

Worse case, I’d be laughing at their entry-level lessons, right?

Turns out it was an infomercial for the Hurricane Spin Mop.

I admit, I was confused.

“What could I possibly learn about being a good lover from a spin mop ad?” I asked aloud.

In the other room, I heard a “Ha!” from the Missus.

See? Ridiculous to think I could learn anything from a cleaning appliance ad.

But curiosity (and something about the tone of that laugh) got the best of me and I decided to watch.

First, they started mopping the floor.

Makes sense, clean the floor before being intimate on it. As expected, pretty basic.

Not necessarily comfortable, but basic.

And in this case, the floor could really use the mopping. Ick.

Then the presenter took the head of the mop and shoved it into a narrow bucket.

Ah ha, I get where you’re going there, I thought, chuckling to myself knowingly.

This demonstration proved to be too clinical for me. And confusing. And disconcerting.

Then she pulled the mop out, the head spinning rapidly as it exited.

Hmm. OK. This is…new.

Now they had lost me.

Evidently, there are some features and capabilities of my anatomy that I haven’t sussed out yet.

I know they never talked about this spinning in Sex Ed, and my parents certainly never mentioned it to me.

You’d think something like that would definitely make ‘The Talk.’

Unfortunately, the ad was long on metaphors and short on concrete explanation. When I asked the Missus about it, she just laughed.

That’s when I knew I’d blown it – clearly this phenomena is something obvious that everyone knows already.

So as amazing as it sounds, it turns out I do still have a few things to learn about lovemaking.

I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m a better person for knowing I have more to know.

So now I’m going to do some google searches on the subject of spinning…well, this is a family friendly blog, so, you know. Spinning those thingies.

As written explanations may not be clear enough, I better do an image search, to make sure I get a full understanding.

Afterward, I think I’ll teach the Missus some more ‘self-reliance,’ whatever she means by that. I’m already pretty good at it.

 

Death of a traditional dream?

At what point do we give up?

At what point is it no longer healthy for us to pursue a path that isn’t leading to the desired destination?

I ask this question because of something that happened to me last night.

After a long and fruitless search, late last year I decided that I would give myself till the end of 2011 to find an agent and/or editor for my book Marlowe and the Spacewoman. If I didn’t find a route through traditional publishing, then come 2012, I was going to self publish.

I made a huge final push to find an agent or editor. There has been some interest, but nothing definitive yet. And now, halfway through the year, I’m pretty much resigned to the idea of self-publishing.

(I know, I know, the indie publishing scene is thriving and growing. The stigma of self publication is fading. But it’s hard to make the adjustment to the idea of the self-publishing model when for years your dream has been of the traditional publishing model.)

Last night I got together with one my critique groups for the first time in almost a year. And when I mentioned this plan to self publish, one of the members shook her head and said, in effect, your book has something to it and you should be able find an agent.

(There it is, the self-publishing stigma.)

And suddenly I doubted my plan. The stigma of self publication seems to be receding a little bit, but that could merely be the self-serving perspective of the indie authors I hang out with and follow on twitter.

There are arguments for and against self-publishing. There is one more than one treatise on why self publication is actually better for an author who has any business savvy. (And a pre-existing huge fan base, by the way.)

There is a sense of optimism amongst the indie authors I know that things are changing.

But there’s also that stigma. I’m not saying there are no quality self published books out there. There are.

Unfortunately, there’s also a lot of crap.

So what do I do? I’m getting tired of trying to find an agent. I’ve queried well over 100 well over – I know 100 itself is a small number). I’ve done the research route, you know, making sure you find the right agent to query. I’ve done the dance, I’ve jumped through the hoops, and I’m about as far as I can go without a positive response.

I’m not saying that self-publishing is giving up. My question here is: at what point should I give up on traditional publishing? At least for this book?

Yes, I had a moment of doubt last night, but right now I’m still sticking with the plan. I have one nibble at this point that hasn’t played out yet. All my other queries have you resulted in outright rejection or, even more frustrating, silence.

So I’m sticking with my plan despite my fellow critique partner’s reservations.

I just wish it didn’t feel like giving up.