Bookmaking

Posted on October 5, 2018 by Jeremiah Murphy

In March of 2017, I started to write again, ending a two-year drought. I wrote stories to submit to magazines and anthologies, and I wrote stories for the writing contest I love to play in. When I got booted from the contest, and when I got tired of rejection letters, I came to a crossroads. I was finding that I really love to write, but I couldn’t just write for no reason, I needed a goal. I needed a story idea. And so, a year ago, I decided I was going to write a novel. I didn’t know what it was going to be about or what was going to happen in it, but I figured I’d work through that as it became necessary.

Four months later, I found myself at another crossroads. I was almost done with my novel, and I really loved the act of writing. What should I do? It turned out I should write the sequel. And again, three months later. And so, as of this writing, I’ve got four completed novels, and I’m well into my fifth.

They’re not very good. I don’t mean that the writing’s bad or that I’m a bad writer in general (I happen to think I’m pretty good at it), but writing my way, i.e. not knowing how a chapter is going to end when I start it, has been described in every article, blog, and podcast as the wrong way to write a novel. I don’t really do recognizable character arcs—my main character does the thing because it’s the right thing, and she’s the most qualified to do it, and she doesn’t really change. I simply think of something that fits the characters and situations and might present a challenge, and I run with it.

Also, I have too much dialogue. Every editor I’ve ever encountered has told me I write too much dialogue. So fuck those guys, I’m writing for me.

I’m considering publishing on Amazon, but that’s a lot of work for what will ultimately be very little reward. And I’m utterly incapable of promoting myself, so that’s something I need to figure out before I take that leap.

So, long story short, if you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to, it’s been me and my fountain pens living in an urban fantasy world with spirits-demons and fairies and gods and the corporation that secretly controls the country. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to see it someday.

A Turd in the Hand

Posted on May 23, 2017 by Jeremiah Murphy

I didn’t know the dog poop was on my shoe until I pulled it off and got it all over my hand. People not cleaning up after their dogs is something that gets discussed a lot at condo board meetings, but no one seems to have any solutions. I say if you see someone not cleaning up after their dogs, you should shoot them with a paintball gun, because Jesus, how freaking hard is it to pick up crap with a plastic bag, when the condo freaking provides plastic bags?

This has really ruined my morning.

The Pen Is Mighty

Posted on May 16, 2017 by Jeremiah Murphy

On my birthday, I woke up and biked eight miles to a cafe a few towns over that I love. I ordered a latte and some chocolate cake, because it’s my birthday and I want cake. I get my latte and my cake, settle into a table, and get to work updating my journal.

That’s when the guy shows up. He’s an older man, mid-fifties, in sandals and socks, and he is fascinated by my pens. I can’t blame him. They’re a set of twenty-five felt tip pens that run the spectrum from shades of brown and green to shades of red and orange (including black and gray). The man likes office supplies, and so do I, so we bond over that. He concludes by handing me a card and telling me he owns and operates a “Global cannabis business.” Then he goes to the restroom, which is right behind me.

I put his card in my bag and go back to journaling.

A few minutes later he sits down at my table and asks me what my passions are. I tell him. He asks what the thing I’d like to accomplish the most is (getting a lot of people to read my writing). He says, “You and your wife should come by my place this weekend. We’ll talk. I could get you those readers.” I say thanks. He tells me about the three Cs of his life: Christ, Cannabis, and Capitalism. But especially cannabis. And he tells me why. Eventually he leaves.

I didn’t go to his place. I wonder if I’m going to see him again at that cafe. I wonder if he’ll remember me. He’ll definitely remember my pens.

The Song Remains the Same

Posted on February 7, 2017 by Jeremiah Murphy

The music at work is … inoffensive. It’s shopping music, it has to be. But it can be grating when you have to listen to it over and over. And through it all there’s one song I hate. It’s not the worst one we play, but something about it sends chills down my spine from the opening words. I didn’t even know what it was called until recently, with the help of my friend.

I mention it because I’ve gone five shifts in a row without hearing it. I’ve heard the other annoying songs, but not this one. Does this mean it’s been taken out of rotation? Is my nightmare finally over? Only time will tell. This is not to say I’m free of the thing—I still get it stuck in my head at random. But it’s something.

Year in Review

Posted on December 29, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

My one-year review at work was earlier this month, and it could have gone worse. Basically my biggest area that needs improvement is “Teamwork,” and it needs it bad. I was told that to improve myself here I need to socialize more. I said I’d try, and I’ve made several attempts, but I am so lost. How am I supposed to talk to these people? What am I supposed to say? Do I have anything in common with them? How would I even know?

This didn’t used to be so hard. I mean, I’ve always been shy, but I’ve always been able to fake it. Now I don’t even know how to hold a conversation.

My first assignment from my supervisor was to learn three things about a coworker and report back to him. I learned four things. It’s a start.

Tough Call

Posted on August 9, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

One of the biggest rules at work is that the managers don’t want to see any phones on the sales floor. No problem, I just shut mine down and drop it in my pocket. And that’s worked out for me just fine.

Except for that one time I didn’t turn it off.

And so, in the middle of a transaction and in a long line at the cash register, the sound of a dog barking, i.e. my ringtone, came bursting out of my pants. I tried to ignore it.

My customer raised her head like a cat hearing a can opener and asked, “Did you hear that?”

And the phone kept barking, because the caller wasn’t going to accept me not picking up.

“It sounds like a dog,” she said.

I couldn’t switch it off, nor could I turn it off afterward, because “No phones on the floor.” So I spent the rest of the day in fear that this person would call back.

But I never left my phone on again.

Shifting Duties

Posted on July 27, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

There are three major jobs for people with my skill level at work: Register, Maintenance, and Sales, which I am good at, okay at, and terrible at, respectively. This is because Register is really straightforward, Maintenance lacks structure, and Sales involves approaching shoppers out of the blue and convincing them to buy stuff.

Almost every one of my shifts is on the Register, which is safe, because I know it and can handle it, even on the worst day, and it’s the one place I’m comfortable making small talk.

However, I’ve noticed a new trend lately. I’ve been getting a lot more Sales and Maintenance shifts. And on top of that, I’ve frequently been pulled off the register and flung out onto the floor to help customers or to make the store look pretty. I’m picturing the managers gathered around, working on ways to get me out of my comfort zone. Kate says I’m being paranoid.

And then one day a manager came to me and said, “You’re doing a better job at approaching customers on the sales floor. We were all talking about it at the meeting.”

See!? See?

One of the bits of jargon that is used at work is that, when it comes to bad sales figures, bad enrollment for our customer appreciation program, or even a messy store, these things aren’t called problems—they’re called opportunities. It gives us a chance to sell more, or to step up our sign-up pitch, or to make the place sparkle. And so, in this vein, I’m not being treated badly by being pulled away from the thing I know, but I’m being given an opportunity.

I just wish it wasn’t so daunting.

Bonding

Posted on July 21, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

I don’t fit in at work. I’ve been really self-conscious of this lately as I’ve watched the teasing and banter my colleagues have with each other. When they work closely with one another they chat away; when I work closely with someone there’s silence. I know I’m not imagining things because this came up during my last two evaluations*.

It’s not like there’s anything wrong with my coworkers. They’re not cliquey or rude. I just can’t get the hang of small talk. I used to be able to. I don’t know what happened. That’s one of the most frustrating things about depression—even when you’re having a functional day, you still remember when you were well, and the person you were then is so foreign to you.

I’m not sure what I should do, except go to work and keep trying.

_____

* What also came up is the fact that I don’t smile enough.

Summer Champ

Posted on July 11, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

I won a prize at work!

You know how at some cash registers at some stores they try to get you to enroll in their email reward programs? The ones you probably say no to because you don’t want to get anymore junk mail?

Well I have managed to sign up a higher percentage of people than anyone else at the store. Mind you, that’s still a pretty low percentage overall, but I’m way above average. So much so that the managers want me to share my secret* with other employees.

Go me!

_____

* I don’t actually know my secret. I just ask people if they want to join, and a lot of people say yes.

The Fall Guy

Posted on July 6, 2016 by Jeremiah Murphy

A few weeks ago at work I fell off a ladder. For the second time. I’m pretty sure they think of me there as That Guy Who Falls Off Ladders.

It could have been worse, though. It could have been like my first time, where I lashed out to brace myself on the closest shelf, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, so I grasped at the one underneath it, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, so I grasped at the one underneath it, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, until I thudded against the floor, covered in kitchen organizers.

One of our employee mottos is “Safety First,” but I am clearly too much of a rebel to abide by it.

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