I have finally put my finger on my whole problem with the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy,* and it is best explained with two songs that coincidentally run back-to-back on the mix CD I made for the twins for our last beach trip.  In the interest of giving helpful criticism, perhaps this will aid EL James in constructing better books in the future, but may also help you to decide whether or not you want to read these books if you haven’t started yet because I really think the world comes down to two types of people: those who are still happy to listen to Gotye, and those who liked “Somebody That I Used to Know” the first ten times but the song has worn thin.  Those who are still groovin’ on Gotye may really enjoy this series, and those who have moved on to other summer songs may want to skip all 50 Shades including the grey ones.

I want to preface this by saying that I like both songs.  I mean, I purchased both songs and placed both on the mix, so I’m not commenting on the worth of either song, but rather, their lasting value and how they illustrated problems with 50 Shades of Grey.

And yeah, am I giving this more thought that perhaps the books are worth?  Absolutely.  But it’s my summer to fritter away.

So, song #12 on the mix is Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger.”

Adam Levine isn’t really my type, but even I have to admit that he’s sexy in this video.  How would EL James describe him?  Pants that hang from his hips in that way?  He’s confident, he’s obviously physically attractive, and he’s having fun.  Beyond that, what he’s saying is sexy:

But when you’re with me
I’ll make you believe
That I’ve got the key

…And you want to steer
But I’m shifting gears
I’ll take it from here
And it goes like this

Take me by the tongue
And I’ll know you
Kiss me ’til you’re drunk
And I’ll show you

All the moves like Jagger

…I don’t need to try to control you
Look into my eyes and I’ll own you

As Anastasia would say, “oh my!” And “holy shit!” And “that’s hot!”

Hells yeah, who doesn’t want to be with someone who is going to take charge.  Who isn’t going to try to control me but admits that he’s going to own me regardless because he is going to drive me so fucking crazy that I’m going to want to stick around and go wherever he’s steering because he has the moves like Jagger?  This is the bravado that makes many a physically unattractive rock singer look incredibly hot in the right context.  Such as Mr. Jagger himself.

The Maroon 5 song is immediately followed by #13, Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know.”

I still like this song, but not nearly as much as I did the first few times I heard it.  It’s the type of song that begins to grate after that initial “who is this mysterious, vulnerable man?”, mostly because Gotye comes across as the type of guy who spends a lot of time licking his wounds like the cowardly lion and saying, “why did you do this to me?”  He’s not active, he’s passive.  Girls do things to him vs. he doing things to girls.

And look at what he’s singing:

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I’ll admit that I was glad it was over

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know

Broken doesn’t have long-term sexiness.  It’s interesting, and I certainly want to give Gotye a hug.  But there’s a reason why relationship advice gurus tell you not to discuss your ex-partners in the first few dates if the subject doesn’t need to come up.  It isn’t sexy to think about rejection, even if all of us have our own varying rejection stories.  I mean, let’s face it, every single person comes with baggage.  But some people tuck that baggage under the table and project confidence, and other people use their vulnerability as their hook.  And equally, there are people out there drawn to vulnerability because they love to fix people.  You know, like James Wilson and House.

Christian Grey’s whole character, his motivations, his personality all hinge on the fact that he was rejected as a child.  His self-hatred fuels him, and that’s interesting, but it isn’t sexy after a while to me.  As much as I feel badly for Gotye, want to bash his ex-girlfriend with him (she sounds like a real bitch, sweetie!), and give him a warm sweater to put on after he washes all that paint off his body, when it comes to being turned on, I want someone a little more Maroon 5 telling me that he’s in control and going kiss me until I’m drunk without any self-deprecating moments pointing out how he has been rejected in the past.

I am well aware that this is a case of to-each-their-own.  James Wilson would probably be equally attracted to Gotye and Christian (the small detail of his straightness notwithstanding).  But for the people who haven’t been able to embrace Christian as desirable, these two songs may explain why — like me — you’re more annoyed by him than attracted.

And as a side note; I didn’t actually know what Gotye was saying until I Googled the lyrics.  And damn was I off.

P.S. I am almost done, but I’m still slogging through 50 Shades Freed.  I am, if nothing else, dedicated.  I also want to add that I am reading a popular physics book at the same time, and Michio Kaku beats out EL James ten to one.

Sometimes you write a post, and someone stops by — maybe they’re even a friend who normally says the right thing — and they leave a somewhat hurtful comment.  Or maybe they’re not a friend at all, and their comment’s purpose was clearly meant to upset you.  Regardless, you read the comment and your stomach twists uncomfortably as if it has begun to tread water, cramping with the movement.  You wonder how close that comment gets to the truth: whether you are bitchy, you are untalented, you are boring, you are stupid, you are a bad friend.

You shake it off for a moment because you know that one person’s opinion is just one person’s opinion.

But negative comments on blogs, just like hurtful words spoken between two people, crack foundations.  After that moment of self-reassurance, you start wondering if there are things people aren’t telling you.  Are they just humouring you?  Do they also secretly think you’re bitchy/untalented/boring/stupid/and a bad friend?

And then you remind yourself that this is paranoid thinking.  Of course your friends are honest with you (are they?).  Of course your other readers would tell you the same thing if it were true (is it?).

You remain in some version of this circular, whirlpool-like thinking until enough time passes.  Until you’ve written enough blog posts and received enough comments to squelch down that one negative one, even though you return to look at it from time to time, just because you can’t help yourself.  But yes, over time it doesn’t sting in quite the same way it did in those first few hours after you read it, back when it affected your whole mood because whether they’re cruel words or just thoughtless words, they are both a form of rejection.  Because a single act of rejection — rejection of our ideas or our words or our selves — has more power for some reason than 20 positive reminders of acceptance.

But there is a way to get to this point faster.  It’s not immediate, and you still need to go through that initial stinging period.  In fact, it only works if you’ve gotten through that initial period, since other people’s words can’t be brushed off of our psyche like an annoying fly.  Other people’s words serve a point — even the hurtful ones — and our brains won’t let them go until they’re good and ready.

But when you feel yourself calming down a few hours later, go pick up the latest issue of People magazine.  Yes, it specifically needs to be People magazine because People magazine goes for what is popular.  With what resonates with the general population.  You know — you and me.

While it’s difficult to say whether being reviewed in a mainstream magazine helps sale rankings or whether People magazine is good at knowing what will resonate with the public, it’s safe to say that whatever they’ve chosen as their “critic’s pick” will also be performing well on Amazon.  For the purpose of this example, the starred review went to Gone Girl in the issue I picked up, and as of writing this, it’s the 4th best selling book on Amazon.

People magazine calls it: “An irresistible summer thriller with a twisting plot worthy of Alfred Hitchcock. Burrowing deep into the murkiest corners of the human psyche, this delectable summer read will give you the creeps and keep you on edge until the last page.”

Sounds like a fairly fantastic book if you like crime fiction: great reviews from the mainstream media, high sales rank, award-winning author.  By all accounts, she should be happy.  Her book is a success and has clearly resonated with people.  There are well over 20 positive examples of acceptance here.  A great pick for this exercise.

Then I scroll down to the reader reviews, and I see that while she has received 259 5-star reviews, she has also received 58 1-star reviews.  That’s a lot of people who hate this book enough that they take the time to write a terrible review.  Writing a review takes time.  I usually pause to write the good ones because I know how helpful they are to authors, but to write a bad one, a person must really really really hate that book.

But surely most are doing so to save you from a similar fate.  Or they’re literally that upset with the book that they need to write out their thoughts in order to get them out of their system.  Taking the time to write a 1-star review means the person didn’t do something else they wanted to do with that time.  That person could have read a different book, completed her grocery shopping for the week, painted her nails, taken a walk, eaten a bowl of ice cream.  But no, it was literally that horrible that the person forewent all enjoyable or productive activities to warn others not to follow a similar fate.

And moreover, that person took that time even though she wasn’t asked her opinion by the author.  It’s not as if the author sent her a survey and she filled it out honestly.  By her own volition, without any reminder, our hypothetical reviewer went onto Amazon, wrote up a horrible review, and posted it knowing full well that her words would directly reach the author.  That’s how important it was to say what they needed to say.

And then you click on the 1-star reviews, and you realize that they are (at least for the books deemed successful by People magazine) pretty much worthless.  They’re useless criticism that the author can’t use in any future works to perfect her writing such as telling her where she was successful before telling her that she may want to work on her use of cliches.  A review such as: “Not worth the hype. Unrealistic. Very disappointing read. The beginning kept me going, but the ending was a downer. Save your money” is not useful to anyone.  It doesn’t tell the reader problems with the storytelling so they can judge whether or not they want to invest their own time with the book, nor does it tell the author things she can do differently next time.

Which isn’t to say that there isn’t room in this world for 1-star reviews; in fact, 1-star reviews have saved me from a lot of bad purchases.  I’m grateful to the people who take the time to thoughtfully unfold the problems they had with a book.  But those 1-star reviews are few and far between.  Usually they are more along the one written by Mockingjayforever: “this book was so boring zzzzzzzzzzzz nap time how could this book beat the freaking hunger games series i mean really people this and the fifty shades of gray beat the hunger games.”

See, not very helpful.

And not necessary to write unless the purpose is to crap on another person.  Or to be thoughtless.

The point is that even the 4th best selling book on Amazon which has received strong reviews from various mainstream media publications still gets what amounts to hateful comments.  Hurtful comments.  I’m not happy that this is happening to Gillian Flynn, but in this case, this greyish schadenfreude (or would this be an example of the inverted freudenschade) serves as a reminder that even the most successful books, the most successful posts, the most successful bloggers, the most successful friendships have haters.  Have people who either unconsciously or purposefully tear them down.

Once I see that reminder, it reframes the way I view my comment, especially once I consider that the person took the time to tell me something hurtful instead of going on a walk or eating a bowl of ice cream or doing anything enjoyable for themselves.  That says more about them than it does about me.

And that’s how I get over a bad comment.

(even the ones you may write on this post)

Why do you friend someone on Facebook?  Is it because you want to keep up with their life on a daily basis and lack the time to do so via email or over the phone?  Do you friend someone because you want them to know moments from your daily life?  Do you accept every friend request, from neighbours to coworkers to that cool person you once sat next to on a cross-country flight, or are you picky about who you add to your network?  Would you ever add a friend of a friend you don’t know at all?

And more importantly, why do you unfriend someone?  Would you unfriend a close friend or relative if they said something to upset you, or would you remain connected to them online even if you couldn’t work it out offline?  Do you unfriend people who don’t comment on your status updates, who don’t update their own feed often, who comment too much on your status, making you uncomfortable?

Research has been done by social media marketers to try to understand why we add or subtract a social media connection.  In a study from this past winter, researchers found that 4% of people added someone simply because they had a lot of friends which translates into a lot of connections whereas 82% needed to know the person from the face-to-face world in order to add them.  Offensive comments were the most common way to get yourself booted out of someone’s network (55%) but only 3% said they would remove you for not updating enough.

But an area this research doesn’t touch is whether your reasons for why you friend or unfriend someone changes over time?  I often wonder if life changes also influence the way we use social media, if we become more guarded or more open based on where we are in life.  Have you noticed your social media habits — especially Facebook usage — changing over time based on other things happening in your life?  Are you currently more comfortable or less comfortable with social networking than you were in the past?

Cross-posted with BlogHer.

Welcome to MFA Sunday School, a once-a-week, free, online writing workshop. MFA Sunday School posts are uploaded on Sunday mornings, though you can read them or participate any time — the comment section is always open for people to post a link to their work or ask a question. You can subscribe to blog posts via the RSS feed, or look for them under the category heading “MFA Sunday School.” If this is your first time in “class,” you may want to jump back to the first post in the series in order to understand how things work, or peruse all of the past lessons as well as a glossary of terms by reading the MFA Sunday School Glossary and Course Archives.

Hey kids, grab your permission slips and wear sensible shoes: we’re going on a field trip again today.

We’re getting closer and closer to that idea of showing, not telling.  I’d jump there immediately since I know it’s such a popular concept in writing, but I really think it will be more understandable if we circle around it for a bit rather than moving there directly.  Last time we went on an Observation Field Trip, we looked at human characteristics.  This time, I’m going to ask you to ignore every living being in the room and focus solely on the setting.

I want you to describe a room in such fine detail that if twenty years passed and you were asked to recall where everything was in this room, you could grab this description and answer any question.  Where are the electrical outlets?  Where are the windows?  How are the tables arranged?  Anything out-of-place?  Is there a missing salt shaker on a table, a picture askew?

The one catch is that you can only use words: no diagrams, no pictures.  You’re taking a snapshot, but you’re taking it with a word camera.

Once you get down the logistics, start embellishing your descriptions.  That table you’re leaning against, what does it feel like?  The air coming out of the vent, does it remind you of anything?  Getting in the habit of noticing all the small details around you will help you to build realistic settings as Wordgirl spoke about a few weeks ago because you’ll start incorporating those small details into the story itself.

Or into the post itself — this concept isn’t just important for novels.  Every blog post is a mini story about your life, and the more details you provide, the more your readers will be able to visualize what you’re saying.  People like to return to writing that grasps onto them.

Homework: Go out to a public space — a restaurant, coffeehouse, park.  Leave all distractions at home (especially… I’m sorry Wolvog and ChickieNob… kids).  Set the timer for twenty minutes and write down everything you notice around you.  Create a visual snapshot of the room using only words.  Then leave the room and hours later, have someone ask you a series of questions and see how well you can answer them using your description of the space.  If they ask you how many lights were overhead, do you have an answer?

This exercise is about:

• Seeing how good you are at seeing the small details. [OBSERVATION]
• Recording/remembering the small details for later use. [RETENTION]
• And in the future, you’ll utilize these notes to create vivid settings. [UTILIZATION]

See?  ORU — observation, retention, utilization.

The twins spent the week at a camp housed in my old elementary school.  I hadn’t been back to the school since my brother transitioned to middle school over 20 years ago.  It’s really been closer to 30 years since I had walked through the building.  The night before, I had dreams about the school, though I couldn’t really remember where anything was located in the building except the front office.

Until I got in the building.

And then we walked past the place where I was standing when the Challenger exploded.  And the library where Jonathan and I declared that when we grew up, we’d live together in Albania.  As we turned the corner to the old 4th grade pod where their camp was located, I looked up on the wall and there was my SIXTH GRADE PICTURE.  A little sixth grade Melissa in her Live Aid t-shirt staring out of the frame with the rest of my class.  After I dropped them off, I swung through the rest of the school; down to my fourth grade classrooms where my teacher said inexplicably inappropriate things to us until it was discovered late in the year that she had a brain tumour that affected her personality.  And the lunch room where I spent lunch trying to sit as far away from this one boy because his lunch bag was a mishmash of my worst food phobias all in one place and he accidentally spat food when he spoke.

It was too far to go back home, so I went through my old town trying to find some place to work.  I swung by my old old elementary school, the one I went to before my old elementary school, which closed when I was in third grade and was turned into a community center.  In the center of the main room, near where the shelves should have been that held the copy of the Phantom Tollbooth (that the librarian claimed I never returned), they had set up a welcome desk and the woman told me that the best she could do for me in terms of space was to set me up on a wooden bench near where my eighth grade boyfriend and I played pool in the summer.  He would kiss me reciting the vocabulary words his mother was making him learn that summer.

So I left there (after peeing in the bathroom where I learned the word “fuck” which was written on a piece of toilet paper in my stall back when I was in kindergarten, and I brought it out to an older kid to ask them what it meant before asking my mother just to make sure that the older kid had it right) and went outside to walk around for a moment and see where we played Chinese jump rope (and I got to kneesies one-foot highsies before knocking the rope) and the place of my first kiss.  He was a sixth grader and I was a third grader, and he had to bend down to kiss me very lightly on the lips after I blew those weeds at him that we used to call angel dust (angel dust in the PCP-sense, not in some beautiful ethereal sense).  I wanted him to kiss me because he was one of the boys who would jump from the top of the red tower, and that seemed like the scariest thing in the world when I was eight.

And then I drove through my old town, past my parents’ old house, and took the long way past my eighth grade boyfriend’s old house (his parents have since died, and last I heard, his brother took over the house and is raising his children there) and the path through the woods that connected our two houses where we’d meet and stand halfway between the two houses filled with adults.  And finally swung into the town center, down the one-lane road that always backs up with traffic, and noted that they had cut back the shrubbery near the cemetery revealing more headstones, and took the shortcut past the new library (remembering when the library used to be housed in what is now a bank building) to settle down in the Starbucks to work.

It was weird to be back there.  To know everything but not really belong.  It felt like speaking a foreign language after years of disuse, realizing that I now refer to it as a foreign language instead of my mothertongue.

Have you ever been back to your old elementary school and what would you remember there if you did?