PART III

Don't Tint Your Back Windows Because The Person Behind You Won't Know You're Waving At Them After They Let You Infront Of Them

Let me break down the scenario: it's happened to all of us. You're driving and you realize you need to get over, but the lane to your left is filled with traffic. Stopped up. You glance over and try and make eye contact with the person in the car next to you. No go. They're staring straight ahead, cold as ice. You look again, this time intently, and point your chin at them in an upward motion, eyes all expectant. Finally they look. Silent signals are exchanged, he lets you over. You give the complimentary wave backward and "thank you" eyes in your rear view to show your gratitude. But wait--he never saw it. Why? Tinted windows.

What's going on here? The bigger picture, folks. In writing, this is what we call a metaphor. The mundane becomes sublime through analogy. The car scenario represents what happens when we close ourselves off to other people. We strut through our days putting on a front, trying to appear more important than we are. Usually it doesn't matter, and it gets us what we what. No harm done, you're calling the plays. Until, that is, someone drops us a little favor. Then, in our haste to be Mr. Tough, we forget to be human. Forget gratitude, forget appreciation, forget love. Lesson: if your windows are tinted, no one's gonna see what's inside.

The writing business is hard. You think you need to put on a front, and you're right. Publishers don't want pussies. But when someone cuts you a break, you can't straight up diss them. That's a good way to burn all your bridges. Instead, soften up a little, bend your proud self over, and kiss a little brown. You might end up getting more than you bargained for.

--end of third lecture--