BrokenJPG

A Copywriter’s Blog
I am not your biggest fan Ben Levy 10, October

This year I’ve had the opportunity to hit a couple conventions and meet some people I really admire. Artists and writers I look up to. Creators that inspire me to keep making things and keep pushing myself.

And each time I meet one of them, I feel like an utter idiot.

Here’s the thing- I am not their biggest fan. Their biggest fans are obvious from half a mile back in the autograph line. They’re the ones dressed up as imaginary characters.

And then I feel like- since I’m not the biggest fan- why should they bother talking to me? Sure, I could babble at them about how great I think their work is, but they must have heard it all before. What’s one more fan? “Look, he’s not even in costume! Next!”

Of course, I could tell them they’ve inspired me (and I have), but what the hell do they care? What have I done with this inspiration they’ve provided? Who the hell am I?

I don’t want to just ask these people to sign something for me and awkwardly thank them for doing what they do. I want to be able to sit down with them and have a conversation. To let them know, in a non-creepy way, perhaps over a pint, about the impact they’ve had on my life and that I hope one day to maybe do something similar. And the only way that happens is if you’re more than a fan. You’ve got to be a contemporary.

Clearly, I’ve got a long way to go before that happens. In the meantime, I’ll keep showing them my love the best and least awkward way I can- by buying their shit.

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Silver Lining Ben Levy 15, August

You know what I suck at? Hanging things. I know that makes me a terrible man. I’ve already discussed at least one other stereotypical man-thing I suck at, so this should come as no surprise to you people. Still, on the face of it, hanging a freaking picture, or a shelf, shouldn’t be that hard.

Suffice it to say that I am both unerring and utterly incapable of finding a stud. Utterly incapable, because I’ll tap on the damn wall all day and never hear a difference in the tone. Unerring because as soon as I put the nail or screw in the wall, there’s the damn concrete support beam there, laughing at me.

And I never find it first. No no. I find it second. So you see, I’ve already measured everything, and put one hole in the wall, and now I have to move it. And remeasure. And put another hole in the wall. And then fill in the first hole.

All of which is a somewhat long-winded way of explaining that I was pretty relieved when I got the call from work asking me to pitch in on a Sunday. At least I got to put off hanging those damn shelves for another day.

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