Help for OMIF Disease

I can already tell this week has a theme. I’ve already written Mama Loves for tomorrow and this week we’ll have the March edition of Ellie-isms and Zach Attacks, so I might as well regale you with some of my wonderful lines. Here’s the week’s theme verse, hopefully an aid in preventing Open Mouth Insert Foot Disease.

Set a guard over my mouth, O LORD;
       keep watch over the door of my lips.
- Psalm 141:3 (NIV)

I have struggled wtih OMIF Disease most of my life. I remember when it began. I was around ten years old, I think. My brother and I were at my step-grandparents’ home for Christmas, along with our dad and the whole step-family. I always liked my step-grandad. He was cool. They had a pool table in the basement. A paneled basement. That’s what I remember. The next thing I remember Grandad asking me what I was thinking. He said he could always tell when I was thinking, that I thought about everything before I said it. For some reason, this concerned me. I didn’t want to seem timid or insecure. I wanted to speak freely and confidently whatever was on my mind. That’s when it began. I stopped thinking before speaking and have ever since been plagued by two wide feet stuck in my gaping mouth. It only gets worse when I’m excited or nervous. Those emotions collide at writers’ conferences. Here are some of my favorite faux pas, all accomplished while attempting to present myself as a professional writer.

While “networking,” I introduced myself then asked someone and what he wrote. He told me about his suspense/thriller novels. I reacted in kind about my nonfiction work (unpublished) then told him I’d see him around and wished him best of luck at the conference. I later realized he was part of the faculty and a very successful author. Like, gobs of books I have (obviously) never read.

I sat at a table with a faculty member and blurted out: “Hi! I’m Tanya and someone told me I need to talk to you about something, but I can’t remember what or why. How you doin’? Can I write for you?” Yup. Lasting first impression.

My dream agent invited me to a one-on-one lunch to discuss my career plans. Spaghetti sauce splattered on his shirt. He asked if I would mind if he took it off. He wore layers. I said, “Only if I can take mine off too.” I was not wearing layers. A DISASTEROUS attempt at humor!! After a very long silence I admitted how completely inappropriate that was and how very nervous I was and “Can we just forget I said that?”

I definitely need a guard over my mouth.