Scarlet Knight, I’m not pretentious enough (despite my best efforts) to assume that I’ll ever understand even that one right woman.  But there are happy mysteries out there as well as unhappy, and I’m confident the “right one” will be an adventure of discovery that keeps me blissful and greatly improved as a person, despite my state of continual perplexity.  To be honest, I’m not certain I’d want someone I could ever figure out.  There’s a lot to say for the girl who will always be an exciting horizon.

Shoes are an entirely different matter.  Shoes are a fine example of just how alien you women really are.  Women, you see, live in a big, huge, sweeping world cluttered with relevant stuff; men live in an unadorned hallway as empty as we can keep it.  For guys, material things (meaning things that matter, not corporeal items) are extremely limited: things that fill our bellies, things that wear summer dresses and smell of exotic lotions (mostly these things turn out to be people, but just the dress and the odor can distract us), and things that might kill us.  Anything that doesn’t fall into these categories is, ultimately, irrelevant (and when our team loses, that counts as a mini death).  It’s a good thing we’re so simple, too.  Look at the men you know and how greatly they have life figured out.  Now imagine if we had more stuff to deal with.  Yeah, it’s a good thing we’ve got blinders on.

Women, on the other hand, live in this perpetual chaos where EVERYTHING matters: shoes, and this week’s hair color (as apposed to last week’s), and three week anniversaries, and the distinction between blue-green and green-blue (which I maintain are the same color, Bethany), and nice smells, and nasty smells, and little bits of hair that must be plucked or shaved or waxed or sculpted, and Pampered Chef (what is that?), and seasonal wardrobes, and pack etiquette when you head to the ladies’ room (it is physiologically impossible for a man to imagine this), and there’s no end!    I tell you, if we men lived in this world of excessive relevance we wouldn’t last long.  Something would distract us from one of those things that can make us dead, and we’d be hit by a train or step into an empty elevator shaft or something.

The writing connection?  Um, okay, give me a moment… Ladies, you know that blank look you see so often on men’s faces, whether husbands and boyfriends, or sons, or brothers, or just friends?  Yeah, that one you must get at least five times a day.  When the guy in your story displays this expression, be a little generous and don’t assume he’s a moron.  Just remember that he lives in a hallway where the term “accessories” just doesn’t have the same meaning–as do your male readers.

Tomorrow: More about the new SCBWI event on my schedule where I’ll be giving the same workshop I conducted at LTUE this year, for any who may have missed it.