So my first official involvement with G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. (or the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen) has come to an end.

First off, as some of you might be asking, “What in the ever-loving hell is G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S.?” Well, it’s the brainchild of actor/lunatic Misha Collins of Supernatural fame. The idea is for teams to compete in a scavenger hunt that’s comprised of both finding items, creating items, or committing random acts of kindness, many with a very silly/absurdist bent to them. Ultimately, the idea is to stretch your boundaries, step out of your comfort zone, recapture childlike joys, and maybe make some new friends along the way.

When all is said and done, I’m of… mixed emotions.

The positives:

My team, Inevitable Innuendo, was absolutely spectacular and I got to know several people I wouldn’t have, otherwise.

I got to enjoy the week with my daughter, since she was also a team member.

I discovered I have a far higher tolerance for personal silliness than I might have imagined.

I learned something about the depths of creativity (and sheer abandon) that seemingly normal people have. (And I mean that in an incredibly complimentary way.)

I saw a lot of people really going to Herculean effort to help each other out (like the amazing lady who created TWENTY papier mâché heads and took them to a meet up for pictures with actor Osric Chau).

 

The negatives (and it really boils down to only one):

I wasn’t really crazy about a lot of the items on the list. I get that a good deal of my dislike stems from my own nature, which is introverted and more than a little cynical to begin with, but that first day, as I scanned the List, I had a sick feeling that several items had the potential to go somewhat pear-shaped.

And boy, did they.

The one that’s received the most publicity was the item requesting a published Science Fiction author to create a 140-word story starring Misha and the Queen of England. Now, let me be clear—many GISHERS who made the request did so in an incredibly polite fashion and many authors who were unable to comply, replied in kind.

However…

Some requests were framed in less than polite fashion (dudes—don’t demand); some responses to an author’s polite decline were met with less than gracious responses (dudes—they said no, it’s not a personal indictment, move on); and in some ways, worst of all, some authors, even when presented with a polite request, responded in such rude, overbearing, condescending, and downright mean fashion, it made me embarrassed for my profession. Because seriously, there is no call to tell someone, who is contacting you because they are presumably a fan of your work, to “kindly go die in a fire.” (Yes, that was a direct quote from a response to an incredibly polite request.)

All I can say is, if Neil Fucking Gaiman can decline politely, then so can you.

Side note: I found it particularly fascinating that the lesser-known the writer, the more vitriolic the response seemed to be and the more resentful that they were being asked to “write for free,” with additional snarking about the disrespect Misha was showing towards authors and forgetting that we’re professionals, too, and hey, would he consent to starring in multiple short films without pay? Guys, guys, guys… this wasn’t exactly a Harlan Ellison moment—

Also, I found it ironic that most of the vitriolic responses consisted of far more than 140 words. Just sayin’.

Obviously, this is the item that stood out to me the most because of my personal investment in it, but there were others that I felt skirted some very sketchy territory for me, in that they posed a potential professional issue for someone by intruding on a workplace, or caused disruption to someone’s personal space. Again, could just be me, though.

I’m also seeing a fair bit of resentment for the celebrity participants. This mystifies me as in the rules, it was clearly stated if a celebrity team won, a non-celebrity team would also be chosen for the Grand Prize. How is this a bad thing? It means you get double the fun if you’re the winning non-celebrity team. And why should someone be excluded from the event just because they happen to be well-known?

It’s this sort of behavior that tends to make me froth at the mouth and want to back slowly away.

Actually, too, now that I think about it, there was one other thing that bothered me about the List and perhaps, about the intent of G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. to begin with—the idea is that we’re supposed to push our personal boundaries and step out of our comfort zones, yada, yada. See, to me, this list represents someone else’s idea of Comfort Zone (and let’s face it, Misha has no personal boundaries, so…). I mean, every time I step onto a ballroom floor, I’m stepping out of my comfort zone. Every time I go to an event where I have to meet strangers, I’m stepping out of my comfort zone. Hell, every time I submit a new manuscript or story, I’m stepping out of my comfort zone. Who the hell is anyone to tell me that’s not enough pushing the envelope?

Now, I will fully admit, I have a knee-jerk reaction when someone tells me I must do something, which generally involves hissing and spitting and backing away like a cornered badger. But despite the occasional flashes of resentment, I acknowledge that there are always new boundaries to conquer and that even repeated stepping out of a comfort zone can, in and of itself, take on the feel of a comfort zone. (Devil you know and all that…) Which is probably why in the end, G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. is a good thing for someone like me.

Now, reading over this, I realize I must sound like a total Negative Nelly and that’s actually not my intent at all. As I said, my emotions were mixed and I suspect  a good deal of that has to do with the timing of this year’s event which, from my perspective,  was not good, seeing as it came directly in the wake of a ballroom competition, meaning I was already physically and mentally exhausted going in. Plus for this classic introvert, my people tolerance, after having to be “on” for nearly four days straight, was more than a little tapped out. Generally, post-ballroom, I strip off the makeup and fancy dresses, put on my pajamas and avoid people for at least a week. I didn’t get to do that this week, so I felt stretched pretty thin and rubbed more than a little raw. Also, I felt as if I wasn’t capable of contributing as much as I could have to my team, which makes me feel twitchy and uncomfortable, as I hate letting people down.

Especially the people on my team who were the most amazing, creative, lunatic lot I’ve ever had the privilege of working with. The extent to which these individuals were willing to push themselves makes me wish I’d done better for them and yes, will bring me back next year because if there’s anything I hate, it’s not feeling as if I gave it my best effort.

To Team Inevitable Innuendo—I Heart You Guys mightily.

148- Parental Advisory Album