Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 49
April 22, 2018
A writing excerpt, more Scouts, and the best Becky
So, we paid a little money to promote The No-Campfire Girls on the Fussy Librarian newsletter, which resulted in a few sales. Then I doubled down by letting social media have it with both barrels. I sent out a newsletter, then put up two different posts on multiple social media platforms, including some I still have never heard of and others that don't exist yet.
(By the way, FaceBackTalk will be huge.)
I even tagged some celebrity former Girl Scouts with what amounted to begging. Up to this point, the total effort has produced zero results, in sales or reviews. (To my knowledge; sometimes these things move slowly, like my bathroom sink.)
So the next time your father says "you get what you pay for", stop snickering and pay attention.
I'm tempted to paraphrase Davy Crockett by saying social media can go to hell--I'm going to edit. But after Crockett said something like that, he went to Texas and died at the Alamo. I'm not sure I want to fight to the last adverb.
Besides, social media can be pretty cool, what with the family's baby pics and the backdraft simulators, so as long as you don't get addicted or expect too much from it, it's okay. Another besides: I was once followed on Twitter by the original Becky from "Roseanne", so I've already had my fifteen minutes of fame. (And after she followed me her Twitter account disappeared; coincidence?)
Besides X3, I've gotten a lot of moral support from friends and fellow writers online ... so here's a reward in the form of a short excerpt from The No-Campfire Girls. It's free. You get what you pay for.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cassidy stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
For a moment Cassidy listened to the voices, then she gripped Beth’s arm. “Whatever you hear from now on, just remember this: Only half of it is true.” She took a deep breath, then marched on toward the barn’s entrance.
Director Harris stood inside, along with two wranglers—former Lookout Girls who now specialized in the camp’s horses. The wranglers looked greatly amused. Mrs. Harris did not.
The object of their attention was an old man who stood with his arms crossed. His craggy face was brownish-red, his nose a great tomahawk-like hook, his eyes brown and clear. “Whatever might help should be tried, Director Harris. We accomplish nothing if we don’t try.” He wore jeans, work boots, and, despite the heat, a long sleeve red flannel shirt and cowboy hat. Even the horses stood still, fascinated by him.
“Oh, my gosh.” Beth whispered to Cassidy, “He looks like a full blooded Indian!”
“Half Cherokee. But he’s full of something.” Cassidy took another deep breath, then stepped into the barn.
Cassidy knows this guy. Beth followed the other girl in. Well, it made sense: Unlike Beth, Cassidy lived around here, and the nearest city wasn’t all that big. Heather claimed the nearest mall called her name from three hours away.
Mrs. Harris didn’t notice them at first, but the old man looked around. “Osiyo, Cassidy.” He sent her a mild smile. “Maybe you could explain to your director that I do an effective rain dance.”
Cassidy drew back a little. “Hello to you, Running Creek. Beth Hamlin, this is Running Creek.”
“Call me Simon. I don’t stand on ceremony.” He looked at Mrs. Harris again. “Although I do know how to conduct ceremonies.”
A moment of silence followed. Everyone, Beth realized, looked at Cassidy.
“Mrs. Harris, Running Creek—Simon—is trained and experienced with rain dances.”
Mrs. Harris sighed. “That doesn’t mean—“
“These things must be done right,” Simon told her. “Once, in 1997, I danced too long. It was a hundred year flood.”
“I didn’t question your ability to do the dance, Simon. But you’re here to teach archery in place of having campfires—not to change the weather so we can have the campfires. I don’t think it’s proper to do what amounts to a religious ceremony in front of all these girls.”
Beth didn’t see how a rain dance would be any worse than the Lookout Girl rain song they’d sung at breakfast, but something told her bringing that up would be a bad idea.
Simon stared at the director for a long moment, then whipped off his hat to uncover a full head of pure white hair. “The politically correct police strike again.” He bowed to Mrs. Harris, nodded to the others, then walked out the door. The horses watched him until he disappeared, as if waiting for his next trick.
The wranglers tittered a little, until Mrs. Harris threw them a glare and they went back to work. Then she turned her attention on Beth and Cassidy. “You know Running Creek—Simon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He came well recommended, but I’ve never heard of him doing rain dances before. One has to wonder if he’s for real.”
“He’s really half Cherokee,” Cassidy told her.
“And what’s the other half?”
“Irish.”
Beth looked at Cassidy. How did she know so much about the old man?
“Irish. I think the word we’re looking for here is blarney.” Apparently too rattled to ask the girls why they were there, Mrs. Harris walked out the door.
After the director left, Beth cleared her throat. “Blarney?”
“I think it kind of means … bull … droppings. I wonder if Mrs. Harris is half Irish, too.” Cassidy smiled. “They’ll continue to not get along.”
www.markrhunter.com
(By the way, FaceBackTalk will be huge.)
I even tagged some celebrity former Girl Scouts with what amounted to begging. Up to this point, the total effort has produced zero results, in sales or reviews. (To my knowledge; sometimes these things move slowly, like my bathroom sink.)
So the next time your father says "you get what you pay for", stop snickering and pay attention.
I'm tempted to paraphrase Davy Crockett by saying social media can go to hell--I'm going to edit. But after Crockett said something like that, he went to Texas and died at the Alamo. I'm not sure I want to fight to the last adverb.
Besides, social media can be pretty cool, what with the family's baby pics and the backdraft simulators, so as long as you don't get addicted or expect too much from it, it's okay. Another besides: I was once followed on Twitter by the original Becky from "Roseanne", so I've already had my fifteen minutes of fame. (And after she followed me her Twitter account disappeared; coincidence?)
Besides X3, I've gotten a lot of moral support from friends and fellow writers online ... so here's a reward in the form of a short excerpt from The No-Campfire Girls. It's free. You get what you pay for.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cassidy stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
For a moment Cassidy listened to the voices, then she gripped Beth’s arm. “Whatever you hear from now on, just remember this: Only half of it is true.” She took a deep breath, then marched on toward the barn’s entrance.
Director Harris stood inside, along with two wranglers—former Lookout Girls who now specialized in the camp’s horses. The wranglers looked greatly amused. Mrs. Harris did not.
The object of their attention was an old man who stood with his arms crossed. His craggy face was brownish-red, his nose a great tomahawk-like hook, his eyes brown and clear. “Whatever might help should be tried, Director Harris. We accomplish nothing if we don’t try.” He wore jeans, work boots, and, despite the heat, a long sleeve red flannel shirt and cowboy hat. Even the horses stood still, fascinated by him.
“Oh, my gosh.” Beth whispered to Cassidy, “He looks like a full blooded Indian!”
“Half Cherokee. But he’s full of something.” Cassidy took another deep breath, then stepped into the barn.
Cassidy knows this guy. Beth followed the other girl in. Well, it made sense: Unlike Beth, Cassidy lived around here, and the nearest city wasn’t all that big. Heather claimed the nearest mall called her name from three hours away.
Mrs. Harris didn’t notice them at first, but the old man looked around. “Osiyo, Cassidy.” He sent her a mild smile. “Maybe you could explain to your director that I do an effective rain dance.”
Cassidy drew back a little. “Hello to you, Running Creek. Beth Hamlin, this is Running Creek.”
“Call me Simon. I don’t stand on ceremony.” He looked at Mrs. Harris again. “Although I do know how to conduct ceremonies.”
A moment of silence followed. Everyone, Beth realized, looked at Cassidy.
“Mrs. Harris, Running Creek—Simon—is trained and experienced with rain dances.”
Mrs. Harris sighed. “That doesn’t mean—“
“These things must be done right,” Simon told her. “Once, in 1997, I danced too long. It was a hundred year flood.”
“I didn’t question your ability to do the dance, Simon. But you’re here to teach archery in place of having campfires—not to change the weather so we can have the campfires. I don’t think it’s proper to do what amounts to a religious ceremony in front of all these girls.”
Beth didn’t see how a rain dance would be any worse than the Lookout Girl rain song they’d sung at breakfast, but something told her bringing that up would be a bad idea.
Simon stared at the director for a long moment, then whipped off his hat to uncover a full head of pure white hair. “The politically correct police strike again.” He bowed to Mrs. Harris, nodded to the others, then walked out the door. The horses watched him until he disappeared, as if waiting for his next trick.
The wranglers tittered a little, until Mrs. Harris threw them a glare and they went back to work. Then she turned her attention on Beth and Cassidy. “You know Running Creek—Simon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He came well recommended, but I’ve never heard of him doing rain dances before. One has to wonder if he’s for real.”
“He’s really half Cherokee,” Cassidy told her.
“And what’s the other half?”
“Irish.”
Beth looked at Cassidy. How did she know so much about the old man?
“Irish. I think the word we’re looking for here is blarney.” Apparently too rattled to ask the girls why they were there, Mrs. Harris walked out the door.
After the director left, Beth cleared her throat. “Blarney?”
“I think it kind of means … bull … droppings. I wonder if Mrs. Harris is half Irish, too.” Cassidy smiled. “They’ll continue to not get along.”
www.markrhunter.com
April 20, 2018
The value of navel lint, or: Girl Scouts cause an e-book breakout
I had a business plan all ready to go when we published The No-Campfire Girls, and it was, if I do say so myself, fool-proof:
First, we tell everyone half the proceeds to go a good and worthy cause, and that much of the other half go toward advertising that good and worthy cause.
Second, we set the e-book price at only 99 cents and, even better, the print book at just five dollars. Hey, you can find 99 cents in your navel lint collection. (It's up to you to dig it out.) Not only that, but these days 99 cents worth of navel lint is worth five bucks, so there you go.
Third, we spread the word among Girl Scouts, since that good cause was to support a Girl Scout camp. There are about two and a half million Girl Scouts in America today. So the Scouts of Camp Latonka would spread the word about this cool new young adult novel to other Scouts in Missouri, who get the word out through the Midwest, and before you know it I'm on Oprah's book list. No, I have no idea of Oprah was a Girl Scout, but she would know a fun read when she sees one.
But speaking of Oprah, the next step would be to have The No-Campfire Girls endorsed by famous Girl Scouts. I may only remember a few Taylor Swift songs, but I know a former Scout when I see one.
By which I mean, I looked it up.
So pretty soon Swift, Gwyneth Paltrow, Susan Lucci, Abigail Breslin, Dionne Warwick, Kattie Couric, Martha Stewart, Mariah Carey ... let me take a breath ... Celine Dion, Dakota Fanning, Barbara Walters, Venus Williams, and my favorite, Sheryl Crow, are all telling their fans, "Buy a book and save a camp!" (trademark pending) ... "Oh, and enjoy reading!"
According to my math, these steps would result in 8,914,976 sales. If every one of those buyers likes the book, that in turn will result in approximately 475 book reviews. Since online publicity depends so much on book reviews these days, that many should result in at least another ten billion sales.
I confess, my calculator app froze up a few steps earlier, so that's some quick and dirty napkin calculations that I had to read off my face in the mirror, after an unfortunate chocolate mishap. But I think it's a fair approximation.
So, Girl Scout Camp Latonka is saved, and I see a book series in my future!
Well, I did. The plan stalled along the way, possibly during the "going viral" stage. Or maybe I should have led with, "It's a fun, story--really it is". But I'm working on it.
And, just in case, I've already got a sequel planned out ... maybe I'll put in a cute puppy.
First, we tell everyone half the proceeds to go a good and worthy cause, and that much of the other half go toward advertising that good and worthy cause.
Second, we set the e-book price at only 99 cents and, even better, the print book at just five dollars. Hey, you can find 99 cents in your navel lint collection. (It's up to you to dig it out.) Not only that, but these days 99 cents worth of navel lint is worth five bucks, so there you go.
Third, we spread the word among Girl Scouts, since that good cause was to support a Girl Scout camp. There are about two and a half million Girl Scouts in America today. So the Scouts of Camp Latonka would spread the word about this cool new young adult novel to other Scouts in Missouri, who get the word out through the Midwest, and before you know it I'm on Oprah's book list. No, I have no idea of Oprah was a Girl Scout, but she would know a fun read when she sees one.
But speaking of Oprah, the next step would be to have The No-Campfire Girls endorsed by famous Girl Scouts. I may only remember a few Taylor Swift songs, but I know a former Scout when I see one.
By which I mean, I looked it up.
So pretty soon Swift, Gwyneth Paltrow, Susan Lucci, Abigail Breslin, Dionne Warwick, Kattie Couric, Martha Stewart, Mariah Carey ... let me take a breath ... Celine Dion, Dakota Fanning, Barbara Walters, Venus Williams, and my favorite, Sheryl Crow, are all telling their fans, "Buy a book and save a camp!" (trademark pending) ... "Oh, and enjoy reading!"
According to my math, these steps would result in 8,914,976 sales. If every one of those buyers likes the book, that in turn will result in approximately 475 book reviews. Since online publicity depends so much on book reviews these days, that many should result in at least another ten billion sales.
I confess, my calculator app froze up a few steps earlier, so that's some quick and dirty napkin calculations that I had to read off my face in the mirror, after an unfortunate chocolate mishap. But I think it's a fair approximation.
So, Girl Scout Camp Latonka is saved, and I see a book series in my future!
Well, I did. The plan stalled along the way, possibly during the "going viral" stage. Or maybe I should have led with, "It's a fun, story--really it is". But I'm working on it.
And, just in case, I've already got a sequel planned out ... maybe I'll put in a cute puppy.
April 17, 2018
Girl Scouts, or coffee? I vote books.
The No-Campfire Girls was featured Sunday on the Fussy Librarian daily newsletter; the site's all about books of various genres, and can be found here:
http://www.thefussylibrarian.com/
It costs a few bucks to do the ad, but it did bring sales. The Amazon ranking for The No-Campfire Girls rose from just over three million to 41,341 that day, which is its highest Kindle ranking, so the extra effort clearly did something.
That's especially important because half the proceeds for the book go to support my wife's Girl Scout Camp Latonka, in Missouri. (Not "former" because once a Scout, always a Scout.) This is our second such effort, with the proceeds from another book, Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights, going to the Albion Volunteer Fire Department.
And they don't get charged for the advertising!
This is also why I didn't set The No-Campfire Girls to free: Can't raise funds that way. Not to mention the e-book is already only 99 cents. You can even pick up the print version for just five bucks: That's a lot of entertainment, for the price of an extra small plain black Starbucks coffee.
I'd planned to do a whole promotion thing around the Fussy Librarian appearance, with the idea of getting it as far up the rankings as possible. But my mother landed in the hospital (she's out now) and some other things happened, so now I'm going to launch that effort afterward instead, for about a week. I don't self-promote nearly as much as I probably should, so I think my readers will forgive me, especially when it comes to a good cause.
What will my extra promotion effort entail? In the immortal words of Indiana Jones, I dunno--I'm making this up as I go along. But look for more about the book later, and until then please support the Girls Scouts by picking it up on our website at www.MarkRHunter.com, or over on our Amazon page:
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
http://www.thefussylibrarian.com/
It costs a few bucks to do the ad, but it did bring sales. The Amazon ranking for The No-Campfire Girls rose from just over three million to 41,341 that day, which is its highest Kindle ranking, so the extra effort clearly did something.
That's especially important because half the proceeds for the book go to support my wife's Girl Scout Camp Latonka, in Missouri. (Not "former" because once a Scout, always a Scout.) This is our second such effort, with the proceeds from another book, Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights, going to the Albion Volunteer Fire Department.
And they don't get charged for the advertising!
This is also why I didn't set The No-Campfire Girls to free: Can't raise funds that way. Not to mention the e-book is already only 99 cents. You can even pick up the print version for just five bucks: That's a lot of entertainment, for the price of an extra small plain black Starbucks coffee.
I'd planned to do a whole promotion thing around the Fussy Librarian appearance, with the idea of getting it as far up the rankings as possible. But my mother landed in the hospital (she's out now) and some other things happened, so now I'm going to launch that effort afterward instead, for about a week. I don't self-promote nearly as much as I probably should, so I think my readers will forgive me, especially when it comes to a good cause.
What will my extra promotion effort entail? In the immortal words of Indiana Jones, I dunno--I'm making this up as I go along. But look for more about the book later, and until then please support the Girls Scouts by picking it up on our website at www.MarkRHunter.com, or over on our Amazon page:
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
April 13, 2018
Movie Review: Ready Player One
As we left the theater after seeing Ready Player One, I told my wife, "I think that's the most fun I've had at the movies since Deadpool".
Not the best movie, mind you--but certainly the most fun. However, by happy coincidence, Ready Player One is also a great movie.
The concept is that virtual reality has sent much of the world's population into a computerized universe that's way better and more fun than the real one, which of course leads to the real world getting that worse. In other words, it's the way things are pretty much headed in real life. By 2045 everyone, including Wade Watts (Tye Sheridan) is going into the OASIS, where you can be anyone you want and do anything you want. A good example of this is right at the opening, when we see some people climbing Mount Everest--with Batman.
Wade lives in a trailer park so overcrowded that the homes are literally stacked on top of each other, and won't that be fun the next time a tornado comes along? He's competing to find clues to a contest that will give the winner control of the OASIS, along with the fortune of its creator, James Halliday (played with relish by Mark Rylance). When Wade wins the first of three challenges, he gets on the radar of some very powerful people, which ends up endangering both the OASIS and the real world of Wade's friends and family.
Now, let's be clear: Ready Player One is another science fiction action-adventure, nothing more. But in the hands of a master like Stephen Spielberg, nothing more can become ... more. From the moment Wade hops into the Delorean from Back To The Future to race the Akira motorcycle, Bigfoot, the A Team van, and the freaking Batmobile, you know you're in for something special. And that's before King Kong shows up, and by the way, that's just in the first ten minutes. It's breathless and breathtaking, spectacular and funny, and the only thing that's missing is a John Williams score--although having said that, Alan Silvestri does a great job weaving in well known themes for a memorable soundtrack.
By the way, is there any SF fandom Simon Pegg hadn't been involved in at this point?
Spielberg has said Ready Player One is the most difficult film he's made since Saving Private Ryan, twenty years ago, and the third hardest ever behind Jaws. I believe him; but he pulled it off. Oh, and yes, there are themes and deeper issues, as well as plot holes along the way.
If you're into pop culture references, you'll probably want to see Ready Player One more than once, just to catch everything. For me it was one of the fun parts of the movie, and honestly I'm bursting to shout out all the references, from the obvious (The Shining) to the blink-and-you-miss-it (Firefly). And if you don't recognize all those shout-outs ... doesn't matter. Still a great movie.
My Score:
Entertainment Value: 5 out of 4 M&Ms. Yeah, I said it.
Oscar Potential: 3 out of 4 M&Ms. There's quality in every aspect of this production, but sadly, I wouldn't be surprised if the Academy totally ignores this picture as being too much fun for their lofty standards.
Not the best movie, mind you--but certainly the most fun. However, by happy coincidence, Ready Player One is also a great movie.
The concept is that virtual reality has sent much of the world's population into a computerized universe that's way better and more fun than the real one, which of course leads to the real world getting that worse. In other words, it's the way things are pretty much headed in real life. By 2045 everyone, including Wade Watts (Tye Sheridan) is going into the OASIS, where you can be anyone you want and do anything you want. A good example of this is right at the opening, when we see some people climbing Mount Everest--with Batman.
Wade lives in a trailer park so overcrowded that the homes are literally stacked on top of each other, and won't that be fun the next time a tornado comes along? He's competing to find clues to a contest that will give the winner control of the OASIS, along with the fortune of its creator, James Halliday (played with relish by Mark Rylance). When Wade wins the first of three challenges, he gets on the radar of some very powerful people, which ends up endangering both the OASIS and the real world of Wade's friends and family.
Now, let's be clear: Ready Player One is another science fiction action-adventure, nothing more. But in the hands of a master like Stephen Spielberg, nothing more can become ... more. From the moment Wade hops into the Delorean from Back To The Future to race the Akira motorcycle, Bigfoot, the A Team van, and the freaking Batmobile, you know you're in for something special. And that's before King Kong shows up, and by the way, that's just in the first ten minutes. It's breathless and breathtaking, spectacular and funny, and the only thing that's missing is a John Williams score--although having said that, Alan Silvestri does a great job weaving in well known themes for a memorable soundtrack.
By the way, is there any SF fandom Simon Pegg hadn't been involved in at this point?
Spielberg has said Ready Player One is the most difficult film he's made since Saving Private Ryan, twenty years ago, and the third hardest ever behind Jaws. I believe him; but he pulled it off. Oh, and yes, there are themes and deeper issues, as well as plot holes along the way.
If you're into pop culture references, you'll probably want to see Ready Player One more than once, just to catch everything. For me it was one of the fun parts of the movie, and honestly I'm bursting to shout out all the references, from the obvious (The Shining) to the blink-and-you-miss-it (Firefly). And if you don't recognize all those shout-outs ... doesn't matter. Still a great movie.
My Score:
Entertainment Value: 5 out of 4 M&Ms. Yeah, I said it.
Oscar Potential: 3 out of 4 M&Ms. There's quality in every aspect of this production, but sadly, I wouldn't be surprised if the Academy totally ignores this picture as being too much fun for their lofty standards.
April 4, 2018
Singing Up a Spring
Hey, I wrote a song!
It's not a great song ... but then, I'm not a great song writer. There are two problems: First, I meant it to be humorous, but it comes off as kind of depressing; chalk that up to the weather and my sinus infection, I suppose. Second, it's a song, and I was hearing the music in my head while writing the words (It has a country vibe). But I can't play it for you because I can't write music ... so it probably won't work as well as a poem. Maybe it's for the best, though, because I'm also not a great music writer. Or ... any music writer.
I should hold some contest, like: If I sell thirty books by the end of April, I'll post a video of me singing this. But that might lead to negative sales. "For Heaven's sake, don't sing! I'm sending your books back to you."
I call it: Springing Out of Springdom.
(I'm not a great title writer, either.)
I like to ride in the countryside
just to take in spring.
The flower blossoms, birds at play
and all the greening things.
But this year I've come to realize
something that's made me sad.
We won't get a spring this year
'cause we've all been too bad.
Yeah, we've all been too bad this year,
we just can't get along.
We fight and fuss and disagree
Even as the days get long.
Mother Nature said "Screw you!"
"I'll just evaporate."
So winter just won't end this year;
she left us to our fate.
So now the temp's below average
just like all our moods.
Plants are brown and grass is dead,
let's face it--we're all screwed.
Our tulips won't come up this year,
They're underneath a drift.
The robins are hitchhiking south,
their frozen wings won't lift.
Yes, we've all been too bad this year,
we don't deserve the spring.
Mosquitoes can't come out in this,
it's frostbite that'll sting.
Mother Nature said "Stuff it!"
and left us all to freeze.
so winter just won't end this year,
no flowers, birds, or bees.
So let's all try to get along,
we just don't have to fight.
At this rate our nice summer
will become a year long night.
It's not that we all must be friends,
but hatred hurts our souls.
If we don't make up by Christmas
At least we can heat with coals.
True, we've all been too bad this year,
and spring will never come
if we don't get our butts in gear
and stop being so dumb.
Mother nature said "I'm done!"
and winter's staying strong.
So dig back out your salt and plows ...
or try to get along.
It's not a great song ... but then, I'm not a great song writer. There are two problems: First, I meant it to be humorous, but it comes off as kind of depressing; chalk that up to the weather and my sinus infection, I suppose. Second, it's a song, and I was hearing the music in my head while writing the words (It has a country vibe). But I can't play it for you because I can't write music ... so it probably won't work as well as a poem. Maybe it's for the best, though, because I'm also not a great music writer. Or ... any music writer.
I should hold some contest, like: If I sell thirty books by the end of April, I'll post a video of me singing this. But that might lead to negative sales. "For Heaven's sake, don't sing! I'm sending your books back to you."
I call it: Springing Out of Springdom.
(I'm not a great title writer, either.)
I like to ride in the countryside
just to take in spring.
The flower blossoms, birds at play
and all the greening things.
But this year I've come to realize
something that's made me sad.
We won't get a spring this year
'cause we've all been too bad.
Yeah, we've all been too bad this year,
we just can't get along.
We fight and fuss and disagree
Even as the days get long.
Mother Nature said "Screw you!"
"I'll just evaporate."
So winter just won't end this year;
she left us to our fate.
So now the temp's below average
just like all our moods.
Plants are brown and grass is dead,
let's face it--we're all screwed.
Our tulips won't come up this year,
They're underneath a drift.
The robins are hitchhiking south,
their frozen wings won't lift.
Yes, we've all been too bad this year,
we don't deserve the spring.
Mosquitoes can't come out in this,
it's frostbite that'll sting.
Mother Nature said "Stuff it!"
and left us all to freeze.
so winter just won't end this year,
no flowers, birds, or bees.
So let's all try to get along,
we just don't have to fight.
At this rate our nice summer
will become a year long night.
It's not that we all must be friends,
but hatred hurts our souls.
If we don't make up by Christmas
At least we can heat with coals.
True, we've all been too bad this year,
and spring will never come
if we don't get our butts in gear
and stop being so dumb.
Mother nature said "I'm done!"
and winter's staying strong.
So dig back out your salt and plows ...
or try to get along.
April 1, 2018
Big Medical Words, or: Holy Bovine, What's Wrong With Me?
Well, bad news on the medical front, as I went to the doctor Wednesday and was diagnosed with bilateral Eustachian salpingitis, which has effected my balance and hearing a little. He gave me a shot of Kenalog--which was a butt load of fun--and started me on antibiotics, and has high hopes that I'll recover.
(Just to be clear, the doctor's name is not Wednesday--that's the day I saw him.)
It's related to my biannual sinusitis, which is itself worsened by rhinitis. I haven't gotten the sinusitis nearly as often since my sinus surgery, but when I do get it, I get it good. By which I mean bad. By which I mean last week was kind of awful.
If I don't make it, I'd like everyone to help support my widow by buying our books. A lot.
Always be closing, as the sales people say.
Anyway, happy Easter! And no, if you're thinking it, it's not an April Fool's Day joke: I really do have bilateral Eustachian salpingitis.
It means pressure on my eardrums.
(Just to be clear, the doctor's name is not Wednesday--that's the day I saw him.)
It's related to my biannual sinusitis, which is itself worsened by rhinitis. I haven't gotten the sinusitis nearly as often since my sinus surgery, but when I do get it, I get it good. By which I mean bad. By which I mean last week was kind of awful.
If I don't make it, I'd like everyone to help support my widow by buying our books. A lot.
Always be closing, as the sales people say.
Anyway, happy Easter! And no, if you're thinking it, it's not an April Fool's Day joke: I really do have bilateral Eustachian salpingitis.
It means pressure on my eardrums.
March 26, 2018
Back Home Again: Writing in Indiana, and a Radio Red giveaway
I’m featured again on 50 Authors From 50 States, a blog about ... well, that's pretty self explanatory, isn't it? Commenters on the blog get a chance to win a copy of my newest novel, “Radio Red”.
https://annettesnyder.blogspot.com/20...
Okay, I know ... "Radio Red" is my first book that's not set in or about Indiana. But I still wrote it here (even though I researched and outlined it in Michigan, but never mind), so ... there. Don't miss out, before it's no longer my latest novel!
https://annettesnyder.blogspot.com/20...
Okay, I know ... "Radio Red" is my first book that's not set in or about Indiana. But I still wrote it here (even though I researched and outlined it in Michigan, but never mind), so ... there. Don't miss out, before it's no longer my latest novel!
March 24, 2018
Fire On Mist Creek: after edit report
I finished the second draft of Fire On Mist Creek, and didn't have to make as many major changes as expected. This was surprising, considering it was a NaNoWriMo novel, and the first draft was completed in about thirty-five days. (But I had an extensive outline going in.)
I added about a thousand words, fleshed out a character who didn't exist in my original outline, added one new scene, and completely rewrote another scene. Also, I gave the dog a bigger part. You can never go wrong putting a Dalmatian in your book.
And now: another round of edits. It's time to seek out and destroy adverbs, gerunds, passive voice, and weasel words. Weasel words are okay, if the character saying them is a weasel.
I added about a thousand words, fleshed out a character who didn't exist in my original outline, added one new scene, and completely rewrote another scene. Also, I gave the dog a bigger part. You can never go wrong putting a Dalmatian in your book.
And now: another round of edits. It's time to seek out and destroy adverbs, gerunds, passive voice, and weasel words. Weasel words are okay, if the character saying them is a weasel.
March 21, 2018
A Great Day For a Grass Fire
Sunday was a great day for a grass fire.
No, not that kind of grass, although wildland fires can make your day go to pot.
It's that time of year. People get cabin fever, and at the drop of a match they're using any excuse to get outside, and fire is cool. (It's not really cool, it's hot. Just wanted to clarify.) Fence rows, weedy hills, brush piles, trash, unruly lawns, meth labs, unwanted relatives, whatever. And they inevitably say, if only to themselves, one of three things:
1. "What could possibly go wrong?"
(A phrase that has become such a cliche that anyone who thinks it should automatically be horsewhipped. Do they still make horsewhips? Maybe in Amish country.)
2. "I'll be right back--this will only take a minute."
(See above comment.)
3. "I've got it under control."
We once pulled up to a field fire that was burning around three sides of a house. When we knocked on the door to alert the occupants, this guy opened up and told us it was a controlled burn, and the fire department wasn't needed. He was wearing a towel.
Yes, he'd been in the bathtub.
In northern Indiana, things don't get nearly as bad as out west--just bad enough. Wildland fire season (it's usually ground fires: fields or woods) lasts for a couple of months, from the time the snow melts until all the foliage greens up enough so it won't burn. We sometimes have another fire season in the fall, and if a drought strikes all bets are off. But the problem in the spring is that the ground is often still saturated from snow melt, so much so that even four wheel drive fire trucks can't go off road, which is fine if there's nothing off road that can be damaged or is, say, in the path of the fire. At the same time, people think "Hey--if the ground's so wet, the fire won't spread. I've got it under control!"
Meanwhile, one inch above that wet ground, anything that's been dead since last fall dries out after about an hour of sun and breeze. I've seen six foot flames burning over standing water in swamps. That's me on the other side, waiting on the shore for it to get to me ... I've seen all those SyFy movies with mutated alligators.
So I looked at the weather forecast last week and realized the next day would be perfect for what we call grass fires. (At least until they get to other stuff; then we call them house fires, barn fires, car fires, unwanted relative fires, whatever.) It would be a Sunday, sunny, with a temperature in the low fifties. There would be just enough of a breeze to spread fire, but not enough to make people worry about it. We're a small town volunteer fire department, and we still once made 17 calls in one day under those conditions.
So, instead of the pajama pants I usually wear around the house (days off equal writing time on the couch), I put on jeans--and socks, and since it was only in the low fifties, a sweatshirt. I put my shoes right in front of the couch. The keys were on the ledge by the front door, the car backed in to allow for a quick entrance, my pager on my belt. As busy as my life's been lately, it's probably the most prepared I've been for a call in ten years.
Then I listened, as surrounding departments started getting called out. Kendallville FD, grass fire; Cromwell FD, grass fire; Noble Township FD, grass fire; Avilla FD, grass fire; Ligonier FD, car-pedestrian accident.
Ah, the unexpected.
Also unexpected: The Albion Fire Department, with is 96 square mile, mostly rural response area, didn't get called out at all that day.
I'm thinking of renting myself out as a fire prevention tool. You pay me ahead of time, and I'll show up at your firehouse fully dressed, with my fire gear beside me, ready to accompany you to a fire at an instant's notice. Then, there will be no fire. I'll get money, your community will remain safe, and if nothing else I'll get some quality reading time. (I'm reading American Gods at the moment.)
What could possibly go wrong?
No, not that kind of grass, although wildland fires can make your day go to pot.
It's that time of year. People get cabin fever, and at the drop of a match they're using any excuse to get outside, and fire is cool. (It's not really cool, it's hot. Just wanted to clarify.) Fence rows, weedy hills, brush piles, trash, unruly lawns, meth labs, unwanted relatives, whatever. And they inevitably say, if only to themselves, one of three things:
1. "What could possibly go wrong?"
(A phrase that has become such a cliche that anyone who thinks it should automatically be horsewhipped. Do they still make horsewhips? Maybe in Amish country.)
2. "I'll be right back--this will only take a minute."
(See above comment.)
3. "I've got it under control."
We once pulled up to a field fire that was burning around three sides of a house. When we knocked on the door to alert the occupants, this guy opened up and told us it was a controlled burn, and the fire department wasn't needed. He was wearing a towel.
Yes, he'd been in the bathtub.
In northern Indiana, things don't get nearly as bad as out west--just bad enough. Wildland fire season (it's usually ground fires: fields or woods) lasts for a couple of months, from the time the snow melts until all the foliage greens up enough so it won't burn. We sometimes have another fire season in the fall, and if a drought strikes all bets are off. But the problem in the spring is that the ground is often still saturated from snow melt, so much so that even four wheel drive fire trucks can't go off road, which is fine if there's nothing off road that can be damaged or is, say, in the path of the fire. At the same time, people think "Hey--if the ground's so wet, the fire won't spread. I've got it under control!"
Meanwhile, one inch above that wet ground, anything that's been dead since last fall dries out after about an hour of sun and breeze. I've seen six foot flames burning over standing water in swamps. That's me on the other side, waiting on the shore for it to get to me ... I've seen all those SyFy movies with mutated alligators.
So I looked at the weather forecast last week and realized the next day would be perfect for what we call grass fires. (At least until they get to other stuff; then we call them house fires, barn fires, car fires, unwanted relative fires, whatever.) It would be a Sunday, sunny, with a temperature in the low fifties. There would be just enough of a breeze to spread fire, but not enough to make people worry about it. We're a small town volunteer fire department, and we still once made 17 calls in one day under those conditions.
So, instead of the pajama pants I usually wear around the house (days off equal writing time on the couch), I put on jeans--and socks, and since it was only in the low fifties, a sweatshirt. I put my shoes right in front of the couch. The keys were on the ledge by the front door, the car backed in to allow for a quick entrance, my pager on my belt. As busy as my life's been lately, it's probably the most prepared I've been for a call in ten years.
Then I listened, as surrounding departments started getting called out. Kendallville FD, grass fire; Cromwell FD, grass fire; Noble Township FD, grass fire; Avilla FD, grass fire; Ligonier FD, car-pedestrian accident.
Ah, the unexpected.
Also unexpected: The Albion Fire Department, with is 96 square mile, mostly rural response area, didn't get called out at all that day.
I'm thinking of renting myself out as a fire prevention tool. You pay me ahead of time, and I'll show up at your firehouse fully dressed, with my fire gear beside me, ready to accompany you to a fire at an instant's notice. Then, there will be no fire. I'll get money, your community will remain safe, and if nothing else I'll get some quality reading time. (I'm reading American Gods at the moment.)
What could possibly go wrong?
March 16, 2018
Tornado Siren Testing to Begin March 20
(Of course, when tornado season starts varies from region to region around the country--and world.)
Tornado sirens around central Noble County will be tested next week as part of Indiana’s Severe Weather Preparedness Week, which runs from March 18-24.
In Albion the sirens will go off on Tuesday, March 20, to make sure they’ll work properly in case of severe weather. This will be part of a statewide test, which is done twice on the 20th: usually between 10-11 a.m., and between 6-10 p.m.
For the rest of the season the Albion Fire Department will test the sirens at around 6 p.m. the second and fourth Mondays of every month, unless threatening weather conditions exist at the time.
There are five tornado sirens positioned around Albion, plus one at Skinner Lake, and another at the campground at Chain O’ Lakes State Park. They provide one of several ways to alert citizens to unfavorable weather conditions. Everyone should be prepared to monitor conditions and seek shelter in the event of severe weather.
The sirens can be activated by Noble County Communications dispatchers, and also from the Albion fire station.
More information about Indiana Severe Weather and Flood Preparedness Week 2018 can be found here:
https://www.weather.gov/ind/SvrWxWeek...
Tornado sirens around central Noble County will be tested next week as part of Indiana’s Severe Weather Preparedness Week, which runs from March 18-24.
In Albion the sirens will go off on Tuesday, March 20, to make sure they’ll work properly in case of severe weather. This will be part of a statewide test, which is done twice on the 20th: usually between 10-11 a.m., and between 6-10 p.m.
For the rest of the season the Albion Fire Department will test the sirens at around 6 p.m. the second and fourth Mondays of every month, unless threatening weather conditions exist at the time.
There are five tornado sirens positioned around Albion, plus one at Skinner Lake, and another at the campground at Chain O’ Lakes State Park. They provide one of several ways to alert citizens to unfavorable weather conditions. Everyone should be prepared to monitor conditions and seek shelter in the event of severe weather.
The sirens can be activated by Noble County Communications dispatchers, and also from the Albion fire station.
More information about Indiana Severe Weather and Flood Preparedness Week 2018 can be found here:
https://www.weather.gov/ind/SvrWxWeek...
