Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 66
October 24, 2016
An Agent of Progress
As you all know from my incessant harping about it, I have some major publishing news to announce first on my newsletter—as soon as I have ten new people sign up for the newsletter, which hasn’t been active much up until now. (The signup is over at www.markrhunter.com.) We’re about halfway there.
Because I’m comfortable with how things are progressing on new projects, I thought I could take some time and go the traditional route with some other works. With my YA mystery Red Is For Ick and my SF novel, Beowulf: In Harm’s Way, I decided to take up the slow, laborious, and often fruitless process of searching for a literary agent.
The good news is that most agents are okay with an author submitting to more than one of them at a time, which speeds up the process. (But only a little, because I take the time to research agents in my search for the right match.) The bad news is that at any one time, there are about two billion agentless authors for every agent who’s looking for a new client. Maybe three billion.
Anyway, once I exhaust all the agents who might make for a good partnership, I planned to go direct to those traditional publishers that accept unagented submissions. Then I would consider independent publishing. Thinking that far ahead shows that my confidence in the traditional publishing process has eroded over the years.
The steps of publishing are measured in weeks—best case scenario. More likely months. Once an author sells a completed manuscript, it’s still often years before it comes out in print. So earlier this week I sent out some queries, along with outlines and sample pages, then moved on to other writing work. No sense waiting by the virtual mailbox.
Within less than 24 hours I got a request for a full manuscript.
I told you that whole story just to show how rare this is. It’s also by no means a guarantee of representation. I’ve received requests for fulls before: Only once did it lead to me getting an agent, years ago, and that didn’t work out. Statistically speaking, I might be no more likely to sign with this agent than the Cubs are to get into the World Series.
But stranger things have happened.
Because I’m comfortable with how things are progressing on new projects, I thought I could take some time and go the traditional route with some other works. With my YA mystery Red Is For Ick and my SF novel, Beowulf: In Harm’s Way, I decided to take up the slow, laborious, and often fruitless process of searching for a literary agent.
The good news is that most agents are okay with an author submitting to more than one of them at a time, which speeds up the process. (But only a little, because I take the time to research agents in my search for the right match.) The bad news is that at any one time, there are about two billion agentless authors for every agent who’s looking for a new client. Maybe three billion.
Anyway, once I exhaust all the agents who might make for a good partnership, I planned to go direct to those traditional publishers that accept unagented submissions. Then I would consider independent publishing. Thinking that far ahead shows that my confidence in the traditional publishing process has eroded over the years.
The steps of publishing are measured in weeks—best case scenario. More likely months. Once an author sells a completed manuscript, it’s still often years before it comes out in print. So earlier this week I sent out some queries, along with outlines and sample pages, then moved on to other writing work. No sense waiting by the virtual mailbox.
Within less than 24 hours I got a request for a full manuscript.
I told you that whole story just to show how rare this is. It’s also by no means a guarantee of representation. I’ve received requests for fulls before: Only once did it lead to me getting an agent, years ago, and that didn’t work out. Statistically speaking, I might be no more likely to sign with this agent than the Cubs are to get into the World Series.
But stranger things have happened.
October 22, 2016
TV reviews: The Good Place/Timeless
My wife and I budget our television, since we have so many demands on our time such as writing, doctor appointments, playing with the dog and, oh yeah, working for a living.
As a result, we don’t take on too many new TV shows, even if they sound interesting, Generally we only start a new one if one we already watched gets canceled, as happens all too often. So far this year we’ve only checked out two new shows:
The Good Place. I will watch anything with Kristen Bell in it, even if she’s a singing cartoon character (which she was—wonderfully). I’m also a big fan of Ted Danson, so a show joining the two was worth checking out. Turns out it was worth checking out the worth checking out.
Bell is Eleanor, who finds herself in a—well, good place—after dying. The only problem is, something is horribly wrong—and it’s her. Eleanor is just a nasty person, who’s well aware she doesn’t deserve to be in paradise. She soon realizes that mistake is throwing her surroundings into chaos, so she sets out to improve herself, aided by her mistakenly assigned soul mate, Chidi (William Jackson Harper).
Danson plays Michael, who’s an angel, or something, assigned as architect of this little heaven of three hundred or so perfect people. It’s Michael’s first creation, and when things start going wrong he’s puzzled, then panicked. Turns out nobody can play panicked like Ted Danson, just as nobody can play nasty like Kirsten Bell.
I wasn’t sure how they’d manage to continue this concept, but after several episodes it’s getting better and better as we look into the past of all these perfect inhabitants, and realize none is so perfect, after all. In fact, I’m enjoying it so much I’m convinced it will soon be canceled. That’s been the fat of every star-centered show we’ve liked in recent years (for instance, Michael J. Fox and Robin Williams/Sarah Michelle Geller.)
Timeless. I’ve said before that I love a good time travel story. We’ve only seen a few episodes of this one, but they put a great twist in as the characters seek to prevent history from being irrevocably changed—and fail.
Temporarily, I assume. The story concerns a terrorist—or is he?—who steals a time machine and sets off to change the past. Naturally Homeland Security gets involved, assigning an historian, a soldier, and a scientist to go back and stop the bad guy. Abigail Spencer is great as the driven historian, who has exactly the same reaction I would to looking up and seeing the Hindenburg fly overhead.
The story’s fun, if heavy on the plot holes. I think when you’re talking time travel you have to dedicate yourself to the suspension of belief, or you’re stuck with the “why don’t they just send a different team back an hour earlier?” problem. It’s also just a bit too much on the serious side, but this show has Supernatural pedigree, so maybe that will change.
Overall I like the cast and setup, and the effects are good enough for a TV show, so we’ll see. After all, shows don’t get canceled before they have a chance to find their footing. Do they?
As a result, we don’t take on too many new TV shows, even if they sound interesting, Generally we only start a new one if one we already watched gets canceled, as happens all too often. So far this year we’ve only checked out two new shows:
The Good Place. I will watch anything with Kristen Bell in it, even if she’s a singing cartoon character (which she was—wonderfully). I’m also a big fan of Ted Danson, so a show joining the two was worth checking out. Turns out it was worth checking out the worth checking out.
Bell is Eleanor, who finds herself in a—well, good place—after dying. The only problem is, something is horribly wrong—and it’s her. Eleanor is just a nasty person, who’s well aware she doesn’t deserve to be in paradise. She soon realizes that mistake is throwing her surroundings into chaos, so she sets out to improve herself, aided by her mistakenly assigned soul mate, Chidi (William Jackson Harper).
Danson plays Michael, who’s an angel, or something, assigned as architect of this little heaven of three hundred or so perfect people. It’s Michael’s first creation, and when things start going wrong he’s puzzled, then panicked. Turns out nobody can play panicked like Ted Danson, just as nobody can play nasty like Kirsten Bell.
I wasn’t sure how they’d manage to continue this concept, but after several episodes it’s getting better and better as we look into the past of all these perfect inhabitants, and realize none is so perfect, after all. In fact, I’m enjoying it so much I’m convinced it will soon be canceled. That’s been the fat of every star-centered show we’ve liked in recent years (for instance, Michael J. Fox and Robin Williams/Sarah Michelle Geller.)
Timeless. I’ve said before that I love a good time travel story. We’ve only seen a few episodes of this one, but they put a great twist in as the characters seek to prevent history from being irrevocably changed—and fail.
Temporarily, I assume. The story concerns a terrorist—or is he?—who steals a time machine and sets off to change the past. Naturally Homeland Security gets involved, assigning an historian, a soldier, and a scientist to go back and stop the bad guy. Abigail Spencer is great as the driven historian, who has exactly the same reaction I would to looking up and seeing the Hindenburg fly overhead.
The story’s fun, if heavy on the plot holes. I think when you’re talking time travel you have to dedicate yourself to the suspension of belief, or you’re stuck with the “why don’t they just send a different team back an hour earlier?” problem. It’s also just a bit too much on the serious side, but this show has Supernatural pedigree, so maybe that will change.
Overall I like the cast and setup, and the effects are good enough for a TV show, so we’ll see. After all, shows don’t get canceled before they have a chance to find their footing. Do they?
October 21, 2016
October 18, 2016
Sign Up For My Newsletter, Get a Million Bucks*
*Offer only valid on Earth 2.
After much thought, or at least as much as I usually have, I’ve decided to make my mostly inactive newsletter less inactive. That requires people to sign up for it, so I’m asking you—yes, you, there looking at your electronic device—to sign up. Don’t deny it: I saw you looking at your electronic device.
No doubt you’ll want to know what’s in it for you. Good question. Let me come up with something …
Okay, I’m back. I figure I’ll give a little original and exclusive content. Say, a short story, or a humor piece, or a photo of something interesting and/or cool. Oh, and a picture of the dog. He’s very photogenic.
We’ll send it out at least once a month, but (except rarely) no more than once a week. More often when some event or book release approaches, but no so often as to get people mad, because it’s really not that hard to find out where I live.
Also, subscribe to the newsletter and you’ll be the first one to get author news stuff, like releases, sales, giveaways … dog pictures … I’ll think of other things. Like big recent publishing news I have right now that I haven’t told anyone about yet … stuff like that.
Hey, that’s it! Sign up for the newsletter, and as soon as I get, say, ten new subscribers, I’ll tell you all about the big publishing news I just got.
Sure, I’ll tell everyone, eventually … but aren’t you at least a little curious?
It’s over on the webpage at www.markrhunter.com. The best way to subscribe to our mailing list is to go toward the bottom of the page, where it says “subscribe to our mailing list”. No, your e-mail address will not be given out to anyone, ever, unless someone offers me at least five million dollars. Ten million. Also, the moment I get fifty new subscribers I’m going to have a free book giveaway, just for them.
And that offer will be valid on this Earth.
After much thought, or at least as much as I usually have, I’ve decided to make my mostly inactive newsletter less inactive. That requires people to sign up for it, so I’m asking you—yes, you, there looking at your electronic device—to sign up. Don’t deny it: I saw you looking at your electronic device.
No doubt you’ll want to know what’s in it for you. Good question. Let me come up with something …
Okay, I’m back. I figure I’ll give a little original and exclusive content. Say, a short story, or a humor piece, or a photo of something interesting and/or cool. Oh, and a picture of the dog. He’s very photogenic.
We’ll send it out at least once a month, but (except rarely) no more than once a week. More often when some event or book release approaches, but no so often as to get people mad, because it’s really not that hard to find out where I live.
Also, subscribe to the newsletter and you’ll be the first one to get author news stuff, like releases, sales, giveaways … dog pictures … I’ll think of other things. Like big recent publishing news I have right now that I haven’t told anyone about yet … stuff like that.
Hey, that’s it! Sign up for the newsletter, and as soon as I get, say, ten new subscribers, I’ll tell you all about the big publishing news I just got.
Sure, I’ll tell everyone, eventually … but aren’t you at least a little curious?
It’s over on the webpage at www.markrhunter.com. The best way to subscribe to our mailing list is to go toward the bottom of the page, where it says “subscribe to our mailing list”. No, your e-mail address will not be given out to anyone, ever, unless someone offers me at least five million dollars. Ten million. Also, the moment I get fifty new subscribers I’m going to have a free book giveaway, just for them.
And that offer will be valid on this Earth.
October 16, 2016
Book review: Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West, by Mari Collier
Sometimes a book’s subtitle just lays it out for you. I did it with all three of my non-fiction books, as Mari Collier did with Earthbound, a perfect mix of SF and Western. Sure, the movies have Cowboys and Aliens, but Mari does it better.
The story actually starts in Ireland, where alien Llewellyn is basically a slave to another race. Circumstances bring his freedom; unfortunately, he’s left with a spaceship that he doesn’t know how to pilot out of Earth orbit. He becomes giant Irishman Zebediah MacDonald, trying to make a life for himself on a primitive planet, especially the place where he hides the spacecraft: Texas.
Eventually Mac meets Anna, a woman who’s lost her children and been captured by the Comanche. Mac may be an alien, but Anna has shocking secrets of her own—and a connection to Mac that even she doesn’t know about. Together the two begin to build a life, as the clouds of Civil War gather around them.
Earthbound is a great story with memorable characters, but to me the most fun was the historical aspect of it. Mari has done her research—it’s no surprise that she’s on the board of her local Historical Society. She doesn’t shirk on the details of life back then, from social constrictions to the dangers of childbirth, but it’s never dull. The supporting characters are great, and I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the series.
https://www.amazon.com/Earthbound-Sci...
The story actually starts in Ireland, where alien Llewellyn is basically a slave to another race. Circumstances bring his freedom; unfortunately, he’s left with a spaceship that he doesn’t know how to pilot out of Earth orbit. He becomes giant Irishman Zebediah MacDonald, trying to make a life for himself on a primitive planet, especially the place where he hides the spacecraft: Texas.
Eventually Mac meets Anna, a woman who’s lost her children and been captured by the Comanche. Mac may be an alien, but Anna has shocking secrets of her own—and a connection to Mac that even she doesn’t know about. Together the two begin to build a life, as the clouds of Civil War gather around them.
Earthbound is a great story with memorable characters, but to me the most fun was the historical aspect of it. Mari has done her research—it’s no surprise that she’s on the board of her local Historical Society. She doesn’t shirk on the details of life back then, from social constrictions to the dangers of childbirth, but it’s never dull. The supporting characters are great, and I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the series.
https://www.amazon.com/Earthbound-Sci...
October 15, 2016
There's No Cure for Chicago Driving
There’s No Cure for Chicago Driving
This first appeared in the 4County Mall, in print and online:
http://www.4countymall.com/single-pos...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
I thought I’d seen bad traffic. I thought I’d seen crazy drivers.
Then I went to Chicago.
I’m a small town boy. When I was younger, my idea of heavy traffic was Fort Wayne, which is about half an hour from my home. With a population of 250,000, Fort Wayne is the second largest city in Indiana, which isn’t saying much—but the fact that most of Indiana is not city is one of the things I like about it.
Years ago I drove to Atlanta, Georgia, and got a new definition of heavy traffic. We arrived during morning rush hour, an ironic term considering I could have walked over the jammed-up cars without ever touching the ground—and gotten there faster.
About ten years later, I had the occasion to drive U-Haul’s largest truck model through New York City, while towing a car on a trailer. It was two months after 9/11/01. Naturally, I got waved to the curb the police, who at that point were looking over every rental truck that came along.
The irony, though, is that the proximity to 9/11 actually made the experience easier. The cops were friendly, and other drivers gave us space—whether out of that temporary sense of brotherhood, or the fear that I might be carrying a load of ammonium nitrate, I couldn’t say.
Then there’s Indianapolis.
In all fairness, Indianapolis is the 14th largest city in the U.S., and the second largest in the Midwest, so there’s bound to be traffic. But it’s also the Crossroads of America: Indiana has more interstate highway than any other state, and more converge on the capital than any other city. Whole families have been known to drive onto the 465 beltway, and never be seen again.
I used to think that was the worst this side of Los Angeles, a city I have no intention of every driving in.
But Indy’s only the second largest city in the Midwest. Then there’s Chicago.
My wife wanted to go see The Cure, which is an English rock band, or post-punk, or new wave, or possibly gothic rock. (I’m post-pun, myself.) It’s not normally my kind of music, but I like them okay … or at least I did, until they made me come to Chicago.
By the time we got to the concert venue in the shadow of downtown, I was clenched in a fetal position in my seat, eyes squeezed shut, whimpering and clutching at the dash. This was an especially bad thing because I was the driver.
But I don’t want you to think Chicago drivers are bad. That’s what I thought at first, until therapy for my PTSD. After several flashbacks, I realized the problem isn’t that they’re bad—it’s that they’re very, very good. Like, NASCAR good. It’s the only way to survive.
Yes, there are cars there; the camera couldn't capture anything going at that speed.
You see, Chicago traffic is the same bumper to bumper gridlock I found in Atlanta, except they don’t sit there unmoving—they continue driving as if they’re the only ones on the highway. Go watch a NASCAR race right after the start, before the first ten or twelve cars have crashed, when they’re all still jammed up and fighting for position. I’ll wait.
Yeah, it’s like that.
I saw drivers who knew their off ramp was coming, so they dove all the way over into the left lane to get ahead of other cars, then swerved across all three lanes of traffic, including that semi in the center lane that was blocking their view of anything in the right lane, and … right onto the off ramp, easy as a Blue Angels jet flight.
If someone ahead is going 60 and they’re going 90—they just keep on going. The guy in front will speed up, or get out of the way … or he won’t. Whatever. Orange cones aren’t a warning, they’re a challenge. There are signs that say: “Accident reporting lane ahead: If you get into a crash, for God’s sake, don’t stop at the scene.”
Where I come from, everyone wants a car. We passed Chicago’s train depots, where people without cars were relaxing in the knowledge that an hour waiting for a train beats two hours drinking yourself down from the edge after the evening drive home.
When the concert let out, we stayed in the auditorium until the only people left were sweeping up or throwing up. Then we went to the parking lot and sat in our car, shaking quietly, until the security guy pointed out we were the only people left and could he please go home now? He took the train. It was 1:30 a.m. when we finally took to the streets.
"Maybe we'll get lucky, and the zombie apocalypse will strike before we have to drive."
The traffic was exactly the same. It might as well have been 5 p.m. on a Friday.
We had to make a left turn to reach our off ramp, but there was a delay ahead and, if we went through the light, we’d end up stuck in the middle of the intersection. So we waited like we were supposed to, and a car load of laughing Chicagoans passed us on the right, cut off the oncoming traffic, and stopped in the middle of the intersection. Then a taxi passed them on the right, and they both stayed there, blocking the cars that had the green light, until eventually they could move on.
We almost abandoned the car right then and there. A few day’s walk home? Good exercise. But we eventually made it out of that insane city racetrack, vowing never to come back again even if Robert Smith personally invites us to play drums for The Cure.
And why did we decide to man up, brave the insanity, and drive on instead of walking?
Well, what are the chances of a pedestrian making it out alive?
This first appeared in the 4County Mall, in print and online:
http://www.4countymall.com/single-pos...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
I thought I’d seen bad traffic. I thought I’d seen crazy drivers.
Then I went to Chicago.
I’m a small town boy. When I was younger, my idea of heavy traffic was Fort Wayne, which is about half an hour from my home. With a population of 250,000, Fort Wayne is the second largest city in Indiana, which isn’t saying much—but the fact that most of Indiana is not city is one of the things I like about it.
Years ago I drove to Atlanta, Georgia, and got a new definition of heavy traffic. We arrived during morning rush hour, an ironic term considering I could have walked over the jammed-up cars without ever touching the ground—and gotten there faster.
About ten years later, I had the occasion to drive U-Haul’s largest truck model through New York City, while towing a car on a trailer. It was two months after 9/11/01. Naturally, I got waved to the curb the police, who at that point were looking over every rental truck that came along.
The irony, though, is that the proximity to 9/11 actually made the experience easier. The cops were friendly, and other drivers gave us space—whether out of that temporary sense of brotherhood, or the fear that I might be carrying a load of ammonium nitrate, I couldn’t say.
Then there’s Indianapolis.
In all fairness, Indianapolis is the 14th largest city in the U.S., and the second largest in the Midwest, so there’s bound to be traffic. But it’s also the Crossroads of America: Indiana has more interstate highway than any other state, and more converge on the capital than any other city. Whole families have been known to drive onto the 465 beltway, and never be seen again.
I used to think that was the worst this side of Los Angeles, a city I have no intention of every driving in.
But Indy’s only the second largest city in the Midwest. Then there’s Chicago.
My wife wanted to go see The Cure, which is an English rock band, or post-punk, or new wave, or possibly gothic rock. (I’m post-pun, myself.) It’s not normally my kind of music, but I like them okay … or at least I did, until they made me come to Chicago.
By the time we got to the concert venue in the shadow of downtown, I was clenched in a fetal position in my seat, eyes squeezed shut, whimpering and clutching at the dash. This was an especially bad thing because I was the driver.
But I don’t want you to think Chicago drivers are bad. That’s what I thought at first, until therapy for my PTSD. After several flashbacks, I realized the problem isn’t that they’re bad—it’s that they’re very, very good. Like, NASCAR good. It’s the only way to survive.
Yes, there are cars there; the camera couldn't capture anything going at that speed.
You see, Chicago traffic is the same bumper to bumper gridlock I found in Atlanta, except they don’t sit there unmoving—they continue driving as if they’re the only ones on the highway. Go watch a NASCAR race right after the start, before the first ten or twelve cars have crashed, when they’re all still jammed up and fighting for position. I’ll wait.
Yeah, it’s like that.
I saw drivers who knew their off ramp was coming, so they dove all the way over into the left lane to get ahead of other cars, then swerved across all three lanes of traffic, including that semi in the center lane that was blocking their view of anything in the right lane, and … right onto the off ramp, easy as a Blue Angels jet flight.
If someone ahead is going 60 and they’re going 90—they just keep on going. The guy in front will speed up, or get out of the way … or he won’t. Whatever. Orange cones aren’t a warning, they’re a challenge. There are signs that say: “Accident reporting lane ahead: If you get into a crash, for God’s sake, don’t stop at the scene.”
Where I come from, everyone wants a car. We passed Chicago’s train depots, where people without cars were relaxing in the knowledge that an hour waiting for a train beats two hours drinking yourself down from the edge after the evening drive home.
When the concert let out, we stayed in the auditorium until the only people left were sweeping up or throwing up. Then we went to the parking lot and sat in our car, shaking quietly, until the security guy pointed out we were the only people left and could he please go home now? He took the train. It was 1:30 a.m. when we finally took to the streets.
"Maybe we'll get lucky, and the zombie apocalypse will strike before we have to drive."
The traffic was exactly the same. It might as well have been 5 p.m. on a Friday.
We had to make a left turn to reach our off ramp, but there was a delay ahead and, if we went through the light, we’d end up stuck in the middle of the intersection. So we waited like we were supposed to, and a car load of laughing Chicagoans passed us on the right, cut off the oncoming traffic, and stopped in the middle of the intersection. Then a taxi passed them on the right, and they both stayed there, blocking the cars that had the green light, until eventually they could move on.
We almost abandoned the car right then and there. A few day’s walk home? Good exercise. But we eventually made it out of that insane city racetrack, vowing never to come back again even if Robert Smith personally invites us to play drums for The Cure.
And why did we decide to man up, brave the insanity, and drive on instead of walking?
Well, what are the chances of a pedestrian making it out alive?
Don’t Wait: Check the Date
In my three (or so) decades in the emergency services, I never heard anyone complain that their smoke detectors worked properly. Well, okay, once—but that guy was an arsonist.
Fire Prevention Week this year is October 9-15, mostly because nothing else goes on in mid-October. No, actually it was because the Great Chicago Fire happened on October 9, 1871. That fire destroyed more than 17,400 structures and killed at least 250 people, and might have been prevented if Mrs. O’Leary had installed a smoke detector in her barn. Have you ever seen a cow remove a smoke detector battery? Me neither.
Nobody really knows what started the Great Chicago Fire, so the dairy industry has a real beef with blaming the cow, which legend says knocked over a lamp. Does the lamp industry ever get the blame? Noooo....
We do know that at about the same time the Peshtigo Fire burned across Wisconsin, killing 1,152 people and burning 16 entire towns. In fact, several fires burned across Michigan and Wisconsin at the time, causing some to speculate that a meteor shower might have caused the conflagration. There may have been shooting stars elsewhere, but Chicago got all the press.
This year’s Fire Prevention Week theme is “Don’t wait, check the date!” So ask your date: Does she have a working smoke detector? If not, you’d better go back to your place.
Just as you should change your smoke detector batteries every fall and spring, you should replace your smoke alarm every ten years. I’d add that doing the same to your carbon monoxide detector is a great idea, so it can make a sound to warn about the gas that never makes a sound.
This is great advice, and as I hadn’t given much thought to the age of my own smoke detectors, I took it. The one in the basement stairway said: “Manufactured 1888 by the Tesla Fire Alarm Co.”
Not a good sign.
The one in the kitchen hallway said simply: “Smoke alarm. Patent pending.”
Oh boy.
So don’t wait—check the date. Do it right now, because otherwise you’d be waiting. I know it doesn’t have quite the pizzazz of the 1942 Fire Prevention Week theme: “Today Every Fire Helps Hitler”.
But hey … you can’t blame the Nazis for everything.
Fire Prevention Week this year is October 9-15, mostly because nothing else goes on in mid-October. No, actually it was because the Great Chicago Fire happened on October 9, 1871. That fire destroyed more than 17,400 structures and killed at least 250 people, and might have been prevented if Mrs. O’Leary had installed a smoke detector in her barn. Have you ever seen a cow remove a smoke detector battery? Me neither.
Nobody really knows what started the Great Chicago Fire, so the dairy industry has a real beef with blaming the cow, which legend says knocked over a lamp. Does the lamp industry ever get the blame? Noooo....
We do know that at about the same time the Peshtigo Fire burned across Wisconsin, killing 1,152 people and burning 16 entire towns. In fact, several fires burned across Michigan and Wisconsin at the time, causing some to speculate that a meteor shower might have caused the conflagration. There may have been shooting stars elsewhere, but Chicago got all the press.
This year’s Fire Prevention Week theme is “Don’t wait, check the date!” So ask your date: Does she have a working smoke detector? If not, you’d better go back to your place.
Just as you should change your smoke detector batteries every fall and spring, you should replace your smoke alarm every ten years. I’d add that doing the same to your carbon monoxide detector is a great idea, so it can make a sound to warn about the gas that never makes a sound.
This is great advice, and as I hadn’t given much thought to the age of my own smoke detectors, I took it. The one in the basement stairway said: “Manufactured 1888 by the Tesla Fire Alarm Co.”
Not a good sign.
The one in the kitchen hallway said simply: “Smoke alarm. Patent pending.”
Oh boy.
So don’t wait—check the date. Do it right now, because otherwise you’d be waiting. I know it doesn’t have quite the pizzazz of the 1942 Fire Prevention Week theme: “Today Every Fire Helps Hitler”.
But hey … you can’t blame the Nazis for everything.
October 9, 2016
On authors and appearances
I'm thinking I should probably have an author's appearance sometime soon, to correspond with the early stages of Christmas shopping season. I've only had one so far this year--probably my lowest number since I first got published.
What do you think? I haven't contacted anyone about it yet, but I'd imagine something could be set up to benefit my host. And do you prefer your author appearances to be just book signings, or something else, such as readings or Q&A's?
What do you think? I haven't contacted anyone about it yet, but I'd imagine something could be set up to benefit my host. And do you prefer your author appearances to be just book signings, or something else, such as readings or Q&A's?
October 8, 2016
Digging for crap
Holy hole, Batman
http://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2016/...
Sometimes I really dig myself into some crap.
http://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2016/...
Sometimes I really dig myself into some crap.
October 4, 2016
New Newsletter News
I’m about to make our author’s newsletter active, and the first one will feature a big future publishing announcement. I’ll have more about the newsletter soon, but for now you can sign up for it near the bottom of my main website page at www.markrhunter.com.
Once it’s up and running you’ll get some free and exclusive content there. And cute dog photos.
Once it’s up and running you’ll get some free and exclusive content there. And cute dog photos.
