Nora Snowdon's Blog, page 8

Market Research? Let me tell you...

Yesterday I got paid to rant! It was so exciting. I got called up to do a market research group about something I actually care about. Now I signed a paper saying I would not divulge the topic, but let’s just say it touched upon a couple of issues close to my heart. 
    The day before I worried that, given my enthusiasm for the victim—I mean subject—of our discussion, other zealots might
arrive equally prepared to argue for the dark side. The right-wing siren-call for the last, let’s say forty years or so, has been that we can either protect the environment or feed our children.  So I boned up, so to speak, scouring old newspaper articles. Website promos and, of course, the latest gossip on Amanda Bynes. I’m only human.
    Eyeing the eight other participants prior to the meeting, I tried to suss them out for predilections and peccadillos. One guy ate too many of the free sandwiches and I instantly categorized him as a
capitalist swine. A gentle senior almost fooled me with her addle-pated discourse until I realized she could well be an undercover government sympathizer luring me into a false sense of security. And the motorcycle madman in the button-down polo shirt and oh-so-trendy Dockers? I wasn’t trusting anyone by now.
    We got called into a small boardroom with a double sided mirror along one wall. I resisted the impulse to immediately confess to all crimes ever perpetrated by anyone. Believe me, those mirrors are
compelling. If they’d included the swinging light bulb, I’d have been sunk. And then the interrogations began. We were shown a series of advertisements and asked to reveal how this demoralizing material made us feel. 
    In an instant I knew I was outgunned. The meek soccer mom to my left pronounced the putrefying propaganda as “nice.” The biker baldly stated that the insipid copywriting made him feel “warm and fuzzy.” And the government spy, casually knitting booties in the corner, said, “What? Oh yes, that seems right.” They were a tenacious and cantankerous bunch.
    “But what about global warming?” I protested. “And how can all this expansion happen without destroying our fragile ecosystem?”
    The diabolical diabetic with the supersized water-bottle merely raised his scraggly eyebrows. “The colours in that ad are
most appealing.”
    I was losing the battle. I mentioned all the pollution poisoning our fish, the increase in violent weather patterns and even tried to win their sympathy with the plight of the bumble bees. All to no
avail. And then I saw my final opportunity to impress these non-discriminating sheep. The Tag Line! 
    “It’s declarative whereas it should be more inquisitive to draw the reader in and make them feel a part of the equation,” I avered with unshakeable conviction. 
  Dead silence ensued. 
  Then the sweet grandmother turned to me and said, “What? Oh yes, that seems right.”
  The generous biker concurred that a softer tagline would be more “warm and fuzzy.”
  And the poor sickly man added in that my suggested change would make the ad, “more nice.”
   Wow. I finally got through to those people and managed to convince them of something. And apparently just in the nick of time as the moderator wrapped up the meeting, paid us our honorariums and sent us on our merry ways. 
    It was tough, but I take my market research opportunities very seriously…

helping out the cops...

Reading the papers recently, I can’t help noticing all the bad press the police are garnering in both Canada and the States. Between complaints about cops killing innocent (and perhaps some not-so-innocent) people without much provocation, their perjury
in the courts, sexually assaulting females drivers under the guise of drug searches, general police brutality and the  number of cellphone videos of said offences, it seems like the press are really out to get these poor guys. 
   And when the police boards investigate and find, contrary to seemingly undeniable evidence, that the cops did not behave
badly, well those damned media goons just pound on our beleaguered men and women in blue yet again.
  This can’t be good for their image or their self-esteem.
  It seems to me what the police force needs is someone to write positive stories about them to counteract the flow of
negativity. And as a writer of smut (home of the happy endings) whom, may I ask, is more qualified? 
   If the police boards would care to hire me—and god knows I need the extra income—I could write about the police in a more favorable light. 
   Now I’m sure much of that so-called police brutality was just a case of boys being boys. Most young lads will fight if given half a chance and, apparently, if you also give them an overinflated sense of power, they may do so even more. All these cops need is a little lovin’ to help them blow off steam. I could even write some glowing profiles for a new “Plenty of Fist-fFghters” dating website.
   And as I understand it, those Texas Troopers weren’t actually groping innocent female drivers with malicious or perverted intent. No. They were searching for WMDs to save the world from the
new threat of female road terrorists. And although they may not have found any weapons, they were willing to risk their lives, just in case a new form of deadly hoo-ha bomb had been invented. 
   And as for the perjury? Perhaps our Mounties should consider new careers as fiction writers. It doesn’t pay as much, but at least the evil media will ignore you… 

Help, I'm too popular....

Every once in a while this blog seems to attract a lot of traffic and I have no idea why. I like to pretend it's because millions of my followers are hanging on my every erudite exposition, but that would be delusional.
   Many visitors may be simply googling smut and end up here, woefully disatisfied. (maybe they're seeking Nora Snowdon specific wisdom like, "Hey if you really crave pornography or erotica, you should google those specific terms."  You're welcome smut-cravers.)
   Sometimes when I'm off on my political rants I imagine the NSA or CSIS are checking in, but with so many angry bloggers in Vancouver, BC alone, I'm sure my hissy fits don't raise any alarms. --well unless I throw in an odd BOMB reference. (can't blame a girl for trying.)
   And why ever people visit this site, I have to think it's a good thing. I blog for two reasons 1) I like to vent about the actions of scummy politicians and CEOs (I'm specifically looking at you Monsanto but also glarng peripherally at many others.)  and 2) I have the website to promote my romance books. (hey have I mentioned that for only four more days my Crimson Romance titles, Arsonists Anonymous and The Spanish Acquisition are only $1.91 at Amazon.com?)
   There is, however, a drawback to all this attention. I get performance anxiety! It turns out it's much easier typing away my drivel when I don't think anyone is noticing, but with over 600 vistors in the last few days (and i haven't posted anything new since last week!) I'm wondering if I should just quit while I'm ahead. If I don't know who's reading my crap, how do I know what the heck they want to see here?
   Then again, maybe I just got on some odd blog link that sends foreigners to my site to practice reading English. Whew, that takes the pressure off. What do they care about content? And bonus, they won't probably care if I split infinitives or end in prepositions-I don't know what for.
Okay, crisis averted. Nevermind people, you can get back to your regularly sceduled programming...
  

addictions, i've known a few...

I’ve been remiss in my blog writing lately but I am not to blame! The fact is, I’ve got visitors and just haven’t had the time to write
my blogs, my current manuscript, or pretty well complete anything other than my on-line scrabble games. Hmm, I may have been neglecting my guests as well. Damn it. I’m addicted to on-line games. 
    The sad thing is that I’m not even winning my scrabble games.
Still I’ll be out showing off the lovely town of Vancouver—walking along the seawall, off for fish and chips in Steveston, dancing awkwardly to Wii Bollywood—and I’ll suddenly wonder if one of my opponents has responded to my last play.  
    You may assume that real people hanging out with you—especially people you like—would easily trump words on a non time-sensitive and non-paying game. (obviously nothing trumps wiener dog
racing at the horse race track, but luckily my guests did not make me choose and we all bet on those wacky, short-legged, speed demons) 
    Your assumption would be wrong. Turns out that scrabble on-line is almost as addictive as slot machines and if they ever figure out how to get exciting sound effects and flares going when you post a great word—well, I’ll be sunk. (I only temporarily vanquished my slot addiction by banning myself from all B.C. casinos)
    Is there hope for me? I just don’t know. I considered giving up
Facebook so as to remove the source of temptation but it wouldn’t make much difference. Then I’d just find another substitute addiction. The problem is really more of an obsessive/compulsive disorder. Eventually I’ll tire of the game and then my life will resume. For a while. Then I’ll find something else. Consider yourselves warned. 
    If only I could get addicted to writing more blogs and books for
a while, but I’m not holding my breath. Turns out I am addicted to
breathing...


 

I'm Not With Stupid...

 
When I was younger I often defined myself by other people. I was
somebody’s daughter, sister, cousin, co-worker, etc. 
And when I was in a relationship, this self-identification was even
stronger because this was a person I chose to be connected to—unlike relatives who are really luck of the draw. Having a smart, funny, handsome boyfriend showed I must be equally great to have attracted such a stellar guy.
    Luckily I have matured somewhat in this regard so I don’t have to
now redefine myself as being unlovable by virtue of not having a lover. (although if anyone knows a suitable guy...? ;)  
    The other danger of aligning too closely with another person is what to do when they do/say something that you do not agree with? If a person is rude to a waiter, do you assume that their silent partner agrees with their bad behaviour? Or if your husband becomes drunk and obnoxious, does it reflect on you? Or if they have diametrically opposed beliefs, how often must you reassert that you think otherwise?
   This must be even more difficult for the silent spouses in politics. I
am fascinated by the wives of people I consider to be evil and/or incompetent. I mean, how could Laura Bush stand by G. W.? Was she fooled by the anthrax, wmds, and misinformation, as well? Didn’t she at some point think, “Hmm, if we are being threatened, maybe we should have someone knowledgeable at the helm”? Or possibly she isn’t intelligent and just appeared to be when compared to her husband.  
   Does Lauren Harper actually agree with Stephen Harper’s dictatorship and buy into his pro-business/anti-environment
policies. Maybe these women are happy to send their hubbies out to take over the world while they worry about wax build-up and play dates for the kids.
  Even Justin Trudeau whom I had liked, supports tar sands
development and other questionable policies. Did his wife think going into the marriage that his politics would be different, dare I say, Liberal? Or maybe she’s the more rightwing of the two pushing him evermore to join the conservative agendas.
   And what about the wives of Rove, Rumsfeld and Cheney? Do they see a warm side to these guys that makes them able to overlook the war hawk tendencies? You rarely see these women express their opinions. Do they agree with their win-at-all-costs spouses or are they just addicted to the fancy lifestyle and fame that goes with being married to the puppetmaster? 
   I’ll never know what these political “other halves” believe, but it
sure makes me glad I never fell in love with a politician. I wouldn’t want to be associated with any of their compromises—I’ll vote for your terrible bill if you’ll support mine—and I’d definitely be spending too much time saying, “Oh no, I’m not really with him...”

Oh that? Just a little leftover explosives I had hanging around…

 Sometimes I read the newspaper and I want to scream. Other times
I feel inclined to picket offices, throw pies at bureaucrats’ faces (as
a pacifist and a pie lover, that’s pretty mad for me) or advocate for
vandalism. 
   I don’t.
   These days there are just too many corrupt politicians, lying
businessmen (and presumably businesswomen, but nowhere near the number because women are rarely promoted to positions of real power) and unethical people destroying the lives of people and nature around us. 
    From the oil shills trying to persuade us that this time when they dump a crapload of pollution into our rivers and oceans they
will be faster and more efficient at cleaning up the mess. (never
mind that Enbridge hasn’t developed a plan yet—just trust them. they are working on it. oh and by the way, all those other spills elsewhere don’t count, they called, “Mulligan”) But gosh they produce pretty ads showing nature they haven’t yet killed off.
   Monsanto and their behind-the-scenes political backers who,
despite vast, irrefutable research showing how dangerous their products are, and a European ban on GMO products, continue to mislead consumers, destroy nature through seed stock contamination, and dump hazardous chemicals into our food supply. Monsanto CEOs are well represented in U.S. Congress, but I’m not sure who they’re sleeping with in Canada to get the free pass in product approval here. 
    The Senate boondoggle—what is so difficult about showing the cheque that Nigel Wright gave to Mr. Duffy? And why do these vastly overpaid political lackeys (with gold plated pensions to boot) feel entitled to nickel, dime and thousand-dollar-bill tax payers under the thin guise of expenses anyway?
   And now I’m reading that our military has casually discarded
unexploded weapons all across BC. (over 200 locations in
BC alone where our National Defense abandoned various bombs, flares and grenades) The government’s response? They
labeled these large tracts of land as “Legacy Sites” but they haven’t made any moves to remove the buried weapons or protect people when these devices surface. 
    And the hits just keep on coming. I’m beginning to think there’s
only one logical response. I should cancel all my newspaper subscriptions and buy more wine and chocolate. At least it would make me happier...   

Sneak Peek Sunday - Texas Hold 'Em

Back to Sneak Peek Sundays with another snippet from my work in progress, Texas Hold 'Em. Feel free to leave a response and/or check out the rest of my website. Underneath my mini excerpt is the link to view other author's teasers. Happy trails...

Texas Hold 'Em
. 
    “And you’re standing up on the horse because…?” He shook his
head in confusion. 
     “It amuses me,” she answered simply. “It doesn’t affect her training. I mean she’s not going to expect her jockeys to do this. It’s just for
fun.”
    “But…” Cal struggled to understand. “What if you fall?”
    “It hurts.” She shrugged.   
    “And what do I tell the workout riders; we’re now riding the horses bareback and standing up?”
    “Yeah.” Megan laughed. “This is the new standard in morning
workouts.”
    Cal started laughing too. “My God, I shoulda known you were nuts
when your daddy was foistin’ you off on me.”

Thanks for visiting. For more sneak peek authors, click here.

Edward Snowden hero? Yup.

This whole Edward Snowden affair is both addictive reading and scary. Almost more fascinating than the horrendous overreach of the NSA (National Security Agency) into every American's personal data via internet and phone surveillance, is the vicious backlash against the man who leaked the information.
    The New Yorker's Jeffrey Toobin calls Mr. Snowden "a grandiose narcissist who deserves to be in prison". Really, Mr. Toobin? Did you get that diagnosis from your Psyche 101 class or from your free Tea Party guidebook? Toobin's article  implies Snowden blew the whistle on the NSA's rapacious grab of personal data for the fame and glory. He states rather disingenuously, 
    "But our system offers legal options to disgruntled government employees and contractors. They can take advantage of federal whistle-blower laws; they can bring their complaints to Congress; they can try to protest within the institutions where they work." 
    Yeah, like we've seen how well that's worked in the past. Could anyone be that naïve to believe the government secret security forces would listen to your complaints about their undercover malfeasance and say, "Oh gosh, you're right. We'll stop doing that."? 
     Any ex-CIA whistleblower stupid enough to air their concerns in the States would be at best discredited and more likely be shut up through court orders, detention or untimely demise. A country that regularly sends unmanned armed drones into foreign countries to pick off undesirables obviously has no compunction about killing for convenience.
     The fact that the States is collecting phone data on their own citizens would suggest the government is no longer concerned with protecting its citizens from other warring countries, but is instead protecting itself against all people, Americans included. (It's not that I believe Canadian national security spies are not equally suspect, but we haven't got our own whistleblower... yet.)
     Since 9/11 western leaders have proclaimed that by giving up various civil rights, somehow we'll be safer from terrorism. Well guess what? It's not true. The Patriot Act and all the other Homeland Security incursions have actually made us less safe.  And yet the government just keeps eroding more basic rights (is Guantanamo still running?) and running more covert operations that they know would not be sanctioned by the majority of Americans.    
     I'm thankful Mr. Snowdon had the courage to step forward and reveal the moral quagmire that our spy agencies and their government masters (or should that be reversed?) are diving into with unmitigated glee. And if your childish name calling is correct, Mr. Toobin, then perhaps this country needs more "grandiose narcissists."    
       
       

Meet The Hero

Here’s my Sneak Peek Sunday excerpt from Texas Hold ‘Em, my current work in progress. Please take a look around the site and check out my already available books. At the bottom of this blog I’ve posted the link to view other authors’ sneak peeks. 
 
(Regular blog posts will resume soon…)


 Texas Hold ‘Em

“I’ll get your beer.” Megan was stopped in her tracks by a
camera crew interviewing some celebrity about her gigantic, feathered hat. The woman was gorgeous, but there was something odd about the way her face didn’t move when she talked. 
    “Well, I love Bird In A Mine, so I thought I’d wear this creation by…” 
     Megan rolled her eyes as she tried to maneuver around the human roadblock. She heard a deep chuckle and glanced quickly to check she hadn’t accidently gotten in the shot. Nope. But the man standing beside the bimbo with the hat caught her eye. Holy crap! Was he one of those underwear models that celebrities keep picking up? He was obviously too young for the woman but her body language seemed to indicate otherwise. And he was dressed in
jeans which looked weird next to her fancy cocktail dress. 
    “Cal’s amazing,” the woman cooed, running her hand possessively
up the guy’s tanned and muscular forearm. This seemed a little too personal for TV, but maybe she’s like Paris Hilton always gushing about the new boy-toy as if anyone cared. 
    Megan lost what the woman was saying as she tried to figure out
who the guy was. She knew she’d seen him somewhere before. He was long and lean with curly brown hair under his Stetson, but the thing that really got her was his piercing blue eyes that just dove right into her. He smiled and of course he had perfect teeth. When he winked at her, Megan suddenly realized she’d been staring. God, how embarrassing.  
    As she stood in a long line for drinks Megan kept thinking about
him. It was pretty rude to wink at her when he was obviously with the hat bimbo. 
  
Thanks for dropping by. Here’s the link to check out the other Sneak Peek Authors. And I’ll hopefully see you next week. (and feel free to leave a  message if you’re so inclined.  ;)

warning...sexy scene

Hey There. I’m joining a new (to me) group of My Sexy Saturday excerpters and featuring seven paragraphs from the first sex scene in my new work in progress, Texas hold ‘Em. I hope you’ll enjoy the taste and also look around my website. The link back to view other authors’ scintillating snippets is at the bottom of my piece.
 
Texas Hold ‘Em

Cal peered at her delicate face illuminated by moonlight. He
could not kiss her. Given their conversation in the trailer, that would be harassment. But God Almighty he wanted to. He stood and looked away to quell the temptation. 
     Megan’s hand on his shoulder caught his attention real quick.
The feel of her fingers lightly touching his bare skin sent shockwaves straight to his groin. But nothing compared to his reaction to her lips pressing against his arm. His pent up frustration threatened to overcome his sanity. 
    Cal drew in a calming breath and pulled her up against his body,
circling her waist with his arms. She fit so perfectly into his embrace, her body molding into his like a well-made puzzle. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair and tilted her face to kiss her. She was tentative, then became bolder, her hands exploring down his front, lightly circled his chest.
    With a groan, he ran his hand up over the t-shirt she was wearing and cupped her breast. No bra? He skimmed the hardened nipple with his thumb eliciting her shiver in response. Trailing kisses down her neck, he felt her body abruptly tense. Her hands put up a barrier between them and she froze. He ground his jaw in frustration as she pushed him away; damn, he hated teases.
    “Make up your—” 
    She yanked her t-shirt over her head and stood before him in
just her shorts and flip flops. He swallowed dryly; he hadn’t expected that. She was perfect. Pale skin glowing in the moonlight, compact curves, and toned legs that were made to ride. But the expression on her face seemed oddly calculating as if daring him. Whether daring him to continue or stop, he couldn’t tell.
   “God, you’re beautiful,” Cal murmured as he bent over to kiss her pert breasts. He didn’t know what sort of weird power play she was on and he was way past caring. He kissed down her taut abdomen claiming as much of her as possible in case she changed her mind. When he reached the waistband of her shorts he looked up at her face. She paused and then removed them. In the darkness, she still looked defiant, but Cal didn’t pause to consider it. 
 
Thanks for visiting. Here’s the link to get back to read
more sexy snippets.