The Results Are In....

...and the winners are...

Late last week, I sponsored a contest, my self-admitted "blatant" attempt to get visitors to my blog. It had to be the easiest content, ever: follow me, and win a chance to get a copy of one of my books.

Two people took me up on the offer. Both were friends. So (at the risk of whining) while I am disappointed that I didn't get any people outside of my circle, I am very grateful that I have such supportive friends.

David and Sharon will both get a book of their choosing. I know Sharon's address, and have reached out to David.

But wait...there's more...

Since my generosity knows no bounds (quiet, everyone) I also have decided to give a copy to Dianne, who started following me the day before I announced the contest.

Assuming nothing goes awry, as mentioned before, my short story "Worm Herding" will be appearing in the upcoming Pill Hill Press compilation BUGS. The publisher says it will come out in April. So I may try a similar contest again.

Let me conclude by repeating that I really am grateful to each and every one of you, those who follow me openly, as well as those who subscribe.

Castle: "Once Upon A Crime"

What a Grimm case Castle and Beckett investigated this week. Ha-ha-ha. But seriously...

You might have noticed that I didn't review part 2 of "Pandora" (titled "Linchpin") yet. That would be because we haven't seen it yet. But we were able to catch this week's show live last night. I'm sure we'll get back to "Pandora" soon enough. But at least my fears have been allayed; whatever the doomsday thing was, Castle and Beckett don't die...what a relief!

This episode, to me, was very "satisfying" because it represented a return to the "basics." Though I'm getting ahead of myself since I haven't yet seen the second part of the previous story arc, shows like that one and a previous "save New York from a nuclear device" episode just seem too...I don't know...BIG. Let's just let Castle and Beckett solve tricky, quirky murders in New York City, and leave preventing World War III to James Bond.

So down from my soapbox...

There were two things about the "Who Done It" that I found particularly clever:

1. This is the first time (which I can recall) that someone went from victim to suspect to guilty party. I thought the attempt at a switcheroo -- arresting the extortionist brother-in-law -- was a noble effort, but I didn't fall for it; I looked at the clock, read 10:45, and said, "Too early."

2. It was a visual clue which led to solving the case. Though I have no doubt that when we first saw "Sleeping Beauty" the bow was, in fact, vertical, I didn't catch it. But Castle did. Nice touch.

Otherwise, I registered a few noteworthy lines:

"I'm going to erase that image from my mind with a bottle of scotch."
"You're cute when you get angry. Not when you get angry at me."

Esposito in a suit? What the ... ?

And (yes) as always there were plenty of looks. But the best:

Castle: "There is a very avant garde subculture of fairy tale role playing."
Beckett: "And you know this how...?" (Good look.)
Castle, dreamily: "Bo Peep." (GREAT look.)

Based on the lack of a preview, I'm guessing there is no new show next Monday. So I imagine we'll have time to watch last week's in the interim.

.

Win My Book! Or, Out-And-Out Bribery...

As much as I hate to beg, plead, and cajole, I would like to ask for some help in increasing the number of my blog's followers. If you look to the left and down just slightly from these words, you'll see my followers. I've had the same eight boxes staring back at me for pretty much the entire year to date. Actually, one was just added, between the time I first started writing this entry and my posting of it. 

Bear in mind, I'm happy to see your faces; I just want to see MORE, for two reasons:

1. Well, ego. I've been doing this blog for more than six months. It would make me feel good to know I've got a growing audience...
2. But this one really is the big one. I'm trying to interest an agent -- and eventually a publisher -- in one or more of my books. One of the things that both of these constituencies will try to determine is whether I have a following. And one way they'll determine that is by looking at my blog.

So, if you subscribe, but are not publicly following, please consider doing so. If you have a Google account, e.g., GMail, I think it's as simple as entering your Gmail account name (and perhaps your password). Then, please write to (at least) two friends and ask them to look at my blog. If they don't like it, so be it. If they do, please ask them to follow.

To sweeten the pot...

I'll tie this effort to a contest. I will offer an autographed copy of one of my books, your choice, to anyone who adds his or her name as a follower. If you're already a follower, refer someone, and have him or her post in the comments "I was referred by X." I will then put both of your names in the hat. If you don't have a Google account and don't want to create just for this purpose, I suppose you could just subscribe by choosing one of the "Subscribe To Absurd Person Singular" options just above the followers; you'll have to post a comment telling me that you subscribed in this manner.

The books are:

Haunting Valley
Scrappy Information Security
Scrappy BCP

The deadline is 9:00 p.m. EST Tuesday.

Let me conclude by stressing that I really would appreciate the effort. And I really do -- always -- appreciate the support.

.

If At First You Don't Succeed....

This is a long one. But I think it's a good one.

Back in September-ish, I felt certain that I would have a good October-ish.  

Why?

Because I had bravely sent out four of my children into the world.

- I sent Udopia to the Main Street Rag (a publisher), which had an open submission period for novellas.

- I sent ten poems to publisher Manic D Press.

- I sent my short story "Tarantulas On Leashes" to Allegory Magazine.

- I sent four other short stories to Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

I fully expected great things to come of this effort. You could say I'm an optimistic fool. But if I didn't think they were good -- and worthy of publishing -- then why would anyone else? And why would I bother?

By November 30, all four had said "no." Actually, one did not respond at all, but their website says “You will be contacted only if the editors are interested in reading your entire manuscript.” (Fair enough.)

Naturally I was bummed. But did I contemplate slitting my wrists? Of course not!

What did I do? I guess you could say I channeled my inner Gloria Gaynor. Since you're probably scratching your head, she's the singer of the 70s disco hit, "I Will Survive." That song is featured in the movie Chicken Little, which is in heavy rotation in our house right now.

So I declared that my works were "single" again, and free to seek out other fish in the sea. (Finding Nemo is big right now, too.) I emailed five poems to Freshwater. I sent "Tarantulas" to Best Fiction.

Fast forward a few months...

Early last week, I had the same feeling: something good was about to happen. Unfortunately, the week did not start out so auspiciously:

- On Monday, I learned I did not win radio station WCLV's love poem contest; I didn't even place in the top ten. And, Freshwater said "no" to all five poems.

- Tuesday, nothing either way.

- Wednesday, as I mentioned two posts ago, I hooked up with a few former colleagues at a luncheon. I showed Jack my infosec book. 
   "This would make a great introduction to information security college course syllabus," he said.
  "Or, at the corporate level, instead of having a training program, hand them this book," I replied.
   His eyebrows went up. As it turns out, he recently started working for a new company, and has been tasked with improving their information security program...and creating a business contingency program as well.
   "I also have a book on BCP," I said.
   His eyebrows went up again.
   We'll see what happens.

- On Thursday, I heard back from Pill Hill Press regarding "Worm Herding." And what I heard was "yes!" The downside is that the pay is only $10. The upside...well, there is plenty of upside: an additional fiction credit, my name out there. You get the idea.  Yay!

- On Friday, the editor of the Disaster Resource GUIDE reached out to me and asked me to write an article. Of course I'll be jumping at the chance.

The weekend and early part of this week were kind of sedate. I kept hoping that I would get more good news which I could share...that "Never Mind The Nonsense, Here's The Sex Truncheons" would be picked up by Pill Hill Press (alas, it was rejected) or that an agent would ask to see Nightmares (alas, none did).

And, like before, I feel good about this coming week. More good stuff is on the way. I know it. Yes, maybe I'm just an optimistic fool. (OK, so there's no "maybe.")

The point to all of this is, I got one solid "victory" ("Worm Herding"), one unexpected win (the Disaster Resource GUIDE article), and one possible lead (the possibility of work with Jack's company). 

So I really can't complain about these past two weeks. Stay tuned...

Castle: "Pandora"

Since this is a two-parter, I'll reserve complete judgment until we've seen the second half. But a few observations about the first Pandora episode.

It was a good, taut thriller. Of course, Castle almost always is.

I loved the scene where the CIA agents tracked the phone call using their "cool toys," or whatever term it was that Jennifer Beals used. (Side note: I hope I look that good when I'm her age...um...never mind.) I especially liked the way they (the writers) had her mind working: "Narrow it down to calls under a minute. She would have kept it brief."

I had to rewind and re-watch the scene where Captain Gates walked away from Castle and Beckett in anger, and nearly knocked Esposito over. Funny!

I also smiled when Castle said they were working to "save the country from a nameless cataclysmic event." Another day, another apocalypse, blah, blah.

It was a cool (and well choreographed) move when Thomas Gage grabbed Beckett's gun and turned it on her in the parking garage.

The looks:

- Castle's glance when his mother said she approved of Alexis's new intern position. "That doesn't make me feel any better," he said with one eyebrow cocked.

- Castle's general awkwardness when he first saw Alexis at the crime scene.
- Jennifer Beals's steely eyed glance at Beckett when she explained what was going on, down in the secret Batcave.

A few downsides:

One, I thought they tried to build up mystery and suspense at the beginning: a disappearing body...an escaped prisoner...what is going on? But if you saw the previews, you knew that the CIA was involved. So of course there would be spy hijinks.

Two, I don't object to two-part episodes per se. But don't treat it as a cliff hanger. Oh no! Castle and Beckett are in a car that is sinking in the East River? Will they get out? If the show it to continue, probably. (And if you stuck around for the previews, it's pretty obvious that they do.) It reminded me of a mid-season episode of Grey's Anatomy. There is a ferry boat accident, and everyone is down at the pier helping. Then a stunned man climbs up out from the water, grabs Meredith's leg, and pulls her in.  

"Do you think she dies?" asked my sister.
"Yes," I said. "I think they'll kill her off and rename the show 'George's Anatomy.' "

But to be on the safe side, since I won't get to see it for a few days, if doomsday does come, don't spoil it for me."


 .

Helping A Fellow Propeller Head Writer

It gives me great pleasure to write this entry. I'm always happy to help out any fellow author, more so if he or she is a friend.

The other day I had a luncheon with the IAPP, a professional privacy organization that I belong to. In attendance were two former colleagues, Jack and Matt.

Early on in the lunch conversation, Matt said, "So I hear you have a book of ghost stories that has been published."

I said, "I do. And a book on infosec."

As it turns out, Matt has written his first book, also on information security, specifically penetration testing. It's titled, "Wireless Reconnaissance in Penetration Testing." He's thrilled, and I'm thrilled for him. There is nothing like the feeling of knowing that your first book is coming out...well, actually holding the book probably beats it. But he'll know that feeling soon enough.

He expects it to be published in Q3 of this year. But for now, it is available for pre-order on Amazon. I'm sure once it comes out, I'll enjoy reading it. Matt is one of those people--like me--who has good technical chops, but can explain things in human terms. (Though between you all and me, I think his technical knowledge is deeper than mine.)

So check out the preview now, and check back here at some point in the future for another shout-out.

.

Reading 'Riting & Research

One of the aspects of writing that I truly enjoy is the research. I really do like getting my facts straight. Looking at it from a positive side, if I toss out an interesting and intriguing tidbit, it might prompt a reader to do some research as well, and learn something in the process. Looking at it from the paranoid side, I maintain this lingering fear that if I blatantly fabricate something--even if it's a really obscure factoid--someone, somewhere will say, "That's not how it works!"

That's one of the reasons that I admire Dan Brown. Whether or not you like his novels, you have to appreciate the amount of research that went into in Da Vinci Code and more so into Angels & Demons. When reading the latter, I pictured the author walking the streets of Rome, head down, looking for obscure, ancient markings in the sidewalk. It's staggering, if you really stop to analyze it.

Likewise, in one of the short stories of my book-in-progress No Strings Attached, the main character has a skydiving equipment malfunction. (I don't think I'm giving anything away; it's revealed on page 2 or so.) So I did a little basic research:

- At what altitude does a skydiver jump from a plane?
- How far and for how long does one fall before pulling the rip cord?
- If the parachute fails, how long does it take to hit ground?

Not exactly in the same ballpark as Mr. Brown's work. But you get the idea.

And sometimes, I learn something...interesting.

In a previous post, I wrote about a short story that I just completed, "Never Mind The Nonsense, Here’s The Sex Truncheons." The name, of course, is a play on the Sex Pistols. I wanted to come up with a weapon that was appropriate for Victorian-era London. Then it hit me (pun intended) that London Bobbies were famous for not carrying guns, but rather batons. So I turned to Wikipedia, and learned that a truncheon or baton also is called a cosh, Paddy wacker, billystick, billy club, nightstick, sap, blackjack, stick.

That kind of sheds new light on the old nursery rhyme...

This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb;
Knick-knack paddywhack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

...doesn't it?

Talk About Bad Timing....

Even though the publication date states February 20, clearly this issue of the National Enquirer came out before Whitney Houston's unfortunate and untimely death.

I cringe when I think about what (negative, ghastly things) this week's issue will say.

Castle: "The Blue Butterfly"

We finally got around to watching the 1940s film noire episode of "Castle." What wasn't there to like about this one?

I must admit, when I saw the previews, I had a teeny bit of fear that it would be some hokey time travel story. So I was glad to see that it wasn't. The fact that Castle put himself and the people he knows into the tale as he was reading it made perfect sense to me. As I writer, I basically do the same thing. When I create a character, he or she at least looks like someone: someone I know, someone I see in the halls at work, an actor, or just a made-up face. The point is, it's easier to create and build a character if that character has a face.

The way they chose to introduce the flashback was clever. Richard Castle pours himself a stiff drink, and Joe Flynn picks it up and downs it. They used the same effect at the end, as Joe and Vera watching the flames morphs into Castle and Beckett sitting, talking to the older couple.

I thought it was great that the 1940s versions of Joe and Vera had New York accents. It's amazing, though, how the present-day versions lost them.

I found it hilarious that Castle tried to teach Ryan how to properly say an Irish slang term (boyo) that the latter's fictional counterpart could not pronounce.

Speaking of words, I adored all of the 1940s detective-speak:

"A head that was ringing like church bells."
"That songbird's got golden pipes."
"There I was, covered in the discards of the blue plate special."

I laughed out loud when Castle realized what the Blue Butterfly was and said, "That's why Stan Banks was killed? Why am I narrating?"

Until looking it up, I didn't realize that the elder Joe was played by Chad Everett. Boy, he looked like Clint Eastwood.

And the plot? Outstanding. Plus, it was nice to see Beckett get the "a-ha" moment for once. Usually it's Castle who makes the critical connection which cracks the case. But this time it was Beckett who heard the reference to the shoes and tied it to the image in the photo. (Shoes...big surprise there.)

The looks? As always, they were plentiful. My two favorite were:

1. The look on Castle's face when he asked Ryan, "Can I drive?" and Ryan said, "Sure."
2. The look on (again) Castle's face when Beckett caught him referring to Vera as Kate. "No! I said 'fate' " he protested, clearly in vain, based on her look.

What did you think? Feel free to share your thoughts.

Funny Foto #9

"Homemade?"

Yeah, if you live in a factory! Or just have a shrink-wrap and labeling machine, I suppose.

"Never Mind The Nonsense..."

A few posts back, after relating my saga of the speed-writing and last-minute-submitting of "Worm Herding" to Pill Hill Press, I stepped back and reflected on some of their other open submission calls.

One that intrigued me was called "CONQUEST THROUGH DETERMINATION," which will be a compilation of stories in the steampunk genre. If you don't know what steampunk is, don't worry...I didn't either at first. In a nutshell, it's a story set in the late 1800s (the era of steam) that includes some sort of futuristic contraption that runs on steam. The grandaddy of them all is the Nautilus, the fantastic submarine of Jules Verne's 20,00 Leagues Under The Sea.

I really wanted to write something. But the deadline was less than two weeks away. I pondered and pondered, but couldn't come up with even a story idea. I considered reaching out to my friend and past co-conspirator Bill with the thought that we could bounce ideas back and forth and come up with complementary tales...sort of, Around The World In 80 Days, told from two different perspectives.

Actually, I did try reaching out to Bill, but we couldn't connect.

And then...inspiration!

I took the "punk" in steampunk literarlly, and crafted a piece about London's first punk string quartet, who were all the rage in 1879.

Since it's just over 3,000 words, it's too long for this space. But I have posted the entire thing on my "In Progress Stuff" page. It's not due until Monday; if you have any feedback -- especially any typos -- please share it in the comments. 

So without any further ado....

Never Mind The Nonsense, Here’s The Sex Truncheons!

The Bigger They Come...

I'd heard that he had fallen on hard times since his cinema career ended. But I was shocked to see just how low this movie icon had sunk. I mean, the guy has worked with Ewan McGregor, Harrison Ford, Jimmy Smits, Christopher Lee, and Liam Neeson, to name a few.

His image was everywhere. He was an icon, an inspiration to people everywhere.

"Look at what he's done for himself. Maybe I can do it, too."

Alas, how times change.

Below is a photo I took in front of a gas station near my house.

 

 


 



Oh, R2, what has become of you? 

I'm so sad.

A Little Good Press

WAY back in 2008, my friend Bill and I published Haunting Valley, a collection of ghost stories from the communities around the Chagrin Valley.

One of the stories details the "exploits" of two giant carved stone eagle statues that sit at the end of a driveway on Music Street. In my story, they come to life, swooping down out of the night sky and snatching terriers.

A year or so ago, I got a call from Malcolm Rockwood, the gentleman who lives there. He said he really appreciated the story, though it's not true, he pointed out.

The other night, he called to say that there was an article in the Middlefield Post which detailed how the eagles had been moved to Huntsburg. And he made sure to tell the reporter that the eagles not only were beautiful works of art, but that they had been immortalized in a great literary piece. (That would be our book.)

Here is a zoom-in of the article.

Pretty neat, huh?

Now what everyone needs to do is contact the paper and ask why they've never done a review of Haunting Valley, or an interview with the authors.

.

More Pill Hill Press

This is somewhat a continuation of yesterday's post. But since that one included a long text passage, I thought it best to make them separate entries.

After I submitted "Worm Herding," I took a look at the Pill Hill Press Open Submissions page. I have to say, I am really stoked about these folks.


CONQUEST THROUGH DETERMINATION. 

The time of Steampunk is upon us. From the moment the world first watched Jules Verne’s Nautilus explore the mysterious leagues of the sea, to this summer’s release of Cowboys and Aliens, Steampunk has become a fascination, neigh, an obsession to those who see the world through slightly different colored goggles. 
 
Pill Hill Press salutes this vision and is now seeking stunners of stories from today’s Steampunks.

For generations of literary inspiration, look to Morlock Night by K.W. Jeter,  The Difference Engine by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling, or Boneshaker by Cherie Priest, among others.

Hollywood has long been a fan, as is evidenced by The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Wild Wild West, 9, and on television, Warehouse 13.

The downside is that the deadline is February 13. On the upside, the minimum word count is 2,000. If I can get a solid idea, I can knock that out in an afternoon.


USE ENOUGH GUN
Sometimes, a mistake can lead to the hunter missing their quarry. Sometimes, an ill wrought plan can get the hunter injured, or even killed. And sometimes, when the hunter grossly underestimates the prey, worse can happen. Much worse.

Make your stories cautionary tales that highlight the dangers of monster hunting. Tell us of mistakes that can occur when planning is replaced by reckless action, or when weapons malfunction, or when information is held back from those that need it.

Give us a story about what happens when a hunter is simply overmatched by a creature that they never really stood a chance against. Or, tell us of the worst cases, the stories that send chills through the hunter’s bones; tell us what happens when they are turned into the very things that they are sworn to destroy.


3,000 - 8,000 words by May 31. Oh yeah, I am so doing that one.


PSYCHO CINEMA!
We're looking for HORROR stories with a strong CINEMA theme... this can be interpreted by the author in any way that connects the short fiction to the movies, as long as there are strong elements of horror. Things like: horror at the movie theater, horror on a movie set, horror featuring a horror film actor (fiction only, please; let's not kill off real actors), horror at a drive-in theater, etc. As long as HORROR and HORROR MOVIES are present, the story will be considered.

Ditto.

In addition to those, Pill Hill Press is accepting flash fiction, in both the regular and frightening flavors. They will consider up to four stories of 500 words or less. Having written a few of 100 or less for literary agent Janet Reid's contests, I sense a submission to this compilation is forthcoming as well.

Down To The Wire...

In my most recent post -- way back on Friday -- I made reference to the Pill Hill Press, and their open call for submissions to "BUGS." (I was going to provide a link to the BUGS page, but it's already gone.) I haven't posted anything here since then because I've been BUSY! They had a deadline of January 31, and I had a short story that was in progress.

Since I almost always make it up as I go, I had no idea many how words I still needed to write. All I knew was that I had 1,865 words, and I needed a minimum of 4,000. I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. But I lacked the details.

So I take great pleasure in reporting that after a heroic effort (cue the heraldic trumpets) I was able to finish. I would not have been able to do it, though, without a lot of help from my voice recorder and my Dragon voice recognition software. After getting our oldest to bed at 9:00, and then the twins down at 10:00 (what is WRONG with those kids?) I cranked out the last few paragraphs -- not knowing exactly what words would be coming out as I tapped the keys -- and hit the "submit" button around 10:45. The final tally: 9,582 words, 418 shy of the max.

Will they like it? I hope so.

The original post shared the opening. Below is a sample from somewhere in the middle. To set up the scene, my protagonist, Slim, has just dived into a hole in the "Cave Of Swiss Cheese Floor" in an effort to rescue his partners.


    I looked around. I was in some sort of tube. It was transparent, or translucent. I never was very good at those “trans” words. The point is, they weren’t like windows. I couldn’t really see through the walls. But light—from somewhere—was coming in.
    Suddenly I felt a tug, which was strange, since there was nothing I could see that was tugging on me. But I was being pulled down. Whatever it was, it was so strong that I couldn’t keep my arms by my side. They were dangling down in front of me, just waving in the breeze, although there was no breeze. But with my arms down there, they were not in a position where I could tug three times and signal for Tiny to get me the hell out of here. I assumed he would feel that I was being pulled, and yank be back up, any second now.
    Any minute now.
    “Any day now, Tiny!” I yelled. But for some reason, I couldn’t hear my voice. I tried calling out, screaming anything that came to mind. (For some reason, that “anything” turned out to be an old Irish drinking song that my Grandpa taught me when I was a boy. How odd.) But no matter what I tried, the hollers just didn’t seem to want to leave my mouth. So I came up with another idea. I started kicking my legs, in the hope that Tiny would feel me struggling, and pull.
    It was a good idea in theory, but a bad one in practice. You see, as a skinny guy, I’m skinny all over. That includes my legs and—more central to my dilemma—my ankles. So whether or not Tiny felt me, before he had a chance to do anything, I slipped out of my boots.
    This bad day was just getting worse.
    At least I still had the rope.
    I fell. I fell and fell. And fell. I was kind of surprised how long and far I fell, considering that the riata was only about 30 feet long. It would have been about 20 had I wrapped all the way around Tiny, rather than just through two of the belt loops. Finally, I hit bottom with a thud, though I suppose it was more like a “mush.”
    I spit out the dirt, and wiped the dust from my eyes.
    The first thing I saw were shoes. Red shoes. Red women’s shoes. Red women’s shoes that glittered. Looking a little higher, I saw black and white striped socks. Further up, a black dress. Above that was a woman, pretty, if you could overlook the green skin on her face. But she had a nice smile. At the top of it all was a black, pointy hat.
    I’m no expert on the classics and other works of fine fiction. But I know a witch when I see one. I jumped to my feet and was about to draw my six-shooter. But she looked at me with kind, even caring eyes, dusted me off, and said, “Are you all right?”
    Her gentleness took me aback. I’ve never met a witch before, though once when I was a boy back in Massachusetts, I saw one at the bottom of a pool, weighed down with stones. (Wait, if she didn’t float despite the stones, then she “passed” the “witch test.” Then I guess I haven’t seen a witch. But from what I’ve heard, they’re evil, and in possession of a hairy eyeball, or something like that. Her eyeballs were not hairy, though the lashes were fairly long and silky.


If you can't figure out where he is, based on the image of a green-faced witch wearing striped socks and red shoes...well, you have to know.

Should you want to see more, please write the folks at Pill Hill Press, and tell them that they just HAVE TO include "Worm Herding" in their BUGS anthology. And be prepared to purchase a copy on the spot.

No, that probably won't work.

Or, just leave a comment here asking for it, and I'll email you the whole thing.