Funny Foto #30

By Michael Seese

The other day, I found this in the center console of my car.

My wife said, "I think that came with the wallet I just bought."

Take a good look at the info they suggest you fill in. Why don't I add my date of birth, mother's maiden name, and my ATM card PIN while I'm at it?

In this day and age, would anyone fill in all of that info? 

Would you?

Drumming My Fingers

By Michael Seese

For a child, the longest night of the year is Christmas Eve -> Christmas Day. For me, it's...right now.

A few posts back, I mentioned my latest sprint. Agent Janet Reid offered up a new wrinkle to her really wonderful suite of ask-for-nothing-in-return services to aspiring writers. Called the "Chum Bucket," an homage to her "Query Shark" persona, she pledged that if you send a query to her on Saturdays between the hours of 7:00 and 8:00 p.m., she will respond. But, as she warned, "The queries need to be for real.  If I request something and you tell me it's not ready, or you were just kidding, I will come to your house and gnaw on you till you realize the error of your ways."

I had No Strings Attached close enough that I could taste the finish line, if I may horribly mix and mangle metaphors. So I dove in and finished it, then began the arduous task of proofreading. 118,580 words later, I was done. (No Strings is by far the longest piece I've written; for comparison sake, Dear Diary is 74,400 and Nightmares is 67,800.)

I was ready for Saturday night, and then she posted the following that morning:

ARRRRGGGGGHHHH!

Initially, she had said the experiment would run through August. Technically, Saturday is September. So I hope she extends it one more week.

So once again, I ask you, dear friends, to cross your fingers, burn some incense, and lob some good karma my way around 7:00 p.m. this Saturday.

Funny Foto #29

By Michael Seese

The other day, I stopped to fill up my car. Here is what I saw on the pump.

 







 
 
This is the first three-digit (not counting to the right side of the decimal) I have ever seen. I really feel sorry for that person.

No Strings Attached...Finis!

By Michael Seese

If you are reading this blog, it is because of No Strings Attached. 

Huh? Let me explain...

Back in April 2009, I came up with an idea which has since become "Obsession," one of the stories in No Strings Attached, a collection of seven interconnected literary fiction short stories woven around the theme of strings, and how different lives, places, and times can be tied together. As I concocted the different pieces, I really felt as though I had something special. It was that realization which made me believe I could be an author. And authors these days who are not named Dan Brown or J.K. Rowling need to blog. So here I am.

I spent a little over a year writing scattershot, contributing a line here, a paragraph there, wherever I felt like adding something. By the summer of 2010, I had enough of an outline to work on a story to completion. By December, I had completed four of the seven.

I then put No Strings on the back burner for a while. I needed a break, and decided to let myself get distracted. Of course, these "distractions" were the completing of Udopia and Nightmares, as well as writing numerous short stories and poems, some of which have been published or are slated to be.

So what's next? As it turns out, my favorite agent (who STILL isn't my agent) Janet Reid has come up with a "new wrinkle in the query game-rules of the game." In short, if you send a query to her on Saturdays between the hours of 7:00 and 8:00 p.m., she will respond. But, as she warned, "The queries need to be for real.  If I request something and you tell me it's not ready, or you were just kidding, I will come to your house and gnaw on you till you realize the error of your ways."

I'm now putting the polish on No Strings, and hope to have it ready by next Saturday.

Wish me luck.

"Six Days of Absolute Heck"

By Michael Seese

A quick hitter...

Way back in August of last year, agent Janet Reid had one of her 100-word contests. I think this was the first I read about. Using the words:

junk
dignity
gunbelt
hungover
punch

I wrote "Six Days Of Absolute Heck." It was OK, but needed some work. I refined it, and kept it in my back pocket.

One day, I learned that another agent, Sarah LaPolla, publishes author-submitted short stories on her blog. I sent it to her in April, and several weeks later, she accepted it.

The new and improved "Six Days Of Absolute Heck" appeared today on her Glass Cases blog.
 
Please stop by, read it, and leave a comment if you wish.

Funny Foto #28

By Michael Seese

A few weeks ago, my family and I took a walk in Chapin Forest Reservation of the Lake Metroparks, near our home. Close to the entrance to the park is this building.

To the left is some sort of administrative office. To the right are the restrooms. As I was leaving the men's room, I saw this on the back of the door.

A few things struck me as absurd:

1. The room is cinderblock and cement. Since they have air hand dryers, the only flammable thing in there is toilet paper.
2. Since I don't really make it a habit of looking behind me when I enter a door, I wouldn't even see this until I was about to exit. Which dovetails nicely with...
3. Even in the confusion of a restroom conflagration, if I can't figure out the best way out of a 10 x 10 bathroom with a single door, then perhaps the gene pool would be better off if I didn't.

Am I overreacting? Feel free to share your thoughts.

Caveat Author

By Michael Seese

Writing is a tough business. I emphasize the word "business," because that's what I'm focusing on today. It was hard enough back in the day when your only option was to go through an agent, on to a traditional publisher. I'm ignoring for the sake of convenience the process of true self-publishing, that is, paying someone to create a camera-ready copy, and then paying a printer to print books.

But somewhere along the line, we writers were offered a new "option."

Vanity presses.

Back in April, I submitted Dear Diary to a publisher that I found somewhere or other. I won't name the outfit; if you really want to know, leave a comment and I'll write to you personally.

The other day, I received a letter from them. I will highlight -- but quote exactly -- some of the more relevant passages. Any bolding is mine.

"I receive hundreds of these per year and have decided to offer you a few options regarding publishing with us."

"I have been asked for phone consulting from authors on book publishing (print or E-book), marketing, printing, distribution, discounts, distributors, publicity, fulfillment, mailings and dozens of other needs of small publishers and self-published authors. I am willing to spend one session with you on any subject or needs you may have on publishing for a flat $195 minimum for the first hour, and $40 per one quarter hour (charged in fifteen minute increments) after the first hour. Call for an appointment with your credit card. Limited time available so book early."

And, like a good scam, HURRY!

"Our publishing, marketing and distribution agreements are done only with twenty-five authors per year. So if you want to find out how that all works, schedule a consultation."

There are so many things I could say:

- "I don't need to consult about any of those topics. Just publish and distribute my books, and send the checks to the address of record."
- "I don't have my credit card handy. Why don't you take the $195 out of my advance?"

Of course, I won't waste my time. But if he sends me an email, I will reply with, "I appreciate your offer. But I'm not in the market for a vanity publisher. But if I ever am, I will think of you."

If he were to reply to that (and I doubt he would) I could point him to a wonderful reference, a website called Preditors & Editors, which helps us writers with this sort of dilemma. Looking up these folks, I see

"Not recommended. Appears to be a vanity publisher."

So I could add, "Sorry buddy...according to the folks whose opinion matters, you are."

Poetree: "Hollow"

By Michael Seese

I've been working on this one, on and off, for a while. But in recent days I left like finishing it. So below is:

Hollow

Like the letter O,
a mouth saying "no."
Sometimes I feel so...
I don't know...
Hollow.

Like a Cheerio,
Or a braggart's crow,
A passionless throe.
Cold winds blow.
Hollow.

Like a doughnut hole,
Or an empty bowl.
Life extorts its toll.
Soul by soul.
Hollow.

I'm lost. I don't know
Where does the joy go?
Does emptiness show?
Fading glow.
Hollow.

Believe it or not, I wasn't depressed when I wrote it. Remember, the idea behind "poetree" is to start with an image, and build the poem from there. When you have a hollow tree, and choose a title like "Hollow," the words largely lead the way.

What do you think of "Hollow?" Feel free to share your thoughts.

Funny Foto #27

by Michael Seese

And from The Department Of "Duh" ...

The other day I received an e-newsletter which had the following headline:

Really? A 38-year-old law is out of date? 

Go figure!

I Don't Care Who You Are...

...this is funny right here.

by Michael Seese

Here is a link to an infosec article I saw the other day. All I can say is, I wish I would receive a SPAM like this. You can read the article, but I agree with the author on some of the more humorous points:

- The reference to SMERSH
- The certificate of assassination as proof
- A threat to employ lard and a dragon dildo

I'm sad to say that I (THE Beatles fan) missed the Henry The Horse reference.

What do you think? Funny, no?

New Poem: 60° F

By Michael Seese

The break in the recent heat wave inspired me to write the following:

60° F

Last night, 60° Fahrenheit.
A welcome relief from July’s grief.
Windows wide, nature now invited inside.
What a treat. Crickets no longer compete
With the droning fuzz of the a/c buzz.
Their song carries on ’til the birds, at dawn
Wake and greet the sun, a chorus of tweets.
The subtle breeze softly rocks the trees.
Whispers arise, the leaves’ lullabies.
The pillow, sheet no longer wells of heat.
I turn, it’s cool. I swim in a blue pool.
No devil dreams. The succubus seems tame
As she snuggles and nestles into me.

Feel free to share your opinion of "60° F."