By Michael Seese
At the risk of jinxing myself, I don't get all that much SPAM. So I was surprised to find not one, not two, but three SPAM emails waiting for me yesterday.
If I may go into MST3K mode:
Yeah, my bank's employees all have names which require the Cyrillic alphabet.
This one almost got me, to be honest, mainly because I did just book airline travel. But it was not with American Airlines and, as I suggest when I teach "Infosec 101," hover over the link to reveal where it goes: hivewebdesign.com.au. Hmmm. That doesn't sound like American Airlines. (I intentionally did not show the images, since that potentially can be risky.)
I like this "Reply To" email address:
r-ykqzmplmqbcvtkqgmgglkcpmcjkvgwwzptczmwkpyzldbjvqpl@members.playboystore.com.
They say that size does matter, after all.
Until next time...
By Michael Seese
Five figures...
Blog followers? That would be nice.
Advance on royalties? That would be REALLY nice.
No, I'm pleased to say that after just a little over a week of writing, my new novel-in-progress has reached the 10,000-word mark. Here is the official day-by-day tally.
1/12 627
1/13 849
1/14 2,126
1/15 3,805
1/16 5,433
1/17 6,457
1/18 7,117
1/19 7,374
1/20 7,671
1/21 8,339
1/22 9,201
1/23 10,252
Though I have said in the past that I tend to concern myself too much with word count, in this case, I'm a deadline. So it does matter.
I now feel as though I can share the title. It's "The Secret Life Of Gustave Eiffel." Below is another snippet.
He had just settled back into one of the plush leather chairs with a cigar and a snifter of Brandy de Jerez when he heard a minor commotion near the door. Rising from his comfortable position, he saw that the excitement stemmed from the arrival of the American humorist Mark Twain. Though Eiffel had never read any of Twain’s three (or was it four?) novels, he had heard that the Missourian was an excellent conversationalist, one possessed of a sharp mind and a sharper tongue. Reasoning that it would behoove him to secure Twain as an ally—lest his world-renowned vitriol join the already maddening chorus of critics—he followed Twain to the bar and said, “Marcel, I would like the pleasure of buying Monsieur Twain’s drink, if he will accept it, that is.”
Turning to face Eiffel, an impish smile erupted from beneath Twain’s famously bushy mustache. “Actually, I stopped in to inquire about purchasing this entire establishment. So, as long as you’re buying...” Seeing a flash of fear trace across Eiffel’s face, Twain quickly added, “Forgive me, Monsieur. I am told that my sense of humor is an acquired taste. Merci. I gratefully accept your kind offer, Monsieur...”
“Eiffel. Gustave Eiffel.”
“Ah, the man behind the Statue Of Liberty. Or should I say ‘underneath?’ It is a great honor to make your acquaintance, sir.”
A second drink arrived, and Eiffel motioned toward his chair near the fireplace.
The men sat down. Twain took a deep breath of the oakey scent, and said, “Magnificent! Now all that I require is a fine—”
Eiffel produced from a pocket his leather cigar case, and offered one.
“Monsieur Eiffel, I must say I have found that everything we Americans hear about the French—your grace, your civility, and your timing—is absolutely true. Thank you,” he said, likewise accepting a light from the match held in Eiffel’s outstretched hand. After a few puffs, he said, “At times like these, good sir, I am convinced that the almighty created man, alcohol, tobacco, and woman...in that order.”
Eiffel chuckled at the bon mot. Clearly, Twain’s reputation did not exceed him.
“I would suggest the addition of ‘humor’ in the fourth position, Monsieur Twain.”
“Touché! Very well played, sir.”
They took simultaneous sips of the fragrant alcohol.
“So, what brings you to Paris, Monsieur Twain?”
I feel that I've made some good progress, though this past weekend, I found my faith a bit shaken. I had come up with the basics -- though they needed fleshing out -- leading up to the "defining moment" in the book. But I only had 7,000 words leading up and including the "defining moment," and very little idea of what would come next.
And then from my library came a book I had ordered: Eiffel's Tower by Jill Jonnes. I'm basically scanning it, but the book has proven to be a veritable encyclopedia that details the events surrounding the building of the Tower which, as you might have guessed, is the aforementioned "defining moment." In short, it is chock full of the personalities, other than Gustave Eiffel, who were swirling around Paris at the time. (Ergo, the Mark Twain passage.) It's given me new life.
I so will have to acknowledge Ms. Jonnes in the foreword, and send her a copy when the book is published.
Let us see what the coming week brings...
By Michael Seese
I felt a little lukewarm about "Under The Influence." Why? Because there was very little Castle, as the writers decided to expand Esposito's character. Understand, I think that's a good thing. Otherwise, as I have said before, the show becomes Two Stars (and everybody else). But, the downside is that there was less Castle-Beckett interplay.
Still, I'm glad they did it.
There were a few good lines:
MC Thug: " 'Or else' usually is enough!"
Ryan: "Artful Dodger. Or Artful DJ."
Castle: "Oooh! Nicely played!"
And I can think of one good look: Lanie's glare when Castle said (of her discovery that a Chinese restaurant may be involved), "Narrowing it down to every single block in Manhattan."
Really, though, the show belonged to Espo.
We got to see his tough side when he walked solo into enemy territory -- Shane's hangout -- took out his mountain of a bodyguard, and sat down to talk.
We got to see his smart side when he recorded his interview with Shane, got him to admit that he would sell Joey out, and then showed the video to Joey.
And we got to see his edgy side when he paid a final visit to Shane and laid two guns on the table.
We even got to see some humor: (To Ryan) "Come on fanboy, let's go."
My main complaint about this episode came from the scene where Castle and Beckett interviewed Regina Cane. If I may jump into the "WABAC Machine" for a minute, I didn't watch many episodes of Law & Order. But I recall one in which the detectives needed to interview the alibi of the primary suspect. We meet this fellow as he is walking out the front door of his stately club, sweater tied over his shoulders, talking backward to the detectives following behind him. Eventually, one of the detectives asked, "Do you know anyone who could commit such a crime?" And he replied, "No, and I hope I never meet him." He then drove off. And I remember thinking, Well, I'm glad you decided that the police were done talking to you. Regina pulled the same stunt when she replaced her eye shades and went back to bed. Normally, Beckett would have grabbed her ankle and had her @ss on the floor!
Oh well.
Feel free to share your thoughts.
.
The clouds at sunset tonight.
Ahhhh!
By Michael Seese
The other day, I received the following "legitimate business" proposal.
What? No poisoned hyperlinks? Boring!
And do you suppose he realizes that if I read the "To:" line I see "undisclosed-recipients"
Yeah, I feel special.
Remember kids, if you want to make a small contribution to the infosec effort, forward your SPAM emails (with full header info) to spam@uce.gov
By Michael Seese
A few posts back, I described how agent Janet Reid tempted me (well, any of her blog followers) into a new, foolhardy adventure: writing a book about France in order to enter it in the American Library in Paris Book Award.
Why foolhardy? Because I need to send them an actual, real book. By June 1.
(GULP!)
Let me say something about writing, and me.
When an idea "just comes" to me, it's easy. But coming up with an idea is hard.
So I thought...
And thought...
And thought...
And...nothing.
I recognized that I was pressing to come up with something "French." I easily could have concocted a love story or a thriller and simply set it in Paris. For that matter, I could have taken Nightmares -- which is set in Cleveland, based on the locations I mention, though "Cleveland" is never named -- and changed the landmarks. But that seemed like cheating.
Then, on Saturday afternoon, an idea came. I scribbled down some notes. By the time I went to bed, I had just over 600 words, representing the first and last chapters. Here is a little taste.
Ba-ba-ba-bummmmmm. Ba-ba-ba-bummmmmm.
The eight notes, known throughout the civilized world, but known only for what they purported to be rather than what they truly were, rained across the sky. A single tear of joy traced down his cheek and disappeared into his now-grey beard.
“Ils sont arrivés. They’re here. It is time,” he wheezed.
He struggled to stand, to raise himself from the chair, so that he might make his way over to the window to see, to see it with his own eyes.
“Will the docking be successful? Will they latch? I hope I understood the design specifications, interpreted them correctly,” he said aloud. Converting the measurements from their system to newly adopted metric standards of his country had presented one of his greatest challenges.
He collapsed back into the chair. His 91-year-old body had grown too weak, too feeble. So he would not be witness to the crowning achievement of his life’s work. But he had succeeded. He knew he had.
I'm going to try to balance writing this -- after all, I am on a deadline -- with my normal stuff, such as Castle reviews. I'd hate to give up the latter. But every minute spent fawning over a TV show is a minute not spent writing about France.
Stay tuned...
By Michael Seese
I thoroughly enjoyed "Significant Others." To revisit a refrain I've sung in the past, this episode was a fantastic mix of comedy and intrigue, with a delicious surprise ending. And they even pulled Jack Wagner out of mothballs. Has he even worked since General Hospital?) On a positive note, I thought he has aged well.)
The show kicked off with the victim sitting in her car, staring at a name and address, to the sound of the sultry song "Secret" by Aussie chanteuse Missy Higgins. (Were there enough "S" sounds in that sentence?) She looked back in panic. Then her blood spatter quickly cut into the mouthwash spit of the infirm Alexis. Neat effect.
My favorite scene had to be Castle's and Beckett's visit to the Voss residence, as Samantha coolly, casually, and methodically destroyed their collected (and soon to be divided) objets d'art. (Did you notice that after she sliced the painting, she slammed the knife into a box at an angle reminiscent of the pen in the "Castle logo.")
I must say, though, that the whole bit with Esposito and Ryan giving Castle the sychronized "two worlds colliding" speech came in a close second.
Quick aside: I adored the iPhone commercial which showed a POV table tennis game against the Williams sisters; I watched (or should that be "iWatched"??) it twice.
Then at the end, the piano music overtaking the dialogue made for a touching finale.
Great lines were everywhere.
Lanie: "The deep-fried Twinkie that Castle has ex-sex with whenever she rolls into town." By the way, in several recent shows, it seems as though the writers have been trying to build the relationship between Beckett and Lanie.
Samantha: "I was her client. Not her BFF."
Castle: "My loft is overrun with redheads."
Beckett: "Button up, kitten. We're going home."
Martha: "This isn't a flophouse, darling. You've got to stop letting freeloaders just live here."
Castle: "Please tell me you see the irony."
Looks...
Castle's stare when Lanie said, "All men [are clueless] or just Castle?"
Beckett's slight smile as she struggled to maintain the hurt facade while she and Meredith punk'd Castle.
And speaking of looks...
Beckett: "Besides, I gave you the look."
Castle: "What look?"
Beckett: "Look look. My look. Please don't tell me after four years you don't actually know the look."
It's gratifying to know the writers are following my blog!
By Michael Seese
As I was driving home yesterday, I saw this car in front of me.
(Obviously, I blanked out his license plate; I am a privacy professional, after all.)
Though it's hard to see (for some reason, my camera's flash felt compelled to go off) his license plate frame reads "NOTARY PUBLIC."
So I wondered: how would he react if someone tapped on his window while stopped at a traffic light and asked him to notarize something...
By Michael Seese
A few posts back, I mulled over launching my own personal "NaNoWriMo," a self-imposed and self-guided effort to just get a book done. I was considering a YA fantasy that I had been kicking around in my head. And then...
Janet Reid, the best agent who is not my agent, offered up this on her blog. In it, she talked about the American Library in Paris Book Award.
Per their website:
Any book-length prose fiction or nonfiction work, written originally in English, about France or the French-American encounter, will be considered by a committee of Award screeners. Nominated books must have been originally published between July 1, 2012 and June 30, 2013.
First prize is $5,000, and an all-expense paid trip to the City Of Light. So of course, I have to enter. Unfortunately, I do have to write (and print, as in, "publish") the damn thing. In fact, the way I see it, the contest presents five challenges:
1. Come up with an idea for a novel.
2. Write it.
3. Write it by June 1, or better said, at least six weeks before June 1 to allow for editing and printing.
4. Get it physically published.
5. Win it.
Piece of cake...right? (Or should I say gâteau?)
Since there is no way I could get it published through one of the "big houses," even if I had an agent, I'll probably tap the owner of the best bookstore IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD and see if he will assume the mantle of publisher, as he did for Haunting Valley.
It's off to the races, my friends.
By Michael Seese
I checked my work email today (I've been off since pre-Christmas) and read the following message.
I suppose I could make fun of:
- "Marry Christmus" (I prefer a casual relationship with my holidays.)
- "and Happy Birthday Now bug off" (What's a run-on sentence between friends?)
- "12 months!!!!." (Can't forget the period; otherwise, I might not see the end of the sentence.)
But when I "Show Details" I see an expansion of the sender's name.
Amanda...Dave...Amanda...Dave. It sounds like he (or she) has some issues to resolve.
By Michael Seese
In a previous column or perhaps even two, I expressed optimism that good things were just around the corner. On a micro level, I was correct: I learned that a short story or poem would be published. But the "big" victory -- getting an agent, and then getting published -- didn't materialize. It still hasn't but...
In my last post, I mentioned that I entered another of agent Janet Reid's 100-word flash fiction contests. My entry was titled "A Lifetime Ago."
And I won!
What I won is a copy of Ratlines by Stuart Neville.
Ireland 1963. As the Irish people prepare to welcome President John F. Kennedy to the land of his ancestors, a German national is murdered in a seaside guesthouse. Lieutenant Albert Ryan, Directorate of Intelligence, is ordered to investigate. The German is the third foreigner to die within a few days, and Minister for Justice Charles Haughey wants the killing to end lest a shameful secret be exposed: the dead men were all Nazis granted asylum by the Irish government in the years following World War II. A note from the killers is found on the dead German's corpse, addressed to Colonel Otto Skorzeny, Hitler's favorite commando, once called the most dangerous man in Europe. The note simply says: "We are coming for you." As Albert Ryan digs deeper into the case he discovers a network of former Nazis and collaborators
That is wonderful, of course. And I look forward to reading it. But, more thrilling to me were some of the comments posted by Janet's followers in response to the blog which named the seven finalists.
- "They're all good, but the last one [that was mine] just knocks it out of the park."
- "The last one. Yes. Can we vote? But I guess I already did."
- "Excellent! Michael's was my choice too. :) Congratulations, Michael. Well deserved."
Even Janet herself added a comment to the previous blog post.
I wrote back to say I was humbled by their kind words.
And how did we celebrate? We had dinner, gave the kids baths, watched Cars 2 with them, and then we finished The Dark Knight Rises.
We know how to live!
So, perhaps this is the first step toward the "big victory." Of course, I have now jinxed myself. But nonetheless, let's keep hoping for good things in this space.
