BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

CHECK!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Once is a coincidence. Twice, probably still a coincidence. I can even give you three. But when it keeps happening, uncanny doesn’t even come close.

What am I talking about? Castle.

Now, before anyone takes this the wrong way, I am a big fan of Castle. I’ve made no secret of that, and I even have a Castle T-shirt to prove it. I own the first season on DVD, will own the second, third, etc as each becomes available. I read the first “Nikki Heat” novel one afternoon just for kicks. I will more than likely read the second as well. Again, just for kicks.

However… Saw that coming, didn’t you?

When I first started watching the show I would sit back and marvel at how the character was portrayed. Granted, Nathan Fillion has a lot to do with that, but he also has a script to follow, so it’s not ALL him. What I was marveling at was how closely the character of Richard Castle seemed to mirror my own life in certain respects. Not that I’m ridiculously wealthy or on the NYT Best Seller list. And, while I’m a major flirt, I am not a womanizer. Still, the sarcasm and puns, the arcane knowledge spawned from researching a particular novel, the big kid mentality… Well, let’s just say I found it to be an amusing coincidence. After all, I hang out with a lot of authors – kind of a birds of a feather flock together thing – and while I’ve met a few who act that way to a small extent, never any who are as over the top as I am. Of course, maybe I just haven’t met the right authors.  Who knows?

But then things started getting more and more eerie, and I don’t mean the lake or Pennsylvania either.

Emails started showing up. Just a few at first, from friends and relatives who were watching the show. The occasional, “Did you watch Castle last night? I swear they are writing about you or something!”

I would joke about it and laugh it off, but found it interesting that I wasn’t the only person who noticed the similarities.

However, it wasn’t long before a few emails turned into several, and then several more, with not only friends and relatives writing to me, but fans as well.

“Did you see Castle last night? The writers must read your books or something!”

“Dude! Are you being followed by the writers for Castle?”

“I swear the writers for Castle have your house bugged!”

“Are you writing for Castle?”

“When did you start writing for Castle?”

And,  I could just keep going on and on…

In the back of my head, I had been wondering some of the same things…

After all, the story arcs were taking some interesting and familiar twists:

A killer dominatrix…

A vodoun priestess…

Wiccan and pagan references…

And plenty more…

But let’s face it, I don’t own the market on ideas. Just because I did them in my books long before Castle was ever conceived doesn’t mean a thing. And, I mean that seriously.

Then some of their marketing vids starting doing some weird things… Like Fillion as Castle stating the Fillion owed him 50 bucks. Okay… so I didn’t coin the “so and so owes me 50 bucks” quip, but I’d been saying  it (jokingly) about Fillion (and tweeting it) for literally more than a year, along with my also joking contention that he was secretly using me as his “model” for the character of Richard Castle.

Things that make you go “hmmm,” know what I mean?

Of course, it just doesn’t seem to end there.

Some time back I was chatting with some folks about the show. When asked what I thought of it, I prattled endlessly about the wonderfulness that is Castle. However, being an author I also pointed out that there were issues – as there were with any TV show. Things like their police procedure being off – not that I’m an expert, but I do research procedure for my books through my friends and contacts I’ve cultivated within various law enforcement agencies from local to national.

One of the things I mentioned was that Detective Kate Beckett generally pranced around each episode in heels. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with seeing Stana Katic in stilettos, although I’d much prefer it be E K and not Katic. We’ve already established that I’m a leg guy, and high heels are an exciting accoutrement to said proclivity. But let’s not digress or I’ll need some alone time. My point is, I mentioned that no cop in her right mind would be wearing stilettos on the job. So, what happens? Someone points out to Beckett during the most recent episode that her shoes are a bit impractical for police work.

Coincidence? Yeah… Most likely. I mean, it’s an obvious thing. But with everything else that’s been going on it’s… well… a thing that makes you go hmmmm…

Then there’s the fact that I have wondered aloud about the allure of the “Steampunk” genre… Now, an upcoming episode of Castle is featuring “Steampunk.” Again, most likely coincidence… After all, Steampunk seems to be a big thing these days.

So… In the grand scheme of things, just what is it I’m trying to say?

I don’t really know. All I can tell you is that too many coincidences add up to something pretty weird. So, here’s the thing…

If the writers of Castle happen across this blog – who knows, they might be subscribers – do me a favor and throw me a bone. I may be a best seller in the small press world, but in the overall authoring world I’m just a mid-lister. Since you’re paralleling my personna – and my story lines, and my characters, and my tweets, and my panels at cons, etc – even if it is probably utter, uncanny coincidence, have Rick Castle mention my name. Have him call me for advice or something on occasion. I don’t even have to be on the phone – you can easily write a one-sided conversation. Have a couple of my books laying on a desk. Something… I could use the publicity…

I’m NOT asking for a guest appearance – although I wouldn’t turn one down. Of course, I’m not “ruggedly handsome” so I’m sure that would be out of the question anyway. No biggie.

But come on guys… The Rick Castle personality has been MY schtick for better than a decade. HOWEVER, at the most recent convention appearance I did I was actually accused of trying to imitate him by someone who had not yet been introduced to my work.

And, you know, it’s kind of annoying to be accused of trying to imitate yourself. Especially when all of the coincidences point to it being the other way around…

More to come…

Murv

There are times when you have to clean out the old brainpan. Get rid of excess words, phrases, clauses, and other ridiculous stuff. It’s a battle writers fight constantly. Generally we do it because if we don’t get the unsaleable crap out of the way, then we can’t put the saleable crap on the paper.

Kinda like freeing up a log jam, so to speak.

So, I’m sure you are probably wondering what qualifies as a writer’s soluble fiber for the brain… The Ex-Lax for the cerebral cortex so to speak…

I have no clue.

All I can say is that when it takes hold, all manner of nonsensical BS  – AKA Brain Sh*t – will spew forth. If you don’t believe me, just read the other entries in this blog… I mean, it isn’t called Brainpan Leakage for nothing, ya’know…

So, anyway, on this particular day in history, my grey matter was cramping a bit, and the next thing you know I had… well… you know… an urgent brain movement.

Not having time to get to the blog, I took advantage of the first receptacle I could find… What follows here are a series of inane, nonsensical, brain sh*t expelling tweets sent forth from my Twitter account this morning, all including their original hashtag – #WTF…

BTW – I received three comments in the wake of this leakage – one person was horribly confused, another enjoyed them immensely, and well, the other commented by simply unfollowing me. Guess I was just a little too intense.

I wasn’t concerned when she pulled the handcuffs from her overnight bag. However, the spatula and pinking shears gave me pause… #WTF

There was only one way out that didn’t involve a body bag. Now, all I needed were some high heels, a spark plug, and a can of peas… #WTF

The stilettos, she had, even if they weren’t my size. It was the spark plug and canned veggies that seemed out of my reach… #WTF

The room smelled like toast, and she looked like prepackaged sex. It was when the pizza arrived that I understood her plan… #WTF

It was thin crust, with double anchovies and extra cheese. The aroma was intoxicating, but somehow I knew it wasn’t meant for me… #WTF

“You’re late!” she screamed. The pizza guy cowered, but it was too late. Now the pinking shears protruded from his chest… #WTF

If only there had been black olives on that pie, then perhaps I could have made my escape. But, the peas were still eluding me… #WTF

My luck held. She grabbed the spatula, then went in search of another victim. “Be right back,” she said, as she exited the room… #WTF

This was my chance. Maybe I could do this without the peas. But wait, what about the shoes? Damn, she was still wearing them… #WTF

I resigned myself to whatever fate had in store. Even if I could get by without the peas, the high heels and spark plug were a must… #WTF

I had just given up when the hotel detective entered the room. “Am I interrupting?” he asked. “Yes, but please do,” I replied… #WTF

It seems they had found her in the lobby, spatula in hand as she served cheesecake to the guests in her own special way… #WTF

“What tipped you off?” I asked, absently rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs had been cinched tight…. #WTF

“She wouldn’t let anyone have seconds,” the hotel detective replied, offering me a cigarette… #WTF

I lit the cig and stared off into space while muttering, “You know, if she’d left the shoes, I’m sure I could’ve escaped.” #WTF

The hotel detective shook his head. “Not likely. They were fuschia.” I looked at him sideways. “Fuschia?” #WTF

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “If they’d been red, maybe. But fuchsia, not a chance.” I nodded my own head in agreement… #WTF

“So, how did this all start?” the hotel detective asked. After correcting my spelling of fuchsia I looked out the window and sighed… #WTF

“Well, you see,” I began. “There was this pair of handcuffs…”  – 30 –  #WTF

More to come…

Murv

Note: If you Twitter you can follow me @mrsellars. Be careful, I might follow back…