BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I’m not a huge fan of chocolate.

I don’t hate it, but it’s not my first choice when it comes to candy and desserts. But then, I’m not much of a sweets guy anyway. Licorice, now that’s one thing… And I mean LICORICE… Well, what I’m able to get my hands on, anyway. I’ve never had any of the really good imported stuff.

But we definitely aren’t talking about that red stuff that kids think is licorice.

And there are certain pies I like.

And certain cakes.

But I really have to be in the right mood. At any rate, faced with a choice between chocolate whatever and a slice of Lemon Chess Pie, I’d go for the Lemon Chess Pie. Faced with a choice between a slice of Lemon Chess Pie and a piece of Fried Chicken, I’d go for the Fried Chicken…

I know, how can a fat guy not be into sweets. Dunno. Just one of those things. But, that’s not really what this blog is about.

When I worked as an electronics technician, I absolutely loved things with moving parts. Why? Because items with moving parts are wayyyyy more likely to break down. Friction, wear, deterioration of plastics and polymer gears, belts, etc. It was guaranteed money. After all, as a tech your job is to fix things. If they weren’t breaking then you were out of a job. It also didn’t hurt at all that I’m mechanically inclined. I can look at a mess of gears, sprockets, belts, motors, solenoids, and the like, and pretty much tell you what drives what, in which direction, how fast, and the reason.

However, this blog isn’t about moving parts either…

It’s actually about a USB device. Universal Serial Bus,  in case you aren’t familiar with the acronym. The device in question – that being a flash drive, also called a thumb drive, memory stick, and several other names – has no moving parts. It’s a lovely little piece of circuitry that contains something called NVRAM. Non-Volatile Random Access Memory. Basically, that means that even without power applied it remembers what you told it. And, you can tell it to forget that and remember something else. Or, remember the first thing AND something else… I all depends on how much capacity your flash drive has.

So why all this fuss about USB flash drives?

Well, as an author who happens to be a former electronics tech, I don’t trust computers. They break. I know this. It’s how I made a living… While I specialized in printers, computers have moving parts too. Hard Drives, fans, and the like. Plus, they think they are smarter than us, and on occasion decide to prove it. Mine threw one of these fits back when I was writing my third novel. I was nearing the end of a marathon writing session – back then they all were, because I still had the “day job” and could only write on weekends. During this particular session I had hammered out close to three chapters of Perfect Trust. I blinked. The screen flickered. Then it turned blue. Then silly words about exception errors and the like popped up.

Apparently my computer had taken exception with something I had written, and in retaliation it crashed. But not only did it crash, it corrupted my saved files, as well as my autorecovery file. Yeah. I lost it all, except for the backup I had made the previous week.

After that painful incident, I began backing up more often – like every few pages or so. Not just saving. Saving in multiple places.  And, a copy goes with me. For years the copy was either on a 3.5 inch diskette or a CD-ROM.

Then I got my first USB Flash Drive.

Small. Compact. Bunches of memory. A place to store all sorts of stuff. And, it fit right in my pocket. This was what I had been looking for. A simple way to carry all of my manuscripts and notes around with me, just in case of a catastrophic failure of my system at home, my notebook computer exploding, and my other backups being corrupt. Basically, it was another layer of redundancy that made me feel better about my redundancy. Know what I mean? Of course, it didn’t account for a CMF – that being a Catastrophic Murv Failure.

Well… It was unseasonably warm that year at PUF.

Yeah… I know… It looks like I just changed subjects again, but keep reading…

I had a workshop to do prior to jumping in the van and heading into town for dinner with some friends who lived nearby. Normally I don’t leave events for that sort of thing, but this was a special case and The Big Kahuna was all good with it. Unfortunately, the person using the seminar venue ahead of me ran over with her workshop. Not a big deal, really, except that what ran over was not the workshop itself, but 30 minutes worth of cleanup. I’m not exactly sure what she had been teaching, but she had all manner of props, etc, that she had to pack up and move out before my class could sit down and listen to me ramble. Among the props were 4,897,236 Hershey’s Kisses.

Don’t ask me. Like I said, I haven’t a clue what she was teaching…

At any rate, as a gesture of apology, good will, don’t kill me, or something on that order, she walked over and thrust a handful of these chocolate bombs at me. I tried to politely decline, not being a big chocolate fan, but she insisted that perhaps the o-spring might want them. Conceding, I took the foil wrapped confections from her, and that was when the initial failure began. A failure that would soon cascade into a full blown CMF.

What was the failure, you ask? Simple… I stuffed the Hershey’s Kisses into my pocket.

Yes. I know. Stupid. Why do you think the title of this blog entry is Stupid Murv Tricks? Don’t worry. It gets “stupider”…

So, anyone who has seen me present a workshop knows that I’m not a “calm” sort of speaker. I’m more along the lines of Morris Massey without the leisure suit (yes, my videos are OLD). If you’ve never seen one of his motivational  / training videos, then the simplest explanation I can give you is that I’m all over the stage. I run, jump, wave my arms, yell, talk, laugh, dance, and generally have a good time. Presenting should be fun. Attending a presentation should be fun. See the correlation?

Anywho, and hour or so later, after generating an enormous amount of fat guy body heat, in the unseasonably warm afternoon, presenting a workshop in an outdoor pavilion, there I was, riding along in the passenger seat of the Evil Mobile as we headed out for the dinner. Johnathan Mentos and Dorothy Morrison were in the back with the O-spring, and E K was behind the wheel, as usual. We were chit chatting, comparing notes and generally “debriefing” as we tend to do post seminar, when suddenly everything turned blue.

Well… not really. But it sure seemed that way, for you see a random snippet of information shot through my forebrain. It took the form of a complex mathematical equation involving the integrity of foil wrapping, ambient temperatures, elevated body temperatures, proximity to such, and the melting point of Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses. All of that was divided by the variable, USB Drive In Pocket.

Unfortunately, my math co-processor experienced a glitch, and instead of completing the equation, spawned a virulent sub-routine from my overall operating system.

My mouth engaged, suddenly announcing, “OH SHIT!”

At the same instant, the snippet of faulty op-system code triggered my motor reflexes and blocked all Logic Services from my brain. My arm flew up, then immediately down as I slapped my palm against my pocket. Apparently the subroutine wanted to know if the Hershey’s Kisses were still there.

Unfortunately, they weren’t. In their place was Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. Prior to the catastrophic failure it had been nestled precariously within the confines of the ultra-thin foil wrapping.

Not anymore…

In the end, the USB drive survived, although it seemed a little touch and go there for a bit. To this day it sort of smells like a toll house cookie…

But the thing is, I’m not a huge fan of chocolate…

More to come…

Murv

I’ve noticed lately that bookstores seem to be turning into a room full of ill tempered toddlers with only one toy between them. And, like said cranky diaper fillers, they fight over it until one of them wins, then the losers throw big screaming tantrums.

If I have intrigued you with that comment, please bear with some of the rambling that will ensue and read on.  Especially if you own, run, or manage a bookstore. I promise I’ll try to keep the extraneous verbiage to a minimum for this one.

First off, let me get something important out of the way –  I love bookstores, so I’m not slamming them. Hey, I write books for a living. They are sort of like my office away from home. So, let’s not go spreading vicious rumors about how I hate bookstores, because that would be a lie.

Secondly, but by no means any less important, I know that I’m a lower mid-lister, so don’t accuse me of being a prima dona, especially before you read my explanation of the above commentary. I’m painfully aware of the fact that the PTB’s who create the NYT Bestseller list are oblivious to my existence. If I were to be mentioned to them the likely response would be, “M. R. Who?”… I get that. Also, no one has optioned my books for movies. My wife still has a full time job, because my royalties alone won’t support us – much less buy us a new house, fancy cars, and expensive vacations. Again, I get that. Please make note that I am not complaining about this. I am pointing out that I am well aware that I am not Cornwell-King-Grisham-Patterson-Hamilton-Rowling-ad nauseum. I’m not even Richard Castle, although there is a preponderance of circumstantial evidence pointing to the fact that he could very well be a semi-fictionalized and much more successful version of me. But, that’s another blog.

What we really need to talk about is bookstores.

So, here’s the thing… I made my opening statement because over the past couple of years there have been these bizarre incidents occurring. What I mean by that is this: I will be signing and speaking at a bookstore, whereupon I will discover – sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly – that another bookstore in the same town “wanted me.” The first time or two, this was actually a little heartening. I mean, after all, everyone wants to be wanted, right? Otherwise Cheap Trick would have never topped the charts with that song…

However, this eventually started happening enough that it went beyond flattering and headlong into a chronic case of WTF?itis.

Allow me to illustrate – with words, of course. Drawing really isn’t my strong suit…

I was in another state. I won’t say which because I don’t want to cause trouble for any of the parties involved. The bookstore where I was signing had not only booked me, but had provided airfare, lodging, and meals. Something that is fairly standard in the case of “we must have you on THIS date” sort of bookings that are initiated by a bookstore. It’s different if I am taking myself on tour, my publisher is sending me on tour, or if I just happen to be in the area. So, anyway, all good.

Well, not so much. In the eyes of a different bookstore, anyway. It seems that the management of the big chain bookstore in town, who shall also remain nameless, was angry. So angry, in fact, that they sent employees to the indy bookstore prior to my arrival in order to interrogate the owners about “why I wasn’t coming to their store because THEY wanted me.” Based on what I heard from the store owners AND multiple witnesses, it got a little ugly. Granted, this was all second hand info, and as always must be taken with a grain of salt, but these folks really had no reason to lie.

However, the thing is, the above is merely one incident of many like it over the past couple of years – executed not only by chain bookstores upon indies, but by indies upon other indies as well.

And now we come to the here and now…

Very recently, at the behest of some truly marvelous and hard driving fans, I booked a gig at a store in a town where I am going to be in close proximity during a quick trip for a family reunion. Trust me, it wasn’t easy to work out at my end. Doing this required some extra vacation time logistics on the part of my wife, and she guards those days very closely, so I’m going to owe her one or two – not that this is anything new. At any rate, I have now discovered that the OTHER chain store in town “wants me.” Now, in the interest of full disclosure, there have NOT been any tantrums in this case, as there have been in others. This is a good thing. But I still need to ask a simple question: How was I supposed to know you wanted me at your store? Contrary to popular belief, I am NOT psychic. That’s probably the character in my books you are thinking about there.

Like I said, I know I’m not in demand like a King, Hamilton, Patterson, etc… I get that. But, obviously there must be some demand or this sort of thing wouldn’t be happening. It’s either that, or as I said at the outset, bookstores have turned into a bunch of ill-tempered toddlers looking for something to whine about just for the sake of whining. Honestly, I have a hard time believing the latter. Maybe I’m naive, but hey, I like to think bookstores haven’t gone off the deep end.

So, attention out there bookstores, be you chain or indy. Here’s my deal…

If you are interested in having me sign books and present a reading, seminar, or Q&A at your store, you really need to let me know. If you don’t, then when I happen to be coming to your town on tour or even on a lark, I’m just going to start going down the list of bookstores in the phone book until someone answers and says yes. I’m not expecting you to call me up and beg me to come to your store, so don’t even go there. I’m simply saying, you have to let me know, and if you don’t, then you have absolutely no right to be mad at me or the bookstore where I am appearing. However, I make you this promise: If I know that you’d be interested in hosting a signing I will keep you in my database and when I’m coming to your area you’ll be the first place I call.

All it takes is an email – either to me, or one of my publicists. The info is all right there on my website.

I’m pretty sure this goes for just about any author out there, not just me.  It’s the old lottery tagline: You can’t win if you don’t play.

Of course, if you want me for a specific date, then we have some discussing to do, but that’s a whole different ballgame and we’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.

And, readers, you also might want to take note – the upcoming gig I mentioned is happening because of some very industrious fans who let me know they wanted me to visit their city, and have been working very hard to ramp up excitement about the event now that it is booked.  So, the same thing goes for y’all too. If you want me to come to your city/town, I want to hear about it. That way, when my publicist says, “Murv, where do you want to go on tour?” I can say, “Glad you asked, as it just so happens…”

More to come…

Murv