BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

There is an old adage, which basically states: If you give someone enough rope, they will hang themselves.

This is a pretty good deal. It keeps your hands clean and effectively rids you of the annoyances associated with getting a suitable hood for the person, finding a sturdy tree, and even borrowing a horse if you don’t happen to have one.

Yesterday, I posted a blog about my wonderful publicist. How he, of his own volition, brought me a “care package” of some of my favorite comfort foods because he knows I am on a deadline.

Over the past few days, after me trying to be the good brother and set up come creature comforts for Morrison and Madden later this year– behind the scenes, mind you– Madden took it upon herself to make these things public. Of course, in doing so, I became the whipping boy (not that this is particularly unusual, but I’d grown accustomed to not being flogged in public since it hadn’t happened in a while. Guess I just got complacent…My bad.)

At any rate, today, Madden has once again seen fit to post not ONE, but TWO blogs tossing sour grapes in my direction. Why? Because my publicist did something nice for me, and I thanked him and sang his praises in my blog .

Hence, give someone enough rope, they’ll hang themselves. Madden has just proven out her “Divaness” by being jealous and going on and on about it…

Poor Bird Lady… I guess all those feathers have finally gotten to her.

More to come…

Murv

PS. For those of you who might not know this– These tit for tat blogs between Dorothy, Kristin, and me are all in fun. We actually had someone think we were serious some time ago, and I don’t want that happening again. We are all incredibly good friends, and we are merely picking at one another for fun.

I actually have two of them. One is Wendy with WillowTree Press. The other is Scott McCoy who is an independent, outside publicist – meaning he is with an outside firm, not the publisher proper. This blog is about him. We all affectionately refer to Scott as “Chunkee”, because he’s a big guy. (I have to pull a Rowan and look up, just like Row does when he’s talking to Ben.)

Anyhow, I am fortunate in several ways having Chunkee and Firestorm Publicity Services… For one, Firestorm is located in St. Louis, where I live, so they are local. Makes it easier to meet up with the Chunk Man. For another, Chunkee is a good friend, as well as being my publicist. And, finally, he is more than just a friend and publicist, he’s kind of like a personal assistant as well.

To explain, he not only puts out press releases and other things that a publicist does, but he also books my gigs, handles a lot of my correspondence, and has even acted as “bodyguard” on the couple of occasions when that has been necessary.

Now, if all that isn’t enough, he also understands when it is crunch time for me trying to get a manuscript in by deadline. He knows that when such times arrive, I need not be disturbed unless it is something incredibly important. But, he also knows that I get moody and need comfort type stuff…

So, here we are at crunch time. I have a deadline to hit in about 10 days. So, I’m busy. I’m grouchy. And, I’m in need of those things which comfort my very soul.

Chunkee could tell this by the simple tone of my email responses to him…

Therefore, as I sat here at the dining room table, tapping away at the keyboard yesterday, I heard a car door, then the storm door on the front of my house creaking open. A moment or two later, I heard the car door again, followed by a vehicle pulling out of my driveway and heading off down the street. No doorbell. No knock. Nothing.

Curious, I went to the door and noticed through the windows that the storm door was propped open. Now… Like Rowan, my heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t expecting any kind of delivery, and I have had stalkers in the past… My initial thoughts were– If I open the door is something going to explode? Will it maybe be some flaming poo instead? What could it be?…

So, with great trepidation I carefully opened the door. There, resting on the threshold I found a grocery bag with a note from Chunkee pinned to it, which read simply:

Care Package For Murv.

Looking inside I found a six pack of Blue Moon Belgian White Ale, a bag of “scoop” corn chips, and a jar of chili cheese dip. Three of my favorite comfort foods.

All I can say is Chunkee be the man. I couldn’t ask for a better publicist, or a better friend.

More to come…

Murv