BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…how to walk in high heels. Trust me, she knows… But, I suppose I should back that up with an explanation.

Now, I have to begin with the fact that we are not talking about E K here. This is not to say that she doesn’t have the aforementioned talent, because she does, in spades. However, in this particular instance I am waxing poetic (as you will see) about another young lady.

As you all well know, I travel a fair bit for book tours and the like – that much is a given. And, during my travels I see things. Sometimes they are frightening, sometimes they are strange, sometimes they are interesting, and sometimes I have no clue what the hell I am witnessing.

And then, there’s Leg Girl.

The Legend Of Leg Girl began several years ago on a weekend trip to Nashville, Tennessee to do a book signing and seminar. My dear friend and fellow author, Tish Owen, also owns a bookstore called Goddess And The Moon. I’ve done several signings there, and I always have a blast hanging out with her, her clientele, her husband Patrick who is my cigar smoking and booze drinking buddy, and all of my other friends there in “music city”.

Well, as the true story goes, one Saturday night after spending the day presenting a workshop on writing, and then signing a mess of books in one of the meeting rooms at the shopping mall across from where Goddess and the Moon was then located – it has since moved – we were going back to the store for a bit of a soiree. Wine, beer, booze, cheese, crackers, munchies, etc. You know the drill. Folks were going to come by, visit, have books signed, get a photo op or two, and all that jazz. Typical book store event sort of stuff. A great chance to just chill out and relax.

Unfortunately, the day had been so hectic for poor Tish and her staff that she had not yet had the opportunity to go pick up the aforementioned noshing items and beverages. Since I had nothing to do between finishing the seminar and the start of the soiree, I volunteered to ride along with Tish and help with the toting, lifting and other such stuff at the grocery store. And so, off we went…

No more had we pulled into the parking lot and begun our search for a space than out in front of us steps “Leg Girl”… All of mid twenties, great hair, hourglass figure, and most prominently on display a set of legs that a Rockette would sell her soul to have. And, I do mean prominently on display, for you see, this entire package was wrapped in nothing more than a sheer blouse, blazer, flared miniskirt – and I do mean MINIskirt – and patent leather stiletto heeled pumps. This was despite the fact that we were at the end of November and the temperature was in the mid forties or thereabouts.

And no, she was NOT a figment of my hormone driven imagination. Tish saw her too. In fact, Tish saw her so well that she was infuriated…

Allow me to explain. You see, Leg Girl literally stepped right out in front of us and began to slowly saunter up the middle of the aisle in the parking lot. Not to the left, not to the right. She was smack dab in the middle of the lane and Tish was unable to get around her. And saunter Leg Girl did. Slowly, deliberately, and swaying with a rhythm that would bring any red-blooded heterosexual male to his knees.

Well, suffice it to say, I had no room on the floorboards in order to get on my knees, not that I didn’t try. Still, even though I was unable to assume the appropriate position of Goddess Worship, I was mesmerized. Tish, however, was most assuredly not. Somehow, and I don’t know how, through my hypnotic stupor I was able to recognize this fact and managed to persuade Tish not to run over Leg Girl – trust me, that took some doing because that was exactly what Tish was intending to do.

Ever since that day, Leg Girl has been a running joke between Tish and me. Every time she books me for a gig at the store, or at PUF, she asks if there is anything special I need, and I always reply, “I need Leg Girl to be my handler for the weekend.” (“Handler” as in liaison / gopher / assistant… Let’s keep it clean here folks…)

Fortunately for me, though always promised by Tish – followed by a healthy chuckle, of course – Leg Girl has never materialized for said duties. Not that I would complain, however E K probably wouldn’t be particularly excited by it. In fact, I’m not really sure which one of us she would kill first…

But anyway, the Legend Of Leg Girl kind of… well… ummm… the legend has legs so to speak – no pun intended. Really. Seriously… But, pun or no, the events of that evening actually inspired a lyrical parody, written by yours truly.

Maybe someday, if we happen to have someone on site who knows all the chords to the original song, I’ll get drunk enough to perform this ditty at PUF…

Leg Girl

(To the tune of Two Hangmen by Mason Proffit)

As I rolled into Nashville with my friend her name is Tish

I saw what I’ll relate to you and it was quite a pretty dish

It seems there was this woman, who had this pair of gams

They went all the way up to her neck, and that’s
where it began

The woman’s name was Leg Girl, the best that I could see

She like to show her legs off, and that’s okay with me

I guess she saw me coming, and donned that mini skirt

And stockings and stiletto heels just so she could
flirt

She walked across the parking lot, right down the center aisle

She swayed and sauntered like a dream, it really made me smile

She stopped a moment in our way and then she tossed her hair

The wind picked up and her miniskirt billowed with
much flair

The driver’s name was Tish Owen, she said this bitch is slow

I’m gonna run her over now if she doesn’t start to go

I said to Tish please don’t do that, I really like this sight

She went to all this trouble so just let her make my night.

The wind continued blowing and gave Leg Girl a goose

She moved a little faster now, but still shook her caboose

Tish was laughing hard at me, as I began to drool

Leg Girl was such an awesome treat that made me
act the fool

Tish finally found a parking space and pulled in with a squeal

Leg Girl was going into the store on teetering high heels

We followed along behind her, and then she disappeared

But I saw her again as we checked out, with a case
or two of beeeeeeeeeeeeeer…

(Chorus)

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

(Repeat Whole Bunches Of Times)

One more time!

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

More to come…

Murv

Yep, it appears that it is once again time for a FAQ answer session filled with FAQ’s and “not so FAQ’s” that are asked a bit more rarely. A few of these are pretty normal questions – exactly the kind you would expect. However, some of these queries are a bit on the odd side. Still, the one thing they all have in common is that they have actually been asked at least once, and in many cases more than once.

True story…

And, you know, I have a strange feeling I’ve answered some of these before… So, since some of them are “Not So F A FAQ’s” with a bit of a weird bent,  I think maybe I’ll answer them with “Not So Answer Answers” and my tongue planted firmly in cheek.

1. What is your safe word?

I’m not entirely sure what makes you think I have one. I mean, what good would it do? E K doesn’t respond to such things.

2. How many more Rowan Gant novels will there be? (This one really is frequently asked, but it bears repeating at this juncture.)

I’ve always said that when people stop buying them I’ll stop writing them. Well, with that statement in mind I’ll give you the only answer I can – Let’s hope the economy and book sales pick up soon or the end of the RGI series will be wayyyyy sooner than I’d like.

3. What is E Kay’s shoe size?

So, what’s your story here? Retifism, Podophilia, or since they go hand in hand a combination thereof? Or should I say foot in foot? Foot in hand? Foot in mouth? Hell, I give up…

In any case, I’ll let you ask her that yourself, and you’d best be prepared to tell her why you want to know. If it’s an innocuous reason – though I’m not entirely sure what that would be, unless maybe you are wanting to give her free shoes or something – then all good. If not, then I want to be present so I can see her go ballistic on someone besides me for a change, whereupon you  just might get the answer to your question when you are finally able to dislodge her shoe from darker regions of your person. Of course, maybe that’s what you are trying to accomplish and well… good luck with that.

4. Do you really cut your own grass?

Nope. Not really. The magical garden gnomes from the land of Zoysia do it with the golden scissors of Fescue…

Of course I mow my own lawn. (ROFL!) Who else is going to do it?

However, if that question was some kind of metaphor, then it doesn’t even apply. Not my thing.

5. I’m an amateur filmmaker. Can I have permission to make the Rowan Gant novels into movies?

Are you going to sell the movies? Are you going to publicly display the movies? There are tons of questions that go along with such things. Better you ask my publisher. They handle the legal stuff.

6. How long have you and Dorothy Morrison been married?

Well, let’s see… As of 10/31/09 E K and I have been officially married 22 years.

Morrison has been married to her husband, Mark, for something on the order of 10 or 11 years I think, but you’d have to ask her to be sure.

Oh, you mean you thought we were married to each other? Nope.

7. Will you tell your publisher to publish my book?

Are you kidding? They don’t listen to me. Next question.

8. Are you Wiccan? (Another frequent query)

No. I studied Wicca for many, many years and at one time self-identified as Pagan, though I no longer do that either. I actually self-identify as a Secular Humanist with Pagan roots who does NOT deny that magic can work. Try fitting that one in the “religion declared” box on a hospital admission form. You have to write really small.

9. How long did it take you to learn Gaelic so you could write Felicity’s dialogue?

Forever. Studying day in, day out. Long nights. Weekends. It was grueling…

Truth is, I don’t know Gaelic. What little I do actually “know” I cannot pronounce to save my life. However,  I do have English to Gaelic dictionaries, phrase books, and more importantly, Anastasia – who does know Gaelic – to help me translate Felicity’s “excited / agitated” dialogue.

10. I heard M. R. Sellars is actually dead and that his books are being released posthumously by his children, and that you are just a shill for the family. Is that true?

You caught me. I’m not actually M. R. Sellars. I’m a paid actor and my real name is Buck Nekkid, wanna see my SAG card?

Sheesh… Are you kidding me?

It amazes me that this rumor is still circulating. Okay, for the umpteen-hundredth time:

My father, M. R. Sellars SENIOR – who never, ever wrote a book – passed away in 2003.

I, M. R. Sellars JUNIOR – the guy who writes the books – am still alive.

Also, I have a child, not children, and she’s only 10. So, in short, no. It’s not true. It’s false.

11. Why a female serial killer? That’s not right. Women shouldn’t kill men. It goes against the natural order of things.

Dude… People shouldn’t kill, period. But, it happens. And,  in my experience, women probably have way more valid reasons to kill men than the other way around. Do yourself a favor though. Don’t ask that question around E K or you might end up being a statistic. Oh, and from the implications behind the question (and the missive surrounding the question, which I am not reprinting here) you appear to have a bit of a misogynistic streak.  You might want to consult a therapist about that…

12. What ever happened with Fuddrucker’s and that blog you wrote about the bad burger in Detroit?

They were actually very nice and tried to make good on it. Unfortunately, I thought the gift card they were going to send me was for their restaurant and that I’d be able to use it while traveling. Instead, for some odd reason, they sent me a gift card to Wal-Mart. As many of you well know – or perhaps not and maybe I should blog about it sometime – E K will NOT allow me to shop at Wal-Mart. She is militantly ANTI-Wal-Mart… Bumper sticker and all…

So, I gave it to a friend who lives far enough away so as to be out of the E K Zone, and therefore he cannot be subjected to the Eebil Stare, etc…

13. I/we would like to invite you to XYZ event in ABC-Town.

Thank you. I appreciate the invitation. While I do some of my own booking, most of it is handled by my publicists. You can contact them via email at – S_Mccoy@sbcclobal.net or Wendy@willowtreepress.com. Either one of them can set things up as well as send you a copy of my event contract outlining my requirements for travel, lodging, and compensation. Just a quick note – my schedule can tend to fill up fast so book early. You may also wish to check my schedule on my website first, but please note – just because a date has not yet been scheduled on that page does not mean it is guaranteed to be free.

14. I am having trouble with this/that/who/what/when and I need you to give me a spell.

I am sincerely sorry that you are having issues with someone or something. You have my deepest sympathies, as I deal with my own issues in my own life as well. That said, and this is probably going to sound harsh, but there’s no way around that – No, I am not going to “give you a spell.”

Here’s the deal: I write fiction novels about a Witch. I do NOT write “how-to” books about magic and Witchcraft. However, even if I did write non-fiction that would not mean I had hung out a shingle purporting myself to be the spell merchant of the Internet.

Yes, I have a rich and diverse background in Earth Based and Magical/Magickal Spirituality, however, just because I write a series of fiction novels featuring such and present a workshop or two on the subject at events, this does not make me your local “Magical Pharmacist” who dispenses spells and charms as if they were generic pain pills and antidepressants.

If you wish to play around with or  better yet, seriously practice Witchcraft, Hoodoo, or any other magical system out there, I would highly suggest you purchase a non-fiction book on the subject and read it beginning to end. There are a enormous number of absolutely fantastic authors out there who write just such tomes, and I even have several of their works on the shelves here in the office for reference myself.

15. You blogged (Hypersonic Man Squee!) that you were going to be on a podcast with, and get to speak to, your all time favorite actress, Megan Gallagher. How did that go?

Ms. Gallagher was absolutely lovely, and I do mean lovely. Down to earth, personable, funny, and an absolute joy to speak with and listen to.

Me, however… I did just what I feared I would do and had even stated on my Myspace page that I would likely do – I went completely fan boy on the poor woman, and blithered like a total idiot. Fortunately, thanks to some absolutely superb editing by the techie co-host of the Millennium Group Sessions, Troy Foreman, I sounded halfway reasonable on the final version of the show that is actually available for download- but only halfway. A good 20 minutes (best guess) of me gushing, rambling, and making a fool of myself ended up in the trash bin (or, more likely made into a “blooper reel” so that Troy and James can play it back and laugh at me. Trust me, I don’t blame them. I would laugh at me too if I wasn’t completely mortified.)

And, if I had to guess I’d say Ms. Gallagher probably hung up the phone  at the end of the interview then immediately contacted the authorities to have an ex parte restraining order sworn out against me. I don’t blame her either. While I am perfectly harmless – and, moreover, painfully embarrassed by my descent into unbridled fannishness – she has no way of knowing that.

If there is a benevolent deity out there somewhere (besides E K, what with her not being all that benevolent, as we well know) it is my sincere hope that I am smiled upon and never have occasion to run into Ms. Gallagher at an S/F Con where I might be appearing, or anywhere else for that matter. If I do, I can guarantee you I won’t have an opportunity to go fan boy again, because I will die right there on the spot, a victim of a massive coronary brought on by my own abject embarrassment over what a complete and utter moron I was during the recording of the interview.

Sounds like it went pretty well, eh?

Okay… That’s about all I can take for this episode. Keep the questions coming and I’ll keep making up crap to answer them.

Seriously. If you have a question email it to me. You just might end up in a blog…

More to come…

Murv