BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

How y’all are?

As I’m sure you’ve noticed from the lack of bloggage of late, I’ve been wayyyyy too busy. So…what have I been doing? Well, stuff, and things, and stuff. You know…things you have to do when there are things that need doing.

Yeah, real specific there, eh?

Okay, I suppose I should be a bit more forthcoming. Primarily, I’ve been traveling. Over the past few weeks I’ve been in Virginia, Maryland, Nevada, and Arizona just to name a few places.

This Friday morning (yeah, like day after tomorrow) I hop another plane and head for Spokane, WA. Fortunately, even with all this being away from home, my kid still remembers my name and I haven’t found anyone else’s shoes under my bed…so, I’m pretty sure Evil Kat hasn’t replaced me yet, or even started the application process. Which is a good thing, because she’s way too busy to train another husband.

So…on the Spokane deal. I have a layover in Salt Lake City on my way, which is where I meet up with Morrison and we catch a flight into Spokane where we will be appearing at the Conscious Living Expo. Per our itineraries, my flight in from St. Louis lands about 6 minutes before Morrison’s flight from Virginia. So, I have 6 minutes to find her gate and meet up with her so we can shuffle off to our connecting flight. No big deal, right? Guess again…

Now, I don’t know if any of you have ever walked through an airport with Morrison, but I have. Here’s the thing–under normal, everyday circumstances, Morrison walks at the same pace as your average human being. This is NOT the case when you put her in an airport. For some reason– perhaps the fumes from the jet fuel, I dunno–when faced with an airport concourse, Morrison turns into a sprinter. It doesn’t matter if she has 3 hours before her connection, she does the 4 minute mile from one gate to the next. Last time I had to do this we met up in Denver on our way to Reno for the Northern Nevada PPD, and there I was cruising along at a brisk pace, thinking everything was normal…But nooooooo…30 seconds later I look up and realize that Morrison is about 25 yards ahead of me and widening the gap. On top of that, she was completely oblivious to the fact that I had been left in the dust and was just jabbering away to thin air. (Yes, it was thin…We were, after all, in Denver.)

So, you see, I am going to need to wear running shoes just to deal with this layover, because the TSA isn’t about the let me bring a tranquilizer dart with me in order to slow Morrison down.

Okay, enough of that. Morrison is getting wayyyyy too much air time in MY blog.

Speaking of airtime…Thursday (10/11) at 3:15PM (Pacific Time) I will be doing a short phone interview with Tanya Tyler, one of the radio personalities at KZZU 92.9FM. They apparently have a stream on their site so you can listen via the internet if you are so inclined. You can find it here- www.kzzu.com. I’m not sure what we are going to talk about, but I guess we’ll all find out. If you happen to live in the Spokane area, according to the website Tanya is giving away tickets to the Conscious Living Expo all week.

So, let’s see…What else is going on…Oh, yeah, by popular demand, Miranda has her own Myspace page now. You can find her here- Miranda’s Myspace. Go ahead and send her a friend request if you are feeling brave. I have a feeling she’s looking for more victims.

Other than that, well…I’m basically spending a lot of time cleaning up around the house and that sort of domestic type thing. What I REALLY need to be doing is packing for Friday, but as usual I am dragging my feet. I did, at least, get my suitcase out and set it in the living room. I suppose I should get busy and go put some stuff in it…

More to come…

Murv

Being the marketing whore I am, I belong to several e-lists, forums, and even social networking sites (other than MySpank here). I would like to point out, however, that I am more along the line of a high-priced call-marketer, rather than the street corner quickie. Why? Because I try to show a little class.

I take great pains to avoid being one of those incredibly ridiculous, in your face authors who twists any and all subjects around to a mention of their latest book. For example, say you have a thread where someone says “I like oranges”…If for some odd reason I was to throw my two cents in there, it would be something along the lines of “Yeah, me too. Especially the navel oranges because I don’t like seeds.” Whereas, some of the cheaper, street corner author-whores might seize upon that opportunity to post something like, “Well, if you like oranges you should read my latest novel because in chapter 15, my protagonist, Buck Naked, eats an orange before going out to track down the bad guy, Chronic Halitosis.”

I know…It sounds utterly ridiculous, doesn’t it? Well, even though I have never seen a post specifically about an orange, I have seen some just as convoluted…Some, even worse. We call this Blatant Shameless Self-Promotion. (BSSP or BSP) While self-promotion is an absolute must for authors, being so completely insane about it is…well…just icky.

What in blue blazes does this have to do with pink toenails? Not a damn thing. I just wanted to make it clear that while I’ll readily admit to being a whore, I’m neither cheap nor easy. And, “I gots class.”

Okay…So now that we have established that, back to the topic at hand. Actually, the above really does have some small amount to do with this– that being the fact that I belong to so many different lists, forums, and social networking interfaces on the web. What it comes down to is that I see a whole mess of discussions on a whole mess of different topics. Some of them so-so, some of them interesting.

And there you have it. One of these topics on a forum recently caught my attention. In fact, it has appeared on several forums, and even as commentary/questions in my personal email. While I didn’t feel a need to toss my two cents in on it at the time (nothing had been mentioned about oranges in any of the threads or emails, so why would I?) events of the last day have led me to blog about this subject…

The topic in question was, “What do authors do in their free time?”

Some of the speculation was interesting. People commented about different authors they had met in person, stating that they seemed like down to earth folks who would fit right in with their personal circle of friends. Some wondered if it was a taboo to offer to buy lunch for an author or would you be seen as a stalker (for the record, we like free lunches…but not stalkers.) Others waxed prophetic about how much fun we must be having in our multi-million dollar homes with the indoor-outdoor pools, and high-caliber celebrities coming over for parties. I am sincerely hoping that those commentaries were tongue in cheek, because I have yet to be issued my mansion and yacht…

So, in addition to the “wonder if authors hang out with their friends who knew them before they were authors” kind of questions (yes, we do, BTW), there were the typical “what’s a day in the life of an author like?”

Well…I could ramble on for hours, boring you with the details of getting up in the morning, getting my wife off to work, my daughter off to school, doing dishes. cleaning up cat barf from a geriatric, diabetic feline, spreading notes out on the table and plotting a chapter. Then, typing for a couple of hours, deciding it isn’t right and cutting and pasting for a while, only to go back and write it all over again. Making a fresh pot of coffee while eating a sandwich over the sink…Answering the phone only to discover that it is a radio interview you forgot you were supposed to do but your mouth is full of braunschwieger and swiss on whole wheat with a bread and butter pickle slice…So you wash it down and get on with the interview only to discover that the interviewer has never read your books, or even a synopsis–just two lines of the press release. Therefore, she has concluded that you must be an FBI agent and you spend 11 minutes of the 15 minute interview fielding questions you can’t possibly answer about the inner workings of Quantico while trying to convince her that you do NOT work for the FBI…Finally, you get that done and say to yourself “now where was I?”. You manage to get back to what you were doing (writing…after all, that’s what we do) and if you are lucky you get your self-imposed quota written for the day just in time to get your happy ass into the kitchen and make dinner before evil wife person and the kid get home…And, you do ALL of this without ever once wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches. (My preferred mode of dress is much classier. Cargo shorts, a t-shirt, tube socks, and if I have to run out to the post office or something, my tan Crocs…See a previous blog for details on those…)

Not very glamorous, eh? Kind of like going to the office, working on a project only to discover the data you got from Fred is wrong, so you have to redo half of it…however, you get interrupted by the boss because he/she needs you to stop what you are doing and take care of something else, even though it is something you aren’t qualified for and would be better done by Sally in accounting. Only to wind up your day picking up a bucket of chicken on the way home because the spouse has to take the kid to soccer practice. But, when you arrive late you discover the dog couldn’t hold it so he crapped in your living room…

See the parallel’s there?

“But, Murv! What the holy hell does this have to do with pink toenails?” you demand.

That should be obvious from paragraph 10. I have a daughter, and she’s at “that age.” No, not the age where she brings boys home and I sit in the living room cleaning guns. That’s a few years off yet. She’s still a munchkin and she is at that stage where she wants to be a girly girl (which is fine) but she also wants everyone around her to be pretty too.

So…What did this author do with his free time yesterday? After doing the grocery shopping and other exciting crap like that, he let his 7 year old daughter paint his toenails pink (along with a good portion of his toes).

My wife claims there’s no nail polish remover to be had in the house. I’m pretty sure she’s lying. I can tell by the evil grin.

Till the next time…

Murv