BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yeah…dying.

And, I don’t mean like up on stage or anything. Although, that has happened too. I once gave a workshop to about two dozen people who sat there quietly, never asked a question, cracked a smile, or even showed any expression on their faces. Apparently they didn’t find me anywhere near as amusing or informative as I find myself. So, I had no choice but to ask Morrison to turn them all into frogs. I mean, what are big sisters for if they can’t defend their little brothers from crap like that?

There I go doing that digressing thing again…I must have adult onset ADD or something. (No, not making light of the disorder at all. The way my brain bounces around I often wonder if I have a mild case of it…)

Hold on…Need more coffee…

That’s better…and see there? It didn’t take anywhere near as long as you thought it would.

Okay, so back to this dying thing…

Long about Monday afternoon the flu hit me. I’m pretty much figuring it was the flu because it was sudden–as in the symptoms literally appeared over the span of a couple of hours–and were accompanied by a fever, chills, body aches, and all the debilitating crap that comes with the actual influenza virus. And, after a few days of sweating it out, I started feeling better. So, though I don’t even play a doctor on TV (although I’ve had a few of them as characters running around in my books) I have officially diagnosed what I had as the flu. So there.

Oh…And, yes, I DID have a flu shot. I’m an old guy, so I always get one. And, I made it through the whole flu season without getting ill…Now this. Either the shot wore off, or it didn’t account for this fugged up strain…

Anyway, so the problem is that the feeling better only lasted about a day. Actually, around 18 hours at most. Then I plummeted right back into miserable. However, I think this time it is either a cold, brought about by my immune system having been weakened by the flu, or it is just some horrid aftermath of the flu virus itself. Not sure which.

I won’t go into too many gory details, suffice it to say I am horribly congested and have a nasty–and overly productive–cough. (yech!) The body aches WERE gone, but now they are back…However, I can literally trace this new round of pains directly to the violent coughing fits.

Like I said, I’m dying here. Now, aren’t you glad I shared?

Okay…I suppose I should write something worthwhile in this blog to make reading it worth your time, rather than just grouse about feeling bad. (Although, if you ask Morrison, she will be happy to tell you that after seeing my astrological chart, it’s pretty obvious that “it’s all about me,” so I suppose I am allowed to complain for a bit–yeah, big sisters pick on you too. That’s one of the downsides *grin*…So do younger sisters. Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you Madden. Guess it’s a sister thing. I’d say it was a female thing, but wives are a different story. They don’t just pick on you. They subjugate you and then use you as an oversized Ken™ doll when they feel like dressing someone up other than themselves…But that’s another story, for another blog…*LOL*)

What’s that? Oh yeah…I said I would write something worthwhile…Okay. You’re right…Guess I’d better get to it then…

So, important stuff. Hmmm…Well, this might be of interest:

Even with all this being sick and stuff I managed to finish a Rowan Gant Investigations short story for submission to an anthology which is being put out by a different publisher. Even though WillowTree has dibs on all the future novel length Rowan Gant books ad infinitum, there wasn’t an issue with the characters appearing elsewhere, which is a good thing. It allows those crazy kids to go explore other stuff and get in trouble elsewhere for a change.

I can’t really say much about the anthology right at the moment, but as soon as I can, I will. What I can reveal is that the editor really liked the story. I suppose it helps that she was already a fan, but as I’ve said in the past, editors are evil. My WTP editor is a fan too, but she never hesitates to tell me if she hates something. I can only assume that it is an “editor gene sequence” and that they all will be brutally honest. At least, that has been my experience. However, the thing about all this is that since the setting for this piece was a bit of a departure for my characters, I was a fairly worried about effectively implementing it.

Apparently I was losing sleep over nothing.

Either way, like I said, as soon as I am free to run off at the mouth I will be doing so. You know me, and since it is about me, well…just ask Morrison. *grin*

Let’s see…Did I mention that I am miserable sick? I did? Okay…just checking…

Hmmmm…Well, I don’t know if I am in a frame of mind to answer any of the FAQ/Questions of the week right now. Maybe in a couple of days…Or, later next week actually, since I am buried with writing and my blogging needs to take a back seat to that…Which means, only one or two blogs per week right now as I am sure you’ve noticed…In fact, I’ve even received email about it.

So…how about some RGI trivia? Sound good? ‘Kay, here goes:

Little Known Trivia About the RGI Series

1) Various homicide detectives and patrol cops in the RGI series who are recurring peripheral type characters, requiring little to no development but still needing a name other than “hey you”, are named for the various English/Lit teachers/profs I had in high school and college: Ackman, Golden, Osthoff, Martin, and many others.

2) Yes. The recurring character named “Murv”–the lead crime scene technician with the SLPD Crime Scene Unit–is me. Kinda one of those Hitchcockian/Kingian cameo things. (Yeah…all about me again… *snicker*)

3) The cameo character of the news helicopter pilot in The Law Of Three, while never actually given a name, was an homage to St. Louis news helicopter pilot and hometown hero Allen Barklage, who was killed in a crash September 25th, 1998. Like the character in the book answered in reply to a question from Rowan, Barklage actually was a member of the 192nd AHC (Attack Helicopter Company) in Vietnam. As if surviving that weren’t enough, he gained notoriety here in STL for not only surviving, but foiling (while in flight) an attempt to hijack his helicopter so that it could be used for a prison break. Barklage was also responsible for using his aircraft to rescue a person who had jumped from a local bridge into the Missouri River.

4) I actually thought this one was glaring, but while some folks caught it, many others did not. No, I’m not commenting on the intelligence of the reading public here. I am just observing that I may have overestimated the “obviousness” of this bit of trivia. Of course, since I “already know the answer before I write the question,” all of it seems terribly obvious to me. Anyhow, Eldon Andrew Porter, the recurring antagonist who first appeared in Never Burn A Witch, shares his  initials with a famous author. His name was derived from the initials EAP (obviously) which are the same as one of my all time favorite writers, Edgar Allen Poe.

Okay…there are many more tidbits I can reveal, but I think I’ll leave them for another day. I need to go hack up a lung then grab some more coffee.

Hope everyone else out there is feeling better than I do right now. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone…

Welllll…that’s not entirely true. Maybe I’d wish it on Barbara Albright and Eldon Porter…

MR/Murv

(This post is in response to a comment left when the Yule Poem was originally posted on Myspace…)

Yes, Jo, I am often amazed that EK doesn’t strangle me as well…

However, I feel compelled to give you all the history behind my version of “Twas the Night Before Xmas”…And, no, it isn’t because EK has me in a choke hold, or that she is standing over me with a flogger…

(Probably because she’s at work right now .)

Anyhow, the posted version of “TwasXmas” is one that is slightly tweaked, with a couple of extra verses added. The “original” psycho-redheaded-material girl filk of this timeless poem was written by me back in December, 1995. Yes, pre Rowan Gant (but not by much, as I began writing the short stories upon which the RGI series are based in 1996.)

Some of you may be aware that I had a long career as a Senior Level Electronics Technician, and in July of ’95 I was stolen away from the service center I managed by a company that had landed a lucrative contract with none other than Western Union. They needed someone capable of doing component level repair on old Concord Payment Terminals. Now, while I had never even seen one of these blue beasts before going to work for this company, I was part of a dying breed of technician–meaning, not only could I work on computers, but I actually knew how to use an Oscilloscope, Logic Probe, Solder/Desolder Station, as well as being able to read schematics. This meant that I could take one of these little beggars apart, track down the offending components (logic IC’s, resistors, capacitors, crystals, what have you) and replace them. They offered me A BUNCH of money to come work for them, as well as some especially tidy bonuses if I could meet a particular quota of repairs. At the risk of blowing my own horn, I actually did 2.5 times the quota each year–so the bonuses were very nice.

So, there is the setup. I left a management position to become a bench tech for another company. While that seems a step down, the dollars made it quite a step up.

However, something I discovered after joining this company is that during the annual Xmas Party, the newest member of the staff was required to Sing, Dance, or in some fashion briefly entertain the rest of the staff. Having been hired on in July, I hoped that I would be spared by a more recent hire but alas, that was not to be. When the holiday party rolled around, I was still the newest kid on the block, and 2 minutes of silly entertainment was expected of me.

Since I cannot carry a tune in a bucket, even if I have help, (just ask the Barstool Prophets…I sat in with them during a party held in my honor at Violet Flame Gifts in Ohio and croaked through a song or two…in my defense I was rather inebriated, but I digress…) As I was saying, since my ear is apparently composed of a tin-aluminum alloy, I asked if it would be okay for me to recite a poem instead. (Yeah, I can’t dance either…think Elaine from Seinfeld)…They were all for that and so it was set. However, you know me. I couldn’t see my way clear to recite something serious, and “TwasXmas” was born.

I actually have the two fading yellow sheets of legal pad paper upon which the original version was written here on my desk. I dug them out of my files so that I could transcribe the bit of rhyme here, and of course, decided to tweak it a bit in the process…(One of those silly writer things)

But, this isn’t where the story ends…(Yeah, here comes the part about EK)…The poem was written all in fun. The absolute truth of the matter is that EK is one of the most practical individuals on the face of the earth. Were the scenario in the poem real, she would be more likely to offer the fat SOB a Scotch, then sit down and calmly talk to him about her list which would contain such items as warm socks, an electric blanket, or maybe some new towels for the linen closet. I kid you not.

Yes, Virginia, the only thing material about my redhead is the fact that I spoil her with material things whenever I can afford it. Oh, she’s still Evil, don’t misunderstand. She’s just not a material kind of Evil…

So, there you have it.

MR