BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Sounds like fun, eh?

Well, let us see how it works out. Truth is, this blog is really more about me jumping up on the stump and flapping my gums than anything else, but I will admit that I am also just a bit confused…

Oh, and this is probably going to be a bit lengthy too, so be forewarned.

I am going to start by making a public admission. That being, I ain’t right. The fact is, I was raised with a very odd set of values. I blame my family for this – parents, grandparents, etc. And, because of them and their influence over me as a young child, I am now socially defective. You see, it has been ingrained in me that if you don’t have something nice to say about someone, well, you just keep your mouth shut. [1]

Now, obviously we live in a day and age where there are far more public forums than there were when I was younger. Add to that the fact that everyone has an opinion, and is more than happy to express it, myself included. Hell, just look at some of my blogs. Expressing opinions is one of those cherished freedoms we all have. However, because of my twisted social defect, I tend to express opinions about things without bringing names into it. I generalize, using generic pronouns and silly things like that. See [1]. (Uh-huh, you knew I had a reason for the notations, now didn’t you?)… I also try not to contradict myself. I might not always succeed, but I do make it a point to watch out for that, and correct myself or admit it if I am wrong. (Okay, before we go any further with this, let’s remember that the picking back and forth between Dorothy Morrison, Kristin Madden, and me, is all just fun and playing around. None of us are really saying anything bad about the others…)

Now, on the subject of opinions. I certainly don’t expect everyone to agree with mine. If they did, then it wouldn’t be my opinion anymore. It would be a 100% majority consensus. Therefore, life would get boring very fast.

By this same token, I don’t expect everyone to like my books. Would it be really cool if they did? Well sure. But, contrary to what some of my detractors might wish to believe, I didn’t actually fall of the turnip truck yesterday. Hell, the only turnips we grew were in the garden, so we didn’t need a truck for them. Our cash crops were wheat, corn, soy beans, and tobacco. And, no, I didn’t fall off the wheat/corn/soy bean/tobacco truck yesterday either. Therefore, I neither expect nor believe that everyone is going to like my books. Some will, some won’t. All good.

So… There is this unwritten rule in the author game. Don’t read your reviews, and if you do anyway, don’t comment on them. Now, this rule gets broken all the time by authors who are bouncing around on the NYT Bestseller list. Why? Because they only risk losing a few grand in royalties by pissing in a detractor’s cornflakes and raising a stink. A few grand to them is nothing.

To a mid-lister like me, a few grand is more like a huge percentage of the annual paycheck.

So, since the only NYT Bestseller list I’ve seen so far is the one I have read (i.e. not been on) I try to follow these rules very closely. The truth is, I avoid reading my reviews like the plague. Good or bad. Because, for every 10 good reviews, there will always be that one bad review that makes you angry, or depresses you, or even hurts your feelings. (yeah, authors have feelings too. Don’t tell anyone) So, it’s all part of the game. Of course, my skin is much thicker now than it used to be, so on the few occasions when I accidentally run across a bad review and cannot tear my eyes away from it (they have kind of a train wreck magnetism, trust me) I just tend to blow it off.

Some shining examples of the stuff I ignore –

1) When the anti-fans say things about typos, I know they A) Either managed to get their hands on an early copy of Harm None which was mistakenly printed using the wrong digital files, and for which both the Publisher and I have repeatedly apologized profusely, or B) They are so insanely pedantic that one or two typos in an entire book send them into a tizzy. I figure it must be hard being as perfect as they are, so I feel as though I have to cut them some slack.

2) When anti-fans complain about my writing style. Well, there you go. We all have opinions about style, and I can’t make you like mine.Guess what? There are big name authors out there who have styles I cannot stand for the life of me. It’s just one of those things.

3) Here’s a good one – “Oh My God, Sellars Put Sex In His Novels, I’ll Never Read Them Again!!! News At Eleven!!!” All I can say to that is, “Wow“…. These folks must be really frustrated or terribly lonely. Of course, I find it especially amusing when they preface that statement with “I’m not a prude, but…”

Now, I have to admit that there are still those that make me go WTF? They are commentaries or reviews that are so off the wall, or self contradictory, that they immediately spark my inner Andy Rooney…So. instead of laughing at it, I begin to analyze it (which usually just makes me more confused)…And, when that happens, well, we all know I just have to say something…

For instance, there are the anti-fan commentaries like:

1) “Well I wanted a mystery but what I got was a suspense-thriller, therefore this book is terrible”… Okay…. So if you wanted a mystery, why did you buy a book that is plainly touted to be a suspense-thriller? Maybe I’m missing something here, but the way I do things is that I generally buy what I want. I don’t buy something that is obviously NOT what I want, then complain about it. Oh well, I’m sure that is jut me being socially defective again…

Or

2) When anti-fans complain about the magick or psychic abilities being over the top… “Wiccan’s can’t really do that! This is terrible! 1 star for this piece of dreck, and that’s only because Amazon won’t let me give it 0 stars! Blech! Phooey. Don’t read this!” Well, you should have seen what the big New York publisher who was originally set to publish the RGI series wanted me to put in there. If you think the magick is over the top the way I wrote it… Well, let’s just say you would have flipped if I had been willing to cave to their pressures and concept of “real witchcraft” [2] (their words, not mine)…

Now, honestly, the above example still does get under my skin a quite a bit… Why? Because it says right there in the front of the books that they are  fiction. I don’t know how much more plain it can be. But, what really gets me is that the vast majority of the folks who lodge this complaint in an Amazon or other public review forum have also posted glowing, sometimes even blubbering, fannish, 5 star reviews of books like the Harry Potter series, or any number of other Urban Fantasy novels/series that revolve around things far more outlandish than anything I have ever written.

Hello? Is this thing on? You say you like Urban Fantasy… And the reason you publicly trashed my book(s) is because it is/they are Urban Fantasy, and not a primer for Wicca 101 in convenient fictional format.

Sorry, but it just gives me a headache trying to understand that reasoning…

[2] Hmmm…Maybe that’s the problem. I didn’t go far enough over the top for them.

So… my latest Andy Rooney moment came today when I was checking some Amazon stats for S’s & G’s, and I accidentally scrolled down too far. My eye fell upon one of those single stars, and before I knew it I was reading the text beneath. You know, the whole aforementioned train wreck magnetism thing. Trust me, it really sucks…

Anyway… This one star review was apparently posted by someone who has met me at an event, because it started with (and I’m paraphrasing here) “First off I love this author, he’s kind and funny…” or something like that. It then goes on to say “…but I hate his books….” Then there is something alluding to the over the top magick, followed by a statement of not being able to recommend my books to anyone…As I said, I’m paraphrasing a bit because I haven’t gone back to look at it again… Why? Simple. It makes my brain hurt trying to untwist the logic pretzel…What I mean by that is if I am so loved, why did this person see fit to slam my work in a public forum?

You know, I’m all good with the fact that someone might not like my work. And, I am all good with folks having opinions and expressing them.. I think I have made that obvious here and elsewhere. And, I suppose I can see where it’s possible someone might like ME but not my books. I prefer to think that I’m pretty likeable…Again, all good…

But, I’ll be honest, that commentary sure seemed like a bit of a contradiction… I mean, it definitely didn’t make me feel loved.

So, I guess if that’s an example of love, I sure would hate to see what that person might have said if I was hated instead. Damn, I suppose something like that might even make me cry.

More to come…

Murv

…And an E…BOOZE RUN!

Okay, so I’m not so good with songs, but that was the best I could do with the word booze since the song BEER RUN was going through my head.

Now, in reality I had intended to blog about Jane (aka The Bitch in the Box), because yes, I really do think Jane is kinda hot. Even if she is simply a box of electronic components with a sexy voice that sits on the dashboard and barks orders. (turn here, turn there, take the motorway, etc…)

But, Morrison beat me to it. Go figure. (But, what with Morrison getting on in years and not really being quick on the draw, I guess I should just let her have that one and call it good ) If you want to read about it, go here: Bitch In The Box.

So…Anyway, back to the Booze thing. What I am about to tell you is a little known secret about Morrison. She’s a bootlegger. Well, actually, I don’t suppose she’s a bootlegger in the strictest sense, but that’s what I like to call her. Why? Because it’s fun to pick on Morrison.

Anyhow, here’s the deal. New Hampshire has no sales tax. They also sell their booze in State owned and operated, discount liquor stores. So, wine and spirits are much cheaper there than in most other places throughout the US. Anywhere from a few bucks to even 20 bucks per bottle, depending on what you are buying.

So…Whenever we are on tour through New England, and have a need to pass through New Hampshire, or near New Hampshire, or within some secretly prescribed spitting distance radius (to which I am not privy) around New Hampshire, we go liquor shopping.

Not for just a couple of bottles, mind you.

Morrison fills a suitcase.

A big suitcase.

Really.

There have even been threats of leaving me and my luggage on the side of the road in order to fit the bounty into the vehicle.

I’m serious.

Now, lest you think wrongly and assume I am telling you Morrison is a drunk, let me dispel that. Morrison rarely drinks. I’ve known her for years and have seen her take maybe three drinks that entire time. She’s just not a drinker. No kidding.

Smoker? Well, that’s another story entirely, but she already lives in a place where cigarettes are cheap…And, of course, there is always the coffee.

(Yes, folks, that is REALLY just coffee in that cup…I know it for a fact. I’ve made enough of it for her when she’s stayed with us…Hell, I even have a 2 burner, 3 minute Bunn™ that I keep going at all times when she is here. Note, that when she is staying with us is the only time that piece of equipment actually sees action. We affectionately call it “The Morrison”. as in, “Hey, did you get The Morrison out of the basement? Morrison is gonna be here any minute,” and “Hold on while I fire up The Morrison. If she wakes up and there’s no coffee we’re all gonna get killed.”)

So, nope, Morrison is definitely not a drunk. But, she still fills a suitcase with assorted bottles of booze. You see, whenever we are going to be within the secret spitting distance of New Hampshire, Morrison’s husband and friends make out a list, check it twice, and then send her on a mission to return with good booze at discount prices. So ritualistic is this practice that I have now been on three separate “booze runs” with Morrison. It’s a good thing the folks in New Hampshire put several of these liquor stores right out on the highway near the state line. You almost have to wonder if they are doing that just to lure folks in.

Anyway, this tour we did a booze run. As usual, while Morrison was in the parking lot tossing things everywhere in order to fill the suitcase, I stood by with my diminutive personal stash– a bottle for me, and a nice bottle of Scotch as a gift for my wife.

Now, here’s the sad part of the story. And, it actually has nothing to do with Morrison, as amazing as that may seem.

I flew home on Saturday (6/2)…I had left behind my open bottle at Morrison’s place because I drink enough of their booze when I am on the road with her that I am sure I owed them at least that. Probably more. Unfortunately, I was so wiped out from the 15 days on the road, (yes, from the time on the road, not from the drinking) that by the time Saturday rolled around, my brain was firing on only one cylinder and it had a bent valve at that.

Yes…Without thinking, I put my wife’s gift– a rather expensive (even by New Hampshire discount standards) bottle of 16 year old, French Oak Cask Aged, Reserve, Glenlivet Single Malt Scotch– into my carry-on. I know better than this. I have logged more hours in the air than some flight attendants, so I know what I can and cannot take in a carry-on.

But, I did it anyway…Like I said, without thinking. Most likely because my brain simply wasn’t up to thinking.

So…At Dulles International airport, there is now a TSA official with a very nice bottle of Scotch. They told me they were going to throw it away, but I argued with them about that, insisting that at least ONE of them HAD to be a Scotch drinker, and that if they were going to confiscate it anyway, they needed to do me the kindness of keeping it as a gift, with my compliments, and raising a glass to me as they enjoyed it.

I’ll admit, it was my mistake stuffing it into the wrong suitcase…This certainly qualifies me for the idiot of the year award…

…But, if those TSA folks threw that bottle of Scotch in the trash, then I think I am in no danger of winning, because that would make them bigger idiots that me.

More to come…

Murv