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  • A Day At The Office…

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    “Nyah, nyah, I win…” Mike said to Luets.

    You remember Mike and Luets, correct? I wrote about them just the other day in the blog about how competitive Luets is, and during that blog I also pointed out just exactly how non-competitive Mike happens to be. However, I also noted that he “lives to get one over on Luets”, so I guess in a weird sort of way, he is competitive. Just with Luets and nobody else.

    However, none of that explains why he was giving her the, “Nyah Nyah” treatment. But, trust me, I was just as confused at the time as you probably are now. So, are your seatbelts fastened? Good, because it’s subject whiplash time.

    We live in a small house.

    It’s not tiny, mind you. It’s definitely larger than the duplex apartment E K and I lived in early on in our relationship. And, it’s also much larger than several other houses I’ve been in over the years. But, by the same token, it’s just a 100+ year old, 1.5 story bungalow in a relatively quiet neighborhood. When we bought it, we were after a fixer-upper, and that’s exactly what we got. And, fix up we have. While it isn’t a showpiece by any stretch of the imagination, it’s not bad for what we started out with – as well as the limited funding available to us in our earlier days. Suffice it to say, the house is small but nice, and more importantly, we own it, not the bank. Yes, the house is paid off. Free and clear. Our little corner of the world. I could secede from the union if I wanted… And, still might. But, that’s a different story.

    Still, small as it is, it was always just fine for us – until the o-spring came along, that is. The thing being, children are sort of like that foam insulation you spray into cracks to seal up drafts. Once you let them out of the proverbial can, they just expand exponentially – and I’m not just talking about their physical growth. What I mean is that everything they own takes up every available inch of space in your home. Even though it will all fit into said child’s room, it grows legs and deposits itself everywhere BUT said room.

    But, I’m digressing… Although, only a little…

    You see, when O-spring came along, E K and I gave up the master bedroom (which happens to be the only one on the main floor) and turned it into a “nursery” which has since become the o-spring’s room. This meant that we moved up into the half story. To accomplish this we turned the old loft-like storage room into a bedroom. Well, actually our contractor buddy Steve (see the hell house blogs) did. And, the room directly across the stair landing remained our office.

    So, whenever you see one of my status updates on a social networking site or one of these blogs mentioning me being in my office, that’s where I am. Across the landing from our half story bedroom. Said office – with the exception of a few airplanes, hotel rooms, and a stint in our dining room when the A/C was broken – is exactly where all of the Rowan Gant novels have been written. That also goes for the novelette, and just about every article I’ve ever penned for any magazine, e-zine, website, or whatever. It’s my office. It’s where I work. I really don’t think of it as much of anything other than a room where I go do my job.

    Seriously.

    It’s nothing fancy by any stretch. A sloped, peaked ceiling, some walls, a counter, some cabinets, and a couple of desks. Sure, I’ve networked the hell out of it, but then I’ve done that to the whole house. That’s just something that came along with being a computer tech for so many years. But still, all in all, it’s just a room. A room where I go to work.

    So, imagine my surprise when Mike looked at Luets and said, “Nyah, nyah, I win…”

    And then, she proceeded to pout.

    Being the curious person I am, it was a moral imperative that I ask what was going on. And, they told me.

    You see, Mike and I had just returned from being upstairs in the office where we had gone to grab something we needed. I honestly can’t even remember what it was. It was no big deal to me. We just ran up the stairs, grabbed whatever it was – or checked whatever email it was… Or whatever. My point being, we ran up to the office, then right back down.

    But, apparently, there was wayyyyy more to it for Luets and him. It seems they’ve had a long running bet about which one of them would be the first to actually, physically see “Murv’s Office.” Apparently, it is some manner of Holy Shrine or something. Granted, there are a few nail holes in the wall but none of them look like any biblical personages… Nor do they look like any of the characters from my novels. There are the OOAK action figures on my desk of Ben Storm, Felicity O’Brien, Constance Mandalay, and Miranda… (Never have been able to create a decent Rowan, but that’s another story)… But, what I’m trying to say here is this – the nail holes just look like nail holes.

    Honestly, this confuses me. While I’ve had a few personal epiphanies during the times I hang out in my office, I don’t think they really translate to shrine material… I mean, it’s just an office. And, it’s not even clean, because I can tend to accumulate a lot of paper and such when I am researching. It’s not filthy, mind you, but it is definitely in a state of disarray. And, like I said… It’s just an office.

    However, now that I’ve been made aware of this little tidbit of info, I suppose I should straighten it up a bit then invite Luets upstairs to see it. Maybe I should even get myself some of those stanchions and a velvet rope to cordon off my desk. Of course, I’ll also need a sign that says “Please No Flash Photography”…

    Hmmmm… Maybe I could charge admission… And, now that I think about it, what with E K being so much more popular than me, I wonder how much they’d pay to see the secret room in the basement where she tortures people?

    Something to think about. Could be a whole new source of revenue. Then maybe we could buy a bigger house.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • We’re Not A Gang, We’re A Squad…

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    … Ben had turned up the volume slightly on the television when the Saturday night movie had been interrupted for a breaking news update. Brandee Street, her cameraman, and the pilot had been arrested all right—but not before getting the morbid video into the station’s hands. Even through the overblown colors of the malfunctioning set, you could easily make out Ben, Constance and me on the balcony of the apartment. We had fought a desperate fight, but in the end the sheet had fluttered enough to give at least a partial view of the woman’s nude remains.

    We all stared silently at the picture as the talking heads behind the anchor desk identified us each in succession. It was all we could do to stifle disgusted sighs as they proceeded to tag us with a sensationalized nickname. A moniker that would unfortunately not only stick for some time to come but was also picked up immediately by every other station and newspaper in the bi-state area. We had been christened “The Ghoul Squad.” …

    Some of you may recognize the above paragraphs as having been excerpted from Never Burn A Witch, the second novel in my Rowan Gant Investigations series. And, if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter it’s a fairly good bet you’ve already heard about the “official” RGI GHOUL SQUAD. But then, maybe you haven’t, so that’s why I am going to flap my metaphorical gums about it here.

    One of my fans, Walter Hardin Jr. to be exact – as I definitely want to give credit where credit is due – mentioned to me that I really needed a “Street Team” to free me up from some of the time-sucking promotional activities that come with the whole “being an author” profession. I thought I knew what a “Street Team” was, but soon discovered that there are two types – professional and fan-based. It was then I remembered something from my youth – The KISS Army. I was never a member myself, what with Styx being my ear candy of choice, but believe me I went to school with many of the KA inductees.

    So, I did a bit of research. Then I researched some more. Then I got together with my publicist (Wendy) and my pa/publicist (Scott). They both gave me some great input. Then I ran it past a couple of friends, one of whom had done time in the music biz – they all had great input too. Some ideas were weeded out, others were solidified. The ones we liked most got a quick swipe of the photo fixative lacquer – sorry… had an old 1960’s Polaroid moment there… Anywho, it seemed like in the matter of just a few days I went from, “Street Team? What’s that?” to “YEEHAAAAA! Street Team!”

    Better yet, a whole bunch of folks out there in Interwebz land did too…

    And so, the RGI GHOUL SQUAD was officially born.

    RGI GHOUL SQUAD ButtonComplete with its very own website and everything, the “Squad” was set to go live January 1, 2010. But, that was before I committed premature post-aculation. By this I mean, while starting to write the posts that would fill the news section of the RGI GHOUL SQUAD website I neglected to turn off the ping.fm updater. As soon as I let loose with that first post it was all over Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace – not to mention a few other social networking venues.

    Email began to pour in – “The join link doesn’t work!”, “There’s a password on xyz link so I can’t get to it!”, “I want to join right now!”… and so on. You get the picture.

    Suddenly, I was busier than a cat covering up sh*t with all my email answering to explain the situation. But, I just couldn’t keep up. Don’t get me wrong, I was – and am – ecstatic that so many folks expressed an interest in the “Squad”. I simply wasn’t prepared to handle my screwup.

    bumper sticker

    So, instead of fighting a losing battle I focused my energies and resources on making things happen a little quicker. Therefore, the RGI GHOUL SQUAD officially went “live” 18 days early – this past Sunday, December 13, 2009 to be exact. Hmmmm, 13… Seems kind of fitting in a lot of ways.

    If you think you might be interested in checking out the “Squad,” its benefits – and responsibilities – then maybe even joining up, you can find the official website at www.rowangant.com.

    Just be aware – I am NOT going to wear all that facepaint, breathe fire, spit fake blood, or even sing Rock And Roll All Nite

    Well… Okay… Maybe I’ll sing, but only after a few beers.

    More to come…

    Murv