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  • What I Wanna Know Is…

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    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

  • No Habla Kitteh…

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    So, I’m pretty sure it’s no secret that I was in Nebraska last month for WillyCon XI, so I won’t bore you with those particular details…

    I will, however, bore you with some other stuff. Hey, it’s my job, correct?

    You see, WillyCon was one of those 3-5 day jaunts. I left on a Thursday morning, and returned Monday afternoon. Normally, I would have returned sometime Sunday, but as I noted in the previous WillyCon specific blogs, you couldn’t get there from here. My choices were pretty much St. Louis to Minneapolis to Sioux City or St. Louis to Dallas-Fort Worth to Chicago to Sioux City. Thursday – Monday. Take it or leave it. So, obviously I took it. But, I digress.

    The thing here is that these days my daughter really is all about the 3-5 day jaunts I take to do book signings. You see, they seem to be just about the right amount of time. Anything past 5 days and she starts missing me too much. The 3 dayers are pretty much her favorite, 4 is pretty good, 5 is pushing it, but not quite over the line just yet.

    I think what she really likes most about me being gone for these events is that when I am only disappearing for a few days I don’t do the whole cooking and freezing dinner thing. I make sure there are nukeable foods in the fridge and freezer, plus plenty of canned goodies, but they are almost always right where I left them when I return. Why? because since E K doesn’t cook, and I haven’t done the prep for her, they tend to eat fast to semi-fast food the entire time. Quizno’s, Pizza, etc…

    So, what’s not to like about this for a kid? The parental unit isn’t gone too long, and they get fast food. It’s kind of like a Pinnochio Nirvana sans strings and donkey ears.

    But, let’s get back around to the whole gist of this blog entry. The kid actually does start to miss me, especially around day 4 or 5. This happened, like clockwork, on my trip to Nebraska.

    Long about the evening of day 4 my cell phone rang. When I answered it, instead of being E K or my publicist as I would have suspected, it turned out to be the offspring. She wanted to hear my voice and tell me about her day. It was obvious that she was starting down that “I miss you, daddy” road when she just kept talking and talking. You see, for the first three days I usually get, “I’m busy playing googly-monster-barbie-fun-petz on the computer. Can I go now?”

    That whole bit used to hurt my feelings, but just like kids grow and evolve, so should parents. I think maybe I’ve managed that, because I understand that it takes some time for my absence to have a direct affect upon her 9 year old world.

    But, back to the story…

    We were at that stage of me being missed enough to warrant a long conversation, which of course, made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, because I have like the coolest kid in the world and stuff. (But, I won’t digress into bragging… for the moment, anyway.)

    After several minutes of chatting, the offspring tells me that she and E K had gone for a hike in one of the local parks. In the process they came across a Calico cat. Well, E K being a cat-fanatic, (probably because in some kind of freak accident her DNA was fused with that of an actual feline – that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it), plus the kid being a kid, they oohed, ahhed, and spoke to said cat. The offspring told me that even though they had informed the Kitteh that they meant it no harm and weren’t going to bother it, that the animal still watched them suspiciously.

    Well, what do you say to something like that? Especially if you are me and you are generally warped and working hard at warping your child… Glad you asked…

    When the offspring told me this, I replied, “Well honey, maybe the cat doesn’t understand English. Maybe it’s a foreign cat and it only speaks French or Spanish, or some other language like that.”

    Without missing a beat the kid said, “Pssshaw! Daddddeeeee! Cats don’t speak French or Spanish.”

    “Okay, so what do they speak?” I asked.

    “I dunno,” she replied with a healthy shrug audible in her voice. “Probably Catnamese or something like that.”

    Yes… I almost dropped my cell phone I was laughing so hard.

    It’s true. My kid is definitely just as warped as I am. I’m so proud I think there might even be tears involved…

    More to come…

    Murv