BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…to elicit a prescribed response.

Yeah, I stole that from Roadhouse. Why? Well, because I think it is a funny line when heard in context, but mainly because I just came back from Texas. Okay, okay, you silly movie purists, I know Roadhouse supposedly took place in a fictional town outside of Kansas City… But, it might as well have been Texas, so just bear with me a bit, okay?

Get your coffee and settle in. This one is going to be long…

So, Texas…

First off, I did manage to find my passport. While the hat police did have a bit of an issue with me when I got off the plane at DFW, they finally granted me a Visitors Visa and due to my nationality (US Citizen) the cowboy boots and hat ordinance were waved – something to do with diplomatic immunity or some such. Anyway, that meant I didn’t have to wear a hat or spend four thousand dollars on a pair of cowboy boots, which is all good. Not sure I could have expensed that one and gotten away with it.

As soon as the Visa was issued I walked 916 miles from terminal A to terminal B (had it been over 1000 I would have taken the skytrain/tram/thingamajig). After arriving there I grabbed a 99 cent turkey sandwich from Starbucks. (AKA Star-make-a-Bucks…Note, I did NOT say I actually paid 99 cents for it. In fact, I think I paid something on the order of 6 bucks for it…And these were real bucks, not “star” bucks… It was, however, still nothing more than a 99 cent turkey sandwich if you get my meaning.) After that I did my good deed for the day by opening a bottle of orange juice for a little Asian boy whose family couldn’t read the instructions on the side of the bottle. Only then did I catch my connecting flight, which was interesting in itself. Why? Because we took off, had a glass of water really quickly as Nancy, our flight attendant, did a wind sprint up the aisle and back, then we landed. Yeah…short flight. REALLY short flight. I’m given to understand it would have been even shorter but we had to fly around Dubyah’s ranch…National security and all.

Arrive Killeen/Fort Hood…I had been told that everything in Texas was big. The Killeen Regional Airport, however, was the exception. 6 gates and a parking lot. Let’s just say the average K-Mart is a LOT bigger than this airport. But, they had my luggage, so it was all good…Now, speaking of luggage, as I wait for it to arrive I look out the front windows of the airport…Across the parking lot I can see Morrison waving her arms. But, she wasn’t waving at me…she was simply talking…(You see, if you were to tie her arms at her sides she wouldn’t be able to talk…So, no gag necessary. Just don’t let her wave her arms and she’ll be quiet.) With her she has the sisters. As in, the Sisters of the Earth and Sea. Now things get really interesting…

I really don’t want to bore y’all with a long and drawn out diatribe, so I’ll touch on the important points…

1) We were assigned “handlers” so that everything would run smoothly. You’ll see why I tell you this in a minute…

2) We have these ABSOLUTELY INSANE rooms at the hotel… And, when I say insane I mean they are the size of my living room and dining room put together, with enough amenities to make them self-sufficient. See below…

3) We had baskets full of cool stuff like cigars, booze, and the ever necessary Texas to English/English to Texas dictionary. Very important while visiting a foreign country when you don’t speak the language.

4) We had itineraries which included times blocked out for fabulous dinners. (Yeah, they FED US! Can you believe that? I didn’t even have to beg an MRE!)

So anyway, I suppose I should get to the good stuff.

Day one – We do a meet and greet that evening after being checked into the hotel and given some time to freshen up. The Meet ’n Greet goes off famously. We meet and we greet a ton of wonderful folks at a local restaurant bar, where they have our promo posters hanging in the windows and everything. We even get a visit from several members of the local Chamber of Commerce.

Day two: Our handlers retrieve us from the hotel late morning. Morrison and I have had plenty of time to relax, have leisurely breakfast, and sit around shooting the breeze while downing several pots of coffee.

When our handlers arrive at the hotel they have the front desk call us from the lobby. I had not yet perused my Texas to English dictionary and that combined with the fact that I am hard of hearing to begin with led to a bit of confusion – It went something like this:

Ring! Ring!

Murv: Hello?

Front Desk: Is this Mister Sellars?

Murv: That’s what it said on my driver’s license when I checked it this morning.

Front Desk: (confused silence) Ummm, okay… I was asked to call you and tell you that the Bride is here.

Murv: (chuckle) She is? Well, what’s she wearing?

Front Desk: (VERY CONFUSED Silence) Uhhh… Ummm… Multi-colored tie-dye.

Murv: Okay, tell her I’ll be right there.

Front Desk: Ummm…yeah. Okay.

During the elevator ride to the lobby Morrison and I discuss the confusion on the part of the desk clerk. It finally dawns on me that she and her Texasness had said to me “The RIDE is here.” Rather than allow Morrison to use this as a story to embarrass me, I make a preemptive strike and tell everyone about it myself, effectively turning it into a great anecdote and reaping the humor benefit for myself (2 points for me.)

Anywho, after having a good laugh over this we get taken to a wonderful lunch, then off to the store (Sisters of the Earth and Sea) where we meet up with many of the wonderful folks we had met the night before such as, Helga the Evil German Woman (also known as Althie – she owes me Sauerbraten next time I’m there…), Stephanie the adMINION, Tiger, Mark, Spanky the Wonder Monkey, and a whole mess of other folks. Morrison goes in the back and plays cards. Rumor is the house paid out, so she must have done pretty well. Oddly enough, the folks who walked out of the card room seemed happy, so I’m guessing they didn’t lose too much money. Me, on the other hand, I hung out with the rest of the folks since Morrison was being antisocial with her card game, and I even presented a seminar on writing and getting published. We had fun, and what was supposed to be a 1 hour talk turned into 2 hours. Morrison got a little pissy about that, but that’s just because people decided I was more entertaining than her. I’m used to that, so I just ignore her. (LOL)

After that we had dinner at a place where they serve big ol’ hunks of dead cow. Life was good.

Day three: Ostara Fest 2008. Now, as it happens, this is the reason I felt a need to quote Patrick Swayze’s character from Roadhouse…Why? Because Ostara Fest ’08, presented by The Sisters of the Earth and Sea, was held in a real, live Texas roadhouse. Yeah. No kidding. Big ass building with bars everywhere, huge dancefloor, stage, and…well… huge. Really big. GI-Normous. Gi-Hugic. Hunormous…Extra Large… XXXL… You get the meaning…

And, it was a Roadhouse. I kept expecting Swayze and Eliot to walk through the door at any minute, but I guess they weren’t really needed because everyone was very well behaved. (Grin)… And, I have to tell you, I had never attended a fest in such a place before, but I can’t wait to do it again. It was an absolute blast! They even had a belly dancing troupe that did some kind of two-step line dance thing wearing jeans and cowboy hats instead of the regular dancing outfits.

The attendees were amazing. Being an Army town the was a huge percentage of military and military family. Some of these people had only been home from Iraq for a month or two. Others were going to be on their way to Iraq before long. I have to say I was proud of all these folks, as well as humbled. Some of these kids were less than half my age but have already seen more than they should have ever had to face in an entire lifetime. I literally lost track of how many books I signed for these folks, and what amazed me is that they were all so genuinely appreciative of me simply being there…Not that I am saying other festivals aren’t… Please don’t take it wrong… But, to put this in perspective, I will usually get the “thanks for coming to xyz fest” from 2 or 3 folks at any given festival. Not so at Ostara Fest, and by “not so” I mean very simply that I cannot count that high even if I take off my shoes… Everyone I spoke to thanked me for coming. That, in and of itself, was worth the world to me.

And…as if they hadn’t given me a humbling enough experience, at the closing of the festival Dorothy, Ellen, and I were each presented with a coin… But not just any coin… These were commemoratives that had been specially minted for the members of Victory Base Open Circle, the largest open circle in the military based in Baghdad, Iraq. It was as if we had been adopted by these people, and I’ll be honest with you, I almost started to tear up. No matter how much I thanked them, I don’t think they will ever know how much that meant to me…

I know… I’m not being funny anymore… I’ve turned all serious and stuff… Sorry, but sometimes I have to do that…

Now…Back to the funny… It’s this whole “Handler” thing… You see, I was assigned to Sister Earth.. AKA Laurie… AKA Lolly… So, everything is cranking along… Morrison’s and Dugan’s handlers are seeing to it that they have everthing they need. My handler, however, is nowhere to be found…Gets to be time for Morrison and me to give our workshop. My handler shows up and asks me if I have eaten yet. I say no, but I figured on eating after the workshop – besides, I had a big breakfast and wasn’t really hungry. Fast forward… It’s after the 2 hour workshop and Lolly asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “No”. She says, “Okay”, and disappears. Time passes. Lolly shows up again and asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “not yet”. She says, “Oh, well they ran out of food.” I say, “No problem. I’ll survive until dinner.” Time passes. Lolly shows up and asks yet again, “Have you had anything to eat?” I say, “No.” She says, “Oh Shit!” I say, “I thought they ran out of food?” She says, “They got more and scurries off.” She returns with a brisket sammich just for me.

Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea here, I’m not complaining at all…Laurie was busy as all hell with the fest, and if I had been that hungry I would have found something. I certainly didn’t expect anyone to wait on me. I’m not like that. The only reason I told this story is because Laurie felt soooooo bad about “forgetting to feed me” that it became a running joke for the rest of the fest and weekend that “my handler was falling down on the job.” Well, nothing could be further from the truth, but I have to admit, the joke was fun, and Laurie is so good-natured that she rolled with it and spent a lot of time making fun of herself over it. They told me when I come back they are going to assign me a different handler, but I really hope they don’t. Laurie and I got along way too well and besides, I bet she won’t forget to feed me again (ROFL!!)

Anywho – Later that evening, another fantastic dinner, this time at the hotel restaurant. Here is where I have to give kudos to our waitress, Samantha. She had been our waitress that morning for breakfast as well. She was working a double shift with only a half hour or so break, but she was still right on top of things. Pleasant, cheerful, and really took care of us. When we found out she was working a double the next day as well, Morrison and I arranged to be seated in her section for brunch so that we could see to it she got a gi-hugic gratuity. And, as always happens when Morrison and I are together with her gray hair and my gray beard – we got a senior discount. (ROFL!)….

Day four: This was the day all about seminars. Following the most amazing brunch buffet I have ever seen, with shrimp the size of small lobsters, Texas shaped waffles, and damn near anything else you could dream of to eat, we visited with Samantha for a bit then were picked up by my handler. She was running a bit late due to some issues she had to deal with at the store, but that just made for something else I could rib her about, and it was all in good fun. We did our seminars and chatted with some wonderful folks about all manner of things. Then had a relaxing evening at Sister Sea’s (Joyce) house, visiting with her, her husband Butch, their daughter Jenn, Granddaughter Emma, and Laurie. They served a spectacular meal of Red Beans & Rice, and Chicken Gumbo…I was stuffed.

The next day, Monday, they actually allowed me to emigrate from the Republic of Texas and back into the United States before my Visa expired.

So…There you have the basic rundown… If you are ever in the area, or live in the area of Killeen/Harker Heights, TX, you really should visit the Sisters and tell them I said hey. Tell Althie she needs to get going on that Sauerbraten, and let Stephanie know what a great job she is doing. And, not only should you shop there, you should make it a point to attend Ostara Fest 2009. I’m telling you, it was fantastic, and if that was only their first festival, I can’t wait to see what 2 brings…

So, in the end, other than leaving all those wonderful folks behind, there was only one real disappointment for me – Fort Hood shares the airport with Killeen so when we landed I saw a tarmac full of Apache Helicopters sitting there. What’s the disappointment with that, you ask?

I didn’t get to ride in one.

More to come…

Murv

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