Readin', Rittin', & Rhetoric

Feral Furniture Friday (On Saturday)

2012-02-25T19:46:00.003-08:00

Not exactly feral, but a rare daylight appearance. Why, yes, I am the photographer of this fine collection of feral furniture. Why are you looking at me like that?

The Lawn Art Game

2012-02-25T19:18:00.002-08:00

I'm starting a new feature. With the coming of Spring, the lawn art blooms. However, this collection is a repository of the unwanted and unloved that I spied on a narrow path between two houses.

Kitsch Salad: Rock, Paper, Scissors

2012-02-25T19:08:00.000-08:00

This is my new favorite geeky desk toy. "Rock, Paper, Scissors." The problem is that I keep losing to myself.

Punk Rock Bagpipes . . .

2012-02-24T21:10:00.001-08:00

Queen's "We Will Rock You," played on the bagpipes. The best two minutes of your evening.

Mmugghumph...Your argument is invalid

2012-02-22T17:41:00.000-08:00

Source: cute-n-tiny.com via Terri on Pinterest

This makes me so happy. I have to have it handy.

What "X" Thinks . . .

2012-02-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

Joining in on the job meme, here's my take . . .

The Story of Book - Part 5

2012-02-12T21:03:00.000-08:00

Book and I sincerely apologize for not posting last week. Life just got in the way. However, this last week the weather let Book and I do some walking and go on a couple of adventures.

First, we wanted to continue showing you around Fort Scott and our architectural treasures.

This is the public library built in 1902 on a grant from the Carnegie Foundation. They keep all sorts of treasures in there.

Next up is the Scottish Rite Temple and Masonic Lodge. Take a second to expand the pic and check out the stone detail. It is incredible. Book is in there, all the way at the bottom. Book was having a bit of trouble in the 15 mile-per-hour wind that day.

This is our old home. Our first shop, purchased in 2003. The building is one-third of the original opera house, one of the first in this part of Kansas. The stone fascia dates to before the Civil War. This cool storefront and tile were installed in 1912.

Pretty windy, so Book and I headed home, stopping for a minute in our back deck hidey-hole to enjoy the unusually warm day.

On Tuesday, my birthday, Book and Kindle took me out to lunch because they're sweet like that. I know we told everyone we were going out for cheeseburgers. But, at the last moment, a big plate of sketti was irresistible.

Back deck of the italian restaurant. Book and I hope to hang out here come Spring. In the background you can see our home - all three leaking drafty stories of it. Built in 1888, we like it!

Book is so thoughtful. He chopped the vegetables for our side dish for dinner!

The next evening Book and I had to run to Wal-Mart. What is neat about this pic is it is the eastern exposure showing the western sunset reflected off the clouds. Totally mellow.

Off to work I go. I like walking around Columbus, Kansas. Treasure are tucked where you least expect them. Book wanted to know if these would fit in the car.

Thursday is court day. The Cherokee County courthouse was built in 1955 with nice art nouveau touches. This fountain is fantastic when it is on. Just wait until summer!

Another shot of the grand and gracious aluminum staircase with marble newels. I think the stairs are a molded composite. The stairs are one continuous peace with stylish curved edges.

Common midwestern courthouse architecture has an open staircase, usually three stories with large windows in the front of the building. The staircase provided air circulation to the public areas of the building.

Book and I are snuggled in tonight waiting for a snow and ice. We both hope you have the best week ever and join us next Sunday for part 6 of "The Story of Book."

No Rest For The Wicked

2012-02-12T20:18:00.000-08:00

I am very pleased, as in totally pleased to announce that my short story "Coulrophobia" has been accepted for the upcoming anthology, "No Rest For The Wicked" coming out in 2012 from Rainstorm Press. Edited by the awesome Stacey Graham.

This collection of tales about haunted objects is still accepting submissions as of the date of this post. Check out the website for details.

Feral Furniture Friday

2012-02-09T17:39:00.001-08:00

On this week's episode of "Wild Furniture Kingdom," my safari down the back alleys of America to see what you are hiding, I present, "Godzilla Piano," the upright grand edition.

Sam will never play it again . . .

The 25 Signs of Being a Writer, or Insanity, I Can Never Keep Those Two Straight

2012-02-07T22:03:00.000-08:00

If you don't exhibit some or all of these characteristics, you have no business calling yourself a writer. Quit denying it. Roll with it.

From the #WTF Files: Poo-Pourri

2012-02-07T21:00:00.000-08:00

I was cleaning photos off my old phone before activating my new smart phone (birthday present to myself) and found these two fine specimens.

Now, these "products" weren't in a joke shop. These were counter displays in a nice pharmacy - gift shop in a conservative little town in the midwest. I am imagining the salesman trying to convince the manager it was a good idea. Or maybe he plunked them on the counter and ran.

I introduce to you "Heavy Doody," poo-pourri, a "before you go" spray to deal with those . . . um . . . big odors. Notcie the manly packaging and point-of-sale display. Heavy Doody is obviously for the man of the house ::caveman grunt::

But what about the lady of the house? Obviously Heavy Doody is just not the right product for her daintier . . . um . . . excretions. So, we have "Deja Poo" poo-pourri for the gentler sex.

No dear readers, I am not making this up.

Kitsch Salad

2012-02-06T08:53:00.000-08:00

And before I tend to my work for the day, here are some more classic salt and pepper sets to season up today's serving of Kitsch Salad :

Poor sick berries are sick . . . .

But, happy feet are happy . . . .

And always remember and never forget, "Give a Hoot! Don't Pollute!"

Why I Fear Clowns

2012-02-06T08:45:00.000-08:00

Coulrophobia is defined as an irrational fear of clowns. Well, I don't suffer from it because there is nothing irrational about my fear of these creepy cretins. For the best of the worst in clownfoolery, visit my other blog:

Why I Fear Clowns part of the Motinet network of humor blogs.

The Story of Book

2012-02-06T08:40:00.000-08:00

The Story of Book had to take a week off while Writer got some work done. Will be back next week with more adventures!

Feral Furniture Friday . . . A Day Late

2012-02-04T18:20:00.000-08:00

I keep intending to make my Friday deadline. Hey, it's my party and I'll take a by if I want to.

In today's episode of Wild Furniture Kingdom, blue recliner discovers it is not nice to mock the keeper of the keys . . .

See ya next week (on Friday or thereabouts)!

Purgatory Chasm by Steve Ulfelder A 125 mph Thrill Ride

2012-02-04T17:53:00.000-08:00

You wouldn't know it by looking at my 1995 teal green Mercury station wagon that resonates down to its rims at 67 mph and my intense dislike of left turns in traffic, but I have a real fondness for racing.

My dad used to take me to stock car races and drags when I was a kid and I was a teen before I learned that most little girls didn't spend their birthday at the Auto-Rama.

However, I'm not a pit bunny and I don't have Jeff Gordon pillowcases. My first degree is in engineering and I have a real appreciation for the art and science of racing. That's important because main character Conway Sax isn't just a mechanic, he's a former racecar driver and race mechanic. That makes him part of a special breed and gives Purgatory Chasm its unique flavor and cadence. You will enjoy the book more if you are already knowledgeable in the sport or are open to learning something about it.

When I read genre, I want the jargon, language, and mood to be authentic. Whether it's military, cop, or legal fiction, if it doesn't feel real, then I'm not going to buy into the story. Steve Ulfelder uses his racing experience to put you into the mindset of a driver. Conway's actions and motivations are filtered through the concepts of target fixation, situational awareness, and the red mist of rage. His knowledge, reflexes, and attitudes are used to maximum effect in this sharp-edged hardcore murder mystery.

Conway Sax also has another loyalty and that is to the Barnburners. Part AA-group, part Star Chamber, the Barnburners are serious people who abide by their own creed: loyalty and sobriety. When a Barnburner is hurt or in trouble, Conway Sax answers the call without question. Even when it hurts himself and those he loves. The Barnburners have his primary loyalty.

Enter Tander Phigg - long time Barnburner and even longer time jackass. The request is simple on its face. Phigg would like Sax to retrieve his special Mercedes, apparently in the clutches of an unscrupulous mechanic. However, when Sax finds himself sprawled on the garage floor with a lump on his skull and a headache to match, he discovers something he already knew, when Phigg is involved there is no such thing as simple.

Phigg can't even die in a straightforward manner. Suicide or murder staged to look like suicide? The evidence is split and Sax decides to follow the leads and play out the hand. After all, Phigg was a Barnburner. . .

Enter a cast of characters where everyone has an angle, everyone has an agenda, and everyone has a secret. Ulfelder serves up a nicely woven web of potential suspects, setting them up and knocking them down with ease (I hope to see more of the Beet Brothers in future books). I had my suspicions, but wasn't 100% sure who the killer was until the actual reveal. Then, in the manner of all good murder mysteries, you see the clues were there all along.

In a nicely crafted subplot, Sax must also deal with the specter of his father. The rat-racing and rock-running illustrate the eternal conflict of a son who both wants to please and beat his father and a father who is simultaneously proud and threatened by his son. The resolution is elegant and bittersweet.

So, if you like your books fast moving, action-packed, and with a ring of truth in the characters and settings, then Purgatory Chasm is for you. Go get it now! I was lucky. I scored this great book as part of the prize booty in a contest on his agent, Janet Reid's blog. The other prize was an ARC of "The Whole Lie," the second Conway Sax book. Why, yes, you should be jealous.

Overall, I give Purgatory Chasm four snaps up and throw in the bag of chips for this line: "A street car is a tool. A racecar is a weapon." Ulfelder will only get better as he keeps writing.

The Story of Book - Part 4

2012-01-29T20:45:00.000-08:00

Greetings everyone and welcome to Week 4 of "The Story of Book," an entertaining project where I carry my favorite book, a 1950s edition of "The Grapes of Wrath," that I . . . um . . . liberated from a library in 1978 with me every place I go and photograph our adventures.

This week's edition is abbreviated. Camera had a diva moment and when I was able to recover the disc, all of the files were unreadable. I think Camera may have been jealous because it was doing all the work and Book was getting all the attention. Regardless, our adventures for this week were lost.

Also, an old legal matter has bubbled to life and I had to spend most of my free time with my nose buried in a virtual law book researching the effect of res judicata on a trademark licensee and if the privity ruling from Bouchat in 2003 survived the Taylor ruling in 2008 (IMHO, it did). Regardless, Writer's sense of humor was at a low ebb.

However! Sunday dawned sunny and warm and Book convinced me to take a short walk and visit Wise Old Happy Tree who told me that all of this would pass and to enjoy the day for the gift it is. Book says that Wise Tree is wise.

Still, had to do my paperwork and other work. However, in the mid-afternoon, a crisis of epic proportions erupted. Writer was out of tea bags and coffee. A trip to Wal-Mart was immediate and necessary. Book and I stopped by the Wal-Mart book section and were thrilled and overjoyed to see "The Pregnancy Project," a memoir written with the assistance of our wonderful Facebook friend Jenna Glatzer. Yay! Wise Tree was right! This made the afternoon very happy indeed!

And then a stop at the writers' altar, the place all good things spring from, to restock and resupply.

Book and I are VERY sorry for the technical difficulties. We are also sad because we missed a pair of feral fighting sofas in combat formation. Hopefully, they are still there this week . . .

So, until next week, don't forget to hug your favorite book and give a shout-out to your favorite writer.

Flash Fiction - 100 Words of Fun

2012-01-23T18:43:00.000-08:00

This week I managed to check off a bucket list item, I won a flash fiction contest on literary agent Janet Reid's blog. My prize? Two books, including the Edgar nominated "Purgatory Chasm" by Steve Ulfelder. (On a cool note, I talked to the author via Facebook and he's going to autograph them for me.)

She holds these contests from time to time and I highly recommend them. She gives you a list of prompt words, often in honor of one of her clients, and a 100-word limit. The competition is fierce and if you don't bring your best game, well then you get to stay home and watch.

I've written flash fiction for years. I love the spare economy. No words can be lazy or padding or fluffy. Every word has a job to do and had better do it well. However, there is some misconception as to what flash is. It is often written as a vignette or freeform poetry.

Flash is like any other story and has to have the four components of character, setting, conflict and resolution. In 100 words or less . . . Not a problem!

The key is inference. One flash writer said that if readers need description, then all of her characters must be naked, because she never discusses clothing. If she places her characters in church, she trusts the reader to infer they are appropriately dressed.

Forcing extraneous description out of writing is an excellent exercise. I hate reading "It was July 21st at 5 o'clock p.m. and the temperature was 102 degrees." (yes, I have read that in novels) Instead, "It was a hot July evening," tells me all I need to know. In his literary wordfest "Q," Evan Mandery sticks the landing with "It was one of those top ten days of the year . . ." I love that phrase. It is elegant and evocative and allows me to infer my own definition of a perfect day. He goes on with more description, but could have stopped right there.

In this contest, the prompt words were: red, bent, fold, chaos, and chasm. Each word came from a book title on the Edgar list of best first novels.

I keyed on "chaos." I had an old flasher where that was a pivotal word. The story had never seen publication because at 121 words, it was too damn long. I liked the story, but the editing always stumped me.

Here it is in original form:

_____________________________________

The last ambulance left the police station. No need for sirens; the victims were DOA. I settled in to start the reports. Twenty years on the job, and this was a first.

"Damn, I hate murder. Nothing but heartache and paperwork."

I inserted the form into my old typewriter and started on the first section.

The punks had been at the west desk. The old biddy at the east. Both were filing complaints.

She wailed about foiling a car theft.

The hoods bitched about someone pulling a gun and chasing them away from their car.

Hesitation. Double-take. Recognition. Silence. Chaos.

I hit the 'return' key. One section to go.

Conclusions: The old lady was a faster draw and a better shot.

________________________________________

Not bad, but not good enough. Too fat. After I folded in the prompt words, I went to work on the length.

I ferreted out redundant description, such as,"No need for sirens; the victims were DOA." The story is about a murder, the fact that there were dead bodies becomes clear in the next sentence. So, it can be foreshadowed with "No sirens."

You get the point. Once I had a goal, entering it in the contest, and a deadline, Sunday at 6:00 PM, the spare baggage glowed like neon.

The finished product:

_________________________________________

The ambulance left the police station. No sirens. Twenty years on the job and murder is still nothing but heartache and paperwork.

Unfolding a blank report, I bent over my old typewriter.

The punks were at the west desk. The old biddy at the east. Both were filing complaints.

She crowed about foiling a car theft.

Across the chasm, the hoods had red-ass about someone pulling a gun and chasing them away from their car.

Hesitation.

Recognition.

Silence.

Chaos.

I hit the “return” key. One section to go.

Conclusions: The old lady was a faster draw and a better shot.

____________________________________________

100 words exactly according to Word. Spare and clean. A much better story. I don't miss the twenty-one words. By choosing carefully, I took them out and left them in at the same time. The story certainly met and exceeded my expectations and was picked out of a field of 70+ entries. I read a lot of flash fiction and the flashers in Ms. Reid's contests are some of the best I've seen.

Next time she runs a contest, give it a try. Win or lose, you'll have fun, read a bunch of good stories, and you'll come away with a new outlook on the power and economy of words.

The Story of Book - Part 3

2012-01-22T18:16:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Part 3 of "The Story of Book," the tale of a writer and her favorite book who accompanies her (almost) everywhere she goes. To catch up on the first two installments, go to "Story of Book" link under "Rhetoric by Topic."

Monday dawned warm and windy and I took Book out for a promised walk. This is at the north end of Main Street, looking south. Fort Scott was a frontier outpost in the 1840s and a major supply depot during the Civil War.

On the north side of the Fort historical monument is a walking trail through a national park Tallgrass Prairie restoration project. Just a couple of acres, but you get a glimpse of what the prairie looked like before the settlers came. There are several hundred types of plants just in the little patch. I can't wait to bring Book back in the spring when it is all in bloom. Book and I took a pleasant hike and then got back to work.

Tuesday was another gorgeous day, so Book and I headed down to the Fort Scott National Park at the north end of town. By the 1970's the old fort had degenerated into a warehouse and low rent housing area. The park service kicked the squalor to the curb and rebuilt and restored the fort to its historical glory. This is one of the officers' duplexes. If your husband was an officer in the cavalry, this was your backyard and kitchen garden. (Book and I will take you inside on a warmer day. It's gorgeous.)

The parade ground is enclosed by a wonderful walkway about a quarter-mile long. Book and I took advantage of the sunshine for a nice stroll.

Wednesday! And it's time to go to work down in Columbus, Kansas. It's one of those neat little town-that-time-forgot places and is full of great old signs and buildings. Book particularly liked this Reddy Kilowatt sign.

When memes collide. Columbus has a great feral furniture dump (well, the townsfolk may not think it's so great, but I love it.) Book posed with this poor unfortunate sofa carcass that was probably replaced with a cheap naughahyde wannabe.

Okay, this is actually a bit creepy, but Book insisted . . .

Thursday is court day! Book was so excited to go with me. The Cherokee County Courthouse was built in the 1950s and replaced a much larger Victorian structure. Even though the building is a bit . . . um . . . boxy, it has excellent Art Deco details.

This is one of my favorite historical plaques ever. This bell never made it out of the warehouse, but dang it, we're putting it in the courthouse square. Book, with his empathy towards remainders, approves.

Now, a word of warning. Book had the permission of the District Court Judge to take a few photos inside the courthouse. Never take a camera into a courthouse or public building without permission. Unless, of course, you like sitting in little rooms with no windows and answering questions.

The truly beautiful and unique feature of the courthouse is this three-story polished aluminum Art Deco stairway. When the sun is right through the atrium windows, Book and I will get better photos. It is stunning.

Friday rolled around and our car desperately needed an oil change. So, off to Wal-Mart! Last week someone suggested that Book needed a better wardrobe, so we used our free time shopping around. Book confesses to being a bit of a KU fan (shhh . . . our boss went to K-State!)

Something stylish for the rain and snow perhaps?

By January, there wasn't a lot of selection in the fuzzy slipper aisle. Book wanted leopard spots, but there weren't any in his size.

Book confided in me that he believes there is a family of four living in one of these boots. . . . (they were huge!)

Saturday was a quiet work day, but the mailman made it a happy day by delivering a fresh box of Johnny West coloring books! We sent half off to our illustrator Mykol Blackwell who is one of our bestest friends ever. Yay!

Book mentioned going out to lunch, but took one look at the weather . . .

And opted for his Snuggie and the remote.

Sunday came in cloudy and damp, so Book and I hung around the house. However, we wanted to introduce you to Widget! Come summertime, Widget will be our partner in "The Story of Book."

Have a great week everyone! See you next Sunday!

Kitsch Salad Saturday

2012-01-22T15:55:00.001-08:00

On Saturdays (or thereabouts), I'm going to indulge in my fondness for kitsch and oddball collectibles. I personally collect 1950s plastic salt and pepper shakers like an OCD squirrel hunts for nuts. You'll see a lot of my collection as well as stuff I just plain love or am hunting for.

It might be stylish like these Gas Genie advertising shakers . . .

It might be historical like this MIB set from the 1939 New York World's Fair . . .

Or it might be so far out in left field that it will take the light from left field 10,000 years to reach it like this particular souvenir S&P set . . .

Regardless, it will be fun. Hope to see you next week!

Life is Sloppier than Fiction

2012-01-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I write I come up against the wall of, "that's not real life." I have to keep reminding myself that we read books to get away from real life for a while.

See this and other brainy brilliance in its native habitat at xkcd.com

Feral Furniture Friday

2012-01-21T18:10:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know, it's not Friday . . .

But this is going to be a Friday feature. I just got sidetracked yesterday.

Inspired by the success of my January column at "An Army of Ermas," I thought I'd continue with weekly installments of "Wild Furniture Kingdom," a show that examines the phenomenon of feral furniture and the consequences of releasing domesticated decor into the wild.

Tonight's sofa is a sad situation. Even though the house has been vacant for over two months, sofa can't understand why no one answers the door and lets him back inside out of the cold and wind. Winter does not bode well for this thinly upholstered victim of furniture abandonment.

See you next week!

Anchorage Alaska #OWS

2012-01-21T10:01:00.000-08:00

Another iconic photo showing the #OWS movement isn't going anywhere.

I wish I could send the Occupy team in Anchorage Alaska some cocoa and cookies. I'm with you 110%

Blogging From The Heart - "Me Monday"

2012-01-16T18:54:00.000-08:00

I know there are all sorts of rules for good and bad blogging. Do this! Don't do this! Be careful - someone might read it (horrors!). For the most part I'm going to abide by those recommendations. However, I declare "Me Mondays" to be a free zone where I can talk about politics, my dogs, my cooking, NSFW comics, whatever. You know, all that outlaw off-limits stuff.

And while I understand all the advice is for my own good, it's my party and I'll be wry if I want to. This comic really sums it up for me (warning, contains bad words). If you only write and cater to what the standard is, then all blogs become more of the same.

See this comic on its home field at xkcd.com

The Story of Book - Part 2

2012-01-15T17:46:00.000-08:00

Good Sunday evening and welcome to the second week of "The Story of Book" project. If you're new to our tale, please give chapter 1 a look.

Monday is always a work day at my mail-order business and I am running behind. When I cancelled our walk, Book decided to be a literary diva and spend the day sulking.

Tuesday. More work! I love my customers and am grateful for the business, but the packing is quite a chore. This time, Book decided to help and even loaded the handtruck for me.

One of the many (many) cool things about living in a small town is I can take my packages straight to the loading dock after hours. Book was quite a hit with the post office folks.

Wednesday dawned bright, sunny, and cold. This is one of my out-of-town work days so Book and I bundled up for the hour drive. I work in a government-owned building, so while Book spent the day on my desk, his friend Camera stayed in the car. When it warms up some, I'll take Book around the neighborhood on my lunchtime walks.

Thursday was problematic. A storm that was supposed to drop an inch of snow and leave, left a half-inch of ice covered in snow. The fifty-mile drive was a two-hour ordeal of slipping and sliding to work. Book was a trooper, but again, Camera, with his dainty electronics, stayed home. However, Camera was so glad to see us that evening that we grabbed Kindle and went out to dinner at our favorite burger joint on the corner.

Friday dawned bright and warmer. As Mother Nature applied a nice load of snow-be-gone over town, Book and I ventured out to run some errands.

Naturally, our first stop is our second home, the Post Office. Book checked out the FBI most wanted while I did our business.

Then to the bank. For some reason, bank people don't mind Book, but have an odd reaction to Camera, so we enjoyed the sunshine instead.

Even though the snow was still hiding in the shadows, Book and I took a nice walk in the gorgeous weather.

Saturday. I know . . . more work. However, I let Book pick our work-time TV and we caught up on season 3 of "Sons of Anarchy."

Finally, the day is done and we settle in for some reading. Turns out I kept Book up until the wee hours of the morning reading "Q" by Evan Mandery.

Sunday was a lazy day with a few chores mixed in with hanging out and relaxing. A few things had to get done. First, the dog bed smelled like a feral hyena had been roosting in it, so off to the washing machine it went!

Much better!

And Mr. Big Fish must have been thirsty, because his tank level was low enough that the sound of the filter was driving us crazy. So, to the buckets!

I hope your week was as mellow. Book and I will see you next Sunday with chapter three of "The Story of Book."

The Power of "Q." My Thoughts on the Evan Mandery Novel

2012-01-15T10:09:00.000-08:00

Well, that sounds pretentious. However, these things have to be titled correctly if I'm ever going to find them again.

I sat up until 2:30 this morning finishing this novel that had been haunting me and after a pot of tea, am finally ready to talk about it.

First, the backstory. I'm an avid reader of agent Janet Reid's blog and a fanatic about entering her contests. In November 2011, she dropped this one on her unsuspecting horde. Seemed simple enough, write a 100-word story about the writers in the photos.

Some of the writers I was familiar with, but not Evan Mandery. So, in the name of due diligence, I downloaded a sample of his latest novel, "Q," and then I killed them all with poisoned tuna sushi and sent them to purgatory to clog dance for all eternity (in my story, yeesh, don't be so literal, I don't have that kind of power, it's not like I'm an editor or anything.)

What I hadn't counted on was being stalked by that literary snippet. I thought about it constantly and knew I had to go back and finish the book. Normally, I am a genre fan. I want shit to drive fast. I want shit to blow up. I want the world to hang in the balance. Hey, it's my party and I'll let 'em fry if I want to. Unless Godot is waiting for his contact who has the missile codes, I'm not interested.

However, from time to time, a literary work sneaks through the barricades and grabs me. I read Larry McMurtry's entire 1100-page Texasville story arc before I realized it was about a guy named Duane who was freaking depressed. So, the moral is, catch me with a compelling premise about interesting characters and you can sneak literary fiction into my genre-laden diet.

The nut of the tale is a fairly ordinary guy meets the shining shimmering woman of his dreams. Q, is in all aspects, lovely, inside and out. The romance, played out in New York at its finest, is captivating.

However, as the wedding looms, the groom is visited by an older version of himself who issues a single warning, "you must not marry Q." The reason is less important than the motives. If he marries Q, it will result in a sorrow that breaks her heart forever, and by association, his. He contrives a fight and uses it as an excuse to break off the relationship, leaving Q hurt and questioning.

That potential future self closed off, he is visited by a parade of future selves, each demanding he follow their path like a toddler with a Tiger Mother. This continues until he is old enough to get in the wayback machine himself and set things right.

The language is lyrical, complex, and evocative. This is not a casual beach read. But, then, neither was Texasville. Sometimes a book with big scary words is good for you. I confess, I could have done without the Freudian novel interlude and my Kindle-clicky thumb did get a bit of a workout. However, that's just personal taste.

The themes are what cut me to the bone. Can you avoid future pain, by "pre-feeling" it now? By living through the anguish of the future in the present and purposely inflicting trauma by breaking Q's heart, is he now spared that future pain?

I think we all know the answer to that. Karma, for lack of a better word, is head-bitch-in-charge. By spending all of his time trying to avoid the hurt and decay he sees in his future selves (one is fat, one is poor, one is obnoxious, all are old), he forgets to live in the present, until there is no more present.

Another question Mandery asks is, "If you could go back in time and spare yourself and someone you love great pain, would you do it?"

This is the one that hit me hardest. In November 2009, at 1:20 AM, there was a knock on the door, with the four words that changed everything, "there's been an accident." By six that morning I was in an intensive care ward discussing DNR orders and pain management. The next four months were nothing but choices and assuming the yoke of a caregiver. He survived, but was horribly disabled. Our marriage did not make it out of the cauldron. The yoke I wear now is financial and the pain of seeing him so hurt and broken.

Long before I had ever heard of Evan Mandery or "Q," I asked myself if I had known the future, would I have glided on past him the day we met?

Now, had I done that I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't have my fabulous friends, or my darling Chihuahuas, or the beautiful old leaky pile of bricks that I call home. I wouldn't have my own novel up on blocks in the garage, constantly tinkering under the hood. I wouldn't have all the knowledge and memories of the good years we had together that shone every bit as bright as those in the early pages of "Q." I wouldn't be me and I'm pretty happy with this version of me.

However, the answer, if I could have been assured his accident would have never happened, probably would have been "yes." The temptation would be too great.

As the old country song says:

"Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance . . ."

And that is the enigma of "Q."

Overall, I give it five snaps up and a bag of chips (you'll need a snack, it's a long haul).

'Q" also wins the delightful-surprise award of the week and makes me a fangirl of the writer. In the weeks before I finished the book, I developed a picture in my head of Q. As a sci-fi geek, I called back to another time travel story where the male lead has to make a heart-wrenching decision about his lady love that will change history. The heroine because fixed in my head as my image of Q.

To know why this delights me, you'll have to read the book.

The Story of Book - Part 1

2012-01-08T20:58:00.001-08:00

For 2012 I'm starting a new project called, "The Story of Book."

A bit of backstory. In 1978, I fell in love with a book. I loved it so much that I did the unthinkable. I stole it from the library. Yes, I stole a library book. I told the college that I lost it and apologized from the depths of my heart and gladly paid the $1.58 charge.

Some thirty(OMG)four years later, that book is still beloved. Since part of my resolutions for 2012 are to write more, to read more, and to enjoy the simple days of my life, I decided to share those days with my favorite book. For the rest of the year, Book will accompany me wherever I go and I will create a photo journal of our adventures. Most will be simple tasks: Book and I at Wal-Mart, Book and I going to work, Book and I kicking back in the evening. On Sunday (or thereabouts) I will post a summary of our week.

The Story of Book: Chapter 1

First, I think an introduction is in order. Meet Book, the 1958 edition of "The Grapes of Wrath," by John Steinbeck with the classic watercolor cover. It still has the library stickers, stamps, and checkout card sleeve. It still has the bookmark from where I used it in law school in my literature class. I can quote this book and find any scene in this book in less than a minute. I love this book.

No huge adventures this weekend. Book and I live in a three-story building built in 1888 and we have a horrendous roof leak problem. Rain is forecast this week and the tarps upstairs are a mess. So, no playing for Book, it's time to get to work!

This tarp failed in the last storm and dumped water in a mini-tsunami that made it to the first floor. So, Book, any recommendations?

Heavier tarp. More staples. Deeper reservoir. See, there's a lot you can learn from a book.

Bailing and draining the reservoirs is a never-ending task. I rigged this suction drain that pumps the water into the sewer through this standpipe while I fill the bucket. I move 2 to 3 gallons per minute. I let Book supervise the drain while I bailed.

Okay, in the next room, we need to sweep up some fallen plaster and dirty flooring. Safety first! Book masks up for the dirty work.

Nice job Book! Heavier tarping and using the existing nine-inch baseboard to create a reservoir. That ought to take care of that pesky waterfall on the first floor.

Okay, this is the big bad leak. Pesky in that it drizzles over a six-by-eight area. First, I had to take down the door in the left doorway. From the 1940s, it is a three-by-seven foot slab of pegged oak. Book wasn't a lot of help. I had to move the 150-pound monster by myself. Floor cleaned and swept!

So, a big tarp waterfall into some big reservoirs. I even got to use some of the hard math I learned in engineering school. This is V1.0. I anticipate it failing in unexpected and hilarious ways. But, for the moment, it looks like it will work. Book agrees . . .

Using variable height sawhorses will help me control the pitch of the waterfall tarp drains. That was Book's idea. Now we wait for the rain.

Book agrees that it's time for dinner and volunteered to cook. Time for a cocktail.

See you next Sunday for the next chapter in "The Story of Book."

This Pic Sums #OWS Up For Me . . .

2011-11-18T22:00:00.001-08:00

A young American with a cop's knee on his throat while his hands are being zip-tied around an American flag.

This is wrong. This isn't what we are about.

I am the 99% . . . www.occupywallst.org

This is For the 99% . . . and Mayor Bloomberg

2011-11-16T18:19:00.000-08:00

What do the 1% fear? Wrong question. The correct question is, "what should the 1% fear?" The answer is simple . . . history.

I've been posting snippets of Steinbeck on blogs and Facebook. However, I wanted this passage separate. To me, it sums up the entire 99% movement. I dedicate it to the warriors of Zuccotti Park.

---------------------------

"And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away.

And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed. The great owners ignored the three cries of history.

The land fell into fewer hands, the number of dispossessed increased, and every effort of the great owners was directed at repression. The money was spent for arms, for gas to protect the great holdings, and spies were sent to catch the murmuring of revolt so that is might be stamped out.

The changing economy was ignored, plans for the change ignored; and only means to destroy revolt were considered, while the causes of revolt went on.

. . .

The great owners formed associations for protection and they met to discuss ways to intimidate, to kill, to gas. And always there were in fear of a principal . . . if they ever move under a leader - the end.

. . .

And the great owners, who had become through their holdings both more and less than men, ran to their destruction, and used every means that in the long run would destroy them. Every little means, every violence, every raid on a Hooverville, every deputy swaggering through a ragged camp put off the day a little and cemented the inevitability of the day.

----------------------------------
John Steinbeck - "The Grapes of Wrath"

The Walking Dead Have Invaded My Warehouse!

2011-11-06T08:48:00.000-08:00

Yes, the zom-poc has erupted in Fort Scott, Kansas. Last week I signed for an innocent looking package thinking it was office supplies. It sat for a couple of days and then I opened it find my uber-cool prize from the Twitter contest sponsored by @WalkingDeadBG. The one and only "The Walking Dead" boardgame.

So, party at Terri's place. BYOZ . . .

Check it out at http://walkingdeadboardgame.com/

Literary vs. Genre - Nerd Smackdown

2011-09-22T18:24:00.000-07:00

I once started a fist fight on a blog because I said that I refused to read Toni Morrison. I was accused of everything from being jealous, to being illiterate, to being an uninformed caveman (oh yeah, I bet my car insurance is cheaper than yours!)

That brouhaha led to this essay. I hope you like it.

Confessions of a Genre Hack

The other night I was reading the "Novel & Short Story Writers Market." If you don't have a copy of this reference guide, you should consider adding it to your library. From now on, it's a staple on my Christmas list.

I noticed a common theme in the publications in the "Literary Magazine" section. Now, the name should have tipped me off. However, I read on, eager to highlight in yellow any magazine that might be a good fit with my writing.

Over and over I saw: "Literary Fiction Only! No Genre!"

This statement, repeated so often, got me thinking (always a dangerous thing).

What is literary fiction? What is genre fiction and why do so many publications treat it with scorn and disdain? I had to confess; I didn't know the answer to this deep and ponderous question. After some diligent research and much deep thought, I came to this conclusion. Genre is everything that isn't literary and no one really knows what is literary. After I removed the cold compress from my forehead, I set out to refine this definition and explore the schism between literary fiction and genre fiction.

After more research and additional deep thought, I concluded the following:

1. Literary fiction means something.

2. Genre fiction does something.

A few definitions of literary fiction (I lost the references, sorry):

1. Literary fiction is “critically acclaimed, often award-winning, fiction. These books and stories are more often character centered rather than plot oriented.”

2. “To some, it's those serious-minded novels of high artistic intent by writers with a passionate commitment to the moral purpose of fiction.”

3. “Just because a story makes no sense and seems to serve no purpose, don't assume it lacks literary merit. That's not your decision to make.”

So . . . we can conclude that a senseless, yet artistic, novel or story that wins awards and critical acclaim must be literary fiction. I add my own twist to that statement.

"Literary fiction is what you tell people you read. Genre fiction is what you actually read."

Oh, sit down and smooth those ruffled feathers. I think you protest just a bit too much.

So what is genre fiction? The best definition I found divides genre into three distinctive types: “Setting,” such as westerns and science fiction; “Mood,” which includes romance, comedy, and horror; and “Format” such as music and sculpture.

As writers we are not as concerned with format as we are mood and setting. I added another classification: action. In genre fiction, something happens. Genre is generally more plot-driven than literary. The essence of the story is action, whether it's falling in love or falling into a bottomless chasm of flesh-eating demons. While character development is important, genre fiction rarely has the convoluted self-tortured analysis of literary fiction. In genre, something has to happen.

Back to my personal conclusions. Genre fiction does something. The conflict and resolution are the crux of the story. A flaw in amateur (and way too much professional) science fiction and fantasy is too much setting development. So much goes into describing the fantastical world of the writer's imagination that the action is lost. In horror, too much can go into descriptions of the supernatural and glorifying the bug-eyed monsters. In genre, resolution is paramount. You have to finish the story.

A special type of weird evolves when a genre writer tries to be literary. A little of that can go a long way. In fact, it can go too far. In movies, I call this an “allegory alarm.” The protagonist gets sucked into another dimension or stuck inside his own head and spends an exorbitant amount of time analyzing the meaning of the surreal situations. When the purple snake tells the hero to “take the road of thy father's demise to find the secret of the lost way . . .,” I reach for the remote. In novels, I close the book.

However, genre has its own pitfalls. A writer that falls in love with the gimmicks and gadgetry of their chosen arena can bore me as quickly as a literary writer. I am a fan of Tom Clancy. Stop moaning. I'm not saying you have to read his books. However, I want you to understand that his characters distinguish him from other techno-thriller authors. They have enough depth to keep them engaging and enough flaws to make them real. The women are not statuesque Amazons with a Ph.D, flowing raven (or titian) locks, and enormous breasts. The men are not tall, handsome, square-jawed super-heroes who also happen to have a Ph.D. Clancy makes his characters heroes by their actions, not their looks or sex appeal.

Also, the dreaded “Mary Sue” character makes her unfortunate appearance most often in genre, rather than in literary fiction. Physically flawless, beautiful, kind, humble, heroic, nimble, skilled in every art, yet utterly self-effacing, Mary Sue has no flaws other than the utterly tragic past she managed to escape. So, please don't believe I love genre just for its own sake. It has to be well-written, engaging, and believable. If you are running a restaurant on Jupiter, you'd better have no smoking signs to avoid igniting the atmosphere.

Enough ranting. I called this piece "Confessions of a Genre Hack." That title comes from a quote by Stephen King where he proudly calls himself a hack. A hack with a gagillion books in print. He has often criticized the literary community at looking down their aristocratic noses at anything that sells.

That's the final definition of literary fiction. It must not sell. It must only be “discovered” by those intelligent enough to understand its deeper meaning. That way they can feel superior to the sheep that buy genre fiction.

However, if, in order to be good, literary fiction must not sell, then why do so many editors want only literary fiction? Pardon me, but I need another cold compress.

The next source of this title is a book I read on plotting mystery and crime fiction. I won't mention the author's name, but she has many mystery novels in print. Mystery and crime are genre. No doubt about it. However, she went to great pains to separate her style of mystery from the “popular hacks.” Her mystery was literary style, in the company of Doyle and Christie.

I've tried to read one or two of this author's books, and I hated them. Now I know why. They were 'literary.' As the country song said, I seek "a little less talk and a lot more action." She made me understand that I am a genre hack. She also made me realize that I am proud of it.

It was this author that inspired my flash story "The Brain Eaters." The wife, a literary snob, is appalled when her husband writes a horror story called "The Brain Eaters." It is an overnight success and becomes a cult phenomenon. She decided to kill him. I picture her in pearls and a fluffy cardigan sweater saying, "I had to do it. He betrayed me. He betrayed literature."

I'll close this with an excerpt of the submission requirements of a famous literary agent. He is obviously trying to cover all his bases. He wants books he can brag about and books he can sell.

"Seeks Fiction: Primarily Literary Fiction, will consider Mystery/Suspense and Legal or Psychological thrillers if beautifully written."

So, send all your badly written fiction someplace else!

PS: "The Brain Eaters" was rejected by a horror zine as not being literary enough. They felt they had “grown beyond” this type of story. It was later published in a respected ezine right above a tale written by the editor of the publication that had rejected it. That one was sweet.

Mile 81 by Stephen King

2011-09-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

I read King's Mile 81 last night and thoroughly enjoyed it. Readers are split on this one, I don't ever think I've seen reviews more evenly divided between the stars than this short story. Leave it to King to even know how to manipulate what should be a bell curve!

Mile 81 leads us into familiar King territory, the secret world of kids. One reviewer went on and on about how kids would do this and wouldn't do that. Well, that reviewer is clueless. He or she may know how kids act when adults are around, but none of us knows what happens when they are with each other. It's true . . . And, frankly, I don't care because King creates a child's world that I believe. My ex used to play a variant on Paratroopers from Hell as a boy and has the scars to prove it. And listen to boys when they don't know they are being overheard, it is eff-this and eff-that as they flex their fledgling man-muscles. And as the proud possessor of my very first hangover at age 12, the thought that a boy would say, "yuk" at the bottle of vodka is wishful thinking at best.

And that is the crux of this tale. The monster was defeated because three children saw it for what it was and believed it to be what it was. Adults just kept lining up, as symbolized by the traffic jam on the off-ramp (one Expedition, pick-up with a trailer, abandoned gre-en Prius and a man-eating Ford or Chevy . . . sung to the tune of 12 Days of Christmas). And because adults had to believe there was a rational explanation (after all, they are adults) they kept being eaten. It didn't have to be a car. It could have been a thinny, a Venus Fly-Trap or a portable black hole. The car was a prop. Nothing more. Adults were eaten because they had lost their belief in monsters.

Enter the two young children who watch their parents disappear into the maw of the car. They knew the truth and the truth was monstrous. Five dead adults later, a 10-year old listens to the story told by the youngsters and sees the logic. Only a monster could do such a thing. Ergo, the car is a monster. However, in true "boy" fashion, he couldn't leave it alone. Calling back to The Body and IT, the boy just has to see the dead kid, just has to play in the Barrens, and just has to run up and touch the door of the haunted house. The magnifying glass is a trope. Nothing more. He wanted to have a story to tell the Raiders. He had wanted to show off his prowess with a magnifying glass and been dismissed. What better story than to focus it on a monster? And it worked. My only complaint was that it worked a little too well. I would have rather had a puddle of stinky goo for the adults to muse over while the kids knew the truth.

I never understand the constant rage in reviews about character development in plot-driven stories like this. What did you need to know about Bible guy or horse lady other than they were really tasty. It was their cars in the conga line on the off-ramp that moved the story along, not their personalities. The theme of this story (and oh how I loathe themes) was the fundamental difference between adults and children and how sometimes that difference is deadly. Well done to my fav writer and I loved the sneak peek at the JFK thriller. PS: Why comment about a Stephen King comment about Sarah Palin that is irrelevant to this story. Other than, there is a monster not even King could dream up.

Four stars just because the monster disappeared. Available for Kindle, get thee to Amazon and decide for yourself.

Hail to the Commander-In-Chief!

2011-08-09T05:53:00.001-07:00

I was working on the revival of this blog when the clarion call came out to write a post about our ragtag band of humorists known collectively as “An Army of Ermas.”

The timing was perfect, because one of my posts before I went on a self-imposed blog hiatus was the August 26, 2010 announcement of my first Erma column. I can’t believe it has been almost a year since I passed my recruitment test and was mustered into the Army.

I had read the blog since almost Day One and was both amused and envious. I wanted to be an Erma. I knew I had funneh. Then, out of the blue, I surfed my blog list and there was a contest. Enter an essay, get votes and the top two finishers would be crowned Ermas.

Instant stage fright.

Nothing I wrote was funny. I kept writing and got a little funnier. I will say that when I saw my entry published I mustered every bit of social-networking mojo I could lay my hands on. When voting opened, I laid down the law: “vote for me or listen to me whine about it for as long as it takes to get you to regret ever being born.”

I admit it. I played dirty. I threatened people with . . . clowns.

It worked. I have no idea if harassing my sister-in-law by instant message on Facebook just before midnight is what put me over or not. I just know how I felt when I saw the post with my name on it. I had arrived. I was an Erma.

I soon discovered that I had joined a group that was more than the sum of its parts. It was a circle of friends and colleagues. All of whom happen to be hilarious. An Army of Ermas takes its lead from the Commander-In-Chief, the one-and-only Stacey Graham. She is the one-and-only because the universe can only host one Stacey at a time. It is a little known law of Physics. The balance of awesome must be maintained.

I once read a study about the life expectancy of online groups. The conclusion was that most imploded at the eighteen-month mark. In essence, the group will have said all it needed to say and devolve into stupidity. He made some pedantic observations as to why, but obviously, this intrepid researcher missed the point. Because there can be only one Stacey at a time, and we have her, all of the other groups were doomed from day one.

That’s accounta-cuz we don’t just have an editor or webmistress, we have a secret weapon, we have a leader.

When I was a clone for corporate America I realized a very important truth. Every group or office has one of three types in charge.

A boss can force you to do something.

A manager can instruct you to do something.

A leader can get you to volunteer to do something.

Stacey is a true leader. I mean, look, I volunteered to write this tribute. Yeesh, I fell for it again . . .

Thanks Stacey and here’s to many more marches in An Army of Ermas.

The Walking Dead - Episode 2 - Don't Forget Your Lucky Zombie Feet

2010-11-07T20:44:00.000-08:00

Episode 2 of AMC's "The Walking Dead" aired tonight and the only disappointment was that it was only an hour long!

Tonight we met some more of our merry band of heros: the Plucky Heroine, the Wise-Cracking Kid, Father Figure, and a few that I believe are going to be DVs (Designated Victims, better known as Red-Shirters for the Star Trek fans).

Seriously, this episode was a fine set up for the rest of the first season. We learned something more about the Walkers. They track prey by sound and smell (Can't you smell that smell?) and they can be fooled for a short time by smearing yourself with zombie guts (I love the pair of lucky zombie feet hanging by the string of intestines, nice touch.)

There has also been the first act of inhumanity, leaving Merle chained to the roof. That will call for an act of redemption . . .

A few questions were tacitly posed, to be resolved when our two bands of wayfarers meet up:

1. Were Shane and Lori hitting it before the Zom-Poc hit?
2. How badly hurt is T-Dog?
3. Is Shane already cheating on Lori with Amy or is that to come?
4. Will Merle ever get off that roof?

My final prediction, the one I know is a dead bang sure-fire winner, season 1 will end far too soon . . .

AMC's The Walking Dead - Five Thumbs Up!

2010-11-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for "The Walking Dead" to air since I saw the promos in early October. I wasn't disappointed, this show rocked.

I've been a fan of zombie movies since 1978 when "Dawn of the Dead" hit my small town theater. The sight of the band of plucky disfunctional anti-heroes cleaning the shambling undead out of that shopping mall didn't scare me, it thrilled me. I wanted to be there with them, brandishing a pistol grip sawed-off shotgun. Big stuff for an 18-year-old girl in a town of 2,200.

Well, I'm not eighteen anymore, but it doesn't matter. Thirty-two years and two college degrees later, post-apoc books and movies are still my entertainment of choice.

"The Walking Dead" opens with a familiar trope. The reluctant hero awakes from a coma and finds the world has gone to hell. No tedious pseudo-scientific build-up, no fake drama, nothing. Just a dazed and wounded man walking barefoot through row after row of corpses in blood-stained shrouds. It was beautifully shot and stylishly underplayed. No schlock, just silent horror. I could almost smell it.

One of the ways to convey horror in a post-apoc is with silence. Dead empty silence. That is one of the things those of us with apoc fantasies both crave and fear. "The Walking Dead" uses this fear beautifully. Rick Grimes is often seen thoughtfully contemplating a world that once seemed so crowded that is now, empty.

Well, not quite . . .

Enter the shambling undead. Just a few at first. No need to make it look like a remake of Thriller. The half-corpse crawling through the park is both frightening and pathetic. Seeing Morgan shoot a zom in the head and being angry at him for it. The show starts off subtley and builds tension slowly until the swarm in Atlanta. The receding camera shot where the zoms are clamoring over the tank and the horse carcass is a masterpiece. My husband (a fellow post-apoc fan) commented that they looked like maggots. Stunningly effective.

Now, toss in the human drama and hints of things to come. Morgan remains behind with the goal of "putting down" his infected wife as an act of mercy. However, for all his bravado, he can't pull the trigger. Rick's somewhat-estranged wife has hit the road with a survivor caravan. Lo and behold, she's decided to attach herself to the alpha male, who also happens to be Rick's old partner at the sheriff's department. Ouch . . . Atlanta is gone. The CDC is gone. The military is zombie-chow. Yet, a mocking voice through the radio lets Rick know that he is not alone.

"Hey you, dumb ass, you in the tank . . ."

What is the fascination with post-apoc drama? I was trying to explain it to my brother today. Post-apoc fiction breaks down into a few categories:

1. Nuclear not-quite annihilation (war or sabotage or accident)
2. Plague (war or accident or unexplained)
3. Something big hits the earth (comet, meteor, whup-ass solar flare)
4. Mother Nature is pissed (earthquake, volcano, giant sinkhole, rats)
5. Alien invasion

and, last, but certainly not least, the genre that is sort of 2, 4 and 5 combined:

6. The Zombie Apoc

In a post-plague situation if you survive, you are an "immune" and all you have to battle is starvation and crazed nutjobs who want to kick your ass and take your stuff. Same in a post environment disaster. Once the comet has hit, your day is about as ruined as it is going to get. You may die of cholera, but nothing is going to hit you again. Aliens may certainly kill you, may even eat you, but (unless they are Borg), you aren't going to become an alien. All of these scenarios are scary, but manageable.

Enter the zombies. The ultimate fear-factor. First, you may be immune to the initial outbreak, but one bite or scratch and you will be coming back for more. Second, a zombie outbreak is the catastrophe that keeps on giving. You can't rest. They keep coming. Clear out a building and it could be swarming again by morning. Until you've blown the brains out of about six billion of your fellow man, you are not safe. Third, oh yeah, the few other crazed starving survivors will want to kick your ass and take your stuff.

AMC did a brilliant job portraying this fear and fascination in the first episode. As it progresses, I expect to see a typical character arc develop: the reluctant hero, the arrogant alpha who seeks redemption, the plucky tough chick, the damsel in distress, the older voice-of-reason, the precocious old-before-his-time kid.

Bring em on!

There will also likely be some political intrigue as the "why" begins to seep into the storyline. No problem. CBS tried with "Jericho" and almost made it. The limitations of the mainstream media were too much and the show fell into cliche-dom and failed. Cable can do justice to this classic storyline. However, there is one thing that will send me screaming from my TV and back to Netflix for Romero classics - if the storyline devolves into the weirdness that was "LOST." No way, no how . . . the mere hint of a smoke monster and I'm done.

Until then, I'm already counting down to next Sunday and if I read the ratings right, so are about five million others.

Book Review - Unholy Ghosts by Stacia Kane

2010-08-28T14:05:00.000-07:00

Over the last year I've gotten to know Stacia Kane a bit via the Absolute Write forum, Facebook, Twitter, and her website, all the usual social networking channels. However, I was very skeptical of urban fantasy. All the UF I looked at seemed the same - a stacked goth Mary Sue in black leather kicking ass with knives and magic. Whatever . . .

But, the buzz intrigued me about the three Downside Magic books from Stacia. I liked Stacia's voice and style in my interactions with her, could it be I would like her books as well?

I decided to start at the beginning with "Unholy Ghosts." Folks, this Clancy/King/Michener fan was hooked. She had me from "Had the man in front of her not already been dead, Chess probably would have tried to kill him."

Chess Putnam is a freewheeling witch with a monkey on her back. In a post-apoc world, she is employed by the Church of Real Truth, ostensibly hunting ghosts, but mostly cashing bonus checks for debunking them. Good work when you can get it. A dependable income and probably medical benefits. Her status, identified by her elaborate tattoos, gives her protected status in the rough and tumble world of Downside. She's safe from everything but her own dark side.

A debt to her drug dealer drags her into an off-the-books banishing. Let's just say that mayhem ensues . . .

A recap of the story isn't necessary. It's rollicking good fun. Don't analyze it, just roll with it. It's the character of Chess Putnam and the dystopian world-building that makes this book stand out in a crowded field.

I am a sucker for a well-crafted flawed and reluctant hero. Chess Putnam pops pills like breath mints and chooses men for their looks and utter inability to commit. Yet, on the flip side, her devotion to the church and its perceived safety reveals a softness and vulnerability to Chess. She looks tough, but it's really a brittle shell.

Stacia has evidently taken some heat for the casual drug use in the book. There is nothing casual about it. Chess is as haunted as the Chester Airport. The pills and thrill-seeking help her chase the demons away for a little while. The fact that I was practically screaming for her to put down the pills and get some sleep just shows that I bought into the character one-hundred-percent. Isn't that the point? If anybody is a walking just-say-no poster, it is Chess Putnam.

However, there is a core of steel and heroism to Chess. When the airport job grows well beyond the original deal with Bump, she risks everything to defend the church she believes in and to release a tortured soul.

Then she pops a couple of 'Cepts and runs off to romp with the sexy enigmatic Lex (one of the guys mother definitely warned you about). BLARG!!! I love it! Kudos to Ms. Kane for crafting a character that drove me crazy. I prefer that to her "coming to her senses" and checking into rehab (sorta like a goth Lindsay Lohan). Puh-leeze, if I want redemption, I'll watch the Hallmark Channel.

Next is the beautifully crafted post-apoc world. Stacia weaves in subtle references to contemporary society and pop culture to ground Chess's world to mine. The thought of the dead rising to slaughter the living is more disquieting when I can look around and imagine it happening here. Stacia's world-building rivals Stephen King's in "The Gunslinger."

The Church of Real Truth is a masterpiece. I love all the subtle pilgrim references - the wide hats, the buckled shoes, the caps, and the Goodys. Where pilgrims once staunchly and narrow-mindedly defended one flavor of truth, Stacia's now defend another. Brilliant and well-done.

This book is a winner and I can't wait to read the other two. I rate this one a full five-stars, two snaps up, and a bag of chips. Go get it now at Amazon!

I Can Haz Erma . . .

2010-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

WOO-HOO!

My first column in my new freelance gig appears today (08/26/1010) at "An Army of Ermas."
A simple little tale of me versus about a zillion ants. I won't give away the outcome, but it wasn't pretty.

This blog is wonderful. It is a funny and thoughtful look at family life in the new millenia. Good clean humor about everyday life. Check it out and drop a follow, you won't be disappointed.

Thanks to everyone who voted for me in the contest to name to the two new Erma writers. I've had a lot of unfunny things go on in my life in the last year and the ability to write and laugh about the little things has gone a long way to restoring my usually sunny outlook on life.

What Law Students (& Writers) Can Learn From Puppies

2010-08-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

This is really cute and very appropriate for the first year of law school.

However, I think it applies to writers who are deep in their manuscript as well. Short post, check it out!

What 1Ls (and writers) can learn from puppies.

The Essential "Little Black Dress" Books Part 2

2010-08-22T08:54:00.001-07:00

My thanks to everyone who commented on part 1 of the LBD book series and who emailed me with suggestions.

Today is Part 2 of the LBD series discussing my favorite sprawling epic stories. To qualify, the book must be able to do double duty as a doorstop while keeping me enthralled all the way from start to finish. So, join me in celebrating awesomeness on an epic scale.

These books would go with me to a desert island and at least two have weighed down my carry-on bag to Europe (and I have the stiff shoulder to prove it). These monster books are the reason the ereader was invented!

1. Red Storm Rising by Tom Clancy and Larry Bond.

Weighs in at 736 pages. The ultimate Cold War combat book. Sabotage at the refinery that the USSR depends on for fuel threatens to cripple the superpower. A secret plot to seize the resources of the Persian Gulf ignites WWIII.

Clancy and Bond put you in a tank roaring 50 miles per hour over the farmland of Germany. Experience the deadly silence in the cockpit of the B-2 Stealth bomber. You are under the polar ice pack as Russian killer subs pick of the damaged members off your convoy. Heavy on plot and action with only enough character development to give the reader a stake in the outcome. Written in 1986 and still in print. Class lasts.

2. The Far Pavillions by M.M. Kaye.

Weighs in at 960 pages. I'm usually not a big fan of romance. However, this book is a sweeping saga that introduces you to the hidden and mysterious world of India under British rule.

Ashton is a British orphan raised by his Indian ayah in the household of a Rajah until she is forced to return him to his relations in England. Ten years later Ashton returns to India as an officer in the British Army. His upbringing clashes with his training and threatens to split his loyalties.

Serendipity, in the form of an assignment to shepherd a royal bridal party, reunited him with his childhood playmate, the daughter of the Rajah. Anjuli has grown up and grown beautiful. However, she, along with her sister, is promised to the Raj. Mayhem ensues . . .

A true Victorian romance full of action, adventure, danger, and drama. Historical accuracy is superb. You can feel the sun and smell the incense in this lush saga. Perfectly paced. Even after nearly a thousand pages, I didn't want to see it end. Written in the 1980s and still in print.

3. Hawaii by James Michener.

A hefty 960 pages. Of all the brick-o-michener books, Hawaii is the most accessible. The story is irresistible. From the discovery and settling of the island by a tribe of Polynesians seeking to escape religious persecution, to the arrival of the missionaries, to the evolution of the present day polygot civilization, the pace is long and slow, but never lags.

The story focuses on the founding of family dynasties. The strength of Michener's magic is that you believe they are real people and you are reading history, not fiction. An amazing feat that he maintains for nearly a thousand pages. Written in the 1950s and still in print. An epic and a classic.

When I do these reviews, I like to read the "hated it" reviews to see what they have to say. I'll admit, Hawaii isn't for everyone. One of the 2-stars summed it up by saying,

"i laos enjoyed the leaper partsd and the trials and tribulations of the chinese and Japense people. the problem here is that the auther gose on and on about pointless stuff we will soon forget. This novle could easly of been 500 pages but it's over 1000. I was dissapointed but it wasent entirley a bad book it was enjoyanle at times."[sic]

As I said, Hawaii isn't for everyone, but it is for me.

4. Shogun by James Clavell.

I hope you have a comfy chair, this one comes in at 1210 pages. The first novel in the Clavell Asian saga, Shogun delivers the feel and spirit of medieval Japan and samurai culture. Full of action, drama, romance, and conflict. I've read this book a half-dozen times and the star-crossed romance of East and West in the form of Mariko and Anjin-san never disappoints.

If you are looking for a spot on history of Japan, look elsewhere. Clavell doesn't have Michener's fanatic attention to detail, but I don't care. Shogun is where you start and don't stop until you finish Noble House. The books cleverly weave together and are best read in sequence. Has stood the test of time. Still in print since 1975.

5. Trinity by Leon Uris.

A worthy entry at 894 pages. Let's see. We've been to WWIII in Europe, Victorian India, Hawaii, and medieval Japan. I finish up today's list with a trip to Ireland during the beginning of "The Troubles."

History changed the day the first Irish farmer found black spots on the potatoes. With frightening speed, the primary staple of an entire country became inedible. The resulting famine helped destablize the British Empire and sparked a mass migration to the United States. The politics of potatoes.

Uris makes no apologies. If you are expecting a well-balanced analysis of British and Irish interests, you won't get it. Uris is on the side of the Irish and it blasts through in the book. However, the clash of wealth with poverty, aristocrat with plebian, and Protestant with Catholic is a thinking man's drama. Throw in action, adventure, star-crossed romance, and Trinity is a gripping read. First pubbed in 1976 and has stood the test of time. Still in print.

Thanks for sticking with this post. I've presented about 5000 pages of some of my favorite storytelling. The common themes are historical upheaval and political intrigue. Some have a romantic element, but it is not the primary component of the story. One thing I noticed is that the newest one was written in 1986. Most are from the 1970s. You've seen what I like. Any suggestions on newer books that pack the same political and historical punch? Let me know, I am curious.

Just Clowning Around . . .

2010-08-15T21:17:00.000-07:00

Had some fun this weekend with the clown blog. I took ten of my favorites from the Creepy Clown Continum and introduced them to the world via Buzzfeed.

Buzzfeed is a meme pool where the coolest, strangest, bizarrest, funniest, and all around viral interwebz content hangs out. It's sort of Grand Central Station for web buzz.

I'm very proud and pleased that "10 Creepy Clown Paintings" is being well received by the denziens of the web. It was chosen for front page placement by the editors and had over 3000 page hits in the first 24 hours.

If you have a little web time to sink, buzz by and drop a like or a retweet. It would be much appreciated!

Publish America versus Createspace

2010-08-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

Why Createspace Is Better Than Publish America.

Reams have been written about Publish America and why it is a bad choice for book publishing.

It is a vanity press in cheap clothing. PA’s blaring red, white, and blue website promises the moon, but, in reality, delivers a big wheel of moldy cheese.

While true commercial publishing, through a publisher with editorial standards and distribution should always be the goal, sometimes a project is more appropriate for self-publishing. My book has a niche appeal to a specific group of collectors. It made sense for me to be able to control all aspects of marketing and distribution. I was free to include advertising for my company. I could set the price . . . and so on and so forth. Definitely not a Random House project.

I had choices with this project and one of those choices could have been Publish America. I chose to go with Createspace. Here is the rationale behind that decision and why I recommend Createspace (CS) over Publish America (PA).

Note: This analysis concerns the true self-publishing part of CS. They have pay-to-play options such as cover design, formatting, and copy editing. I did not use those services. I felt that if I wanted to produce a book myself, then I needed to learn how to produce the print ready files. CS has a thriving forum full of people ready to help with the technical side. A good crit group and the ability to copyedit are necessary to all writers! If I'd felt the need for outside help, I would have contracted for it on the open market.

That said:

1. Retail Price: I was completely free to set the retail price for my book. I balanced factors such as shipping costs, shipping materials, costs to use payment services such as PayPal, costs to list on internet auction sites, the royalty to my illustrator, and the advance I paid to my illustrator. I was able to price my book at $7.99 retail and make a fair profit on the project. I've read where PA writers are selling their books for $14.00 to $17.00 and still not seeing a profit. Outside of the advance I paid to the illustrator, I saw a profit inside of 24 hours.

With PA, my little book would have retailed for a minimum of $24.95 unless I gave in to one of their pay-to-play author purchase hard sells. The lowest price I could have seen from PA was $9.95. My max royalty from PA would have ranged from .80 - $1.95 per copy. Without revealing all my secrets, I can say that I make more than that on every copy regardless of the sales channel.

I did this project to get books out to collectors, not to see it posted on a retailer’s website to show to my mom. I didn’t “just want to hold a copy in my hands.” I wanted collectors to hold it in their hands. To mix my metaphors, at the end of the day, the bottom line is price. All the hyperbole about how customers will pay more for “quality stories” is wishful thinking for an unknown writer.

2. Price for Self-Purchase: Really, I could begin and end the analysis here. CS uses a pricing calculator based on the number of pages. For books under 110 pages, the price is $2.15 per copy under the “Pro Plan” (one time fee of $39.00). I can order any time without waiting for a promotion email (although with PA, those come almost daily).

I can order one or a hundred and immediately know what it will cost. I sell my books through my website and at trade shows. I also want to be able to give them out as contest prizes and promos. The price per copy was very important in my decision.

Don’t think this doesn’t apply to novels. Say I had written an 80,000 word novel and wanted to publish through CS. Using the general formula of 300 words per page, the book would be approximately 270 pages long. The price per copy is $4.09.

Compare this to PA. The best self-purchase offer I have ever seen is 50% off, buy-one-get-one-free. Now, on a $24.95 book, that is still $6.23 per copy, or almost three times what I pay at CS. Also, to get a deal like this, PA requires the writer to purchase a minimum number of copies.

CS allows for the purchase of one or a thousand and the price never changes. On that 80,000 word novel, the PA price would have been more like $29.95 or $7.50 per copy on the BOGO offer. That’s minimum! These days PA is only offering a single 50% discount, so the price range is more like $12.50 - $14.50 per copy. This is a recipe for economic disaster for a writer who wants to self-market. The array of sales gimmicks sent to writers by PA is dizzying.

3. Shipping Costs: With PA, you pay up to $3.99 per copy to ship your books. With CS, you pay weight based shipping and have the option to choose your shipping method. Not in a hurry? Pick media mail. In a hurry? Pick Priority Mail and pay a premium.

My last order was 25 copies via Media Mail. With CS, I paid $6.00 for shipping. With PA, shipping costs could have been as high as $100.00.

4. Shipping Times: The PA message board often contains posts about waiting weeks for orders of books. They rationalize it to themselves by saying the PA has to handcraft their books and hand pack each order. That is, before the posts are deleted or whisked off to the private message board.

Pfffffttt . . .

Here is my experience ordering from CS. I placed an order on Monday morning. On Monday afternoon I had confirmation that the package had shipped. I had it in hand on Friday (I had selected the more economical and slower Media Mail). On my most recent order of 25 books, order-to-delivery time was eight days (again by Media Mail).

I’m ordering books from a company that makes books. Not hand-thrown pottery from an eccentric artist with a waiting list.

5. Customer Service: Again, the PA message boards are full of people begging for answers to their questions. Literally begging.

Their response? Rude, condescending, ugly, insulting rants comparing them to stupid children who don’t understand how business works. Disgusting treatment for asking legitimate questions.

Now, contrast that to CS. I had a problem getting my file set up. It was a stupid mistake on my part that concerned my middle initial (I know!). CS has a system where you email them between 8:30 and 5:30 EST and they will call you back. It took fifteen minutes for my phone to ring. The tech was able to answer my questions and clear up the problem in minutes. He was helpful, knowledgeable, and cheerful. It was a pleasure.

7. Distribution: The bane of self-publishing. Not a huge worry for me, as I had my distribution plan in place. I had a platform, a mailing list, and a target audience. However, I still needed mechanisms for fulfillment.

With CS, I had a personalized vendor page within minutes. I was able to distribute this link to my mailing list and begin making sales within an hour. It took three days for my book to be indexed and live on Amazon. CS also has options to distribute via Ingrams, but that wasn’t necessary for my book. Had I gone for this option, bookstores could order it at the industry standard 40 – 50% discount with returnability.

With PA, writers are required to buy copies of their book to “activate” it on Amazon, and have it “recommended” to Barnes & Noble, and have it “donated” to bookstores, and “pitched” to Stephen King and Tom Hanks. PA writers are constantly inveigled to “promote, promote, promote” because no publisher supports its writers and all writers have to do this!

While it is true that self-publication means self-promotion, I am helped by CS rather than hindered. I am able to set a good fair price. I have a fully functional ecommerce shopping cart. I have the ability to offer bookstores order fulfillment with professional discounts. Should lightning strike and a large retailer want to buy in bulk, CS has an app for that! CS is part of the solution, not part of the problem. I have all of this at my disposal without the purchase of a single book.

8. Reporting: Back to the PA message board. Post after post begging for information about royalties. Then when the raft of $2.00 checks arrives in the mail, there is an angry barrage of posts about errors in the royalty reports. PA royalties are paid twice a year.

CS is completely transparent. They tell you upfront it takes two to five days to update the royalty reports. I launched the book on August 7th in the evening. I had my first royalty report on August 9th. CS royalties are paid every month.

9. Editing: Neither CS or PA edit. PA may run a spell check and often introduce errors. Your requested corrections may or may not be implemented. At CS, you purchase a proof copy of your book and when you see it as it will be published, you correct your own files and reload them. Want to dump chapter three after seeing it in print. Do it! Other than the initial Pro Plan fee, there is no charge for changing and reloading your files during the proofing process.

There’s more, but this post is long enough! If you have any questions, please leave a comment and I will answer it there.

I Am Proud & Pleased To Present . . .

2010-08-07T19:48:00.001-07:00

My first project from the "Circle X Ranch Press."

A little backstory for my new readers. When I'm not lawyering, I run Marx Toys - Circle X Ranch, a small company dedicated to bringing back the iconic 1960s cowboy action figure Johnny West. My website is www.magicmarxie.com. Better known as "Johnny West's Home On The Net," it is also the kick-off point to our vibrant on-line collector club, Circle X Ranch.

I teamed up with one of our collectors, an insanely talented artist named Mykol Blackwell, and together we created the Johnny West Circle X Ranch Coloring Book. Twenty-five original drawings featuring our favorite characters, including Princess Wildflower, Sam Cobra, Jesse James, Jane West, Fighting Eagle, the Fort Apache Fighters, and the West kids. The cover is an original painting by Mykol, done in a pulp 1960s style.

The coloring book is now available for sale through Amazon-Createspace for $7.99 plus Amazon shipping charges.

A sample of this fantastic project:

Order now from Amazon-Createspace!

There Is Cool . . .

2010-08-04T19:55:00.000-07:00

Then there is super-liquid-nitrogen-absolute-zero-cool. Whoever, created this image, I give you the Star Trek Vulcan salute and hope that you live long and prosper.

Star Trek meets Firefly

Blast From The Past . . .

2010-08-01T17:02:00.000-07:00

Hi Gang!

Instead of being a responsible blogger and working on my little blog family today, I meandered around the interwebz and, for no apparent reason, started googling friends from high school. Now, it's the class of 1978 I'm talking about, so some detective work was needed.

I've run across my former best friend's info on the web a few times. However, until today, via the wack world of Facebook, I've never reached out to her. She accepted my request and we exchanged a couple of short notes, the first in over thirty years.

Emboldened, I searched a bit more. Lo and behold, there was one of my best friends from grammar and high school. I remember being sent into the hall in Dottie Francis' sixth grade reading class for pantomiming the story that was being read out loud by the teacher. We were perfect little mimes until the giggles got the best of us.

I found an alum site for my high school, joined up and read discussion posts on favorite teachers and fond memories. Just seeing names like Max Lemon, "Roy's EZ Mart," and "Brown's Drive-In" sent a wave of weird down to my toes. But weird in a good way.

High school was bittersweet for me. A very odd and unhappy family situation made me an unusually odd and geeky kid in a time when conformity was a premium. We were poor, we lived in the "trailer park," I didn't have a mom, and some life experiences had left me both too wise in some ways and utterly clueless in too many others. Nobody really knew what was going on and, in those days, you just didn't tell.

But thirty-two years can put a balm on all but the worst memories and I found myself almost nostalgic for a time and place I swore I'd never visit again. So, my thanks to you Michi. Some of the best times of those years were visiting you and your mom. I've thought of you many times over the years.

Here's hoping that Dave and Rayme friend-me-up as well. Old home week? No. New talk and becoming reacquainted again? Here's hoping.

So, my post on my take on the future of ebooks and how the technology for the ultimate enhanced ebook is already here, will post this week. Thanks to new friends and old.

Stuff That Makes Me Happy . . . Part I

2010-07-29T20:17:00.001-07:00

Been a bear of a week (actually a bear of a summer), but I've developed a little hobby that helps me keep it under control. I live about a half mile from my work, so I walk every day that the weather lets me. Lately, I've been carrying a little camera in the pocket of my cargo shorts and snapping pics of things that amuse me and make me happy.

This is one of those things. This is a small mural I discovered on the side of a garage of a vacant house that is for sale. I wanted to preserve it in case the house is sold to someone with a bucket of paint and no sense of humor! How could a WOZ fan resist?

Too much neat stuff in my small town is disappearing in the name of "modernization" and "beautification." I believe there needs to be room for the eccentric and off-the-wall. What say you all?

Terri

My List of "Little Black Dress" Books: Part I

2010-07-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

It seems that everywhere I click around, I find another list of books that are essential to read in order not to be classed as a drooling idiot. Luckily, on most lists, I have read enough to at least avoid the drooling part. However, when I look at some of the other titles on these lists, I conclude that life is just too short to read stuff I don't like.

But, I decided that if I am going to diss the other lists, I had better be willing to put up my own for consideration (and possible ridicule). I consider this bunch to be my "little black dress" book list, the books I can't do without. They've made me a better writer, thinker, and definitely helped with that drooling idiot thing (at least in my opinion).

(Prepare to marvel at my choices or roll your eyes!)

1. "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck. This is the one and only book I've ever taken out from a library and refused to return. The edition I checked out had the classic watercolor cover and I had to have it. I gave the library the "dog ate my book" story and paid the $2.52 price tag. This is one of the great and quintessential American novels. To understand it is to understand the American story. I read it for the umpteenth time when I was driving Route 66 from Tulsa to Los Angeles. Not to be missed. All those side roads and tumbledown buildings have a story. The Grapes of Wrath is one of those stories.

2. "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" by L. Frank Baum. When I was a kid we didn't have much. Someone gave me one of those "young readers" classic sets and I read them until the canvas bindings worn thin. Only four books from that set made it through all the childhood moves and this is one of them. A feast for the imagination and a perfect fantasy. The other three surviving books from the series? Pinnochio, The Peterkin Papers, and Grimms Fairy Tales. All admirable in their own right.

3. "To Kill A Mockingbird" by Harper Lee. They'd take away my writer's badge and beanie cap if I didn't have this on my list. I have to admit, I didn't read it until I was a full-grown lawyer. Today, when the courtroom often has more in common with an NWO cage match than the hallowed halls of justice and reason, the ideal of Atticus Finch is worth revisiting. However, it is this small book, told through the eyes of Scout in a refreshing voice that weaves the spell. Best use of first person POV ever.

4. "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair. Most renowned for its effect on government and for being the catalyst for the 1906 legislation on food safety, this book is so much more than a guy falling into the rendering vat and being made into sausage.

If Grapes of Wrath is the story of the American heartland, The Jungle is the story of the American city during the industrial revolution. Immigants workers were the cheap labor that fueled the machine. Grind them up and replace them with fresh ones when they are worn out. Machines were expensive and people were cheap - that was the driving force behind the business decisions of the day.

Even though the book devolves into a Socialist rant at the end, the vivid imagery of wealth created through the pain of others is still as relevant as it was in 1906. Laissez faire capitalism is not pretty.

Another little bit of trivia about this book that I like. About twenty-five minutes from where I live, Girard Kansas (of all places), was a hotbed of Socialism back in the day. In 1980, a young man appeared at Pittsburg State University in Pittsburg Kansas (about a half hour south) with a truckload of moldering paper he had found at a farm. In that "fetid mass" were letters between Sinclair and the editors of "Appeal to Reason," the newspaper of the Socialist movement. At its height, it had a circulation of 400,000 copies per week. Also found was the original serialized version of The Jungle.

Why do I like this? Because it is part of the American story. Girard is a sleepy little town on the Kansas prairie. Driving through it, you'd never know that it was a maelstrom of political intrigue at the turn of the century. What other secrets do the small towns in the "fly-over" states keep? Here's hoping that the guys hired to clean the basements and haul the trash will bring them to light.

Okay, that's it for part one of my book list. Hope to see you again! What's on your list???

An Arresting Experience . . . Part 2

2010-07-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

Second in a series of satirical essays I wrote a few years ago.

------------------------------------------------------------------

A few things to thing about to avoid what is known as "The Traffic Stop." If you read this and still get pulled over, don't blame me. You were warned!

Hello! Your friendly neighborhood public defender is back to give some more tips on how to improve your relationship with the criminal justice system. Hope you enjoy it. Pay attention. There may be a test later.

Driving. The ultimate expression of personal freedom and a necessity in our society. However, the minute you get behind the wheel, you've increased your odds of joining the criminal justice system by a factor of about a thousand. You'd think that strapping several thousand pounds of steel and flammable chemicals onto your body would activate every ounce of education and common sense a person could ever possess.

Wrong. In fact, the mere act of turning the ignition key seems to disengage the brains of a sizable percentage of the driving population. The single easiest way to avoid the criminal justice system is to avoid driving. However, since that's not an option, here are some avoidance pointers.

1. Drinking. Don't do it. Yeah, right. Consider this. The legal limit for blood alcohol content [BAC] in most states is .08. If you are under the age of twenty-one, the limit is .02. Pretty much, if you've been in the same room with beer, you could test hot when the officer says "blow here." [Free hint #1: Replying "how about you blow here . . ." will not garner the response you want.]

Therefore, if you must drink and drive, think ahead. For example, carefully inspect your car. Are all the lights working? Do the blinkers blink? Are your tags current? Is anything on your tags obscured with mud? Is anything hanging or falling off your car? Are your seatbelts in good working order? If you can answer "yes" to these questions, you may be ready to drink and drive. "No" to any of these questions means you need a ride to the party with a more safety-conscious friend. You are not ready to drink and drive and may, as a result, find yourself in contact with the criminal justice system. Many a night in jail began with a simple traffic infraction. [Free hint #2: There is no such thing as a simple traffic infraction.]

2. Marijuana. Hey, it's just weed! No big deal. Just the man trying to spoil my buzz! Let me explain a couple of things to you. First, marijuana and its "active ingredient THC" is against the law in all fifty states. In most states, it's a class 'A' misdemeanor, punishable by up to twelve months as a guest of your county sheriff. We'll talk more about the jail experience later, this is about staying out of jail.

If you must smoke and drive, the same vehicle safety rules as drinking and driving apply. If your car can't pass a visual safety inspection, leave it in the driveway. A broken taillight screams "probable cause" to the police officer or state trooper that just saw you leave the biggest party in the county. Make them earn their taxpayer dollars, fix your freaking blinkers.

If you must smoke and drive, be sure you finish your entire stash before you leave the party. If you are heading to the party, buy it there. I don't care if BYOB (bring your own baggie) is cheaper. An arrest for possession is more expensive. I say this because, it is not illegal, on its face, to carry marijuana (and its active ingredient THC) in your body. It is illegal to carry it on your body or in your car. Yeah, you could still get busted for stoned driving, but your first offense is probably a deferred sentence and drug school. Possession is a dead-bang conviction with twelve months of peeing in a cup for your Probation Officer and the prospect of county jail hanging over your head. It has always been my opinion that it is generally better to be caught stoned than to be caught carrying. (We'll talk about the phenomenon of "pedestrian under the influence" another time."

This goes for paraphernalia as well. Paraphernalia is a big word that deserves some explanation because that roach clip will sink your sorry butt as fast as a nice fat lid. Paraphernalia is "any device used to store, prepare, inject, ingest . . . or in any way introduce a controlled substance into the human body." Pipes, straws, roach clips, aluminum foil and baggies containing residue . . . you name it and most likely they can classify it as "paraphernalia." Merely having these items is a bright shiny misdemeanor in its own right.

However, it gets better. If the prosecutor sends your paraphernalia to the lab and it tests positive for any "controlled and dangerous substance" (CDS), then you get another charge for possession. So listen up! Rinse and toss those straws. For heaven's sake, get rid of that burned aluminum foil. Leave your bong at home. Toss the roaches, and never (and I mean never, ever) leave your roach clip in the ashtray or clipped to your visor.

3. Minor In Possession: A special subset of the law, reserved for those under twenty-one. I'll make it simple. If you are under the age of twenty-one, it is against the law for you to possess, attempt to possess, consume, or be under the influence of alcohol. It is one of the few times that being intoxicated, on its face, is illegal. There's no defense, unless you find a time warp and age real quick between the time of your arrest and your court date. Probation, a fine, community service, pee-in-the-cup, and a suspended driver's license awaits you. If you are under sixteen, they wait until you turn sixteen and get your license. Then they suspend it! This awaits you if you decided to indulge in underage drinking. It ain't worth it . . .

4. Insurance: Every state in the country requires that a motorist carry some form of liability insurance. In some state, the requirement is as low as $15,000 (barely enough to cover the front quarter-panel of a Hummer.)

This is what the state calls a "strict liability" offense. That means you either have it or you don't. There are no excuses and no defenses. No "I just bought the car and was driving it home." No "I have applications in with three agents and none have called me back yet." No "I had it, but lost my job and missed a payment." This is one of the few black and white, right and wrong offenses on the books. Also, word for word, one of the most serious. First offense is a fine, probation, and up to twelve months suspension of your license. Screw it up twice or more and you are looking at mandatory jail time in many states.

Of course, the easiest way to get and keep insurance is never to need it. I pay sixty-seven dollars a month on a car, two vans, and a work truck. My husband and I are over forty and have boring half-page driving records. Our insurance is cheap. If it's too late for you to have a boring driving record, you have to be more creative.

5. Driver's License: You know, that little card they gave you when you were sixteen after the examiner managed to pry his hands from over his eyes. Your ticket to the open road. Yours to keep. Yours to lose. The state does not take your license away. You give it to them by doing dumb ass things and getting caught. You notice I say "and getting caught." It is theoretically possible to be a dumb ass and get away with it for many years. However, since you are most likely an idiot for getting your license suspended, you will most likely get caught. Living under the radar and off the grid takes cunning and discipline. Face it, if you had those qualities, you wouldn't be sitting in jail after the cops found you sitting in your car using your suspended license as a scraper to get the seeds out of your stash.

A suspended license is a snowball rolling downhill that is not easy to stop. I don't touch license defense cases with a ten-foot pole. They suck. Find a lawyer that specializes in this particular subset of the criminal justice system, because you're probably not smart enough to do it on your own.

All right! It's Saturday night and you've had a few beers and tokes and it's time to get in your ride and head on home. You burn rubber out of your buddy's driveway with a rebel yell, do a U-turn in the middle of the block and head on back to the crib. A stop sign roll-through and unsignaled left turn later, you see flashing red and blue lights in the rearview mirror duct-taped to your windshield. You pull over and park, only one wheel on the sidewalk, and wait.

This is it. This is the traffic stop. More nights in jail and trips to court start this way than any other. A few tips to make this encounter more enjoyable and hopefully productive.

1. From the time you bring the car to a complete stop until the officer speaks to you, keep your hands quiet and in plain sight. At all costs, avoid "furtive movements." In the county where I started, this was the number one instance of "probable cause" listed on police reports.

Keep those hands in plain sight. If you are an innocent driver getting stopped for a bit of speeding or an expired tag, don't open your glove compartment to get your registration. If you're a dumb ass, it's too late to hide your pipe and the beer between your legs.

2. This is not the time to get chatty. A hearty "Howdy Ossifer!" or "What the hell you doing in that monkey suit, Delbert!" is not going to help at this point. The officer will tell you what he wants. There is no need to do anything other than truthfully answer his questions.

Guess what? You have some civil rights in this situation and this is a good time to know a bit about them. Typically, the officer will tell you why he stopped you. He'll say something like "Didn't you see that stop sign?" or "The speed limit in this neighborhood is thirty-five miles per hour."

If he doesn't tell you, feel free to ask. He has to answer. Now, be aware, if he stopped you for "DWB" (Driving While Black or Brown, depending on the area), the officer will have to think up something quick. If you are sober enough to pay attention, watch his body language when you ask the question. He may twitch or get a bit nervous and give some lame answer like "you failed to signal your right turn at the last stop light" or "one of your blinkers is dim." Tell your lawyer about this type of behavior. It might be relevant down the road.

You are required to produce identification and give your correct name when an officer has probable cause to ask. He has to have his "probable cause" (better known as PC.) That's the good news. The bad news is that just about anything you do is PC. A traffic stop is most definitely PC.

A couple of quick topics before I wrap this up. Now, entire classes have been taught, piles of books have been written, and Supreme Court cases argued about these next two points. So, don't expect to be an expert in a few paragraphs. However, there are a few things you should know.

Can a cop search me and my car because I committed some pissant traffic infraction?

Do you want the real answer or the "real world" answer?

The real answer is that the police need PC to conduct a search of your person or your vehicle. There are a couple of exceptions. If you are asked to step out of your vehicle, the officer can do a quick "pat-down" search to determine if you are carrying any weapons. The legal standards covering "officer safety" are pretty broad and usually interpreted in favor of the cops.

He can also do a "plain-view" search of your vehicle. That is whatever he can see by leaning in the windows. If it's in "plain view," you are royally screwed.

Now a bit of real world. The officer will often ask, in a very polite tone, if he can search your vehicle. You have every right in the world to say "No thank you. I'd rather you didn't." If you give this answer, be prepared for some pressure, such as "So, what do you have to hide?" and "How about we continue this talk downtown?" and the killer "Look, you have a [insert something wrong with your car or license]. I'm towing your car for safety violations." He then gets to search your car to his heart's content on the justification of inventorying your property. So, if you have nothing to hide, let him search. If you have something to hide, the choice is yours. If you decline, the officer may play legal chicken with you or just impound your sorry set of wheels. If you consent, he will find your stash and it's as good as a confession.

Bottom line, if you have to party, make sure it isn't in your car!

Do cops have the right to question my passengers if I am stopped for a traffic infraction?

Another hot topic. A traffic infraction is against the driver and the officer's PC doesn't extend beyond the driver. Unless the "plain-view" search screws the passengers as well. This includes open beer cans, paraphernalia in the ashtray, guns in the backseat . . . you get the point. However, more and more jurisdictions are allowing the police to ask passengers to step out of the vehicle and produce indentification. After all, the passengers are "witnesses" to the heinous traffic infraction that the driver committed and police are entitled to gather witness information. I know . . ., but that is where the law is headed.

If you are a passenger in a car during a traffic stop, be cool. The officer may talk to you and ask to see your identification. However, his authority stops there. If he asks to search you, ask him "why?" Don't cop an attitude or get stupid, but ask him why he needs to search you. If you are innocent, be cooperative. But, don't be pushed around. You do have rights. However, this does not include the right to be a dumb ass. Err on the side of caution and you will get through this traffic stop.

Better yet, follow all the above advice and don't get stopped!

The usual, expected and [to some] entertaining "fine print" and legal disclaimers:

1. This is satire. Do not drink and drive. The odds are against you and someone could die. It could be someone you love. It could be someone totally innocent. It could be you. If you don't care about your own sorry ass, think about the people that do.

2. This is satire. I have no use for street drugs. It makes you stupid, funds criminal organizations, and saps society as a whole. If you must use, do it at home. Keep it away from kids and keep it off the road.

3. This is satire. A traffic stop is the most dangerous part of a cop's job. It is a total crap shoot. He has no idea what to expect. The average officer would rather kick down a door to serve a warrant than to pull up behind your rolling bucket of bolts and deal with you and your crap. Be polite. Be cooperative. Take your ticket. However, you don't have to take any shit. You have the right to ask questions. Just try not to breathe directly into the officer's face. Let's be realistic - you probably reek.

4. This is satire. I am sympathetic to your plight. Okay, not very. The offenses listed in this chapter are next to impossible to defend against. The easiest way not to get caught is to: have a valid driver's license, have insurance, don't drink and drive and don't do drugs. Am I a drag or what?

Favorite Cartoon Shout Out!

2010-07-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

I love this cartoon!

Check out XKCD, which comes with the following disclaimer: "Warning: this comic occasionally contains strong language (which may be unsuitable for children), unusual humor (which may be unsuitable for adults), and advanced mathematics (which may be unsuitable for liberal-arts majors).

Contest Reminder! Come Clown Around!

2010-07-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

On my humor blog, "Why I Fear Clowns," I am running a contest to celebrate my 100th post. Check it out and win cool swag.

Terri

The Devil Resides In The Details

2010-07-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Like everyone who keeps a writing blog, I love to read. My tastes run to legal thrillers, police procedurals, horror, mystery, military thrillers, etc. I like my stories tense and scary, but grounded in the real world.

To write stories grounded in the real world, the writer must do their research. A technical clunker, even a small one, can yank me out of the story and back to my hum-drum world and I hate that!

So, from time to time, I'll point out some common technical mistakes I find in books. Just like the military guy who beta read one of my chapters and reminded me that C-4 is not an incendiary material and there would be no flames in the explosion, I will pass on some of my technical knowledge.

My bona-fides. Before I went to law school, I was a civil engineer. I really need ya to believe me on this one.

Nothing is made of cement.

I was reading an ARC put out by a major house and read this line. "The street was lined with drab cement apartment buildings."

BLARGH!

1. Cement is the adhesive/binding powder that when mixed with water, sand, and small rocks (aggregate) form the building material known as concrete.

2. Once the mixture of water, cement, sand, and aggregate is hardened, it is known as concrete.

Buildings, sidewalks, swimming pools, etc. are made of concrete, not cement. It's really miraculous stuff. A bit of trivia, every year about six billion tons of concrete is produced, one ton for everyone on the planet.

Please have your characters wake up on the "hard concrete floor" or break their noses when thrown into "hard concrete walls" or have your streets lined with "drab concrete apartment buildings." It is correct and realistic. A small detail that adds to good writing.

Yes, using "cement" instead of the correct "concrete" is sometimes common usage. However, it's wrong. You wouldn't have a character sit down at a counter and enjoy his "milk" when he is actually enjoying a mixture of milk, syrup, and partially melted ice cream all blended together into a "milkshake."

I love it when a pro catches me in a blunder. No, I don't love making a blunder, I love it when I can correct an error and make my story more correct and realistic. So, I'll toss these out from time to time when I come across common errors. Until then, to quote Mac at Absolute Write, "Write hard. Write true. And write on."

Flash Fiction - "Fluffy's Revenge"

2010-07-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

I love flash fiction. Typically, the little tales run between 55 and 1,000 words and capture an odd bit of life and story in those few words. The following is a 300-word story I wrote for a contest sponsored by "Dream People," an eccentric and eclectic journal of surreal tales. I made the cut and was pubbed there back in 2005.

The writing prompt was "Decapitated Cat Soup." I know, just roll with me, I think you'll be amused, or possibly appalled.

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"Fluffy's Revenge"

I'm an artist. Visual arts mostly, I like to incorporate the remains of once living things into my sculptures. I'm quite popular. My latest work, "Gerbil-Head Barbie ~ Mint In Box," is nominated for a national award.

I carry gloves, tongs and plastic bags at all times, because I never know when I'm going to find pieces of something dead on the side of the road. Today was no exception.

Freeze it, skin it, boil it, scrape it . . . An artist's work is never done. However, today's find can simmer in a big pot on the back burner, because I'm expecting important guests. The kind of guests that carry fat checkbooks.

After the catering-service maids serve the soup course, conversation flows nicely. Everything is perfect. The wine is just the right temperature. The chunky meat soup is on the bland side, but tasty. Everything seems perfect, that is, until I feel a jabbing pain in my mouth as my teeth grind on something metal. Surreptitiously, I spit the offending object into my napkin. Disgusted and fascinated, I wipe off the spit and bits of broken tooth that obscure the writing on the small flat metal heart:

"My name is Fluffy. If found, please call 'Meow-Minders' at the number on the reverse side."

Grossed out, I'm about to speak, when one of my guests, a pale lady stuffed into an undersized satin sheath, says, "This soup is delightful. So . . . piquant, vibrant and earthy! What do you call it?"

My stomach turns and rumbles as I see what could only be a tuft of fur bobbing in the corner of her mouth as she speaks. I think fast and smile, "Thank you Mrs. Coventry. I'm glad you like it. It's a special recipe, just developed today. I call it 'Sopa de Gato Descabezado'."

Their eyes widen at the exotic name, and they dig in with gusto. Soon my table resounds with babble as each tries to outdo the other with fulsome praise. I harbor no doubt that each will be bragging tomorrow about their dinner with me, the famous artist who made a special dish just for them.

I aimlessly stir the globby gray mass in my bowl as I run my tongue over the jagged edge of my broken tooth and watch these sophisticated patrons of the arts relish their meal. It wouldn't be the first time I'd sacrificed something in the name of my craft. I guess tonight I specialize in performance art.

An Arresting Experience . . . Part 1

2010-07-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

This is the first in a series of satirical pieces I wrote several years ago about the criminal justice system. It's snark, but there is a lot of truth and information in here. I hope you enjoy it.

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Welcome to the criminal justice system. Let me be your guide . . . Just what is the difference between a felony and a misdemeanor anyway?

So, you've been arrested, or are thinking of doing something that might get you arrested. Well, there are a few things you need to know beforehand.

My name is Terri and I'm a criminal defense attorney. I'll be your guide to the criminal justice system. I wear several other hats as well, but that's the job that accounts for the majority of my student loan debt, and it's the job I write down when I have to fill in the 'occupation' blank on a document.

I'm not just a criminal defense attorney; I'm a public defender. If you can't afford to retain your own attorney, your transgressions against the peace and dignity of the state will land in my inbox. Therefore, this set of essays will center on criminals and criminalities from a common-man point of view. I'll talk more on how to get the most out of your relationship with your attorney and how to make the most of your time in the criminal justice system. However, today's discussion covers some of the basic information you need to know to get around.

Feel free to print out or take notes. I consider the following a public service and a way to clear out my inbox. Unlike private attorneys, I get paid whether you get arrested or not. So, by helping you keep out of jail, I'm helping myself keep my Fridays free.

Since the criminal justice system is just a traffic stop away, I thought I'd give you all a few pointers to help avoid being flattened by the wheels of justice. Like everything else, the "law" has its own set of players. Knowing the basics will make your relationship with the justice system go more smoothly.

1. City Cop vs. County Mountie vs. Trooper Scooper: Of course, these are all euphemisms for law enforcement officers. The guys who exist just to spoil your good time and make your life miserable. The guys who lurk behind every bush and know your every move, usually before you do. That is, until someone breaks into your house. Then they are slow-moving stupid oafs who, in your exalted opinion, couldn't catch a cold. In other words, they can't win. Since they can't win, some will not hesitate to score a point or two at your expense whenever possible. How many chances they get depends on you.

The main distinction among the three types of officers usually comes down to one key word: jurisdiction. That's legalese for "turf." Where you commit your crime will typically dictate who will be knocking at your door or on your car window. It's important to know where you are when you are breaking the law because each type of officer has their own quirks.

There are exceptions to every rule, but these generalizations are accurate enough to be, well, generalizations. If you ever have any doubts, check with your local government.

The city cop (or policeman) works for your city or town and has basic jurisdiction within city limits. Call him "officer." He works for the Chief of Police, usually an appointed or salaried official. If you are in a small town, chances are this officer is very young and makes less than your babysitter. Therefore, he may be a bit edgy from hunger and a trifle self-important. He's certainly not doing it for the pay. He considers himself part of the "thin blue line" between civilization and anarchy. Either that or he's trying to build enough cred to get hired by a city that pays better.

This is not a time to be witty. Statements like "Well, I was too drunk to walk" or "Don't you have a jaywalker to pick on?" will not get the response you want. [Free hint #1: the later it gets, the less funny you get].

The county mountie (or deputy) works for the county and answers to the Sheriff, an elected official. Call him "deputy." His beat is everything that is inside the county line, but outside the city limits. Unless there are legal papers of some sort involved. In just about every county in America, the Sheriff's office is an arm of the court system. If you hear a knock at the door and see a deputy through the peephole, odds are he has some sort of legal papers (warrants, summons, etc.) to give you. They call this "being served" although I've never understood what benefit this "service" confers on the recipient.

As a result, the public sometimes sees deputies as errand boys who only ask your name and then give you stuff you don't want. They also often have odd looking two-tone uniforms (ie - olive green with red pocket flaps and epaulets). This can lead to an inferiority complex. They don't miss a chance to get involved when there is real crime afoot. Deputies chase speeders and kick in doors on meth labs, just like "real" cops. They also carry guns. Dismiss (or diss) a deputy at your own risk.

The trooper scooper (or state trooper or highway patrolman) pounds a beat along the state and federal highways of our great land. Call him "trooper" or better yet, "sir." They consider the speed limit to be the eleventh commandment and that the governor should have carved it on a stone tablet. Your scoff-law behavior on the highway is a direct affront to their sense of duty and well-being. A disorderly highway leads to a disorderly society. It is their job to prevent that.

If you are not sure whether you've been pulled over by a sheriff's deputy or state trooper, run this quick test. If you see a starched khaki, navy, or black uniform, mirrored sunglasses (even at night) and a flat-brimmed hat, you are probably dealing with a trooper. If you are still not sure, tell a joke. A deputy might just crack a smile. A trooper will find another law you've violated. All troopers have their humor glands removed at the academy. Remember, you've been warned.

2. Lower Court Judge vs. District Court Judge: Every state (and even some counties) have a variant on the same court system. They may go by different names, but all the judges fall into one of two camps. Elected or governor-appointed District Court judges and all the other assorted lower court judges. As one lower court judge put it in court, "I'm a small 'j' judge. You need to take that to the capital 'J' Judge upstairs."

How do you know who you are in front of and why does it matter? First, the physical signs. For example, you are in an elevator and two judges get in with you. How can you tell? Both wear black. However, the District Court judge may wear a robe of better quality material. Typically there is no nylon for an elected official. A fine wool or silk robe is a tip-off.

The second hint is the courtroom. Look around. Is the courtroom paneled and softly lit with Art Deco light fixtures? Is there a Depression-era fresco of Lady Justice on the wall? Is the ceiling molded? Is the bench high and made of dark glossy wood? If so, you have likely entered the lair of a District Court Judge. On the other hand . . . is the lighting mostly fluorescent fixtures with yellowed covers? Are the walls covered with calendars to cover the cracks? Is the carpet stained and squishy? If so, you are in the bowels of the courthouse, the home of the "lower court." (free hint #2: if you look around the courtroom and see a pressed glass pitcher with matching tumblers, get out as fast as you can. You've accidentally stumbled into Federal Court. Trust me; there's nothing for you there!)

The lower court judge is the crossing guard of the justice system. They set bail, conduct first appearances, take pleas on misdemeanor cases, officiate at felony preliminary hearings, and generally deal with all the criminal mundania. In many states, they exist to make sure that as few troublesome cases as possible make it to the District Court. The typical docket case count ratio is about five-to-one with the lower court seeing the five.

However, you rarely hear a lower court judge mentioned in the press unless they screwed up (ie - released a murderer after a preliminary hearing, even if it was the prosecutor's fault).

The District Court Judge is a different animal altogether. At least in the lower court, you know you're dealing with someone who is underpaid, overworked, and bored half to death with petty crimes and the trivia of the system. Like them or not, as an attorney, I have something in common with the lower court judge: frustration.

The District Court Judge, on the other hand, projects an aura that is wise and urbane. The surroundings of the main courtroom fosters a solemn respect for the justice system. However, under the robe is a human being, no different than the rest of us with good days and bad. However, unlike the rest of us, he has the power to ship your sorry butt off to prison. Therefore, dress decently, stand up, take off your hat, and act respectable.

3. Misdemeanor vs. Felony: One of the most misunderstood, yet important, distinctions of the criminal justice system. How they classify your crime determines on how the police treat you, which judge they assign you to, and where you could end up for your punishment.

A misdemeanor is generally thought to be a low-level crime, whereas a felony is a high level crime. It's a little more complicated than that.

The definitions are (pay attention there may be a test later . . . ):

A Misdemeanor typically carries a maximum sentence of twelve months in the county jail. Could be less, can't be more. You cannot go to state prison for a misdemeanor, even if you want to.

A Felony typically carries between one month and the rest of your natural life in a state correctional facility. While there are one or two exceptions (drunk driving is one), you cannot serve your felony sentence in a county jail. So, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, off to the Department of Corrections you go!

Okay, what's the real difference between a misdemeanor and a felony? Ummm . . . not exactly sure. The state legislature makes that distinction. Complain to them.

A few illustrations. In many states, it's a felony to write a $501.00 bad check, and a misdemeanor to beat the crap out of your wife and kids (as long as you didn't use any weapon except your bare fists). Run from the cops after you've committed a misdemeanor and your "fleeing to elude" charge is a misdemeanor. Run from a felony warrant and you've racked up a new felony charge. Cocaine, even residue in a pipe or a baggie, is an automatic felony. A pound of weed, as long as there is no "sales-related" paraphernalia, can be considered as "personal use" and classed a misdemeanor. While in jail, if you take a pop at a fellow inmate, it's a misdemeanor. Spit on a guard and it's a felony. Get the picture? It's okay, neither do I. I have to check the paperwork every time.

So, what does this mean? Is a misdemeanor better than a felony? Should you steal $499.00 worth of goods or $501.00? The answer is, it depends. A few truths about the court system:

a) A misdemeanor is heard by the overworked and tired lower court judge who just may drop the hammer on you to show he is "tough on crime." I have also found that statistically, you are more likely to spend time in jail on a misdemeanor than a felony.

b) Misdemeanors are not governed by the state's sentencing guidelines. Therefore, there is no guarantee or presumption of probation. It's all up the judge. One smart comment could land you in county jail from one to twelve months.

c) The District Court Judge is less likely to be impressed by your low level felony (especially if it is a property crime and no one got hurt). He has to figure out what to do with child molesters and meth cookers. Your first offense felony theft or bad check isn't going to raise his blood pressure. You'll be given the sentence mandated by the guidelines and most likely be on probation before you know it. Once on felony probation, it's difficult to get yourself sent to prison. You have to really want to go.

d) If you do find yourself incarcerated, statistics show that you'll serve a smaller percentage of your sentence in state prison than county jail. There is no automatic good time or parole in county. It's all up to the judge.

My general conclusion is that if you wake up one morning with an uncontrollable urge to commit a crime, you should choose a low-level property felony over a high-level violent misdemeanor. You're less likely to go to be incarcerated. If you do go to prison, you're likely to get out faster. Finally, the felony courtroom is usually cooler and nicer than the misdemeanor courtroom. If you're going to be in trouble, you might as well be comfortable. So, think about it before you commit your next crime.

That's enough of the basics for today. Subsequent chapters, issued when I feel like it, will explore topics such as: The Traffic Stop, The Search Warrant, Probable Cause, Your Rights, County Jail, Your Attorney and You, The Trial, and so on.

Now, let me close with a few comments:

1. This is satire. Nothing replaces the advice of a living, breathing attorney. Listen to him. He's not making it up. Every jurisdiction is a little bit different and "that's not how they do it back home" gets you nowhere.

2. This is satire. While some of the jargon is particular to some jurisdictions, I've culled these portraits from a wide variety of my experiences, opinions, attitudes, and observations. Resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

3. This is satire. I have nothing but respect for law enforcement. An impossible job with impossible conditions. Cut them a break; they're just doing their job. The way to stay out of trouble is to stay away from trouble.

4. This is satire. I care about my clients and work hard for a fair and equitable resolution to their cases. However, I don't pull punches or make pets out of them. I don't want to hear excuses. I want my clients to face facts and realize that they are in trouble.

5. Oh yeah, this is satire. Let that cover anything I've forgotten.

Contest! Check It Out!

2010-07-11T15:18:00.000-07:00

On my humor blog, "Why I Fear Clowns," I am running a contest to celebrate my 100th post. Check it out and win cool swag.

Terri

One Town's Trash . . .

2010-07-09T21:14:00.000-07:00

I live in a pretty small town, so I've learned to take fun and amusement where I can find it. Fort Scott, Kansas is a good place to live. It's quiet, with wide brick streets and quaint houses tucked behind ancient trees. A great place to walk and take in the gardens and loveliness of this Civil War landmark. I carry a camera with me when I walk, so I won't miss a moment of beauty or tranquility.

However, twice a year, city government sponsors "townwide clean-up day," which I refer to as "crap amnesty day." No matter what you pile on the curb, the city will make it go away. What comes out from behind the gingerbread trimmed eaves and closed doors is vast and amazing.

I have to confess, I missed photographing some of the best piles this year. Across from my house, they brought in a bucket loader and two dump trucks to deal with one family's contribution. It was like a train wreck. I was too engrossed to get my camera.

However, I was able to capture a few moments in crap-dom. This turned out to be a special year. I am a fan of quirky Internet sites (go figure) and one of the quirkiest is the "World's Ugliest Couch Contest 2010."

A contest celebrating ugly furniture and a town divesting itself of its junk? A match made in Internet heaven. It seemed everywhere I looked, folks were literally kicking sofas to the curb.

My first entry came from the street where I live. I'm proud and pleased to introduce you to Entry #178:

What makes this feral couch and chair combo really special is that it has been on a flatbed trailer in an alley for over a week and it rained every day. Ummmmm . . . the smell of mold in the morning . . .

But wait! Things only got better as I continued to hike the brick-lined streets of my fair city. Some couchs, after being set free by their owners, didn't fare well in the wild. A warm blogger welcome for Entry #179 (golf clap, golf clap):

I'm not sure exactly what happened. In my entry, I blamed a pack of roaming hyenas.

Your vote would be appreciated! As much as I would like to heap more glory on my hometown, (we already have the honor of the Guiness Book of World Records longest row of pennies laid end-to-end), I will understand if you feel the need to enter your own sofa-saurus-rex in the contest. Please let me know if you do, so I can give it the respect it deserves!

But please take a message as you look at these sad photos and spay and neuter your ugly furniture. Do it for the ottomans . . .

Later!

I'm Baaaaccckkkkk . . .

2010-07-09T20:57:00.000-07:00

Some severe life changes took me away from this blog for far too long. Well, I'm back and I'm ready to rumble.

I got out my "delete" feather duster and swept out the cobwebs and old posts (mostly apologizing for not posting) in preparation for remodeling and redecorating.

Welcome to "Readin, Rittin & Rhetoric," (v.2.0) my own version of the "Three Rs." My name is Terri and:

I'm a lawyer by education,
a toymaker by trade,
a writer by night, and
an unrepentant geek the rest of the time . . .

See ya soon!