blogging

Just Letting The Weird Out

/ Diane Henders / 62 Comments

All my life I’ve been a weirdo-magnet:  If there are weirdos anywhere in the vicinity, they’ll unerringly seek me out and attach themselves to me.  (Sometimes literally – more on that later.)

I used to think it was something about my face.  Some label on my forehead that was invisible to me but glowed like an irresistible beacon to anyone looking at the world through weirdo-coloured glasses.

But this week while I was contemplating a pattern of knotholes in our fence that looks exactly like an evil face, I suddenly realized that I see faces everywhere.  Sometimes when I’m sitting on the john I glimpse faces in the blotchy pattern of our bathroom floor tiles.  I see faces on cars.  I see faces on potatoes.  This may be a little, erm… weird.

Then, as I sniffed the fall air, it occurred to me that autumn smells as though summer’s been wearing its underwear just a bit too long.  You know; that funky aroma when something’s not quite rotten but it’s well on the way.

You already know I’m not a big fan of autumn, but that was a pretty weird thought even for me.  (I’m also bothered by the fact that I referred to autumn’s ‘irresistible scent’ in that earlier post… and now it smells like funky undies?  Yikes!)

So apparently I attract weirdos because I’m one myself.

I’d like to say that revelation bothers me, but it doesn’t.  Weird is far more interesting than normal.  I’m fascinated by people who harmlessly travel a few steps aside of the beaten path.  Mind you, the ones that don’t even know there is a beaten path worry me; so I guess I’m not overly weird, as weirdos go.

Unlike the guy who attached himself to me when I was riding the C-train many years ago…

I glanced up and thought, “Uh-oh.  That guy looks weird.”

Sure enough, he gravitated directly to my seat and sat down.  Then, without speaking, he gently took my hand.

I’ve got pretty good people-radar and he seemed harmless, so instead of making a scene and/or breaking his fingers I dislodged his hand and said, “No, I don’t want to hold your hand.”

He just smiled and took my hand again.  Didn’t do or say anything else; just sat there smiling off into space and holding my hand like a little kid.

So I thought, “Ah, what the hell.”

I went back to my book, and we rode downtown holding hands.  His stop came before mine, and I was relieved when he did let go of my hand at last.  But he wasn’t finished with his ritual.  Reaching over, he gave two gentle tugs on my earlobe, then grasped my hand and moved it toward his ear.  I gave two gentle tugs on his earlobe in return, and then he smiled sweetly and got off the train.  Never said a word.

Definitely odd, but all in all it was kind of heartwarming.

So at least I’m not the weirdest weirdo on the planet, but it’s probably a good thing I blog so I can let the weird out in small weekly doses instead of letting it build up until I accost total strangers on public transit.

Have you got any harmless-weirdo stories?

* * *

New discussion over at the Virtual Backyard Book Club:  A Rose By Any Other Name…  How important are character names in fiction?  Click here to have your say!

Highway Thru Hell

/ Diane Henders / 36 Comments

Hubby and I are on the road again in the first part of our adventure in moving to the west coast.  It’s been, um… eventful.  (And I’m writing this very late on Tuesday night, so please forgive any mistakes.)

Our property purchase closes this week, so we decided to come and spend some time wandering our new place and deciding where the house will go.  And some brilliant person who shall remain nameless… (Hint: She has long red hair) …said, “Hey, this is a perfect opportunity to put my ’53 Chevy on the car-hauler trailer and pull it out to the Island before the roads get bad in winter!”

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

So we loaded the Chevy onto the car hauler and packed the truck with the oddments the moving companies wouldn’t take (including our giant houseplants) and set out to drive the whole shebang over multiple mountain passes to the coast, where we’d catch the ferry to Vancouver Island.

Easy-peasy, right?

Naively, we considered:  Should we drive it in one day, or break it into two?  Well, let’s break it into two, just to be on the safe side.

Uh-huh.

We immediately discovered, much to our chagrin, that our car-hauler is an old long-necked U-Haul type for which stabilizer bars were never made.  If we exceeded 90 km/hr (55 mph), it developed an oscillation that required an instant slow-down or it threatened to fling us off the road.

Okay, fine.  Two days.  Not exceeding 90 km/hr.  We could do this.

The first day it took us 9 hours to get to Kamloops.  The second day it took us 15 hours to get from Kamloops to Qualicum Bay where we’re staying.  It’s supposed to be a 13-hour trip in total from Calgary.

I took the first shift as driver.  Let me just say, navigating an unstable 41-foot truck-and-trailer down hairpin curves on an 8% grade is not something I’d care to do on a regular basis.  (Read NEVER AGAIN.)  Particularly with a 5-foot-tall flowering hibiscus tickling the back of my neck.

After the first 3½ hours (at Golden, BC), Hubby took his turn.  Of course, the road immediately became wider and flatter, and the next day even the infamous Coquihalla Highway (the location of the reality show Highway Thru Hell) only offered a few short stretches of 8.5% downgrade on nice wide sweeping turns.  But it didn’t matter – by that time we were so anxious about the possibility of more hairpin turns and steep grades that we were both vibrating by the time we made it to flat ground at Hope, BC.

Then we thought we’d make the 3:10 ferry over to Vancouver Island.

And we would have, except for the traffic accident that kept us parked on the TransCanada Highway for 30 minutes… allowing THE ENTIRE MIDWAY CREW OF THE PACIFIC NATIONAL EXHIBITION to get in front of us.  Which used up all the deck space not only on the 3:10 ferry, but also on the 5:20 ferry.  We finally got aboard the 7:30 ferry, which, after loading, unloading, and some more driving, got us to our destination around 11 PM.

Gee, maybe next time we’ll try to do it in one day.  Ya think?

But we’re finally safe and sound on the Island and looking forward to our bed tonight.  Thank God we’re flying back instead of driving.

And at least I got some pretty pictures:

 

A train tunnel near Salmon Arm, BC, from our truck window

A train tunnel near Salmon Arm, BC, from our truck window

Mara Lake

Mara Lake

Coming up on the Port Mann Bridge, Vancouver BC

Coming up on the Port Mann Bridge, Vancouver BC

On the Port Mann Bridge

On the Port Mann Bridge

The 5:20 ferry leaving... without us

The 5:20 ferry leaving… without us

On the ferry at last!

On the ferry at last!

Ping-Pong Brain

/ Diane Henders / 32 Comments

It’s a small feather-weight sphere containing nothing but air, and it ricochets wildly off hard surfaces (such as the inside of my skull) at approximately Mach 2.  Yep, I’ve got Ping-Pong Brain.

Between the release of Book 11, a Bookbub1 promo for Book 1, and my website redesign, the past few weeks have slowly drained my brain’s contents while accelerating its activity until there’s nothing left but a frantic sense of urgency and the attention span of a super-caffeinated gnat.

For instance, moments ago I clicked over to the internet to find out whether the Style Guide recommended capitalization on the word ‘Mach’, and I found a site dedicated to those pesky word usages that are so easy to screw up:  http://stage-door.org/stampact/traps.html.  The first few paragraphs are standard fare, but if you scroll down to the alphabetical list below there’s a fascinating (and immensely time-sucking) list.

I got sidetracked and wasted a good 15 minutes before I smacked my brain back in the direction I’d originally intended.

After a few more attempts at concentration, I realized that the probability of producing a coherent post for today was approximately equal to that of being picked up by a squadron of flying pigs for a nice aerial tour of the frozen flames of hell.

So I’m not even going to attempt it (neither the coherent post nor the scenic flight with AirPorcine). Instead, here are a few random things that have made me giggle lately:

The following article is a few months old by now, but I still find it funny (in a sad sort of way) that the people of Siberia preferred Barsik the cat to any of their other political options: http://www.cbc.ca/news/world/barsik-cat-siberia-russia-barnaul-1.3373334.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a follow-up article, so I don’t know whether Barsik actually won the election.

Next there was a salvo in the ongoing good-natured culinary skirmish between Hubby and me.  I tend to get creative when I’m cooking, while he prefers to follow detailed recipes.  This creates a certain amount of friction when he’s trying to duplicate one of my dishes:

Hubby:  “How much (ingredient) do you put in?”

Me:  “Um… a bit…  Maybe, um, a teaspoon?  Or maybe a bit more.  This much.” *dumps ingredient into palm and displays the small heap*

Hubby (long-suffering):  “And how long should I cook it?”

Me:  “Until it’s done…?”

Hubby:  *grinds teeth*

So he sent me this:

Measuring spoons for a tad, dash, pinch, smidgen, and drop

Measuring spoons for a tad, dash, pinch, smidgen, and drop

These are the official conversions:

  • Tad = 1/4 teaspoon = 1.25ml
  • Dash = 1/8 teaspoon = 0.625ml
  • Pinch = 1/16 teaspoon = 0.3125ml
  • Smidgen = 1/32 teaspoon = 0.15625ml
  • Drop = 1/64 teaspoon = 0.078125ml

(He thinks this will help, but in fact he’s only given me more obscure units of measurement with which to annoy him.  Shhh, don’t tell.)

And finally, my diminished concentration resulted in yet another silly misread.  A couple of days ago, this article came up in my news feed:

nose hair conditioner

I must have a nostril-hair fixation, because I read “Your Nose Hair Is A Bad Conditioner”.  It speaks to my disordered state of mind that my mental critic said, “Well, yeah; duh.  Who’d use nostril-hair as a conditioner?”  I had actually scrolled down about three articles before I went, “Wait, what?”

And that’s my brain this week, ping-ponging from cats to cooking to conditioners.  How was your week?

* * *

If you’re interested in the Book Club, I’ve posted a few thoughts about the format for discussion.  I’d really appreciate your input on 4 questions – please click here to reply.  Thanks! 

1 If you haven’t discovered Bookbub.com yet, you may or may not thank me for mentioning it.  It’s a bargain e-book notification service, and you can sign up to receive emails (daily or weekly) containing free and discounted e-books in the genres you select.  It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to my to-read list… but then again, I’m happy at the sight of 50 books piled up ready to read.  If a burgeoning TBR list stresses you out, you may want to skip Bookbub. 😉

What’s Your Hippie Name?

/ Diane Henders / 84 Comments

This week’s post comes to you with many thanks to @glbryant, whom you will likely recognize as one of my dedicated commenters on this blog.

Last week he emailed me to say he was re-reading Book 10 in preparation for the release of Book 11, and he’d realized all over again how absolutely irritating one of the characters was. (Fortunately I had intended Tyler Brock to be annoying.)

For those who haven’t read the series, Brock could make a saint blaspheme, which led @glbryant to speculate that even Moonbeam (an earth mother from Book 9 who renames everyone with hippie-type handles) wouldn’t be able to tolerate him.

This quote from his email says it all:  “…if Brock had spent any time at the commune, his name would’ve been Astral Penis-Pox Douche-Weasel.”

Which left me both inspired and rolling on the floor in tears of laughter.  Not only that, but it was remarkably prescient on his part, because both Moonbeam and Tyler Brock are in Book 11. (Unfortunately, Moonbeam doesn’t assign a hippie name to Brock.  Missed opportunities. *sigh*)

So, without further ado, I present the Earth Spirit’s Name Generators, one for the good guys and one for the bad guys.  Discover your hippie name below by looking up your initials in the tables, or feel free to make up one of your own.  Post your good-guy name below (and your bad-guy name if you dare).

Turns out my good-guy name is Starry Shining Poem (which is a little lame).  But I totally make up for it with my bad-guy name:  Deranged Zit-Nibbler.

(Note:  I swear I didn’t purposely assign words to the initials of people I know.  That would have required far more forethought and evil intent than I can muster.)

Good-Guy Hippie Name

 First Name  Middle Name   Last Name
 A – Astral  A – Misty  A – Dreamer
 B – Venus  B – Floating  B – Song
 C – Blessed  C – Flowing  C – Karma
 D – Starry  D – Singing  D – River
 E – Heavenly  E – Cloud  E – Stream
 F – Moonbeam  F – Shining  F – Dancer
 G – Cosmic  G – Desert  G – Whisper
 H – Aurora  H – Soaring  H – Poem
 I – Sage  I – Sky  I – Breeze
 J – Sunbeam  J – Earth  J – Heart
 K – Beloved  K – Soul  K – Journey
 L – Zen  L – Rainbow  L – Miracle
 M – Dharma  M – Star  M – Butterfly
 N – Infinite  N – Peace  N – Prophet
 O – Harmonious  O – Sparkling  O – Seeker
 P – Emerald  P – Crystal  P – Spirit
 Q – Summer  Q – Flower  Q – Nirvana
 R – Ambrosia  R – Blazing  R – Freedom
 S – Feather  S – Glowing  S – Universe
 T – Crimson  T – Daylight  T – Quest
 U – Sundance  U – Serene  U – Daydream
 V – Autumn  V – Secret  V – Hope
 W – Wind  W – Brilliant  W – Utopia
 X – Dusk  X – Sunray  X – Singer
 Y – Tranquil  Y – Truth  Y – Ocean
 Z – Azure  Z – Revelation  Z – Jewel

Bad-Guy Hippie Name
(Firstname with hyphenated Middlename-Lastname)

First Name Middle Name Last Name
 A – Sleazy  A – Douche  A – Groper
 B – Stoned  B – Pox  B – Gargler
 C – Creepy  C – Rat  C – Bucket
 D – Deranged  D – Toad  D – Humper
 E – Slimy  E – Spit  E – Fondler
 F – Easy  F – Zit  F – Waffle
 G – Wacko  G – Weasel  G – Blister
 H – Pantywaist  H – Poop  H – Nibbler
 I – Diseased  I – Dong  I – Gobbler
 J – Sucky  J – Scum  J – Juggler
 K – Nutjob  K – Booger  K – Poker
 L – Whiny  L – Pube  L – Chomper
 M – Brown-nosing  M – Donkey  M – Squeezer
 N – Snivelling  N – Wombat  N – Butt
 O – Obnoxious  O – Jizz  O – Guzzler
 P – Babbling  P – Vulture  P – Muffin
 Q – Wimpy  Q – Goblin  Q – Licker
 R – Lecherous  R – Monkey  R – Stroker
 S – Sick  S – Platypus  S – Whacker
 T – Twisted  T – Snot  T – Crumpet
 U – Skeezy  U – Puke  U – Banger
 V – Sketchy  V – Turd  V – Picker
 W – Wasted  W – Meat  W – Jiggler
 X – Bombastic  X – Pus  X – Sucker
 Y – Squirrelly  Y – Slime  Y – Dongle
 Z – Wanking  Z – Pecker  Z – Tickler

* * *

And in other news…

I’ll be updating my blog and website in the next few weeks, and since you’re the ones who have to look at it, I’d very much appreciate your input.  I’m just in the planning stages right now, but here are a few things I’m considering:

  • A larger font
  • More obvious menus to get to pages like Books and Guest Book
  • A link to Pinterest boards where we can all indulge our fantasies by selecting actors to play each of the characters
  • A techno-geek page on the inventions
  • A trivia page
  • A virtual book club where readers can discuss questions supplied by me and/or readers.

Any requests/suggestions/comments?

Also, since the virtual book club would require frequent contributions from readers in order to make it worthwhile for everyone, would you please vote in the poll to give me an idea of how much interest there is?  Thanks!

A Mashup Of (Mostly) Food

/ Diane Henders / 63 Comments

(Don’t worry, it’s safe to read this.  I promise it’s not about gross squished food.)

I’m a little scattered this week. Between my usual writing schedule, my cover updates (only one more to go, woohoo!), the production of the Never Say Spy audiobook (up to Chapter 39 and sounding great), and the busy round of Christmas cards and baking and extra social activities, my brain just doesn’t seem to want to disgorge any sort of organized blog post.

So what the hell, why fight it? Here’s a mashup up of some goodies that have caught my eye and tweaked my sense of humour lately:

You may recall that I mentioned OBSL in a post a few years ago. At the time, I created that acronym to describe my hypothetical Optimum Beer Saturation Level: That perfect point of intoxication at which I become a deadly 8-ball player. When I wrote that post I assumed that I was (as usual) full of shit.

Little did I know that greater minds than mine were busily proving me right. In fact, a recent study shows that there is an OBSL, and it occurs where your blood-alcohol level is 0.075. Unfortunately for my hypothesis, they weren’t testing for 8-ball skill; instead they were focusing on the OBSL as it relates to creativity.  And shortly after science delivered its verdict, some brilliant marketers capitalized on it. Voilà! The Problem Solver: A beer that comes with a creativity scale on the side. Dang, I could’ve used some of that stuff when I started writing this post…

And speaking of happy discoveries involving my favourite foods, science has come through yet again with a discovery that turns peanut butter into… wait for it… diamonds! Apparently it’s messy, but it works. (It was also just a publicity stunt.  It seems peanut butter isn’t an optimum diamond-producing substance.  Go figure.)

Unfortunately, though, the news from food scientists isn’t all good. The latest studies indicate that comfort foods can actually be depressing. Bummer.  Now I need to go and eat a bowl of ice cream.

Moving on from science to silliness (though still food-related), here are a few fortune cookie predictions I could have done without:

“You learn from your mistakes. You will learn a lot today.” – Great, just great.

“Your true love will show himself to you under the moonlight.” – Uh… okay, so my true love is a deranged flasher.  Will there be criminal charges or jail time associated with this?

“You have an unusual equipment for success; use it properly.” –  I guess if I was a guy, I’d know exactly what to do with my unusual equipment, but under the circumstances I’m just not sure how to interpret this.

“Wisdom is on her way to you.” – This one might be intended to encourage, but for me it bears an uncomfortable resemblance to the cartoon about the guy reading a fortune that says ‘Big things are coming your way’ just as a grand piano drops from the sky above him. Wisdom sounds like a good thing in theory, but it seems to me that the phrasing is a little ominous.

I’ll leave you with a cartoon that sums up my attitude when things get as hectic as they are now.  And hey, it’s food-related, too!

* * *

P.S. Here’s Book 8’s new cover, with many thanks to John R. for arranging my great truck-driving adventure and letting me photograph his truck:

It’s A Fine Line…

/ Diane Henders / 43 Comments

People often ask me about my creative process, so I thought it might be helpful to provide an illustration of the exact process that went into creating last week’s post.  Voilà:  My Creative Process.

P.S. We have a release date for Book 10,  Spy Away Home:  September 4, 2015!  I tried really hard for August, but it just wasn’t to be.  Pre-orders should be available at all distributors within the next few days (Amazon and Smashwords are already up).  If you’ve signed up on the new-release notification list, you’ll get an email when all the pre-orders are up, and again when the book is available.

P.P.S.  I’m on the road today, so I won’t be able to respond to comments until this evening.  ‘Talk’ to you then!

 

Nostril-damus Speaks

/ Diane Henders / 37 Comments

I had a great idea for today’s blog post, but by the time I got up from the breakfast table I’d forgotten it. Seriously. One minute I was thinking, “Oh, that’ll make a good blog post”, and the next minute…

*blank*

I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I know my memory is shitty, but this was ‘way over the top.

I spent the next twenty minutes racking my brain for the wisp of genius (after I forget an idea, it always seems like the most brilliant thought ever conceived). Finally I recalled it, but I couldn’t figure out what was so great about it.

So, in the absence of genius (which, to be realistic, was unlikely in the first place) I’ll fall back on my usual weirdness.  Today’s topic is nostril hair.

The thought came to me a while ago, when I was talking to a woman whose nostrils were, erm… a significant facial feature. Huge and completely round in a slightly upturned nose, they looked like twin mineshafts in white limestone.

But it wasn’t their size and placement that caught my attention. No; it was the fact that they were smooth dark abysses, completely hairless inside as far as the eye could see (and I was at an unfortunate angle that allowed me a full view).

It took all my willpower to focus on her eyes. My gaze kept getting dragged down to the Nostrils of Doom. And while my mouth made idle chitchat, my brain was boggling. How did she get rid of every single hair? Most people have at least a few hairs ‘way up there to act as a pre-filter for bugs and dust.

Nostril hair is the final privacy frontier. Nobody ever talks about it. Even TV commercials and spam emails don’t go there. They’ll offer me ‘discreet bladder protection’ and a half-dozen ways to remove ‘unwanted body hair’; each more barbaric than the last. They’ll go on about ‘feminine hygiene products’ that are inexplicably linked to white frilly dresses and white horses in fields of white daisies, or at the very least, white pants and a lot of jumping around. Or worse, they offer me ‘feminine freshness’ (with more daisies). Ew.

For the guys, it’s razors that look like race cars, with some dude caressing his smooth manly jaw and smirking at the camera. Or it’s Viagra and Cialis ads (which would be considerably more entertaining if they featured a dude smirking and caressing a manly body part, but I haven’t seen an ad like that yet).

One way or another, it seems the entire advertising world wants to get all up in our bizniss and attack our body hair. But despite the fact that no topic seems off-limits… have you ever seen an ad for a nose hair trimmer?

I haven’t.

That’s when the questions began in my brain: Is nostril hair so shameful that even TV ads won’t tackle it? Do people secretly buy nose-hair trimmers in plain brown wrappers? Is laser nostril-hair removal a ‘thing’?

And most importantly: Without the constant badgering of advertisers, how do we even know we should be depilating our nostrils?

I dunno. It seems to me that this is a major untapped market in personal grooming. I foresee a whole batch of cringe-inducing ads as soon as the industry realizes its omission.

Alert the media, but remember: Nostril-damus predicted it first, right here.

* * *

My readers have spoken!  The survey from two weeks ago showed that 48% had no preference for which day of the week Spy Away Home should be released, and 33% preferred Friday.  So we’ll probably have a Friday release day… I just don’t know which Friday yet.  🙂 When I get the last of my beta reader feedback and I know how much work is left for me to do, I’ll choose a release date and set up the pre-orders.  Fingers crossed that the feedback is good…

A Clean Post

/ Diane Henders / 54 Comments

As my blogging buddy Sue Slaght pointed out last week, you know you’ve hit the big time when one of your blog posts gets banned. Apparently WordPress flagged last week’s post as ‘likely inappropriate’ and blocked it from their Reader application.

Well, dang. Who knew they’d object to a post containing the words p*rn, s*x, scr*tum, sy*hilis, and n*ked? They were obviously okay with allowing the original p*rn commenter to solicit me on my guest book. And I’ve done two other posts with the word n*ked in the title, so it couldn’t be that. The previous week’s post containing ‘s*x’, ‘sy*hilis’, and ‘scr*tum’ got through okay…

Wait; maybe ‘werew*lf’ was the offending word!

I got a belly-laugh out of the whole thing, partly because their tag perfectly fit my blog compilation series. Maybe I should name the upcoming book ‘Likely Inappropriate’ in homage to WordPress’s delicate sensibilities.

The funniest part was that last week’s post was actually one of the cleaner ones I’ve written. I mean, really; I was talking about spam and search terms.  I didn’t even tell any dirty jokes. Jeez.

But I’ve learned my lesson, honest. So this week I’ve written an innocent post full of valuable writing advice. No dirty words at all. This one’s for you, WordPress:

Cleaning Up Your Post

The relationship between blogger and reader is an intimate one, and it’s important to gain your readers’ trust by keeping your post clean. Here’s how:

First, strip away the superfluous trappings to lay the post bare. Every post is different: some require rigorous scrubbing, but for others a light polishing is enough to raise them to their full potential. Some people use an automated process, but the hands-on approach is always more satisfying. Don’t be afraid to experiment. You’ll know you’re doing it right when the subject begins to firm up for you.

Work closely with a reader to identify subtle lingual nuances. Pay attention to how the post feels rolling off the lips and tongue. Savour the sensory experience, reading in multiple passes from top to bottom, then from bottom to top. This technique is important because critical points may be missed if you only go down.

By now your subject should be rock-solid, so it’s time to plunge deeply into the meat of the matter. Pay careful attention to rhythm and be sure you don’t deviate from the main thrust of your post. Any miscues at this point will be, at best, an unpleasant distraction for your reader; and at worst, a complete disaster resulting in messy fallout.

Slowly work toward the climax of your post. Don’t hurry. When the time is right you can switch to the hard-hitting style that will thrill your readers to the core.

After this you may discover that your post needs a bit more cleaning. That’s normal, but don’t be too heavy-handed. The best strategy is to let the post rest for a while before undertaking the final polishing. Then your magnificent post will be ready to fulfill all your readers’ needs!

Just remember: The extra time and effort you invest in this process will be worth it, ‘cause nobody likes a dirty post.

Thank you, WordPress, for reminding me how important it is to keep it clean!

* * *

Woohoo! The draft is finished for Book 10: Spy Away Home! Just a bit more polishing (sorry, couldn’t resist), and then it’s off to the beta readers.

Werewolf Porn Star

/ Diane Henders / 47 Comments

Well, it’s been an interesting week on the blog. After doing back-to-back posts featuring scrotums and syphilis, I fully expected to find some, erm… unique search terms in my blog stats.

I navigated eagerly to my stats for the week, expecting a plethora of twisted terms. But instead I found this:

What, no scrotums or syphilis?

What, no scrotums or syphilis?

I could probably have had some fun (of the literary sort) with the first one, but ‘Sex at Calgary Stampede’? So mundane. *sigh*

Still, it’s nice to see that the classic ‘we’re all free! And naked!’ made it into the top four yet again. Even though I wrote that post over two years ago, it’s still the most popular search term that brings people to my blog:

Wait, am I detecting a theme here…?

Wait, am I detecting a theme here…?

I sure wish I knew what all these people are looking for. I’m not promising I’d supply it if I found out, but damn, I’m curious! Meanwhile, for all you bloggers out there: If you want to increase your site traffic dramatically, just write a post using the magic phrase.

Giving up on my search engine stats, I turned to my spam folder for entertainment. Alas, the spammers were merely plying me with generic praise unrelated to my posts and offers for payday loans and handbags (though I’m pleased to see the handbag ads are diminishing).

Fortunately for my sense of humour, a couple of gems slipped through the filters to land on my posts.

You may recall I mentioned I’d discovered my inner werewolf a few months ago. Imagine my surprise when I found this comment: “…Becoming a breed of the lycanthropus blend of the werewolf and acquiring hircine’s gifts enables one to live a powerful life. Join the seventh sixth pack of the Hademus, know the shapeshifting techniques, spells, feel among and enjoy supernatural gifts. If you really want to become a werewolf, contact…”

It included contact information, details on the strain of werewolfism (is that a word?) to infect me, and the specific werewolf spells and curses that would be applied, along with information on the werewolf father and werewolf god, and an application form. It was quite specific and well-organized, but the last line of the application form was the zinger: “Tell us why you want to become a werewolf”. I guess there must be a high demand for werewolf conversions so they need to screen out the posers.

Apparently it was Alternative Career Recruitment Week, because I also got this on my Guest Book: “…if you are interested in becoming a porn star, either male or female in xxx videos, this is an opportunity for you to apply with our company…” It also included contact information, salary details, travel allowances, and an application form.

It’s wonderful to know my career opportunities are so many and varied. Since they offered me the option of either male or female, I think I’d like to become a male porn star. Or better still, a male werewolf porn star.

I just hope my new employers won’t insist on the ‘no body hair’ look. ‘Cause for a werewolf, that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘waxing moon’.

Aaaarrooooooo!

I Love My Job!

/ Diane Henders / 34 Comments

I’m always alert for research opportunities, and this week I was rewarded beyond my wildest dreams.

As you may know, I’m redoing my book covers. I’ve hired a professional photographer to do the main images but I’m filling in the backgrounds myself, so I needed a tractor/trailer unit for Book 8: SPY NOW, PAY LATER.  John R., one of the true Knights of the Road who’s been trucking for 48 years, generously agreed to let me photograph his truck.

Little did I know what was about to happen…

John and me

 

When we arrived at the depot, John offered to move the truck to where I could get a good shot. Then he asked if I wanted to get in the cab while he moved it.

Well, hell, yeah! I clambered eagerly into the passenger seat and peppered him with questions about the gauges and the engine and the air brakes and the jake-brake (engine retarder brake) and everything else, while he patiently explained it all.

I’ve always loved the roar and snort of the big diesels and the bone-rattling growl of the jake-brake, but I’ve never had a chance to get up-close-and-personal with them. Perched in the passenger seat grinning from ear to ear, I basked in the auditory delight while he drove across the yard.

I had finished my pictures and was turning away when John asked, “Do you want to go for a ride?”

Do I? Are you kidding? I was up into that passenger seat so fast I don’t think my feet even touched the steps.

When we reached the Trans-Canada Highway he turned left, which surprised me. I thought it would have been easier to turn right instead of crossing the median with the big rig, but whatever. I was in my glory, and John even indulged me by using the jake a couple of times even though it was completely unnecessary (we were out in the middle of nowhere so it wasn’t prohibited).

At the next small town he turned around to head back, but after crossing the median again to get us on the right side of the highway, he pulled over onto the shoulder and stopped.

Then he said, “Now you’re going to drive us back.” (John has trained lots of drivers for their Class 1 license so this wasn’t as reckless as it might sound, but I’m convinced he has nerves of steel nonetheless.)

After a moment of paralyzed disbelief, I jumped at the chance. My heart pounded so hard I thought I might have a heart attack and I’m pretty sure John’s steering wheel still bears the imprints of my white-knuckled grip, but I drove an 18-wheeler! How cool is that?!?

My short but thrilling trucking career (note the wild hair – we had the windows open so I could enjoy the sound of the engine).

My short but thrilling trucking career (wild hair and all – we had the windows open so I could enjoy the sound of the engine).

I certainly didn’t perform any great feats of driving skill – John shifted the gears from the passenger’s seat because I couldn’t figure out the split-shift and keep my eyes on the road at the same time. But I kept it between the lines and I made the two turns off the highway and onto the yard without dropping the trailer into the ditch, so I’m going to call it a success overall. And it was a giant thrill!

Have I mentioned lately that I love being a fiction writer?

I really, really do!

Many thanks to John for my big adventure, and to his wife Nellie for documenting it with photos!