Read My Lips - the blog

Things you miss when you are very busy elsewhere

Hmmm, seems as I have been working hard to get my book ready for the publisher and my blogging has been slow, the visitors keep coming despite my absence. I have noticed there is still an average of 300 visitors a day hitting the site, and sometime here lately, the 200,000th visitor, in accordance to the StatCounter meter, dropped by to visit. I'm sorry for forgetting to leave out a cold glass of lemonade. Forgive me, won't you?

My navel is pleased to report that it is unchanged from the very last report and feels badly to have not kept up with its nightly duty. I'll gladly take that blame, however, as I have been using the computer for other uses, so it is hard for my navel to do anything while I'm here. Strangely, it still seems to feel it has to accompany me wherever I go, though, so maybe the blame is not all mine, after all. End of report.

It's nearing the end of the trail

The latest word from my editor is that the suggested changes should be coming my way somewhat later this evening, so I will likely be looking over such, and making such changes, modifying the text so as to fix whatever the problem is, or whatever, etc. As usual, if any of you want to look it over, leave me a comment. I am always looking for more input.

Even the Mighty Eeyore has nothing on me

In lieu of several missed NNGR™s and such, allow me to explain that I am currently working on getting all the pieces of my book together so as to get it finally published. I have about six people just dying to read it, and several others who have promised to buy signed copies of it because they love me or want to love me, or something like that. I'm well, or not too far off of the mark if you consider everything I've gone through to get to this point of my life, and eating well. There are plenty out there whose lives are not going as well as mine, but I can assure you that could never work as hard to find fault with their lives as I do with mine.

"It's not going to get read tonight."

I have been working my fingers to the bone getting the final revisions done to Book One so as to get the manuscript in the editor's hands. I did my part and delivered the completed work to my editor this very evening and what do I hear? Read the title, folks. Unbelievable, right?

I am low on creativity juice, so I'm not going to bamboozle you with my brilliance on this evening.* I guess that means this post will draw a lot of comments. Look what the peckerwood scenario from last night did! Unbelievable, right?

My navel announced today that it's gonna become an astronaut. Unbelievable, right? End of report.

[Maybe I should have put a skunk on this one too.]

*You can't say I didn't warn ya, right?

Who killed Kenny?*

Now, for the first time in several days, the lateness of tonight's report is not solely due to my procrastination. No way Jose. My DSL went down. In fact, it is still down as I am composing this report.

Allow me to disclose that I am doing some last minute revisions on the book in hopes of getting it published by Memorial Day. Thanks to my discussions with Mama Montezz at the 2005 Texas Blogger Bash, I have decided to give lulu.com a try. As I am eager to attempt my own promotion of this project, POD might be my best avenue for launching this endeavor. I am hopeful ya'll are all looking forward to buying a copy of Alien Attitudes: Alura Allen, Alien at Large as soon as it is available.

So, that out of the way ... let me get rid of a few dregs of thought I collected during that mis-timed road trip last Friday. Let me see ... I remember saying I didn't understand the need for quarter horses, as it seemed you'd need a whole one to actually ride. Yeah, yeah, boo -- hiss. I didn't promise these would be good. Hmmm, then I saw that the weigh station was closed and said I was pleased because I was feeling a bit bloated. Better? How about when I said that my Lincoln Town Car was designed to drive through town but to fly though the country? Yeah, I guess that one is kind of lame. Last one: First, however, you have to get the back story. It seems that my traveling companion was taking great delight in pointing out everything found on the side of the highway and providing a complete history. Finally, we passed a brand new school building. My friend said, "Hey that's new." I quipped, "Yeah, before they built that building, they had to hold classes in the restroom of that Shell station over there." Now that you know I'm a smart ass, what does that make you?

My navel is miffed. It seems that while I was busily working on book revisions on the laptop, the laptop was disturbing my navel's peace and tranquility. Guess upon whose shoulders that blame falls? Fine! Let's just see if my navel shares in the rewards when I reap the fruits of my labor. End of report.

*Hmmm, in retaliation for the death or murder of my primary connection to the outside world, I am temporarily renaming my DSL service, Kenny.

Wiping egg off my face

Egads! What a day! Here and there and back again. Interesting speech before a group of Rotarians regarding my publication efforts on the Alien Attitudes.

I hit the city limit signs on the northeast end of this tiny town when I was accosted by several civic dignitaries. Steadily marching toward me, they cornered me and laid down the law. It seems that I am now officially banned from taking part in this year's Easter festivities.

It appears that while readying the meadow used annually for the site of their civic Easter egg hunt, several of the eggs that I had prepared and hidden as a part of last year's egg hunt were just now found. It seems that no one appreciates my unique Easter treasures. Now I am wondering what to do with those hundred and fifty hard-boiled eggs I currently have pickling in jars of vinegar. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a nice pickled Easter egg?

My navel thinks things are better when I'm pickled. End of report.

It was Saturday, then Saturday night ...

and then it was really early Sunday morning.

Well blogger bash, Day Two: An Evening at Billy Bob's. With my co-blogger, Moona, in tow, I arrived at Billy Bob's at 8:00 p.m., which was the time I had believed we were all to meet. We searched the assembled throng of patrons on hand for an-hour-and-a-half before we finally located the others. They had only just arrived. I didn't ask why they were late. I didn't really care. I was about a-sheet-and-a-half in the wind already, heading for a new world record for asinine drunkenness. I might have attained the mark, but I don't recall much after the eruptions began. I'd advise you not to concern yourself with the details surrounding those episodes as it was definitely not a pretty sight.

I, myself, was actually prepared for all that occurred, including the violent physical effects of massive alcoholic carbonated beverage ingestion. On the trip up, I had advised Moona that I was planning on drinking a lot of beer and had anointed her as designated driver. She graciously accepted. As none of ya'll really know me, you are likely unaware that I rarely give up that position. It is usually I who lingers on the sidelines of the party drinking Dr. Pepper, straight-up with ice. I long ago decided there always had to be one responsible person in attendance. I could never see why that person should not be me. I have never quite understood why I feel that way, but that is just the sort of guy I am. However, this night, I wanted to join in on the merry-making of the inebriated variety.

Chris Cagle was performing. I didn't and still don't know much about the

him/them.* I heard nothing all that impressive, but then, it seemed that every time I glanced toward the stage, it was empty and the DJ was picking the songs. I am not going to pan the performance, however, because I was not paying enough attention to the show. It was simply background music at that point in my climb up the ladder toward a new level of personal drunkenness.**

I was primarily paying attention to the crowd, especially the lovely young lasses. Amongst the field of pert breasts and rounded derrieres, I caught a brief glimpse at a bare naked navel*** here and there. Despite my inebriation, I suddenly began to feel really old. When I'd flash a smile at some pretty little coquette, the look I'd see on her face served as a constant reminder. I could actually read their thoughts.**** Get lost Grandpa!

I guess I am old. I'll be 50 soon. I'll be eligible to join AARP. I guess I'll have to turn socialist and vote for Hillary. Being old does have its advantages, though. Not, I'm not referring to the discounts you get on meals and such. I'm talking about something much more important.

It seems that, at my advanced age, most of my brain cells have already been killed off. As such, hangovers never seem to be as bad as you expected them to be.

My navel was in attendance, as well. Understanding the oversight, the throng agreed it could come along for the festivities. It didn't drink, either. No beer, soda, or even a drop of water. That a pretty sober navel I have, wouldn't you say? Remarkable! Well, as Snagglepuss was fond of saying ... Exit, stage left.***** End of report.

*See, I really didn't pay any attention. I learned from looking at the posters on the wall that Cooder Graw is the name of a band, so I am not going to make any assumptions about Chris Cagle.

**Although I have some admitted memory lapses with regard to parts of last evening, I can literally admit I was nowhere close to being drunker than ever before. I could tell you stories, but they'd be boring like the rest of this drivel I create.

***I personally think that a navel with attached adornments is less attractive than in its purely natural state.******

****I guess having Brink-o-Link and RJ floating around inside my head has given me a bit of telepathic power.

*****He might have actually said Exit, stage right. I cannot fully recall. I'd ask Boo Boo, but he went off in search of a pic-a-nik basket.

******I also have a personal opinion that there are a lot of navels out there in the world that should never be seen, in public or otherwise. If you've ever been to a NASCAR event, you might be a redneck know what I'm talking about.*******

*******Participle purposefully left dangling.

I'm gonna have to say "woohoo"

OK, before ya get the notion this has anything to do Vonage and the stupid things that people do, it doesn't. At least, it doesn't have anything to do with Vonage, but saying it doesn't have anything to do with stupid people may be a bit untrue. After all, there are those who consider me to be just a few, or maybe more, dependent thereby on the opinion-holder in question, wrinkles short of having a fully stocked mental department in my neighborly cranial cavity. There are some who think I am crazy, others that call me eccentric, and some that wonder from what planet I came. One thing for sure that can be said about me, though, is that I am a finalist in this month's Blogging for Books contest.* Is it OK if I say my woohoo now?

Speaking of books ... it appears that there is a certain 9-year-old who is eager to read my book.** I had submitted it for her review, along with a request that she return the favor and allow me to see the book she is writing about her dog's adventures. Last evening, I got a return letter saying their version of Word was not compatible with the file I sent. I converted it to an earlier version of Word and resent it. I have not gotten any confirmation that it was received.

While we are here, let me bring up a point to all of ya'll. I really cannot understand why everyone prefers MS's Word to Corel's WordPerfect. I can write something in WP12 and open it in WP6 without any difficulty. Any company that can update their product and yet do such so that earlier versions of that same product can utilize any information produced thereon is worthy of popular support. I'm just saying, you know. However, if anyone at Corel wants to thank me, send me a check, or buy me a Cooper Mini, please do feel free to do so. That actually goes for the rest of you, too, especially the part about buying me a Cooper Mini.

*Moona called me a moment ago and when I told her I'd made the cut, said that she wanted to post about it. She said she say:

1. And it came to pass that Tiger was anointed as a Prince in the Kingdom of Zero Boss. 2. And Tiger was exceedingly glad. 3. With bright countenance, he began his journey to the 2005 Texas Blogfest.

I, of course, beat her to the punch by posting this.***

**Of course, we are speaking of Alien Attitudes: Alura Allen, Alien at Large. Read the Alien Attitudes™ Archives for more information.

***I was able to mention that I was amenable to receiving gifts****, as well. I am, however, in desperate need of a new Cooper Mini. These gas prices are killing me.

****I failed to mention herein that I was soon heading to the 2005 Texas Blogfest, but I have a few other tasks to which to attend prior to my departure. I was hopeful of making that announcement on a more timely basis. It does, however, enhance the telling of the event to have used her manner of presentation.

Oh how I really really love good reviews

I just wish I could get either an agent or a publisher to look as closely as those who just volunteer to read my manuscript and tell me whether they think it is worth reading. Here's what Goldie had to say via email:*

BTW I finished the story! My what wild imagination you have! I hope it gets the recognition it deserves. When should we expect to see parts II and III?

*I did request her permission to share these comments with ya'll.

I got a really bad box of Lincoln Logs®

Today, I received yet another rejection letter from a publisher to which I had submitted my book manuscript. The message was short and sweet and devoid of professionalism. That, in itself, appeared strange, and yet, on this very same day, I received a craftily composed letter from a Dorrance Publications author-representative. It was, however, someone other than the author-representative with whom I had previously communicated. Those two pieces seem to fit together well to create a dreadful edifice.

I am unfamiliar with the particular celebrity of Paul Sepp and unsure if he truly is my friend, but the guy he pictured in this post is as in touch with his navel as any person I have previously observed, be it live or Memorex®. Despite the seeming differences between these pieces, they construct a pleasing scenario wherein maybe -- just maybe -- Paul Sepp really is my friend. I'll email him my PayPal account info for conformation of that fact.

My own navel, having learned of the comments to last night's NNGR™, is pouting. Sadly, therefore, I am out of touch with my own navel. End of report.

Alas, despite my best hopes, the search continues

I just received the following to my inquiry on Jan. 27, 2005 via email.

March 3, 2005

Dear Terence Russell:

Thank you so much for sending me your query.

Although your novel sounds intriguing, I'm sorry to say that I don't believe I am the right agent for you.

You deserve an enthusiastic[*] representative, so I recommend that you pursue other agents. After all, it just takes one "yes" and with so many different opinions out there, you could easily find the right match.

Good luck with all your publishing endeavors.

Sincerely,
Kristin Nelson

****************************************************
KRISTIN NELSON
Nelson Literary Agency, LLC
www.nelsonagency.com

George, ain't this growing into a large frustrating pile of excrement.

*I initially wrote to this particular person, if you'll remember, because she seemed to me to be very enthusiastic. She now, by her own admission, has shown herself to be less than such.

Update of my publication efforts

I contact another agent today. I chose to contact Kristin Nelson because of the compassion she showed to those of us who are lost as to how to get our work into the market:

A Message to Writers: For many authors, writing is a life dream and a passion. I understand the depth and the importance of this. The hardest part of being an agent is when I have to say "No" because I realize what impact that rejection has. Regardless of my response to your query, persevere, believe in your talent, keep your sense of humor, and most of all, write.

I am keeping my fingers crossed and am hopeful that many of you will assist me by clamoring in the comments to see my book on the shelves of your local bookstore. If each and every one of you who would actually buy a copy of Alien Attitudes: Alura Allen, Alien at Large will leave a comment with your commitment to do so, I am sure it will assist greatly should it become necessary to convince someone that this book has commercial appeal.

In case you are not aware of the quality of this piece of work, I invite you to visit the extended entry to read a short excerpt of the material.

Alura wished she had something to read. She was bored and lacked the patience to just sit and stare at nothing. I do suppose I could run though my martial arts exercise routine.

Alura began the exercise ritual, but quickly sensed that she was being watched by unseen eyes. She searched the walls and corners for any sign of security cameras, but found none. She glanced across at the cell on the opposite side of the broad hallway. It was completely dark. Still, Alura felt like there was something in that dark cell watching her. As her eyes adjusted to the level of light in the dark cell, Alura was almost sure she could make out a silhouette of something.

"Is there someone there?" she asked. Something moved in the darkness. Whatever it was, it was staying in the back of that very dark cell.

"Show yourself," Alura called. It moved again, but Alura was still unable to see who or what was in that cell. Oh well, she thought and resumed her exercise routine. She now faced the doorway, however, and continued to watch the dark cell across from hers while practicing her movements.

As Alura danced a martial arts ballet, a discernible shape began to emerge from the shadows of the dark cell. It, whatever it was, crept closer and closer toward the barred door. As its shaped became more pronounced, Alura became convinced that it was something very large.

Alura remained silent, continuing her routine with gaze affixed upon the opposing cell. The silhouetted shape began to make sense. It must be one of those elephant things I saw spirit away the dead lion bodies earlier.

It spoke, asking a question, "What sort of dance is that? I have never seen dance moves like those."

Alura was startled. It speaks my language. She paused her routine and approached the barred door of her cell to address the voice in the other cell. She called across and asked, "Do you speak English?"

"I don't know this ‘English,' lady. I am, however, well versed in the language of the Creators. Are you not a Creator?"

"No. I don't think so. What is a Creator?" she asked, mostly rhetorically. She continued, "I am from Earth. Do you know anything about Earth?"

"Earth? Is it a distant Iftzian territory? I have heard that there are many distant territories on the other side of The Great Water."

"Earth is the name of my world" Alura stated. "I am not from this world," she continued.

"I am not versed in the names of the stars and the worlds that circle them. I am but a lowly Elee. I am called Hor/10 because I am 10th in the line of the Hor clan. Legend say that the Creators made us from the wild animals of Iftz. The Creators exist here no longer, as legend says that the Leonids seized control of all of Iftz and drove the Creators away. The Leonids are powerful and they intend to enslave or destroy all rival forms of life on this world."

"These Leonids are quickly proving themselves to be ghastly beings, but your kind is so much larger and stronger. Why is it that you do not fight back?"

"We may be both large and strong, but we have no weapons. We may be both large and strong, but we are clumsy and stupid. Have you witnessed the devastation that a single Leonid can inflict with a single claw?" Hor/10 asked.

"Yes, I earlier witnessed a Leonid officer fell two of his underlings. With but a single swipe across the throat with one of those claws, those two died silently."

"They killed my own father in such a manner -- right before my eyes. Even the largest and strongest Elee quakes with fear at the slightest confrontation with the smallest Leonid."

Alura remarked, "Those overgrown pussycats don't frighten me! They would never be able to lay a claw on me, I am sure!"

"They do frighten me, however, but my fear will likely not last for long now that my time grows near."

"What do you mean that your time grows near?" Alura queried. "Why have they locked you up? Surely, if you are fearful of them to such an utterly high degree, you are already completely at their mercy. What further can they hope to achieve by locking you away"

"I have violated one of their laws. I acquired a possession. For that, they must make an example of me. I must die."

"Die because you acquired a possession? That is absolutely ludicrous. Whatever do you mean?" Alura questioned.

"You see these?" Hor/10 asked as he moved into the light and put a finger onto the bridge piece of a pair of sunglasses that he, despite standing in absolute darkness, wore upon his huge face.

"Yes."

"These were given to me by an outlander trader as a gift. I was assigned to be his porter and charged with transporting his cases while he moved about Iftz conducting business with the Leonids. When we first met, he removed these sunglasses from one of his cases and laid them in my hand. We were both immediately surrounded by Leonid Security. I was arrested before I could decline his gift."

"That is so ignorant. What's with these Leonids?"

"They are ruthless tyrants. They arrested the trader, as well. It is also violation of Iftzian law to bestow a possession upon an Elee. He is also here in this prison, somewhere. Little short purple guy in a robe. Dik, I think. I do not think they intend to execute him."

"The activity you were watching is a practice routine I use to keep my fighting skills current. On my world, there are forms of fighting in which one only needs the use of one's hands and feet to incapacitate one's enemies, even those with claws, knives, or even more advanced weaponry."

"I think I would like to see an exhibition of your skills. I fear, however, that I shall be long dead before you get a chance to put your skills into practice." As he was concluding his statement, Hor/10 quickly retreated into the darkness of his cell. He exclaimed questioningly "What was that?"

"What?" Alura asked.

"I saw a flash of a very bright light through your window."

Before Alura could respond, a portion of the ceiling crashed onto the floor.

Not all opportunites are equal

The initial $2 million investment for his book project came from his banking software company, which he sold five years ago. His biggest cost was creating the pricey jewels based on the 12 forest creatures. The gems mostly came from Jewelry Designs in Danbury, Connecticut, a partnership that happened by coincidence. - CNN.com - $1 million treasure hunt hidden in pages of fairy tale - Jan 22, 2005

If I had a couple of million laying around, you would already find my book on the shelves of your local bookstore. ;)

Tig's Bright Idea

As I thought about what to write in this™, I began wondering what bright had popped into 's brain. I know that it was not another barrage of law enforcement jokes, since we have already provided ample servings of about . Whatever it was, I am certain that he had been thinking outside of the .[He's not your average , you know.]Perhaps he had an idea for the next book (i.e., the "cereal" to the first book) in his Alien Attitudes™. (By the way, I have read the first book, and it's grrr-reat!)

1/24/05 revision in response to comment by Tig:
[He's definitely not your average , you know.]

Oh, my artistic skills are still as paltry as ever

'Member when I was tellin' ya'll that my Alien Attitude Trilogy came from a comic strip I used to do several years ago? Well, after a really long hiatus, however, not quite the ten years between Outland and Opus, I am pleased to introduce a brand new Alien Attitudes™ comic, to be found in the extended entry.

Lemon Meringue's Adventures of Orphaned Socks*

Well, it seems Count Maytag was chasin' after the fortune left to three orphaned socks: a purplish colored Ban-lon hose, a Nike sports sock, and a knitted baby bootie with a myriad of holes. Thankfully, with the inventiveness of the Ban-lon hosiery, the superb readin' ability of the Nike sports stockin', and the way the baby bootie was bitin' into the toes of anyone idiotic enough to try to stretch it onto a full-sized foot ... well, you get the picture. Actually, the movie 'pon which this inanity is based was quite good, as were the credits. I'll give it four-paws up and a shake of my striped tail.

The navel dozed fitfully durin' the movie, payin' very little heed to the scenario flashin' 'cross the screen as such navel seemed to be mired in ponderance at how an homage of some type could, in some way, be referenced within Book Two or Three of the Alien Attitudes™ Trilogy. End of report.

*Bein' as today was the kamikaze laundry assault day, today's postin's were brought to you by the letter orphaned socks.

Kill Bill Still ill Vol. 2

Still gettin plenty of bed rest and feelin' like if I don't kick this bug pretty soon, I might be covered with bed sores. If things go like they did last eve, I will toss and turn all night, runnin' storylines through my head dealin' with the next installment in the Alien Attitudes™ trilogy. My navel seems to be one of the few parts of my body that is not runnin', achin', or otherwise afflicted with cold symptoms. End of report.

The youngest reviewer yet

Well, I jes' handed a copy of my manuscript off to be read by Austin, age 11. His grandfather is a friend of mine, and said he was gonna make Austin do a written book report on it. I tol' Austin that I didn't 'spect such, but would appreciate a review, either good or bad. Jes' passin' 'long the news!

Jes' talkin' to myself

Three days before Alura's 17th birthday, the strange death of her grandfather cascades into a wild adventure that forever alters the universe.

That is the basic premise of my Alien Attitudes™ trilogy. The first book, Alura Allen, Alien at Large is in the post-production, pre-publication stage. This work is a culmination of seven years of development. I have never had a negative reaction from anyone who has read my manuscript, thus far only received rave reviews. I am hopeful that Alura, Brink-o-Link, RJ, Hor/10, Brin and the Zartronian Empire become classic characters in the very near future. I thank you for your attention.

If you are interested in knowing more about this project, click Alien Attitudes™ jes' below the post title to access the archive of posts dealin' with such subject.

More news about the book publication

Well, y'all likely 'member the letter I made available for downloading' 'bout the proposal I received from the subsidy publisher regardin' the costs and such to get my book out. I was wonderin' how long it would take them to get back to me after I set such aside 'pon readin' ya'll's comments 'bout it. Today was that day:

via email

Mr. Russell,

I'm writing to follow up on the publication proposal we prepared for "Alien Attitudes: Alura Allen, Alien At Large". Do you have any questions qbout [sic] it? May I provide further information about the proposal or about our no-interest payment plans? Please let me know your thoughts. We would like to publishi [sic] your book so I hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,

David P. Braun
Author Relations Representative
Dorrance Publishing Co.
701 Smithfield St.
Pittsburgh, PA 15222

I actually have found this person to be very courteous and felt it was only fair to let him in on my current feelin's so I promptly responded thusly:

Hi David,

I have actually looked over the proposal, and, truthfully, it was not what I expected. Financially, my business has taken a severe downturn and I am unsure as how to proceed at this point. I am still considering your proposal, but, at the advice of friends, am also continuing to research other publication opportunities. I am going to put all thoughts about this aside until after the holiday period.

Tiger

He was quick to respond, and I have put such below the fold for your review.

OTBTJTB™

Mr. Russell,

Thank you for writing and letting me know the state of things. Just to ad to the mix we also have another publishing arrangement if the subsidy fee is just too much to handle. May I tell you about our RoseDog print-on-demand publishing programs? They are much more affordable and often allow authors to get their books into print when they would otherwise not be able to.Since there is no large print run of books to produce and no warehousing to pay for, the price is much more manageable. A book would be designed and be ready to print, bind and ship when someone actually orders it.

We have the RoseDog Basic Imprint for $1,400 (no promotion - can be paid in payments of $500, $500 and $400) and the Basic Imprint with Promotional Supplement for $2,400, which can be paid in four $600 payments over the production schedule of the book. In the second program the promotion we use is very similar to the one we use in the full traditional subsidy. In both cases your book gets individualized attention, including the services of our artists who will design a unique cover for you. The book will be published as a quality trade paperback equal in quality to the trade paperbacks found in any of the large bookstores, and it will be available for ordering from virtually any bookstore. We take and fill all orders, attempt to get the book reviewed by local newspapers, send publicity releases to appropriate media and bookstores and offer the book for sale on our website.

Note that unlike the traditional subsidy, the RoseDog programs do not include editing but you can have your manuscript edited for a one time fee of $25 plus $2.50 per double-spaced page.

Obviously there are trade-offs in comparing the two programs. If you would like me to prepare a RoseDog publication agreement for your review I would be happy to do so, and send a brochure detailing the program.

Regards,

David P. Braun
Author Relations Representative
Dorrance Publishing Co.
701 Smithfield St.
Pittsburgh, PA 15222

These figures seem to be much more reasonable, though, I already seem to feel it would take a bit longer to get the book to anyone actually orderin' such, I think the difference in the out-of-pocket costs to me is jes' too great for me not to investigate this new proposal and I promptly requested for him to forward the proffered proposal regardin' this RoseDog print-on-demand publishing program to me .

O' course, any of ya'll actually in the publishin' industry or familiar with people in the publishin' industry that have other ideas about how I can get this greatly admired book into print, please do let me know.

Oh, another idea: I was contemplatin' an idea on how to raise money to promote this venture: Books on CD. I mean, it would not really be all that hard for me to record myself readin' the book and burnin' it to CD. Once that was done, I would have a marketable product. So, how many of ya'll think that is a good idea?

A long day went without much bein' accomplished

Well, shoot, where did the day go? Here is it, almost over and this is on my second post of the day. Hmmm, unusual for me, it seems. Well, actually I was rather busy, though, at what, might you ask? Well, for one thing, I created several of the characters in my book by usin' the same thing I used to make those two graphics in the last two posts from last night. I also created a few others as well. I was jes' havin' fun and keepin' my mind off of the stuff that is botherin' me right now, which is to figure out what is my next step in gettin' on with my life. I was kind of hopin' the book would be takin' off by now, and I can't even get it published. I'd almost be pleased to actually have anyone in the publishin' industry familiar with sci-fantasy jes' read the damn manuscript and, if in their opinion, it was not worth publishin', then I would know and could go on with my life. The trouble is, is that no one who has actually read my manuscript has said anythin' 'cept that they think it will be a best seller and will become a top-drawin' movie, so WTF is it still sittin' in my lap? Well, 'cause I don't know the first thing about gettin' a book published. I can also admit I ain't so great in findin' any assistance is doin' so, 'cause I wrote about 25 different literary agencies and none were even willin' to talk to me. See, it seems that the age of computers has allowed ever'one to write a book, so the market is flooded with manuscripts and who the heck has time to read them all. I sure as heck can't read ever' blog on my blogroll on a regular basis, so I have some understandin' of the problem. But, I think I only need one person, some avid fan of sci-fantasy stories with some connection to the publishin' industry to read the manuscript and suggest the right person to give it a look over and I am home free. I am jes' not sure where and how to find that right person.

The blog makeover is 'bout completed. I spent quite a bit of my time reworkin' templates and .css files, as well as doin' a bit of graphic creatin'. I am usin' Zongo's abandoned home as my test site if ya'll wanna have a look at my efforts to this point.

Anyway, I apologize for not bein' the best blogger today. I know I did very little to make anyone smile. I ain't really smilin' much myself, but I got so damn much on my mind. Christmas is a bad time for me. I tol' all ya'll that last year. It ain't gotten any better since then. I am alive. I plan on stayin' that way. I gotta see Alura climb her way to the top of the NYT best seller list. My navel is disgusted that I am in such a foul mood and refuses to take part in this report. Another straw, I guess. End of report.

Oh George, let's hope so!

Your Monday, December 13, 2004 Horoscope Taurus!

Finances are improving enough for you to focus on possible career enhancement. Maybe you can invest in a little self-promotion. It would go a long way. Consider getting the word out at a party, or a series of parties over the next few weeks.

I am definitely tryin' to figure a way to get enough money or help in gettin' my book published. OzGuru suggested I begin advance sellin' to raise the money. Jes' for your information, I had an ol' friend from way back when I was still doin' the comic strip email me this mornin'. This is what he had to say 'bout the book:

Finally! Yep, given time I eventually got to down load it and read it, straight through, non-stop. I was very entertained, especially during the Oz segment. The mixing of metaphors, and the blending of several different children's stories was a very interesting plot machine, and the ending was not predictable, at all. Well done!

My friend, by the way, goes by the moniker, Wizard of Oz, in online (mostly newsgroup) activities. LOL I used to be very heavily into newsgroups, but my currently dialup ISP does not have a news server, and tryin' to read newsgroups through Google is the absolute pits.

Now here's a real treat for some of ya'll

Wow, thanks to this little UGO gizmo I found on McGehee's site, I am now able to present you with my vision of Ms. Alura Allen, the central character in Alura Allen, Alien at Large, the book I am currently tryin' to get published, which is the first installment of the Alien Attitudes trilogy.

I have not seen Alura in a visual form since I used to draw her on a daily basis, what, five years ago? I was still doin' the Alien Attitudes comic strip at that time. If'n ya don't believe me, do a Google search on Alien Attitudes and you'll still find a listin' for it on a couple of old toon indexes. I can also tell ya, that she is lookin' much lovelier these days.

Word from the publisher finally arrives

Well, I got my response from Dorrance Publishing Co. today. I 'specially liked this li'l blurb:

Overall your contribution is designed to capture the imagination as well as to enlighten and provoke thought.

Download RTF file of scanned/OCR'd letter. The amount necessary to have this book printed in paperback form is a tad more than I envisioned for havin' it published in hardback form. I am pretty sure I can scrape together the five grand+ that is due 'pon acceptance of the contract, but not sure where I am gonna get the remainder. So, how did that guy sell all his stuff on Ebay, ag'in?

[UPDATE: Jes' wanted to let ya in on a few housekeepin' matters with regard to the Alien Attitudes™ project. I added an Alien Attitudes™ category and changed the category or, as this project was oft' mentioned in many of the Nightly Navel Gazin' Reports™, added such as a secondary category, on any post mentionin' Alura. I also linked Hor/10's pic in the upper right corner to the Alien Attitudes™ Category Archive. As I have been steadily handin' out cards 'pon which this URL is printed made 'specially in hopes of gettin' people interested in askin' for and, eventually, buyin' my book, I thought it may be prudent to point them toward pertinent information.]

[UPDATE II: Oh, I failed to mention that someone mentioned to me yesterday that John Grisham started out sellin' copies of his book outta the trunk of his car. I plan to go this route too, as soon as I can get finally get it out in print. ]

OTBTJTB™

The face that launched a thousand searches

Currently, there seems to be a big mystery concernin' the identity of this person. I know that I, along with the multitude of Google searchers hittin' my site daily for information, would be pleased if we could only put a name with the face.

OTBTJTB™

It's best to scratch while the bite is still fresh

For some reason, I started havin' playin' through my mind a lot of dialogue between the characters in my trilogy project: Alien Attitudes. The first book, Alura Allen, Alien at Large, is substantially completed and in the process of bein' published. Hopefully, it should be comin' out right after the first of the year. WATCH THIS SPACE FOR DETAILS! Anyway, a moment or two ago, this line popped onto the page:

If he is you and you are he, then how can you be a she and he be a he?

It's jes' a teaser folks, and Alura's strange question will most likely be a part of the second book, if it makes it all the way through my psychotic-driven highly anal editin' process. Right now, I am awaitin' Brin's response.

That thing 'bout hindsight raises its head again

I don't know why I am so tired. Likely from arguin' a motion before a judge today that he failed to rule in accordance with the law and then havin' to run over the next town so as to handle another case. The hindsight thing, however, was how I messed up yesterday. The judge's mistake will be appealed, even if I have to do it for free, because I am so very very tired of judges who refuse to follow the law. Of course, my suspicion is that by the time the Court of Appeals rules on my client's case, the actual punishment will have already been done, fines will have been paid, and stuff like that, but I suspect that her conviction will be reversed and hopefully vacated.

Now, as to the hindsight matter, as most of ya'll regular readers know from havin' read my last few posts, I was at my grandmother's funeral yesterday. As most of these things turn out, all my relatives were in attendance, includin' my twin nieces, one of whom is supposed to get married early next year and one who will be graduatin' college jes' 'fore Christmas time. It had actually been a very long time since I had seen either of them, and I was pleased to be able to do so again. Followin' the funeral, however, ever'one but me went back to my Aunt's house, which was an hour or so in the wrong direction from where I lived, so I decided to come back home instead of joinin' them. I don't know why, but I awoke this mornin' wonderin' why in the heck I had not driven such a short distance to visit with them a bit longer since they live so far far away from me normally. Oh, well, we all know what they say 'bout hindsight. I blame it all on the general sense of utter weariness that has fallen over me, of late. If I had anythin' to say 'bout it, I would have requested that my grandmother waited until sometime next February to die. I think some of ya'll will 'member how down I started feelin' durin' last year's holiday season, and I 'spect this one will be much rougher than usual.

Then there is the Alura project. I am still waitin' to hear from the publisher about what the reviewers had to say and then, last night, as I was layin' awake in the time before ya actually fall asleep and all kinds of things are still runnin' round in your mind, I thought how much better it would be if I changed on minor thing with regard to one location described in the story, which will change a few things that happen in the story. Is this a sign that this book will never see completion? Oh well, as it has yet to be actually printed, I 'spose it is not yet too late to make another change. I really did think that I was finished, though, but, as I also mentioned the other day, I know think of this project as my one and only child, and I surely want it to be the best it can be.

My navel seems to be in much better spirits than I. I 'spect that is 'cause my stomach finally decided to quit actin' up, at last. Jes' a little over an hour or so ago, I was quite nauseous, for some reason, as I was drivin' home from the neighborin' town followin' my completion of all the things I wanted to accomplish while I was there. The nausea subsided about the time I arrived home, although has yet to completely disappear. As such, I am pennin' this report early and am gonna retire to watch TV from the comfort of my king-size goose-down covered bed. My navel loves that! End of report.

Yes, I know it is early, but what the hey?

As was made abundantly clear yesterday, tonight's Monday Night Football game is 'tween my beloved Cowboys and those dreaded Redskins from the Nation's Capital. I 'spect that I shall be given such game my undivided 'tention for the majority of the evenin' and likely gonna be coerced to stay up a bit later than is my norm.

So, ya ask, what is my excuse for havin' thus far shared diddly-squat? Well, to tell ya the truth, I was doin' a goodly amount of correspondence which needed some of my 'tention, then I gave a bit of my 'tention to that which I had planned to do this weekend, but neglected to do. If'n ya have no idea what that might be, ya ain't been readin' closely enough. I'll give ya a hint, however, her name is Alura.

The navel is fully flabbergasted with the timin' of this report and believes it was not adequately notified of my intent to post such at this abnormally early hour. As such, it has prepared nuthin' to share with ya for this round of merriment. Don't let on 'bout how little concern ya have regardin' such lack of material, however. My navel has a severe low self-esteem problem. End of report.

On the continuin' book matter

Some of ya'll may remember my search for the Tic Tac commercial over several days tryin' hard to catch it on tape. In case ya don't 'member, I finally succeeded and was askin' here and there if someone could convert it into something I could use electronically. I wanted to show some of my fans how Alura appears on the inside of my head when I am busily writin' 'bout her adventurous exploits. Well, I finally located the commercial online, and you can see it for yourself by clicking here and then clickin' where it says View the new Tic Tac Commercial. For some of ya'll, actually seein' the commercial is of major importance, as the facial expressions of the actress in the commercial are the actual reason I found the young lady to very closely resemble the central character in my book. However, I believe even the followin' screen shot will give you an idea of what it was that I saw.

Lack of appreciation is reachin' Dangerfield levels

I was sitting here and I caught a strong whiff of an odor -- kinda like what a decayin' dead mouse under the stove or the moldy stagnant water sittin' in a sink full of dirty dishes after a week smells like -- you know what I mean - stank and nauseatin'. I checked all around where I was sittin' as well as I could given the little bit of light available as an instantaneous light bulb incident coincided with the initiation of my search efforts. No sign of dead animal or putrid food was located in the immediate area. Such necessarily leaves the conclusion that the smell had to be comin' from me. That I might be in some way decayin' or decomposin' was a most depressin' thought indeed. I did try to move on to lighter thoughts.

However, I am also highly mindful that it ain't the only time that dyin' has come to mind, here, of late. The linked post acknowledges only one of several anniversaries associated with the death of someone close to me. It is almost uncanny that my late wife, my mother, and then my dad, all died in the summer months. All three of those mentioned have been on my mind a lot lately and my deep inner mood has been dark and despairin'.

It is partly 'cause of my mood that I have been recompense in my bloggin' duties, however, 'cause I had to also focus a lot of my attention on gettin' that final rewritin'/editing of the book completed so to get me through some of the particularly rough spots. Of course, the book is finished, as I previously stated, but the road ahead still has a few potholes.

Currently, Alien Attitudes-Alura Allen: Alien at Large* is in the hands of three review readers, each of whom has been involved in this project for a considerable length of time and all of whom has heaped rave reviews upon my literary efforts. Yee ha! 'Cept that those same three people regularly read this blog. I already know that they really enjoy my writin' efforts.

I am developin' this concern that the dead statistics involved with this blog also forecast the public reception I can expect to get from from the publication of my novel. I can fervently describe my book as a 60,000+ word tale about a group of unique and lovable characters all caught up in a fast movin' series of adventures involving a clever and talented young lady tryin' to find herself under highly unusual circumstances.** Look out Harry Potter!

The book, of course, is filled with the same sort of descriptive prose and witty repartee that I use in all of my blog posts - blog posts that many, it appears, feel are unworthy of readin', or, if worthy of readin', are unworthy of comment or mention. I had always maintained some belief that my unique and, hopefully, humorous way of phrasin' stuff out-shined the inane and insane topics upon which I chose to comment. I surmise that I may have developed a severe case o' the I must be the only one who thinks I am funny 'cause no one's laughin' syndrome. Desperately, I am seeking a remedy. A lot of anything [applause?laughter?rotten fruit?***]**** would be nice. Pre-orders on the book [by Christmas?] are welcomed, and encouraged. roguegenius[at]hotmail[dot]com subject line=Alat1

My navel seems to still be dealin' with the nausea matter discussed above and is not currently available for comment. End of report.

*I have neither found nor selected a publisher. If you have any ideas that might assist me, please feel free to pass them along.

**And not a single footnote in the entire novel. For some of you, that reason alone, might be worth the price of the book.

***Please do not throw dead animals at the entertainers.

****Odd that neither love? nor money? was listed, huh?

Please read the following line

My passion for completin' the final editing and rewritin' of the Alura book is still goin' on. My passion currently seems to be goin' so strongly, that I jes' realized my whole daily intake for today, other than several ounces of fountain Dr. Pepper, is a small sack of pistachios. I can't ever seem to find a large sack. My arm is really hurtin'.

Navel is bein' no bother and I am doin' my best to not be a bother to my navel. End of report.

Priorities, priorities, get your Red Hot Priorities

Alura project is still on the front burner and goin' well. Final edit and rewrite is more than 33% complete. Tendinitis is at level orange, or is that level Bert. I still ain't sure I am up to snuff on all the snazzy bloggin' lingo. My navel has been hangin' 'round durin' my editin' efforts, behavin' itself. On the other hand, that unmentionable member of my anatomy always seems keen on makin' a nuisance of itself. Also, my butt is stuck to the seat of this chair. End of report.

Not this night, ya don't!

Alura project currently occupies front burner. I am goin' away for now and takin' my navel with me. End of report.

It was Saturday, all day, today

Well, I accomplished very little toward either the sunshine/navel matter or getting any of that laundry done. Unless you count pilin' dirty clothes in a different place than they were previously as doin' somethin' toward gettin laundry done, I did diddly-squat toward either. However, a'fore ya think I lazed away the whole of the day, consider that I did do a lot toward completin' the Alura book project. I am pretty satisfied that all parts of the book are now fully complete. I am almost sure, however, that another reading for editing and some slight rewriting is necessary before I am ready to allow anyone else to look at it. Procurement of illustrations is not going according to plan. End of report.

The large cloud of gas

My head must have been really bloated 'cause I jes' had one heck o' a brain fart. I know I connected to the Internet to look up some information I was curious 'bout a few minutes ago. O' course, after the ordeal of actually gettin' connected to the 'net, I cannot, for the life of me, recollect what it was. I am jes' gonna blame it all on Moby Alura. Event horizon: Christmas?

Navel is beggin' to get some time in the sun. Laundry is beggin' to be done. I don't know how to describe the look on my face. Deigned displeasure? End of report.

ADDENDUM: Francis Bacon, I'm not. Kevin Bacon neither. But so what's so bad about bein' me? End of Addendum.

ADDENDUM II: Since I had no chance to give sun exposure for my navel, and that laundry seemed to still be quietly sittin' in the corner and was not likely to voice a complaint, I decided to venture to Sonic® for my first experience with their oft advertised Junior Banana Split. I figgered to at least give my palate a pleasant experience this evenin'. It was a tasty li'l tidbit, to be sure, but they do need to give you an instructional video to teach ya the correct way to pop the tops on those containers. I still ain't sure how I acoomplished the task, but I do know what I did. I am purty sure I ain't gonna repeat those movements next time I get one, 'cause, although I was finally successful in accessin' the contents, I also got a very nice splatterin' of strawberry sauce all over my beige pants. End of Addendum II.

ADDENDUM III: Please do feel free to add your comments, ya'll. ;) End of Addendum III.

Suspicious activity can scarcely be found

Ya would think there might be a bit more interest in the trivia quizzes I have created here lately. Actually, the original Texas trivia quiz has gotten a good smatterin' of a response, but last week's quiz on Best Picture Winners musta been way too hard for my readership, 'cause none has yet to take a gander at the one I did today on ol' cartoon shows. Should someone be wonderin', the source for all those great questions come from somewhere within my memory. Thusly, it takes my addle-pate lengthy periods of time to find the pertinent data.

Help Wanted Notice: If there is anyone out there who has the proper equipment to take 15 seconds of VHS and convert it into a .mov or .mpeg format who would be willin' to transfer this footage I have of Moby Alura, I can use some assistance. Leave message to this post if you can assist.

The navel again attempted to construct a poll for all of ya'll, but couldn't cut the construction paper due to a lack of opposable thumbs. Strange, though, it doesn't seem to need opposable thumbs to firmly grasp the crayon. Have I just made a discovery with regard to the prehensilic skills of the human navel? I smell Nobel Prize here. End of report.

Take that, Captain Ahab! Yah!

Hey, I am a much better sailor technologically it seems than the said Captain Ahab was above the seven seas, as it has only taken me a few days to catch Moby Alura. Now I can go on with my life, well --- kinda. I still gotta figure out a way to capture what I now have caught on 15 seconds of VHS to somethin' digital so as to be able to work on or send to others electronically. Still, the fish is in the net, and one lovely fish she be. I am tellin' ya'll, this gal was what I was seein' in my mind as I developed my Alura character. Ya might have seen her: blue eyed blond on the tic-tac commercial, the assuredness and self-confidence she was able to express in her face and physical reactions.

My navel is dry lay in the midst of a major stickiness that has enveloped almost every other part of my outer surface, that which is usually referred to as skin, for those of ya'll who are still lookin' for the link to the crib notes in reference to this blog. In case ya are startin' to get really really confused as to what is goin' on or where you are, exactly, in reference to this blog, this is the REFERENCE DESK. The navel is currently busy with another patron and will be with you momentarily. End of report.

Where'd I leave that millstone?

Well, the day I been dreadin' since sometime last Thursday or so, is comin' to an end. I needed the break, but the SOS begins again bright and early tomorrow mornin'. Of course, it may have been mentally induced, but I have not even heard either of my alarm clocks for the past few days. I am now very fearful that I will not hear them go off in the mornin'. If I would somehow end up bein' late for court, I ain't gonna tell ya'll how much trouble I would be in if that occurs.

I ain't really been up to much of any sort over these past couple of days. As yesterday, I have watched a lot of television today, however, there was no great marathon of British comedies for today. I was changin' channels here and there almost all day, 'cept for about a half hour ago when I found that the Texas Rangers' game was on. I was utterly surprised at what I found to be playin' durin' the day. I am not talkin' 'bout the soap operas and talk shows, as they seem to have not changed all that much since the last time I watched daytime TV all day. I did catch jes' a bit of a showin' of Leave it to Beaver, and was mindful that it was in reruns the first time I 'member havin' seen Jerry Mathers' smile come across our B&W TV. I have to admit I was intrigued with watchin' the daytime fare on the Spanish-speakin' networks. Game shows and divorce court seemed to be funnier in Spanish, even if I could only pick out only one or two words here and there. I am always amazed at the categories for which I seem to know the questions on Jeopardy. I answered more questions about Cleopatra than a couple of other subjects for which I had believed that I had done my homework.

I did catch a glimpse at Moby Alura this evenin' and picked up the remote control and hit play/record so as to capture her image, but somehow the equipment malfunctioned and my electronic harpoon missed its mark. Progress in other portions of the endeavor is continuin'.

The navel has returned to its previous form, and is jes' hangin' 'round, agreein' with whatever decision I make. I suppose a person could not possibly ask of anythin' more of one's belly button, huh? End of report.

Ahoy ye maties! Thar She Blows!

I caught sight of Alura on a Tic-Tac commercial yesterday. It went by pretty fast and I was not prepared for the discovery, so had not set up to catch a copy of such on VHS. I been sittin' on top of the remote all night awaitin' another chance of seein' it again. I have been unsuccessful in any sightin's today, and somehow I am sittin' here wonderin' if I am steppin' into the Captain Ahab shoes in my own personal search for Moby Alura. I am already ponderin' the meanin' of that vision appearin' just at the point when it did. Don't such things have some meanin', usually? I sure would hate to miss a blarin' clue 'cause I am blinded by my cynicism. I hope all of that sounds as fine as I am thinkin' it does right now as when I read it back sometime later.

Tomorrow is the big July 3rd Celebration where our ol' town parade is occurrin' as well as a couple or three music festivals at some of my friends' spreads. I had plans to and a couple of invitations to ride in the parade, but I decided to pass on bein' in the parade and work the watchin' crowd. I got all my free cold drinks icin' down at the office, so the hard part of my square presence has been accomplished.

Ya'll ain't sendin' in all the comments and emails my navel was hopin' for and it seems to be sulkin' a bit. I didn't want to pester it tonight. I mean, it seems ya'll really weren't clamorin' it to come back so maybe I can just make it wait until it is ready to make some concessions to get back under the spotlight. I almost clipped my toenails tonight to provide somethin' to actually report in the Nightly Toenail Clippin' Report. But then I thought better of it. I suppose I could hire George Hamilton to provide some anecdote about caviar in a super model's bellybutton. Too much money trouble involved in that operation. I'd jes' as soon clip my toenails. Faithfully submitted by your loyal servant. End of report.

The creative process continues

Well, actually, after I posted it, I thought about how great a Nightly Navel Gazin' Report the post just two below would have been ... I mean, all I would have had to do was end that with a line sayin' how I found a wild hair growin' out of my navel, and I could have quit for the day. I posted it and then the epiphany hit me -- epiphanies are like that. They just come when they come.

Just let me give you a little insight into the epiphany process. This epiphany saga begins this past Friday when I decide that the time line in my book is not making any sense, so I decide to add a day, which means at least one more chapter. Of course, the characters also spend the entire day confined in close quarters on the space vessel while in flight. The juices had dried up and I dearly needed an epiphany of some sort.

I began, of course, with watchin' Saturday mornin' cartoons. I got nothin' of an inspirin' nature, although I might still put that frisco gag in there if I can ever get the full 411 on that. [see somewhere below]. I decided to go rent a bunch of movies, and spent the entire day yesterday and most of this afternoon watchin' movies. An epiphany did or did not hit durin' one of those movies. The seed however was planted and it quickly blossomed into a beautiful epiphany. Of course, it blossomed at the wrong time: the last hour of the last day of the weekend. Such is the nature of epiphanies. They are seldom convenient.

For those few of ya'll that share a bit of interest in the development of this book, I have pasted the few pages that I have taken the greater part of the last 48 hours to create. It's rough. It will need some editin' to polish it. Creativity is a time consumin' process, as well.

The navel has been accosted by a wild hair and an ongoing battle has ensued. Too close to call at this juncture. End of report.

Brink-o-Link begins: "Truth or Dare. Alura. Which one of your parents are you most like?"

Alura responds, "I never knew anything about either of my parents. They died when I was just a baby."

Bzzzz. "Wrong! Do the dare, slap Hor/10".

"It's true!" Alura plead.

"It didn't answer the question!" Brink-o-Link says.

Don't argue with the judge. Do as he says. RJ chided her from his position somewhere in her head.

Alura turns slightly and slaps Hor/10 on his massive arm before he had readied himself.

"Owww!" was his response.

"Dik. Truth-or-Dare! What is the total amount of your net worth?"

Dik hrrrmphs! "I would never disclose that!"

Bzzz. "Pinch Hor/10!"

Hor/10 heard and readied himself for the pinch. Dik's claw was sharp and being pinched with it, even playfully, hurt, all the same.

"Owwwwww!" he cried.

Hor/10, how far did you go in school?

"I dropped out in Ninth grade. That was four years ago."

"I think you are lying, Hor/10. You are not that smart. Take off those sunglasses and let us see your eyes."

Hor/10 looks down at Alura. Alura nods her head. Hor/10 removes the sunglasses only momentarily, but not quickly enough so that all present saw that he had a bright pink pupil in either eye. Dik, of course, already knew such fact, as it had been the primary reason he had tipped Hor/10 with the sunglasses in the first place. He had, personally, found the orbs a bit difficult into which to look.

"Alura, Truth or Dare - Ladies' Choice: Either tell us how much you are worth financially or tell us how far you went in school."

"I never went to traditional school. I was home-schooled,."Alura replied.

Bzzz.

Alura quickly blurted, "I have over a million dollars in a safe in my cabin."

Bzzz. Bzzz. Kick Hor/10 in the shin twice.

"No!" Alura said.

"No!" Hor/10 cried.

Don't argue with the judges, RJ chided. Just do it!

Alura reluctantly taps Hor/10's left shin with the toe of her boot, twice.

Hor/10 flinches both times, and begins to cry, "I don't like this game."

"Me, either. RJ, you are in my head and you know I am telling the truth," Alura, says out loud for the benefit of all present.

Dik agrees as well. "I am a member of the Zartronian royal family. I cannot answer question of a personal nature or that may threaten the security of the Zartronian Empire. They are not just not proper subjects for discussion. Let's play something else."

Taken straight from the deepest recesses

This is where I am right now --- opinion please:

Alura began to form an opinion that RJ might be best described as a ‘visible' thought. He popped into both your consciousness and your visage without warning . . . and, often, was gone - just as quickly. He was there, but you had no actual control over him --- try as you might.

This is actually from the book. No actual navels were harmed in the makin' of this post. End of report. Now comment and go back on with your lives.

The dawn brings a brand new day

Well, thankfully, the gastric distress of yesterday seems to have passed. I am so hungry!

I wanted to thank all of ya'll that dropped in to wish me the best on my birthday. I sincerely wish I had felt better. However, you cannot control every event in your life, can you?

I have a lot to do today, most that was already scheduled and some that needs to be done from yesterday. As such, I am gonna try to get an early start.

One last minute tidbit: The Alura book is very near completion and I am still without a literary agent. All of the early reviews point to nuthin' but greatness for this project. My belief is that it will somewhat akin to the Harry Potter phenomenon, but then that may just be a pipe dream.* ;)

*There would not have been any actual involvement of an actual pipe of any type.

Help! I really do need your comments, please!

I have just re-begun my story again. In the extended entries is the prologue, and I am wanting anyone who wants to do so to read it and give me your comments about it, what doesn't make sense, what you think should be changed, if the conversations sound real, and hopefully anyone with a Marine Corps background to check for any errors about things I might have stated dealing with the Marine Corps.

Copyright 2003 - Terence A. Russell

Prologue - July 26, 1986

The scene was hectic. There were emergency vehicles all over the place. Sergeant Johnson, LAPD, was the first officer on the scene. Despite the din of voices from the emergency crew, there was one distinguishable sound, that of a wailing baby coming from the bottom of the canyon.

"What happened?" Sergeant Johnson asked the ambulance driver.

"From the information I have received, that man over there," the driver said pointing to man sitting on a rock on the other side of the road," came around that curve a bit fast and crossed over into the other lane. There was a car approaching which veered to avoid the accident, hit a rock, flipped, slid across the road on its roof, went over the retaining wall, and ended up at the bottom of the canyon."

"How do we get down there?"

"The fire department is rigging up repelling gear right now, ready to send someone down to check on the passengers of the other vehicle." The ambulance driver pointed toward where the firemen were working on the harnesses.

Another police squad car arrived and Sergeant Johnson approached as the patrol officer was exiting his vehicle. "Talk to that man over there," he said, pointing to the man sitting on the rock. "I am going to see if I can get down to the bottom of the canyon with the firemen. Anyone else arrives, tell them to secure the area and to canvass for witnesses."

Sergeant Johnson approached the firemen. "How much longer before we get someone to the bottom of that canyon. I can hear a baby crying down there, so we have a survivor."

"We are about ready."

"Any chance I can go along?"

"Can you repel?"

"It has been awhile, but I did do a bit of that when I was in the service."

"Then get in a harness, and come on down. We are all ready to begin our descent." The fireman turned to another fireman and stated, "Get the officer rigged for descent," and then hooked a D-ring onto the rope secured to a hook on the front of the big red fire engine, backed over the edge of the canyon lip and jumped backwards, falling out of sight.

Sergeant Johnson waited a brief moment for the fireman to retrieve another seat harness from a compartment on the rescue vehicle. When the young fireman returned and handed him the nylon mesh contraption, Sergeant Johnson stepped into it, and cinched it tightly around his waste. He tugged on one of the ropes which was weightless, thus insuring no one was still using such rope on a descent into the canyon. He clipped on, backed over the lip and pushed off. The descent 30 feet to the bottom of the canyon was one smooth glide until he alighted on the craggy surface. The car, a late model four-door Chevrolet, metallic blue was sitting on its roof, which had compacted and flattened against the body cavity. The wailing of the baby was drowning out all the other sounds.

As Sergeant Johnson approached the vehicle where the crew of four firemen was gathered, the lead fireman was radioing to the top detailing what equipment needed to be lowered into the canyon. "Bring the emergency truck to the edge and hook up the winch. Lower a body platform with bars. String 50 feet of pneumatic hose and lower the hammer and saw. This car is crushed and we are going to have to cut our way inside."

"Any signs of other life inside?" Sergeant Johnson asked, after the fireman had finished his call.

"You mean other than the baby?"

"Yes, I mean any sounds from any other occupants of the vehicle?"

"No, but they could be unconscious. We need to get a good look inside to see what injuries they might have sustained. Landing on the roof like that is a pretty good indication of neck injuries, though."

"Yes, that seems a good bet. So how long before we can get a look inside?"

"I suspect about 10 minutes once we get the equipment down. We are going to have to cut partially through one of the doors and pry back the metal manually. Without knowing where how the people are situated on the inside, we dare not cut all the way through lest we cause further injury."

"Well, do what you have to do, and keep your fingers crossed that everyone survived."

"Yes, a prayer might be in order."

During the conversation, the equipment had been lowered and the firemen began to execute their duties. Over the next few minutes, the cut, pried, cut some more, and pried again, and finally got the rear passenger's side door opened. The very young baby was just one the other side of the portal they created and one of the firemen gently picked it up, supporting its neck in his gloved hand and turned to hand it off to another of the firemen. The leader barked, "Get that baby up to the ambulance, stat." The fireman with the baby lay on the body board, clutching the baby to his chest and tugged on the cable." The body board was slowly winched up the canyon wall.

The fireman who had retrieved the baby and entered the vehicle on his hands and knees to check out the remaining passengers. He emerged and shook his head. "Three dead," he said, "One young adult male, one young adult female and one middle-aged adult female."

"OK," said the rescue leader, "Nothing more we can do. Smitty, you say down and hook the cable for the wrecker company. The rest of us are going back up." The remaining firemen began to ascend the canyon wall utilizing the ropes.

Sergeant Johnson took the pad and pen from his breast pocket and jotted down the make, model and license number of the vehicle. He approached the ropes and began his ascent and found the climb a bit more strenuous than he had imagined. He struggled but did finally reach the lip of the canyon, where the leader of the rescue group grabbed him and assisted him over the edge. "The baby checks out, unharmed," he said as Sergeant Johnson regained his feet.

"At least that is some good news," Sergeant Johnson said as he motioned for one of several officers now at the scene to approach. When the officer arrived, he tore off the page from his pad and handed it to the officer. "Run this through DMV and see if we cannot locate a next of kin." He then walked off toward the ambulance.

"I hear the baby is unharmed," he stated to the ambulance driver.

"Yes, but the hospital advises transport. They want to do a series of tests to make sure there are not any internal injuries. We are advised to move with due haste."

"Go! I will be right behind you." As he walked over to his unmarked car, the ambulance engaged its light and sirens and sped off toward the hospital. Sergeant Johnson yelled to one of the other officers, "If anything comes back on that plate, I will be with the baby at Mercy." After receiving the officer's acknowledgment of having received his I information, he climbed into his nondescript Ford and drove off after the ambulance.

Mercy Hospital was only a short drive from the accident location and the ambulance had already arrived its precious cargo transported into the emergency room by the time Sergeant Johnson arrived. He had just parked when his radio cracked, "Unit 14, this is Base."

"Base, this is Unit 14."

"I was informed you wanted information on a plate called in through DMV?"

"That is correct."

"Information returned shows the car was registered to Colonel Paul Acosta, El Toro."

"Thanks Base. Can someone attempt to contact El Toro and locate Colonel Acosta or his next of kin. I have not received identification of the other passengers of the vehicle, but we have a very young infant that has lost her mother, and, I assume father. The baby is at Mercy, and I am currently on location."

"Will do."

"Also, have someone at the scene report to me as soon as they get through with the rest of the investigation. I am going to go check on the baby's condition. Unit 14 out."

Sergeant Johnson entered the emergency room and approached the intake desk. "A baby was just brought in from an MVA. I am the investigating officer."

"Treatment Room 6," said the nurse without even looking up, pointing to her left.

"Thanks," Johnson muttered as he moved off down the long tiled hall to his right. He found Treatment Room 6 and peered in seeing an ER doctor moving a stethoscope over portions of the baby's torso listening intently to sounds. Upon completing his examination, the doctor turned to the attending nurse and Sergeant Johnson heard him state, "Totally unharmed, but only a few days old. Crying is like due to its being hungry. Transport to the Maternity Ward until a relative comes to claim the child."

The nurse picked the child up from the bed upon which it had been laid and as she walked past Sergeant Johnson, he got his first really good look at the baby, a small cherub face with a tuft of blonde hair and two vivid blue eyes. "Nurse," he said before she had walked very far. She stopped and turned. "What is the sex of the child? I will need that for my report."

"It is a girl."

"Thanks." The nurse nodded and proceeded toward the elevator.

"Sergeant Johnson," a police officer walking quickly in this direction said.

"Yes?"

"We have gotten in contact with Colonel Acosta's commander. He says Colonel Acosta is out to sea, but Officer Levi explained the situation to the General, who said they would chopper the Colonel back to base ASAP. He said expected ETA is five hours."

"Good. The baby is fine and they have it in Maternity. Call in and have them pass along the news to Colonel Acosta. You did make them aware that all of the other people in the vehicle had died?"

"Yes, and according to the General, it is likely that the other passengers were Colonel Acosta's wife, daughter and son-in-law."

"What about the driver of the other vehicle? What information did we get about the cause of the accident?"

"The other driver was a 16-year-old, just out hot-rodding. He said he ‘just went over the line a bit, but the old woman who was driving the other car panicked.' His words, according to the report. He doesn't have any insurance."

"Is he still at the scene?"

"Yes."

"Well, have them write him a ticket for no insurance, traveling too fast for conditions, failure to maintain a lane and cut him loose. From what I could see of the skid marks, his story does check out. It is more likely the old woman did take faulty evasive action, so it is unlikely any other charges would stick. However, forward the report to the District Attorney. Leave it up to them to see if they see any other charges are merited."

"You want me to hang around and await the Colonel's arrival?"

Before Sergeant Johnson could answer, the nurse tapped him on the shoulder, "Sorry to bother you officer, but I got some information I thought you would like to have for your report."

"OK, what is it?"

"Well, it seems that Maternity recognized the child. She was born here three days ago and she and her mother were released just a couple hours ago. Maternity says the child's name is Alura Allen, and her mother was Susan Allen and her father's name is Stuart Allen."

"Thanks for that information." The nurse nodded and went off to seek her next duty.

"Sarge, you didn't answer. Didn't you want to get back out on the streets? I can sit here and await next of kin."

"No, I think as the investigating officer, I had better await the Colonel's arrival."

The officer left and Sergeant Johnson went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee and a couple of donuts. He then went back to his car and moved it out of the emergency area to clear up essential parking space. He found a shady spot out near the edge of the parking lot. He just remained in the vehicle, drank his coffee, ate his donuts and scribbled a few more notes about the accident in his notebook. "MVA, Canyon Drive, 7/26/86 appx. 2:30 pm. No collision between vehicles, accident due to faulty evasive action. Car flipped upon collision with rock, skidded across road on roof, over retaining wall, and came to rest at bottom of canyon appx.. 30 feet down on roof. Roof caved. Rescue used pneumatics to cut into vehicle. Three dead, one survivor, small infant girl. Survivor identified as Alura Allen by Mercy Hospital personnel, suspected victims are child's mother, Susan Allen, child's father, Stuart Allen, and maternal grandmother, only known information is Mrs. Colonel Paul Acosta, USMC." He hastily scribbled a diagram of the accident scene below his notes.

Sergeant Johnson laid back in his seat and listened to the traffic on the police radio while attempting to compose what he would say to Colonel Acosta upon his arrival. He could imagine who devastating the news would be when he discovered that the cause of the accident was an over reaction by his own wife, which cost the lives of his wife, daughter and son-in-law. It was a hot day in La and Sergeant Johnson laid back and closed his eyes, dreading having to give his report to the Colonel. This was one of the worst parts of his jobs, he thought, having to deliver the bad news to relatives of people who tragically died in motor vehicle accidents.

A helicopter fluttered in for a landing, and Sergeant Johnson opened his eyes at the sound. He immediately recognized the Navy insignia on the chopper's side and exited his vehicle to and began to walk toward the helipad, some forty feet away. As he drew near, a tall dark complected man in fatigues departed the aircraft, walking from beneath the blades hunched over as the chopper again rose into the skies. "Colonel Acosta?" Sergeant Johnson called over the roar of the chopper's engines.

"Yes, I am Colonel Acosta."

"I am Sergeant Johnson, LAPD. I am the investigating officer in the accident that took place earlier today."

"Yes, thank you. I understand that my wife, daughter and son-in-law perished, but my granddaughter escaped unharmed?"

"That is correct, sir."

"Who was driving?"

"According to the other driver, we believe it was your wife. The vehicle was wenched out of the canyon and I have not received a report as to where the bodies were positioned inside."

"Fault?"

"It does appear that your wife may have taken faulty evasive action to avoid an accident, collided with a rock on the side of the road, and ended up upside down in the bottom of the canyon. From what I saw of the car, it is a miracle anyone was found alive."

"The other driver?"

"Kid, 16, took the curve too fast and jumped the line a couple of inches. We cited him, and I will refer to the DA for additional charges."

"No, I think he will have nightmares about the incident. My wife was a poor driver, and likely argued with my son-in-law about who was going to drive. There has been enough trauma associated with this accident, so tell the DA I agreed to no further charges on the kid."

"Colonel Acosta, this has gone much more smoothly than I imagined."

"Sergeant Johnson, I have been a Navy Seal for over 20 years. I have seen both my share of tragedy and death. I lost both my parents to a drunk driver when I was 16. My son-in-law's father was my best friend who died in my arms in Viet Nam. Except for one sister I have living in a mental institution because of a brain tumor, I am the only relative of that baby in there. We are going to have a hard enough time of it without regretting the events of today or pointing blame at anyone."

"Well, you have one beautiful healthy granddaughter just waiting for you inside, sir."

"Thanks," Colonel Acosta said as he started toward the hospital.

"Colonel Acosta, if I may ask, what are you going to do now?"

"Well, I am on emergency leave, but I have already informed headquarters to start on my retirement paperwork. I am going to take that little girl back to the old home place in New Mexico and do my best to raise her."

"The very best of luck to you, Colonel Acosta. The best of luck to you and little Alura."

"Alura? I wasn't sure what they had finally decided to name that child. Thanks, Sergeant. Thanks for being here and briefing me on the event."

A slew of maybes, or maybe just a tad short of a slew

Maybe I need to get some new blogs on the blogroll, because I am not finding any of my regular reads that much interesting today? Maybe I am just worn out because I now have 11 pages of the rewrite done and closed the first chapter? Maybe I just have Alura's plight clogging up all my synapses? Maybe I should just call it an early night and catch up on the sleep I did not seem to get much of last night?

The evolution of immaculate creation

I was out visiting with Scott [and returning his chair] where I talked his ear off. Anyway, one of the topics of conversation came around to this book I have been working on. I actually have finished the book, kind of. I have what 187 pages of text that tells the complete story, but I am very anal about my writing. I have said that many times before.

This story revolves around several characters that have been rolling around in my head for quite some time. In fact, the whole episode began with my having a two word phrase pop into my head: "Alien Attitudes." It is copyrighted. I loved the phrase, it just sang! So what do I do with it. I had imagined how well it would sound as a clothing line. How I would love to see the words Alien Attitudes across T-shirts and down pants legs, so as to push all that Tommy crap off the streets.

I was still mulling what I could use that phrase for when I got a brilliant idea. I was just getting into graphic creation and had been thinking of trying to do a comic strip, so I decided to do one called, yep, you guessed it, Alien Attitudes. I did do the comic strip for 6 months, and it was viewable by anyone who linked to it on the Internet. There may even be a link or two on one of the lists of viewable online comics, but the site is gone. It had been hosted on a friend's server, which he had graciously hooked up through the T-1 line provided to his home by his employer. Well, we all know the IT industry crashed. He lost his job, and the T-1, and there went my site. However, since I teased you a bit, I will do something I rarely do, and display a graphic on the pages of this blog. I am using this one because I thought it was one of my best artistic efforts. It is at 66% of the original posted size, so it is hard to read everything.

Regrettably, I am about as anal about my art as I am about my writing, so I decided I was not a good enough artist to make that strip as successful as I had hoped and quit. However, I had actually put about six months effort into developing the characters and the story line, and it would not leave my brain. I actually had people writing to me, asking when I would resume the strip because they were interested in the story. So, this set of characters swum in my head and swum in my head and I had no idea what to do with them.

One day, I decided it would be much much easier to tell the story than to draw the story. I will just write a book. And I did, over about 24 hours. I churned out 100 or so pages, then I could not figure out where to go. I had no ending. I put the book aside. That was summer before last. A year passed. and one day last spring, the ending hit me. Not only did the ending hit me, but a completely new story came with it. So, another three days, and I had the book completely rewritten. I edited, and I edited, and still I did not think it was worthy of competing with "Harry Potter."* I do hold myself to high standards, you see.

Well, I just told Scott the story, and he thinks I have something. I have given a lot of consideration to this book. The story is sound, but the details are insufficent to paint the necessary images. I need to begin it again. I plan on doing so, so if my blogging gets a bit slow, that might be what I am doing.

OK, here is a bit of background. Alura is the central character to my stories. My Harry Potter, so to speak. My very first incarnation of Alura was as an advanced male pleasure doll into which some nerd installed a Furby chip who would be wearing a different set of shoes in each new days' episode. That character turned out to be very shallow and she morphed in the middle of the strip to become the young lady who was displayed above. Read the extended entries to the first four paragraphs to see the beginning of this character development for the third incarnation of Alien Attitudes: The Universe meets Alura.

*I actually had several people read the manuscript and had not a single negative remark made about it. But they were all acquaintances of mine, so I was still suspect of its worth for lack of any professional assessment.

PS. Any of you out there who are in the book business, I need a publisher and may need an agent and an illustrator.

Father Stephens was speaking, but Alura did not listen. Paps had not been much of a church-going man, and Alura seldom had gone places where Paps did not accompany her. As the words droned on, mixing with the sound of the dancing leaves being gently tickled by the breeze, Alura's thoughts were of her future.

Since almost from her birth, Paps had been her guide and almost constant companion. She could not remember a time when he was not with her, or could not have been there within a few minutes. Now he was in a box resting on two boards lain across an open grave. Despite her utter sense of loss and hopelessness, Alura could not cry. Paps would not have wanted her to cry. Paps had thought crying was a sign of weakness. "Face your obstacles head on," he had said, "and don't cry and whine about it, just get the job done!"

But they had never talked about what Alura was to do if Paps was killed. They had just never talked about it. They had only recently begun talking about her future at all. Alura wanted to go into the Marines, she had told Paps. After all, Paps had been a Marine, and so had her father. Her father and mother had met on a Marine Base. Alura felt a strong connection to the Marines. Paps had not seemed enthused, which had troubled her. Instead of quickly agreeing with her decision, he had just sat in silence.

"There is still time for that," he had begun, after several minutes in thought. "I was thinking you probably need to go to college first. You are very smart, and smart Marines are officers. Think on college a bit, then we will discuss it." That conversation ended, and that future discussion never took place. Paps fell off the cabin the next morning, while repairing a leak, and died. Now they were putting him in the ground. Paps was dead, and Alura was lost and alone.