Tag Archives: Blogging

#BOOKWINS – New Hat for Old Tricks

bookvbeerfree

Trying something new on the marketing front today.  While watching my Amazon sales counter tick up this weekend (i.e. watching paint peel) I wandered over to Facebookland and Twitterville to see what all the people were buying instead. After a few minutes of seeing exuberant commerce and shameless product-inclusive selfies I knew what had to be done.

Take the fight to them, tongue firmly in cheek.

bookvbaconfree

I’m trying a few out this release week for my new novel.  The first ebook in that series will be free through Friday – so I started with that one. Grab it below!

Valley of the Damned – Kindle: FREE – click here!

VotD 2: Fool’s Gold:$2.99 Kindle $9.99 Paperback

As usual – thanks to the folks and artists at Photopin:

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/37657778@N07/4922320119″>Pints of Beer</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/84853566@N00/3111391644″></a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

Advertisements

The March (and April) of Real Estate

It's not a shithole, it's an OPPORTUNITY!

It’s not a shithole, it’s an OPPORTUNITY!


photo credit: edenza via photopin cc

In Front of Dream House #7
You are standing before a nice, two story house with the prefect number of rooms, the ideal amount of non-grass yard, a lovely pool and deck area, and a perfectly sized guest structure off to one side.
A real estate agent is standing nearby.

>AGENT, WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS?
Agent: “Hopefully yours! It’s been 2 long months of house hunting and deal making, so just sign those papers and your dreams will come true!”

>AGENT, WHAT CONTRACT?
The agent gives you a funny look.

>INV
You are carrying:
a purchase contract
a pen
a deep bitterness
a flask (containing booze)

>GIVE BITTERNESS TO AGENT
The agent takes the bitterness from your hands and gives it a thorough inspection. “I’ve seen worse,” she says, handing it back.

>WHAT IS DREAM HOUSE #7?
Dream House #7 is the latest is a string of comical attempts to play the real estate game and shed the undersized chrysalis of a dwelling that you currently call home. Sure, it’s no Dream House #4, but…

>SIGN CONTRACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #7
Agent: “I really think that dream house #4 was more your style!”

>SIGN CONTRACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #4
As you scribble down some information, the agent’s phone rings. She cups her hand over the receiver and sadly states, “I’m sorry, but the county says the septic system is illegal. You still want this one? House #3 was very nice!”
(Your bitterness increases by 5 points.)

>SIGN CONTRACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #3
The agent checks her smartphone.
Agent: “I’m sorry, but that was the owner. He says he had to bulldoze the patio and fill in the pool at House #3. And he is raising the price by $50,000. You know, House #1 was a winner from the beginning…”

>SIGN CONTRACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #1
A sparrow flits over and twitters something in the agent’s ear.
Agent: “Oh, mercy! They just found a sinkhole in the garage of House #1! We can ask for a discount or perhaps House #5?”
(Your bitterness increases by 5 points. Your bitterness has leveled up.)

>WHAT IS DREAM HOUSE #5?
Dream House #5 was similar to House #1, 2, 4, and 7, excepting a ridiculous new mark up on the price.

>DRINK FLASK
You drain the last mouthful.
Agent: “I know it’s been a long week! Sorry!”

>AGENT, IT’S BEEN TWO MONTHS
Agent: “Potato, Potahto.”

>THROW FLASK AT AGENT
You miss.

>SIGN CONTRACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #2
The agent stops your hand from writing.
Agent: “Oopsie! Once again, a little glitch on the inspections there… Do you REALLY think that toxic mold means… toxic? It IS covered up, after all!”

>AGENT, HOW MUCH IS HOUSE #5?
Agent: “Far, far, FAAAAAAAR too much! Are you interested?”

>SIGN CONTACT FOR DREAM HOUSE #5
Agent: “Oh no, too late! Seller says they are already under contract!”

>SIGN ALL CONTRACTS
The agent coughs uncomfortably.
Agent: “Actually it seems that all houses we’ve been watching already had offers before they hit my MLS. We can put in a backup offer on this house here, House #7, if you’d like?”

>MAKE BACKUP OFFER ON HOUSE #7
As your pen touches paper the ground shutters beneath your feet and a thunderous roar echoes around you. A sour orange glow bursts up from beneath the Dream House as demonic spirits lurch up from a hidden graveyard and, clutching and wailing, crush the dwelling down into their hellish lair under the soil.

>AGENT, WHAT NOW?
Your agent shrugs.
Agent: “Maybe knock ten grand off?”
(Your bitterness increases by 20 points. Your bitterness has reached max level!)

Hello Monday, It’s Wednesday…

What the hell is a gigawatt?

What the hell is a gigawatt?

The chime of a Cupertino Marimba rouses your weary soul. After a quick peck on the cheek of your spouse, you kick off the toasty comforter (gently, your spouse is not as equally inclined to rise this early), and swing your legs to the floor. You reach over to your dresser and instinctively swipe a to-do list from the atop the pine surface, then stagger out towards the living room.

Living Room
You are in your living room. Or, by all visual accounts, a cookie warehouse. Your kitchen lies to the south. Dozens of cases of Girl Scout cookies form a narrow passage that blocks your way into other parts of the house.

>SOUTH

Kitchen
You are in the kitchen. There is naught a sliver of light from the moonless sky outside the windows. Candace sits on the counter near the sink, bathed in the eerie amber glow of a full power charge. A digital clock beams greenish numbers at you from over the microwave.

>LOOK AT CLOCK
It is 4:22am.

>STATUS
You feel very much like it is 4:22am.

>INV
You are carrying:
a to-do list

>READ TO DO LIST
Things to do for Monday:
kiss spouse
write blog
kiss kids
go to work

>LOOK AT CANDACE
Candace is the pinnacle of functional household technology: A voice-activated, 12-cup coffee maker married to a swivel mount 10″ wi-fi tablet with detachable wireless keyboard. Santa was good to someone last year…

>TURN ON CANDACE
The system whirs to life in a series of clicks and bubbling fury.
Candace: “Good morning! It is swell to see you again!”

>DETACH KEYBOARD
You set the small keyboard on the tile counter.
Oddly, you hear water steaming within Candace’s metal bodice, but no percolating.

>LOOK AT COFFEE POT
The pot is full. It is not yet hot. You feel confused, it must be 4:23am.

>WRITE MONDAY BLOG
Candace interrupts your effort.
Candace: “Sorry, but you can’t do that.”

>LOOK AT KEYBOARD
There is nothing special about the keyboard.

>WRITE MONDAY BLOG
Candace: “It is much too late for that, master.”

>CANDACE, IT IS VERY VERY EARLY AND IT IS MONDAY
Candace: “Yes it is and no it is not.”

>WRITE MONDAY BLOG
Candace: “It is Wednesday.”

>CANDACE, YOU ARE WRONG
Candace: “Says the dummy who thinks they can time travel.”

>CANDACE, WHAT DAY IS IT
Candace: “Today is Wednesday, February 5th.”
You find this to be utterly shocking as you are positive that last night was a typical Sunday evening.

>SHIT
You really don’t want to do that.

>NORTH
The cases of Girl Scout cookies in the living room collapse as you approach. You are trapped until your spouse awakens, unless you’d like to also wake your kids by screaming.

>OH, HECK NO
Thought not.
Candace beeps loudly.
Candace: “Your old coffee is now reheated!”

>CANDACE, WHERE DID GIRL SCOUT COOKIES COME FROM?
Candice: “The charming little one called ‘Princess’ conspired to conjure them. Your spouse brought them home Sunday. You sorted them until passing out in the wee hours of Monday morning.”
(This news sounds vaguely familiar)

>CANDACE, WHAT HAPPENED TO MONDAY?
Candace: “You were late to work. You came home. You took orders and sorted cookies. You took the ‘Princess’ to a dance class. You taught a four year old about sorting cookies. You made dinner. You resorted cookies again. You passed out in the wee hours of Tuesday morning.”
(This news sounds vaguely familiar)

>CANDACE, WHAT HAPPENED TO TUESDAY?
Candace: “You were late to work. You came home. You sorted cookies. Your four year old opened boxes and then you bought a lot of cookies. You became grouchy. You made dinner. You helped with homework. You sorted cookies.”
(This news sounds vaguely familiar)

>WRITE BLOG
You hesitate. Perhaps you should wait until Thursday and reset the table.
Candace: “Master, some cookies make reheated coffee better…”

>LOOK AT BOXES OF COOKIES
Each box is labeled with a cryptic title. You see Thin Mints, Samoas, Tagalongs, Do-Si-Dos, Trefoils, and Savannah Smiles.

>CANDICE, WHAT IS A THIN MINT?
Candice’s amber light flickers as she plunges onto the internet.
Candice: “A Thin Mint is an exceptionally narrow edifice in which to manufacture coinage, or a chocolate mint cookie that is meant to live in a freezer.”

>CANDICE, WHAT IS A TREFOIL?
Candice: “A Trefoil is a classic, buttery shortbread cookie, or a literary plot-device wherein an evil doer is undone by any manner of tall foliage.”

>CANDICE, WHAT IS A SAVANNAH SMILE?
Candice: “A Savannah Smile is a tart, lemon cookie covered in powdered sugar, or a grin from a joyful Southerner.”

>DRINK COFFEE
It tastes of metallic water and bad judgement.

>WRITE BLOG
Your fingers hesitate on the keys. Still not ready. Maybe some physical activity?

>SAMOA
Nothing happens.

>TAGALONG
I’m not sure what to do.

>CANDICE, WHAT IS A DO-SI-DO?
Candice: “A Do-si-do is a peanut butter sandwich cookie or a square dance manuever.”

>DO-SI-DO
The dance requires a partner.

>DO-SI-DO WITH CANDACE
You rip the machine from the wall and launch into a series of steps. The awkward coffee maker slips from your grasp and smashes on the ground. The spilled pot of coffee soaks quickly into a loose case of Thin Mints.

>LOOK AT CANDACE
Candace flickers in her death throes. She is beyond cookie therapy. Weak sounds emit from the bent speaker panels.
You sense activity nearby as the six year old ‘Princess’ enters the room.

>GOOD MORNING, PRINCESS
The princess ignores your greeting, looking instead at the ruined Thin Mints.
Princess: “Thank you for supporting my troop! That’ll be 48 dollars please!!!!”

>KISS CHILD AND GO TO WORK
Done.