Leigh

The art of the sell?

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 14:51:41 GMT

Yesterday I ran into a huge number of examples that the art of selling has gone to the dogs. I recently bought a Bowflex, and my last payment was posted by my bank but the finance company never posted it to my account. When dealing with the customer service people, the first thing out of my mouth was that they didn't post the payment I made, yet they kept telling me that my last payment was past due.

Uh, yeah. I think that's what I'm calling about. Duh. Love my Bowflex, but I'm not going to guy anything else from them.

Then I went to a Sprint store as I've decided that I hate my Instint (it's a crappy phone that doesn't want to work right half the time) and I wanted to see about getting a new phone. The first thing out of the sales person's mouth, on hearing the troubles I've had was that I couldn't get a rebate, that I'll have to buy the phone outright (said with a very pained expression on her face) showed me one of the seven (seven?)phones that were in the store and then ran off to deal with another customer.

I hope she gets paid by the hour.

And now for a real post

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:08:59 GMT

So, this weekend I went to Cincinnati, Ohio, into the very bastion of Writer's Digest, to attend their Editor's Intensive. What fun was had. A bunch of computer illiterate, wannabe writers sitting in a room to find out how to get their work read and published only to hear, again and again, that they must get off their asses and get on the internet. Hee, hee.

Anyone that knows an aspiring writer knows how much we love hearing that we have to work for a living. Blah, I tell you!!!

It's a familiar refrain I've been hearing lately that has begun to seep into the vast pile of spastic goo I like to call my brain. Writing a book is all well and good, but the book you've pored your heart and soul into isn't the end-all-be-all. What you should be doing (and doing right now) is marketing yourself. If your known as a writer before the book comes out, then you won't be known by the book and the rise and fall of the book itself won't be the rise and fall of your career. To put it another way- a writer is in it to produce a book. An author is in it to produce a lot of books.

That was what was kinda nice about this weekend. The focus was on a career as an author, not a career as the writer of a particular book. This is great advice, especially in genre fiction (as I am), where it's oh so easy to get pigeon-holed into a specific kind of genre fiction. Only last week (I think it was last week, it might have been the week before), my current favorite podcast "Writing Excuses" covered that very topic.

Anyway, back to the topic of the intensive. The way it work was like this. Upon registering, we sent in 25-50 pages of our work. A WD editor read it and critiqued it for us. The first day of the intensive, we were treated to a day long seminar of things we should do to become noticed as writers and, therefore, published. A great deal of time was spent talking about social networking and websites and the like because it's becoming more and more important to have a presence before submitting work to a publisher/agent or self-publishing as it is terribly important to do well on that first book in order to get the second published. The second day, we met with the editor that read our work and they told us what they liked and didn't like and gave us pointers on where we might like to try to get the work published.

When the class wasn't either having to hear "that guy" (you know that guy, the one that wants someone to tell him how to have other people do the work he should be doing, and is so takes on the victim role because he can't do it his way) arguing with Jane (last name escapes me and I'm too lazy to look it up), editor of WD, or shouting down said "that guy" so we can move on with the session, we were treated to some very good information. Though I will make one caveat in that it really is more for people who haven't published before, but are on the cusp and willing to learn how to promote themselves, it was a great weekend. I think only one person I spoke to had anything negative to say (other than "that guy" who couldn't come up with a positive thing to save his life because none of the people speaking couldn't come up with a service that would do all the work after he creates the first draft for him because that's the "fun part") and that was because she apparently knew what was wrong with her work to begin with and the editor she spoke to didn't have anything new to say about her work.

I guess the important thing for me is that I got on the plane coming home with a smile. I really need to do stuff like this more often.

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 03:19:03 GMT

Just got back from Ohio-WD Editor's Intensive. Lots of fun. Learned loads. Need more time to get done everything I learned. One thing about going to these conventions/conferences/seminars-there's always lots of work to do to apply what I learned. Ooo, fun!

One down...infinity to go.

Sat, 03 Nov 2007 04:52:53 GMT

Just finished draft 2 of my sci-fi novel. It still has some major revising to do on the last few chapters since I had to rewrite it all, but I'm feeling rather satisfied with myself. Even with all the procrastination and a few days of bio-chemical angst, I still managed to finish the damn thing.

Yay for me.

Leigh

Today does not suck

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 15:14:54 GMT

Well, I have finally gotten a job. Yay. I'll be working at MD Anderson, which has all that good karma for working for a cancer center, I'll be making over 10k a year more than I did at Sprecher's, have dental and eye insurance, work for a huge business where I can actually get a promotion or transfer to another job if I don't like this one, and they have yoga classes. How cool is that?

And so the day begins...well, sort of

Tue, 30 Oct 2007 17:03:18 GMT

Here I am again, my friends, bored and annoyed. I should be writing, since I'm unemployed this week, but I'm procrastinating instead. It's terrible that, when I get close to the end of a book, it takes me forever to get into finishing it. I guess it's a fear of success or something, I don't know.

So, what's going on today? Well, I'm waiting for a job offer from MD Anderson. The job isn't my dream job, but it's a job, so who can complain. My mom bought herself a new car yesterday evening. It's a Saturn VUE. It's a nice little SUV like car, but gets crappy mileage. I'm sure she'll like it a lot.

I've been having sinus headaches the past few days. Mom tells me there's this contraption where you wash your sinuses out with a jet of water. I believe the crap cloging things up just is supposed to be rinsed out. Somehow, that doesn't sound like a lovely experience, though, it apparently works well.

7 days until New York. Yeah. I'm rather excited, well, as excited as I can be sitting alone on a Tuesday morning, bored and annoyed and procrastinating. I've decided to take two of my works in progress to read for agents. We're supposed to read two pages to two agents and they give us feedback. I'm taking my sci-fi/detective story for one day, and my gangster-sorcerer story to the other.

I'm very stream-of-consciousness today. I woke up too early this morning and it's getting to me.

Oh, and a couple girls in my online writing group convinced me to start a Yahoo 360 page. Yet, another online journal for me to forget to post to. I don't know why I did it. It might have to do with it being 1 am, with nothing to do but write--so I immediately look for a distraction. We'll see how long that one lasts.

What else? Well, I just finished reading Brandon Sanderson's book, The Final Empire. It's awesome for anyone looking for some original fantasy to read. It's got a completely new form of magic (based off metals), is based off what happens with the hero loses at the beginning, and has a kind of heist thing going on. It's really cool.

Okay, I'll stop rambling. I'm gonna go order a pizza.

1 small step for mankind, 1 5hr flight for Leigh

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 02:19:51 GMT

Hee, hee. I'm going to New York in November for a writing seminar. Yay!!!!

Who says writing is a boring occupation. I get 4 days in New York, and its tax deductible. How cool is that?

Oh, so sad.

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 00:12:55 GMT

Robert Jordan, writer of the Wheel of Time series, died yesterday...and he hadn't finished the last damn book of the series. How very inconsiderate. Inconsiderate of me, I mean, that I actually am annoyed by the fact that I've had to sit through eleven damn books while he meandered around for seven of them without actually moving the story forward and he dies without finishing the finale, damn it.

Okay. I'm done being inconsiderate, thank you. I am actually very saddened by his death. He was a good writer. Apparently, by the way, another fantasy writer, whose name escapes me at this moment, died last week. I wonder if it'll hit in threes like most catastrophes. Who's next?

I hate searching for jobs!!! Ahhh!!

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 15:28:38 GMT

I hate that most of the jobs I'm qualified for go through temp agencies. I usually end up not getting the job I want but rather jobs like this one, where my only responsibility is to answer the phone...usually about once every half hour or so. It's nice that I get paid $13 an hour and access to the internet, but it's not exactly satisfying employment.

I hate writing cover letters. I feel like I'm rambling.

I hate that I don't really want any of these jobs, and no one's hiring on the job I want.

Blahh. I need a sugar daddy.

I'm baaack.

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 14:41:17 GMT

Hello my long lost friends,

It's been so long since I've written in this thing, I don't know where to start. Well, I've finished school and would be graduated if UofH had their shit together. They messed up my credits so that's holding everything up. It's made even more annoying by the fact that this is the second time I've had to deal with this kind of crap. Blah.

I finished my first novel, and got 12 rejection letters before running out of money to send out more. I'm not very upset by the rejection, it's expected and I feel like a real aspiring writer now. It's a badge of honor, in a way.

Haven't got a real job yet. I'm temping right now, so I'm rather bored at work and can spend the time writing here. In actuality, I'm procrastinating. I have to write cover letters for the jobs I want to apply for. That's a pain. I hate that. It's like writing query letters for my literary agent search. I hated that too. Blah.

My mother has recovered admirably from her illness. She had a short relapse a few months ago, but is in remission once again and doing much better. She's back to work, and tolerating my moochness until I have money again.

I can't think of anything else to write about now. Maybe I'll come up with something later. All I have to do at this job is answer the phone, and they don't get that many phone calls. Maybe I'll get back to that job search. Maybe.

Fri, 05 Aug 2005 04:59:03 GMT

Okay, I know it's been a long time, so spare the "she's alive" stuff, okay?
Well, this is what's up with me so far.
I'm still with the law firm - will probably be there until I die or get a novel published, whichever comes first.
My mom had a relapse in her leukemia, and is in the hospital. I'm going to move in with her to help with the bills and such. It really sucks that every time she goes in the hospital she needs someone to be around her for about a two to three week period. It'll help immensely to have someone there all the time for a while. Basically, she's in MD Anderson right now for an double-blind test with cemo and another drug that I'm forever forgetting the name of. It's basically the same thing she would have had anyway, so we can all keep our fingers crossed. After that, the very nice doctor at MD Anderson (who happens to be an Irishman named Frances how typical is that?) said she'd probably need a bone marrow transplant after that cause he thinks the marrow she has has been messed up too much. He thinks her remission was not a real remission at all since she had a relapse in less than a year.

Anyway, while I'm in the progress of moving, I'm taking a couple days off next week. I sprung that one on the cunt manager earlier this week. The job is just driving me up the wall. People are just plain too stupid and absolutely refuse to think for themselves. It's amazing.

On the writing front, I've managed to finish my short sci-fi novel. I'm working on a rewrite, which will hopefully be good enough to publish (it's like 230 something pages). I've got my fingers crossed on that one.

On the school front, I've dropped all my classes this semester so I can be there for my mom, but I've signed up for an online writer's conference call "Focus on the Novel". I'm pretty excited about that. It's not thru UofH but thru Writer's Digest, so it'll still be cool though not count for a diploma. Oh well, I figure UofH ain't going anywhere, and I'll hopefully only be at my mom's for about a year or so. It might be famous last words and all, but even my mom is saying she wants it to be a temporary thing. She's a tough lady. I admire that.

So, things are pretty stressful on this end, but I think we'll muddle through.

Not looking forward to the prospect...

Thu, 13 Jan 2005 04:23:13 GMT

I'm looking back at my book. I read in a number of places that, for a first novel, agents want something that is about three hundred, three hundred fifty pages - mine clocks in at almost six hundred. It's an easy read, but I want to sell it so I'm trying to figure out what can go. Geese, what a prospect. It's going to mean major cuts and rewriting. Lots of work, but I'm getting into the swing of it. It'll teach me how to think in different ways - different ways to tell a story. That's what I'm telling myself. I'm also working on my second book, which is guaranteed to be much shorter since I'm trying to tell the whole thing through the point of view of one character instead of four or five. Looks much more promising.

On another note, living with my mom has had some bad effects. I actually sat and watched an entire episode of Wife-Swap tonight. I find myself disgusted and heartened about reality TV. On the one hand everyone on the show had positive experiences and it showed people the other side of the fence which is a wonderful thing, but then I realize that I was watching reality TV. I'm thoroughly disappointed in myself. Is my life that bad that have to watch people worse off than myself to feel better? I guess so, but I don't have to feel okay about it. Yuck.

Bored.

Wed, 12 Jan 2005 05:05:48 GMT

That's me. Bored out of my skull. I can't think of a single thing to do. I could write, but I haven't got any good ideas. I could watch a movie, but I've been staying with my mom while she's recovering from kemo so we've been watching a lot of TV (damn those reality shows...who thinks of this crap?) I could read, but all I've got is Harry Potter in Latin but that has way too much thought involved.

I think I would like a giant meteor to come and land on me now. At least I'd stop being bored. I'd just be dead, and then I wouldn't care.

At least I've gotten the internet to finally work right. Aren't you happy? I can assault you with my boredom. Yippee.

Short Story

Tue, 11 Jan 2005 04:20:16 GMT

Oooo, getting all high tech....for me at least.

Just wanted someone to read this, even if it sucks (or not depending your tastes).

Thanks Clint and Matt (though you probably won't remember) for the idea.

Nothing Lost that Can’t Be Found

I thought it was going to be a good day until the angel and demon walked in my door. They came in reluctantly, as if not knowing if they should really be there much less be there together. And they were together, that was for sure. I think that’s what made me realize it was not just going to be a bad day. It was going to be a really bad day.

Now, I know what you’re going to say, “Harry, there are no such things as angels and demons, and if there were, they wouldn’t be walking around together.”

Unfortunately, you’d be wrong…at least about the first part.

Most people just don’t see angels and demons. They tend to blend in, and they stick to nasty circumstances. Moments and places of danger, terror, lost hope, and death are the places you’ll find them. Things are about to get really bad when you see them coming around.

How do I know this? Well, those types of places are where you’ll find me as well.

That’s why I felt my stomach bottom out when I saw those two walk through the tall glass door that proclaimed, “Harry Overton, Private Investigator.”

That’s me by the way. Harry Overton, Private Investigator.

I saw them walk into the lobby through the open door of my office. They were reflected in the mirror set against the wall opposite the front door. It looks a little weird to anyone that comes in, the mirror not being centered and all, but I did it for the sole purpose of being able to know who was coming to see me before they saw me. I don’t always get the best sort of people in here. Today would be a good case in point.

“You think anybody’s here?” the angel asked with a feint hint of a southern twang.

The demon smiled, flat and full of gray teeth. “Yup.”

The angel looked like one of those cowboys who’d never seen a day on a farm. He was tall and lean, clean cut, with his bleached, white, button down shirt tucked neatly into starched blue jeans. He had the innocent face of a boy of seventeen or so.

The demon was another matter. He was dirty, dingy, short, and squat. He wore clothes that looked like they had come from the wardrobe department of a bad period film about coal miners in the twenties or something, but – come to think of what I know about demons – they had probably belonged to a coal miner from the twenties. That is to say, the little man was behind the fashion times, and more than a little out of place, especially wearing a grimy, brown coat in ninety-five degree heat.

But, hey, demons didn’t sweat the little things.

Other than the demon’s fashion sense, there wasn’t really anything that screamed of the true nature of these two. It was just something – what that ‘something’ was I haven’t figured out – that always told me. I guess you could call it a talent, but I’ve always been able to know them by sight, even when I was a kid.

I leaned back in my chair and waited. A few seconds later, the demon was standing in my doorway, still smiling.

“Mr. Overton, knew you was back here,” he said. His voice was thick with the kind of British accent one might attribute to the unemployed, homeless nephew of the coal miner who had once owned the demon’s clothes. He turned to look back at his companion as if he had just accomplished some great feat, and then took a few steps into my office – just enough to force the angel behind him to have to squeeze past to get into the room.

The angel shot the demon a snide, sidelong look that told me just how much these two liked each other’s company. About as much as I liked theirs.

“What can I do for you?” I asked them.

The fact that I didn’t really like them being in my office must have been evident because the angel looked a little embarrassed.

It didn’t seem to bother the demon at all, but I guess he got that kind of thing all the time. He was very dirty.

“May we sit?” he asked, already moving to the chair in front of my desk. He sat down with a plop. I could smell the scent of the demon that went along with the clothes and general condition. He smelled like a mix of old meat, sweat and mold.

The angel followed reluctantly. He smelled like Old Spice.

“You see, Mr. Overton, we’ve got a job for you,” the demon said. At least, that’s what I think he said. His accent was very thick.

I leaned forward over my desk, trying to look interested. There was no reason to be rude, I thought, even though I had already decided in the back of my mind that I wasn’t about the take any job these two would offer me. “What kind of job?”

“We need you to find something,” the demon said. His voice dropped down to a whisper as he leaned forward, “A real important something.”

“What?” I asked.

The demon opened his mouth to answer, but the angel got in ahead of him. “A person,” he said. He shot the demon another sidelong glance filled with annoyance.

“That is what you do, isn’t it? The demon asked, ignoring the other. “Find things? ‘Nothing lost that can’t be found’?”

That last bit was from my ad in the phone book. My assistant thought it was catchy. She had suggested putting it up on the door too, but, thankfully, it’s my vote that counts.

“Yes,” I said. And I do it very well, thank you. Lost people, lost lives, a man even hired me once to find his keys for him. It’s just something I’m good at.

“That’s what we want you to do. Find someone for us,” the demon said. His smile never wavered. It was an ugly smile.

“Oh, I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” he went on. “This is Al.” He pointed to the angel. “He’s divinely ordained. You can call me Ozzy. I’m, what you might say, of the lower realms.”

The angel sighed heavily. “Why do you have to blurt out stuff like that all the time? This is supposed to be secret.”

The demon turned to him, his smile finally getting tired. “I don’t know what the problem is. He already knows. That’s why we’re here, remember? We might as well get it out of the way. You know, get things out in the open.”

This sort of put me in a fix. I didn’t have a clue what to say. Until that moment I hadn’t thought about whether they knew I could tell what they were. Besides that, how do you turn an angel and a demon down at the same time? What exactly would the repercussions of that be?
I decided to stall.

“And what brings you to my door?” I asked.

The demon looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Just told you. We need you to find someone for us.”

“Someone you can’t find on your own.”

The demon looked disconcerted. “Well, yeah.”

“Sorry, but how am I supposed to find someone that you can’t?”

The demon looked at the angel again. The angel shrugged.

“You see,” the demon said. “The man you’d be looking for is of our element, so to speak, and you being who you are, able to do what you do, see what you see…well…you can find what we can’t.”

“Who is this man?” I asked.

The smile came back to the demon’s face, even uglier than before. “Probably best you not worry about that.”

I want to say that I was apprehensive over the prospect, but the word apprehensive doesn’t fit…it’s more like…absolute panic.

“What’s his name?” I asked, trying to overcome my fear by thinking of this as any other case. It was hard.

“He has many,” the demon said.

Just like any other case. Right?

“What does he look like?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” the demon said. “He can change his appearance at
will.”

Yeah, any other case.

“Do you know where he might have been recently?” I asked.

“No,” the demon said.

I looked over at the angel, who simply shrugged again.

“So,” I said, “you want me to find a man who is divine in origin that can be anywhere, look like anyone and take any name. Am I getting that right?”

I know. I was starting to get rude. I couldn’t help myself. It’s a defense mechanism triggered by the panic.

“That’s about the gist of it,” that angel said. I hadn’t noticed until then, but he had slowly sunk lower and lower in his chair until he looked all legs and shrunken torso.

“Look,” I said, “I’m not sure what I can do for you. I mean, I need a place at least to start. How long has he been missing?”

The angel looked accusingly at the demon, who was now staring up at the ceiling with great interest.

The demon, his eyes shifting around the ceiling as if following an insane fly, answered in a shallow, pinched voice. “Well, we’re not quite sure. It’s been at least nine hundred years.”

“Nine hundred,” I repeated. Yeah, any other case, my ass.

The demon finally lowered his gaze to look at me. “Since we noticed he was gone. He might have left anytime before that, I suppose.” He gave a nervous laugh.

“Anytime between the Fall and nine hundred years ago,” the angel muttered, sitting up a little in his chair. He obviously didn’t find the situation any better than I did.

I take that back, though. It might have been worse for him. At least I could spray disinfectant on the chair when the demon left. The angel had to live with the smell.

“What are you going on about?” the demon asked the angel. “You don’t got any better ideas.”

“How could I possibly do better than this?” the angel mocked. “Next thing you know you’ll want to put an add in the paper. Or how about going up to talk to the Boss and ask for His help?”

The demon gave the angel the same look he had given me earlier, as if he were an idiot. “Yeah, that’s going to happen, I’m sure. I’ll walk right up to Him and explain how His Divine Plan got all mucked up ‘cause Lucifer went for a walk and never came back.” He rolled his eyes.

The angel was sitting strait up in his chair, shocked. He gave me a nervous look, and then went back to stare at the demon with complete disgust.

I was rather surprised to realize this little slip didn’t really bother me. This all was starting to sound like a joke. An angel, a demon and a private investigator are sitting in an office…I just wondered what the punch line would be.

“Let me get this strait. You want me to find Lucifer,” I said.

That was when the demon realized what he had said. “Oh, well...”

He looked over at the angel, who remained silent in his indignation.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” he went on, as if trying to gloss over the fact that it was the ruler of Hell I was supposed to be finding. “You just need to spot him and report. The rest of us’ll take over from there. You don’t have to do nothing dangerous or the like. Just spot him.”

He smiled again, an action I think he did more out of habit than trying to make me comfortable with the situation. That smile was anything but comforting.

“Just out of curiosity, how did you lose him?” I asked.

The angel sat back in his chair. “No one ever said they were the smartest bunch.”

“We were busy,” the demon said resentfully.

“Busy fighting each other,” the angel said. “It’s amazing you even noticed he was gone at all.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been looking,” the demon shouted at the angel. “Look, you got a better idea? ‘Cause I’d like to hear it. Until then, shut up.”

“A better idea?” The angel asked. He then turned to me. “Do you want to take this job?”

I laughed at his question, at my fear. “Not on you life,” I said without thought.

“You see?” the angel said to the demon. “He’s not going to help us.”

The demon stared at me, his eyes all fire and brimstone, literally. He smelled worse than he did before, and I’m not sure disinfectant will ever get the smell out. “You are going to help us, and you are going to start right now.”

“That’s enough,” the angel said, rising to his feet. “I’ve had about enough of you. Now you’re going to bully humans around to cover up your incompetence.”

“My incompetence?” The fire and brimstone were instantly gone, but not the smell, and the demon got up to face his accuser…or rather his accuser’s stomach. He was a very short man.

“You’ve been looking for nine hundred years and you still haven’t found him,” the angel went on. “Not to mention losing him in the first place.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one in Hell, remember?” the demon countered. “The fact that no one’s been able to find him is only because he doesn’t want to be found.”

He stopped a moment, and thought in silence. “But you’re right. Evisceration won’t work in this instance, will it?” He turned to look at me. “How about money?”

Does the word surreal mean anything to you?

“Umm…why don’t you two sit down?” I said. “Have a seat and relax.” I was calming down then, I remember, because these two were starting to remind me of my parents, complete with bribery. I was the mediator for them too.

They looked at each other with the deepest loathing, and then sat down again.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” I said.

The demon did the talking, telling how the rebel angels never really stopped rebelling even after they were thrown down from heaven. Hell was filled with constant warfare until one day (as he told it, completely by chance) someone noticed that Lucifer was nowhere to be found. All the demons had been looking for him ever since (except those that kept up the appearance that everything was business as usual). Recently, the angels (also by chance) had found out what was really happening, and joined the hunt.

“Which brings us to you,” the demon said, “a man who can see us for what we truly are and has a reputation for finding things.”

“So, what’s the problem?” I asked. “Why not leave him lost? Like you said, if you haven’t found him by now…”

“It’s the Divine Plan,” the angel said. “He’s part of it. If we can’t find him, the Plan can’t move to the next stage.”

There was something fishy here, I realized. “Which stage?”

“Are you taking the job, or what?” the demon asked, suddenly losing his patience.

“I just want to know what I’m getting out of this,” I said. “I mean, what’s the point in me helping you if, say, you’re only going to bring on Armageddon or something.”

The two looked at each other uneasily.

Sometimes I hate my luck. “No, don’t tell me. You want me to find Lucifer so you can start Armageddon?”

How these two think they could ever keep secrets is beyond me.

“It’s part of His Plan,” the angel said, as if that made things all better. “It’s what has to happen.”

“But not until you find Lucifer,” I said.

“He has a really big part in it and all,” the demon said, his smile plastered on again. “And we’re a bit behind schedule.”

Maybe I was just being thick, but I was confused. “Why would I help you bring Armageddon? I mean, the world’s a little messed up, but I don’t want to end it.”

“It’s the Plan,” the angel said, exasperated. “It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not. Eventually the Boss is going to find out what’s been going on, and then He’ll step in and…Well, let’s just say you won’t like it when He improvises. He’s much better with a well thought out strategy.”

“Like Armageddon?”

“There are worse things than Hell on Earth,” the demon said. “Believe me.”

Did I mention I really didn’t like having angels and demons in my office? Did I mention they usually meant bad things were on the way or already there? I’m sure I did. Pretty sure I did.

The demon looked over at the angel. “Well, I offered him money.”

The angel frowned at the demon, then turned to me. “How about this? We’ll make sure you get as much money and help as you need to complete you job. You find the one we’re looking for, and I can personally guarantee that you won’t have to worry about what happens after.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked apprehensively.

The demon seemed to be thinking along the same lines I was. “And you yelled at me for threatening him.”

The angel caught on. “Oh, no. I mean that you’ll be raised up with the others. You help us and you’ll be taken to Heaven before Hell is loosed.”

He looked over at the demon, who was not completely convinced. “That’s what I meant,” he repeated.

The demon went with it anyway. “Or I could make your life a living hell until you change your mind,” he added for good measure.

I could tell I wasn’t being given a choice. I was being given a job, one I neither needed nor wanted, but was uniquely suited for.

And so I was hired to find Lucifer, the Devil, the Father of Lies. Once I complete my job Armageddon will start and the world shoved into a thousand years of hell.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Sorry about the length. I'm still figuring out how this thing works.

Another one down

Tue, 14 Dec 2004 04:08:59 GMT

I am now officially done with yet another semester...Yeah...

I am very glad to be out of school. Wish I could be out of work. I truly do hate my job. Fortunately, it does account for my freaky schedule. Next semester I'm taking classes on Tues. & Thurs. from two to five. Totally freaky, but I'll be finally done with my core. This makes for sooo yeah.

I had more to say, but now I can't remember what it is.

I'm now having a grand old time drinking a lot of wine and reading Neil Gaiman short stories. I used to hate short stories. I suppose my Intro to Fiction class has now cured me of that. Who says that you can't learn something from college? No one, I guess. It is college. I suppose you are supposed to learn something.

Have I mentioned that I'm done with the semester and I'm drinking lots of wine?

Yeah!

What a geek!

Sat, 20 Nov 2004 05:47:28 GMT

I'm such a geek. I realize that. I actually told my mom that I wanted Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in the Latin edition.

Yep.

Total geekdom happening over here.

A moment...

Sat, 20 Nov 2004 05:43:28 GMT

I need to learn a little courage. Actually, I need to learn a lot of courage.

I had a moment today. It went a little like this... I was in English class, and I came up to a dilemma. The project was to choose an author to tell the rest of the class about. On Wednesday it was any author. On Friday, today, it was one of the authors discussed in class. When the teacher found out that most people wanted to go off the syllabus, she made that accessible. As I sat there, I made the decision to choose an author on the syllabus, 'cause that was the original assignment apparently.

Not what I had originally planned. I had been deliberating between Neil Gaiman and H.P. Lovecraft. I chose Angela Carter, an author I know nothing about at all, only that she wrote redone fairytales. I like that.

Unfortunately, she’s a feminist writer. I hate feminist writing. Most of the stuff I read that is “feminist” is very stupid and trite (I’ve drunk to much wine to really go any further in depth). After choosing her, I immediately began to realize that I wanted to do Lovecraft. He would have been easier. But, do I want easier? I don’t know. Now it’s too late. Another person in my class wanted to do Carter, and I think she was very disappointed that I got there first. What if she chose someone else instead? How is that fair? I took her choice, when I could have done what I wanted to in the first place? I was too much a coward. I chose somebody I didn’t know a damn fuck about. I could have done something I liked, but I didn’t. Instead I’ve chosen the hard way ‘cause that was what the teacher originally wanted us to do (even though she changed her mind later on).

I’m very disappointed in myself, to say the least.

Something funny I'd like to share

Fri, 19 Nov 2004 02:42:24 GMT

For those Cthulu lovers who haven't read this before:

I Cthulu: or What’s A Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing In A Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47 ° 9’ S, Longitude 126 ° 43’ W)?

http://neilgaiman.com/exclusive/essay07.asp

Help!

Fri, 19 Nov 2004 02:38:08 GMT

Okay, I'm trying to make an important decision for school and I need to know if anyone can remember what movie was recently released (in the last few years) that was inspired by H.P. Lovecraft. I remember there being one (not a film version of one of his stories but one that was inspired by him), but I can't remember what it was. I wanna say it was Pitch Black but I can't remember.

Okay, who came up with this bullcrap?

Sat, 18 Sep 2004 02:44:23 GMT

I am The World

The World represents the moments when we feel fulfilled and blessed and all that goes into them. It is a very positive sign that you are in a position to realize your heart's desire. What that is for you depends on the situation, but it will always feel great. Remember, though, that Card 21 is a symbol of active contribution and service. To hold the World in our hands, we must give of ourselves to it. That is the source of true happiness.

For a full description of your card and other goodies, please visit LearnTarot.com

What tarot card are you? Enter your birthdate.

Ummmm...did I sleep through that?

How cool is that?

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 04:03:36 GMT

Had a really nifty thing happen to me the other day. I was listening to the soundtrack to The Last Samurai (which is a totally cool movie for those that don't mind Tom Cruise, and I swear the head Samurai guy reminded me of Slyddur through the whole thing. If Slyddur were Japanese, he'd be this guy), and I had the entire storyline to the next book I'm gonna write played out for me in my head. It was kinda surreal, actually. Now, I just have to write it. Hopefully it won't take me ten years like the last one.

Euphamism

Sat, 29 May 2004 04:08:31 GMT

There's this cat that walks around my apartment building. It's a fat tabby cat with really short legs (like one of those midget cats, ya know?). Well, it's the sweetest damn cat I've ever met. Once, it followed me all the way to the Coke machine and back to my apartment in the cold. It just wanted some attention. I stop and pet it, and it just eats it up. Why do people get pets and then ignore them? That makes no sense to me. If you got a pet, especially one that really likes people, why throw it out for other people to take care of. I mean, this cat definitely has an owner. It's got a collar and tags and everything. It's really sad to me. It follows me all the way to my apartment door, and I go inside, and I have to shut it out. I feel guilty every time I close the door on the damn thing. It's such a lovable fat, midget cat.

I Hate Everything

Fri, 28 May 2004 02:54:36 GMT

Yes, I'm still alive. Get over it.

Well, I think I'm officially on the burnt out page. I skipped the last week of class (though I still managed 2 A's and and A-, thank you). At work, I now spend the first ten seconds of every phone conversation hoping the jackass on the other end of the line hits a light pole while he/she babbles on about who referred him/her and what kind of oatmeal he/she started the day on. Then next minute and a half is spent hating my coworkers who refrained to answer the phone in order to continue their conversation about their idiot boyfriends. Then next two-six minutes is spent wanting to drive my head through the glass top of my desk and drive the shards through the brain of the jackass that has, somehow, managed to get past their feeble two celled brain and not drive into a light pole.

I had to work last Saturday, and I was an hour late. I'm the only one that worked on that day, which means that the office opened an hour late. If my boss knew about that, I would no longer have a job. I suppose it's a passive/aggressive thing going back to the fact that I truly hate my job, but it's annoying when your unconscious takes over to act for you. Thankfully, I have a week of vacation next week, so I don't have to go back to that shit hole for nine whole days. Yea.

Well, the book's not quite as done as I thought. My hero isn't in the climax of the story. Apparently that's bad.

Wed, 26 May 2004 05:00:27 GMT

I amNyarlathotep!

The 999 forms of Nyarlathotep are a point of meditation for the true initiate. It is through these manifold faces that the secrets of the universe are made known. Called "The Crawling Chaos", Nyarlathotep is the disembodied ego of Azathoth and thus the universal "I" of known reality. Some of the many documented forms are; Father of Knives, Nephren-Ka, the Black Man, the Beast of the Lashing Tongue to name a few.

Which Great Old One are you?

Uhuh, that's what I thought.

Yeah, I'm really bored.

Wed, 26 May 2004 04:49:03 GMT

Leighg
Look out for the

m
HOLE

From Go-Quiz.com

Okay, what does that mean?