Archive for What If ?

Reviewers rule.

Posted in Book Release, Book Reviews, deal with the Devil, End of the world, Novel writing, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, story ideas, Story Subjects, Uncategorized, Writing, Young Adult book with tags , , , , , , , , on August 31, 2015 by davidburtonwriting

READERS                                                                                                                   Blood on the Water large cover

We all want a good review, no matter what we do. Authors especially. I know you all have bought and read my latest two books, Blood on the Water and Soul Retrievers, and are just taking a little time to come down from the high you got from reading them before writing a five star review for Amazon, Goodreads, etc. I thank you for your review ahead of time.

All reviews are helpful, the life blood of authors and readers looking for a goodSoul Retv corrected- small read. We court reviewers, critics and bloggers by the hundreds. Beg them to read our work and write a positive review.  They can make or break a career. Or so I’ve been told. I’m still a non-bestseller, non-award winning, non-famous writer. Reviewers, and that includes readers, have the power to help a little bit, should they choose to use it.

But, What if there was a Reviewer who did have absolute power to make an author famous, wealthy and loved around the world? One who’s merest word would make any product – book,  movie, coffee, car, diaper, hotel, soft drink, or vegan food into the most desired (or undesired) of its kind on Earth. He, or she, could shape the world as he saw fit.  Politicians would be in or out at his whim as he reviewed their performance. Economic systems implemented or abandoned with a few words on late night TV. Always assuming he was psychologically fit himself.

depressed man2What if he was depressed and didn’t like anything? Nobody would buy anything and there might be a world depression. Manic on the other side, he might like everything and the world goes into massive debt because they spend all their money buying everything. His paranoia might be good for the bodyguard/mercenary business, not so good for the civilian guns trade with a particularly scathing review for the NRA. If he smoked a bit of weed to dull the paranoia, that might be good for the fast food and munchies business.

Obviously, his reviews would be sought after. A good review would be like money in the bank. But what would he want for one of his Golden Reviews? Money? At first, but soon he’d have more money than most countries. Power? He could topple or create governments or mega-corporations. But what about us little guys, the struggling writers and entrepreneurs? Maybe he was a struggling writer who never made it and so had a soft spot for us  non-bestselling, non-award winning authors. For a token payment he’d post a good review of your book on Amazon. Heck, I’d slip him 100 dollar billa hundred bucks for a review of Blood on the Water or Soul Retrievers. Not that the reviews you’re working on for me don’t matter. They do. They hold the same power as the Super Reviewer’s will when he finally makes himself known. So use your power for good.

 

WRITERS

What If The Reviewer is a lone alien trying singlehandedly to take over humanity for his own alien 1 meangrandiose, but demented,  I-want-to-rule-a-world dreams, or as an advance softening up before an invasion, or as a way to get alien2 wavinghumanity to build a ship to take him home? But, some humans are always immune to what might affect the rest. Maybe one, who’s a super used car salesman, realizes what’s going on and posts an anti-Reviewer blog. And the blog-fight is on!

 

 

What If The Reviewer is supernatural in nature? satan3-readingGodGod or the Devil trying to reach humanity for their own reasons using the latest tech, social media, for their own agendas. Maybe a God vs Satan blog fight for the future of mankind.

What If The Reviewer was just a regular guy who was trying to help out a woman he liked with her first book and he discovered he had the Gift and things got a little out of hand and it took the woman to figure out who he was and bring the world back from the brink – and incidentally find true love.

All Readers have the power to kill or resurrect  a writers career. Please review wisely.wiseman1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recycling is Dangerous

Posted in Bad Laws, Novel writing, Recycling, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, story ideas, Story Subjects, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 9, 2014 by davidburtonwriting

Sorry I haven’t posted in so long, I know you’ve been worried, but I’ve been on the run for a few months. Hiding out in friends’ basements, sleeping in homeless shelters, under bridges, making contact with other recyclers. I tried to cross the border, but they were watching. border1

I had to keep moving. They’re relentless! They stop at nothing. The fate of the people who have helped me is unknown. They’ve vanished! But I’m tired of running without telling my side of the story to the public.

Okay, I’ll admit it, I did the deed. I couldn’t help it. It was just laying there on top of the trash, calling out to me, “Recycle me. Mister, please recycle me. Don’t throw me out with the other trash to slowly and painfully deteriorate for a hundred years or more in some stinking landfill.”  I admit I felt sorry for that No. 1 plastic bottle.water bottle2

It knew the right thing to do. So did I. So I took it, and damn the draconian rules against recycling at my work place in a camouflaged office building tucked into a far corner of Area 51, right next to Area 52,area 51 1 that state, for no logical reason that I’ve heard, “Do not touch recyclable plastic bottles or aluminum cans. They are trash, worth money and environmental points, but you deprive them from their place in the landfill AT YOUR PERIL!”

So, yes, I took it.  I was weak. But I took that one lonesome bottle and stashed it in my roller trash cart. Sure I was scared, but it felt damned good, doing the right thing, helping a plastic bottle, and not even one of those ubiquitous  flimsy little water bottles – it was a full-size Gatorade bottle –gatorade large to it’s rightful environmental place.  I was a proud Green Warrior, defying the nonsensical proclamations of those on high who drive gas guzzlers, take long, hot showers,  never turn off the lights when leaving the room, and deny Global Warming.

That courageous feeling lasted until the next afternoon when Sir called me into his office. Without a word he tapped a key on his computer and played a video of me holding the bottle in my hands, squaring my shoulders and putting the bottle in a bottom pouch of my trash can. “You’re under arrest for recycling,” he said, pronouncing “Recycling” with the same tone he’d accuse one of murdering his mother.

I was busted. What did I have to lose? “You’re a smart guy,” I said. “You know that the Ban Recycling Decree is, as everyone I’ve told has responded, ‘A stupid idea.’ Right?” I followed his glance out the window. Two burly Recycle Agents, or as they’re colloquially called, the Plastic Police, strode toward the office door. I didn’t have much time to decide what to do.

“That’s the law. It’s my job to enforce them, not question them.”

I stood up. Leaned on his desk. “Your laws go against Federal, State and City environmental and waste reduction programs. When this gets out, and it will, it will be you running from the Storm Troopers. stormtroop2I hope they make you all dig up all the tens of thousands of bottles and cans from the landfill, and the thousands of dollars you forced us to throw away are used to repay us for our pain and anguish at having to follow such a crazy law.”

Sir cocked his head and squinted at me. “Running?”

The front door slammed and I heard the hobnail boots click – clack on the tile floor. I grabbed a half-full water bottle off his desk. “Running.” Then I spun around and dashed out the door. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was I had to stay free and expose this travesty of misuse of power to all the good people of the land. So now you know what’s happening here. I beg you, please, for the sake of all the plastic, numbers 1-7, and aluminum cans big and small that yearn to be recycled, speak up, question, demonstrate. Don’t let one more bottle or can linger for hundreds of years in an anonymous landfill.

BTW – If someone can arrange a clandestine trip out of the country to an anonymous location (preferably tropic) free from pursuit, I might know a thing or two about what really happens in Area 52. Just saying.  

IDEAS

What if there was a logical, from their point of view, reason to put the plastic in the landfill?landfill1 Maybe Area 52 was a special landfill keeping alien worms captive and they only ate #1 plastic. These wormsworm1 were telepathic and the Feds were experimenting on them to learn how to be  telepathic. And maybe if someone was on the run and hid under the tarp he might make a deal with the worms – He helps them escape to their hidden ship and they will make him telepathic – a useful ability for a man on the run.

What If plastic was a rare commodity in the galaxy? And after we almost exterminated ourselves by ignoring Global Warming, Earth was discovered by aliens and they found the rich deposits of plastic in our old landfills. Then, they either enslaved the surviving humans to mine the plastic, or they ignored the pesky survivors who asked them for help. Then, what if another alien race, no friends of the first, discovered the precious deposits. Maybe, in the ensuing Plastic War, the humans took advantage, helping the aliens destroy each other, allowing the humans to appropriate their technology and head for the stars with ships full of plastic wealth.

space ship2

What If in some future world a powerful wizard was being hassled by the Powers That Be (PTB). To get even, get revenge, get free, get power, the wizard makes a golem out of ancient plastic found only in the Abandoned lands. Maybe he needs an apprentice to help him, or a soldier, or a guide. Of course Golemsgolem2 have a reputation of being unpredictable.

So, please speak up against onerous anti-recycling rules. Hiding in strange basements and sleeping in boxcars is only fun the first time. I’d like to go home.

Just got a great review from Vampireforums.com for my book Blood Justice. Check it out – http://vampireforums.com/blood-justice-book-review/

For links to my latest mystery novel, Passion Street, please go to: http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com/passion-street

Or, go to: http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com  to find all my books and stories.

What was that? Oh, man, I got to g….

 

 

Nowhere

Posted in Book Release, Novel writing, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, solitary life, story ideas, Story Subjects, Uncategorized, Writing, Young Adult book with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 14, 2013 by davidburtonwriting

Pulling the idea out of nowhere, I think a blogger is supposed to put all their promotional material at the end of the blog. Probably because by the end you, the reader, are supposed to be so enthralled by the brilliant writing and incredibly useful and timely information that you’ll buy whatever their selling or go wherever they want you to go with a smile on your face and your heart and wallet wide open. But what if you, the mightily intelligent and astute reader that you are, doesn’t (gasp!) read to the end? Not this blog, of course, but those other ones. You’d miss all the clever calls to action they got from a list touted on some other blog. What then? Think of all the opportunities and cleverness missed and/or wasted! To that end (wouldn’t want you to miss anything) – Go to. Click on. Buy! Jump! Buy! Share. Like! You’ll be amazed how much smarter, how psychologically stable and emotionally cleansed you’ll feel after you Buy!, and read these incredible (may be based on real persons) e-stories. And if you (deeply generous person that you are) share these links with others, why in no time, Overnight! you’ll have thousands of likes, friends, followers, money, happiness and success. I promise. You trust me, don’t you? So just to help you out, here are —- The first two stories in the Ancient Mariners Story series:AM Heartbreak final cover 2

Ancient Mariners serieshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/9146

 Heartbreak

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FNWB8LA

Smashwords – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/363624

Beth, 14, and Silas, 42, have lost their families to violence. Now, sailing together, they have found a home and a new family in Mexico. But Death has other plans for them – This is the first step on a journey to revenge that will set them free.AM First Kill cover

First Kill

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FP1Q6PM

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/364885

“I thought we were spared for the events fourteen days after my sixteenth birthday. When I killed my first man.” – Beth, 16. — Beth and Silas enjoy a beautiful tropical night aboard some new friends’ yacht. Until it goes bad and Beth has no choice but to make her – First Kill.

YOUNG BLOOD – An Accidental Vampire Serieshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/6017

 Young Blood cover

Smashwords-http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/362496

Young Blood is the third story (a 29,000 word novella) in the An Accidental Vampire series. 

In 1648 France, Simone Gireaux, a Young Blood vampire, is persuaded to help find the truth behind a Duchess’s murder.

Okay, got that out of way. You wouldn’t have wanted to miss that, right? Right? I’ll take that as a, “No. Of course I didn’t want to miss all that, even though there wasn’t much cleverness to it.” Now, where was I? You’re probably thinking – Nowhere. Ha.

Speaking of Nowhere, where is nowhere? Does it exist? Everything is somewhere relative to something. Even in space. You may be 2.68 parsecs from the planet Gigglbot surrounded by Dark Matter and nothingness, but you’re somewhere, even if you don’t know exactly where.

There is Limbo, which is, depending on the story you’re writing, either a dark void or, like in my sometime forthcoming novel Blood on the Water, a white room with no entrance, no exit, and no time that exists but doesn’t exist. It makes that old saw – “You can’t get there from here,” a true statement.

Maybe the only real Nowhere is in your mind?

“Where are you in your investigation?”

“Nowhere.”

“Where are the car keys you’ve been looking for for half an hour?”

“F&%$*@ing nowhere.”

“Hands on the wall, scumbag. Where do think you’re going?”

“Nowhere.”

Speaking of nowhere, Limbo, and space stations, Nowhere is where the occupants, vampire and mortal, of the space station Haven hope the Sunvamps who have taken over Earth think they are. Orbiting 400 miles over Earth is not nowhere, but, “Out of sight, out of mind,” works for the people of Haven – until it doesn’t.  — Down Home is a An Accidental Vampire Series novella waiting for a second draft.

Lost in limbo, consigned to oblivion, stuck, ennui, neither here nor there = Nowhere… unless… something out of your control happens and gives you hope that in your mind or physical being you can change nowhere, whether self-imposed or circumstance-imposed, to somewhere. (See Down Home)

“Can’t get there from here”  works the other way, too. Once you get to nowhere it can be hard to get back, mentally or physically. Physically, magic helps. Just ask Teresa of Blood Justice and Blood on the Water. Mentally, a goal to focus on can pull you out of your ennui and get you back on the road to SOMEWHERE. (See Down Home)

IDEAS

What If someone or something you wanted was trapped in Limbo, or the like, and the only way to get to them was by magic, but you didn’t happen to have a witch or sorcerer in your social circle?  Where would you go to find one to help you? Maybe that homeless guy who for some reason nobody messes with and never seems to get wet in the rain or cold in the winter and has that I-know-something-you-don’t look. Or that palmist in that little rundown house on the edge of town your friends swear is dead accurate? Or maybe there’s something in that old book your uncle everybody said was wizard (yeah, sure, ha ha) left you. And where would that journey lead you?

What If you were nowhere in your mind? Lost, confused, discombobulated, having done something BAD but now with nowhere to go and no way to get there? You were just walking, when – “Hands on the wall, scumbag. Where do think you’re going?” – “Nowhere.” – So they put you in jail (somewhere!) on suspicion of murdering somebody who needed murdering. But, of course the cops wouldn’t see it that way even though they agreed he/she should have been killed in as long and painful way as possible. Cops got to do their cop thing.  In the next cell is a strange person who calls him/her self a Journey Agent. This agent promises you a wonderful life journey if you do something for him/her.  Not caring, you agree. Maybe you do his task (that didn’t seem too bad) right away or maybe later. In any case you lead a wonderful life – great spouse, kids, house, job. If you haven’t done the task maybe it comes due. Maybe you have to choose between doing something bad or losing your family and happiness. Maybe you end up sacrificing your life and end up dying by lethal injection – it was all a dream. (Lame) Maybe you figure it out and find a workaround, do the task but live. (Better) Maybe you find the Journey Agent and…? (Best)

What If there really is a Middle of Nowhere, and it’s in the ocean a thousand miles from land (been there, missed it) and you sail right into it and find yourself in Nowhere Land an amazing  place of….

What If what happens in Nowheresvile stays in Nowheresville? Maybe you die and go to an alternative Vegas where the winner of the big Poker Game of Life gets to return to life and try again. Of course you’ll be playing for high stakes against people who will do anything to get back to Somewhere.

 So don’t be a nowhere man, be on http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com for links and excerpts of other books and stories.

Overcoming the Monster

Posted in death, Disasters, Global Warming, Love, Novel writing, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, story ideas, Uncategorized, Writing, Young Adult book with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2013 by davidburtonwriting

Okay, first things first, (which is a majorly obvious statement because whatever is first is first so it’s actually a wasted 16 bytes (17 if you include the comma to satisfy all the grammar snobs out there) and we all know there’s a limited amount of bytes (would I kid you?!) in the universe and the internet is gobbling them up like a doper with the “munchies” inhales peanut M&Ms, so forget I mentioned that saying, aphorism, idiom, expression, motto, slogan, colloquialism, phrase, archaism, etc., or whatever it is and go right into the shameless promotional moment you were hoping for).

Okay, the first thing (or is it now the second thing?) is a shameless promo for my novel Hell Cop which is now available in paperback for the e-reader impaired or those of us who just like to hold a damn book in our hands, sniff that new book aroma, and turn real pages. Plus, isn’t it more comfortable with a real book lying open on your stomach when you fall asleep? Not falling asleep with my books, of course. Just all those other hacks. However, if you’re fully digitized, go to http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com for links to all my bytes, vampire and otherwise.

I wouldn’t bother to tell you about these books, but I’m looking out for your well being. I want you to be prepared when the zombies attack, which it seems could be any day now by the number of books, comics, TV shows and movies about them. You wouldn’t want to be trapped in that ancient, leaky bomb shelter for months or years without a good book or two because that (safe?) genetically modified killer virus escaped and wiped out most of human kind. And no good books for all those years while cowering in that high mountain cave after the whole globe turns into a deadly environmental disaster area because global warming (that’s not happening, according to some____(fill in your own naughty word)) kicked into high gear–Oh please, no. BTW – If you don’t believe in Global Warming feel free to buy that beachfront property that seems so cheap.

Monsters? What monsters? Oh… yeah, them. I’ve been rummaging around the 720 page, 500+ words/page (whew) book,  The Seven Basic Plots by Christopher Booker. The first one is Overcoming the Monster. There’s plenty of monsters out there — Medusa, Cyclops, Grendel, Mr. Hyde, Moriarity, supernatural nasties  by the score, ex-wives/husbands/boyfriends/girlfriends, vamps, and, okay, okay, zombies. According to Booker, since stories began thousands of years ago, Overcoming the Monster stories have 5 stages– Spoiler Alert! — If you’re a reader you might want to scroll down a bit. You don’t need to know how stories are written. It  might take away some of the mystery and excitement that are my books. And… well… maybe a few others.

1.  The Call – Anticipation stage

2. Initial Success – Dream stage

3. Confrontation – Frustration stage

4. Final Ordeal – Nightmare stage

5. Miraculous Escape – Death of the monster.

Most all overcoming the monster stories follow this pattern. It seems to be in our genes. What struck me was that, though it was finished before I read the book, I found my latest novel, Blood on the Water, (at the publisher, sequel to Blood Justice , paperback here) – naturally followed the 5 stages. Do yours?

Ideas

What if your monster was your ex-wife/husband. Your divorce seemed amicable enough, but your spouse was not happy, carried a grudge, and was slightly (majorly) unhinged by it. You’ve moved on, found your princess/prince. The Ex seemed to have moved on, but hasn’t. Then your princess disappears. (Call to action)  You’re down and out but rally, search about and discover that the Ex has taken her and locked her in the attic, basement, pit, cell, cave, high tower. (Initial success) You man up, confront the monster, but the princess is gone and you get the shit beat out of you. (Confrontation)  You despair, want to give up, but your love rallies you, and win or lose, doing whatever you have to, you once again confront the monster (final ordeal) You’re up, you’re down, you fight through and finally rescue the one who makes you whole (miraculous escape) The monster is defeated and you and your princess/prince live happily ever after.

What if you were a kid and instead of monsters under the bed, in your closet was another world. Not a magical one with talking lions and such, but your world, only different. In it you are someone else, a nice person, with a nice boy/girlfriend. You like these people. They’re happy, you’re happy. Then, tragedy. The b/gfriend is murdered. You’re a witness. They’re after you. You run. You see the date; it’s tomorrow. Back in your bedroom you freak out. Parents think you’re high, big sister thinks you’re crazy. What the hell? You have a name, know their school, know somebody who knows somebody there. You go, search, just miss them. You saw where it happened, but don’t know where it is. You look for someone to help you. You find a nice (very) goodlooking person, with a great smile and sympathetic eyes who doesn’t think you’re nuts. Together you search for the coming murder scene. There it is! There they are! “Stop!” Bam. A car hits you. You’re hurt. Doesn’t matter. Running, limping, you chase after. There’s the killer, the monster. Only one thing to do…. Your new friend with the eyes and the smile is very proud of you.

What if there really was a monster that was guarding an artifact that would bring you unlimited riches and power over the world? So you and your evil henchmen go to the desert, mountains, jungle, city, underwater, space after it. It’s a tough slog. One by one your men are lost. You don’t care. You want that power, damn it. Hurt, starving, you come across a poor family. They show you kindness. Local bad guys are harassing them, stealing food, taking their daughter. They don’t ask for help, but for the first time you’re willing to give it and you take care of the bad guys. Finally you confront the monster, and being an evil genius you defeat it and gain the artifact. The family knows of the artifact and advises you not to use it. Of course you don’t listen and head back to civilization to put it to use. –End of the book in the series.

My monster is promoting, marketing my books and stories. Reviews, likes, shares, and word of mouth would all help slay that dragon.

Watch for Programed for Murder a mystery available soon. In return for a review I’d be happy to send you a PDF of the book.

A preview of the novella Young Blood is available here. I’d appreciate any comments and answers to the three questions.

Website – http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com    —  Find info and links on all my work here.

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/DBurtonWriting

 

Hey, Gaia, how hot is it?

Posted in calamities, Disasters, Gaia, Global Warming, Novel writing, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, Uncategorized, Writing, Young Adult book with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 14, 2013 by davidburtonwriting

Maybe it should be, how hot will it get? Whether you deny the reality or accept the fact – it’s getting hot outside. And I know why. Well, we all know why, hydrocarbons, human inventiveness, cow farts, all that. But why is all that and more making the Earth hotter every year? Because we have an enemy whose sole aim is to destroy humanity.

The enemy is not aliens bent on making Earth uninhabitable for humans so they can move in because they need a new planet and Earth looks pretty good except for the 7 or 8 billion pesky humans running around taking up valuable real estate.  And  they already made their own planet hot and uninhabitable, and know how to do it so what chance do we have? No, not them.

Nor is it some supernatural entity who wants to make the surface of the Earth available for all demon kind who are tired of living down under. (Not you Australia, farther down) Of course, even among the average Joes and Janes of the supernatural entity masses there will be some who resist change (meaning they would have to accept logic and facts) no matter how good it might be for the people as a whole, or their descendants. Though some might think differently if the Greenhouse Gas oven we are building cooks the humans to a delectably putrid state. Yum. No, not them, either.

No, it’s Gaia (that’s the Earth in case you missed that day in your mythological geology class because you had to spend half the night before figuring out how to update your Facebook status from straight and sober to a loosey goosey high, and back)  herself. I have it on no particular authority that long ago Gaia recognized that humans would be bad for her so she put together a short (in geological time) plan. She knew, with the prescience of 5 million years experience,  that in a few thousand years even though the new hairy beasts only used two feet instead of four, they’d leave a BIG messy footprint.

So she created oil (you do not want to know where that really came from – zooplankton,  algae, dinosaurs, leaves and twigs? Oh please.) figuring they’d figure out how to burn the stuff irresponsibly, causing the atmosphere to heat to uninhabitable levels. Then, in a short 5000 years or so, they’d all die off from flooding, famine, heat stroke, wars for the few remaining resources, or high temperature viruses and bacteria;  or figure out how to leave the planet altogether. Either way, what does she care, peace and quiet at last.

IDEAS

What if you were an astronaut and were sent to Mars with the idea of moving all the remaining humans to that cool red land? There, you meet the God of Mars, Gaia’s younger brother who she tormented endlessly when they were young just forming planets. Mars realizes what you are planning and wants nothing to do with an invasion of immigrants. He also knows some of Gaia’s secrets and sees a payback opportunity. So you make a deal; Mars will spill his secrets and help you return Earth to a habitable state, if humans stay away. You, being a shrewd wheeler-dealer, negotiate the rights to develop one crater as a resort. What a deal. Except we all know what happens when you let a few humans in the door.

What if Gaia has a brain? And you find it while lost deep in a cavern. But the brain is under attack by a virus that had mutated due to the excessive heat on the surface, and even Gaia can not control it. If the brain dies, the power of Gaia dies and the Earth will spin apart destroying all. But, you are a doctor and you cure Gaia’s brain fever. You also convince her that some humans respect the Earth and deserve to live. Grateful, Gaia agrees, but a limited number only,  one billion, the rest must go. She gives you the power to choose. You must mark the areas – cities, states, countries, islands, continents  – for destruction, or all will be destroyed. How do you choose?  Who do you choose? Do you choose? Will absolute power corrupt you absolutely? Will humanity, a billion of them, anyway, be saved? Will you be seen as villain or hero?

No matter how crispy it gets outside, keep your cool and think about why it’s so hot. Then do something about it.

I’m hot under the collar, (or would be if I wore shirts with collars)those people put another of my stories up in their little contest. This is my first and final plea – Please vote for An Accidental Vampire at www.voteformyebook.com. It’s hot!

And the loser is…

Posted in Losers, Novel writing, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, story ideas, Story Subjects, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 14, 2012 by davidburtonwriting

loser2Me. The loser? Okay, last time I was working on being a winner, but I was a loser. Second place! Can you imagine my embarrassment? I begged and groveled for votes. I browbeat family, friends, and acquaintances new and old. I even had a meeting at a crossroads ready to make a deal with the big D, but I guess my soul wasn’t worth much because  he only sent a minor minion to negotiate. The kid  (he could have at least sent an adult minor minion don’t you think?) said I’d have to bring another soul with me to make the deal worth it. Now that’s embarrassment. Though I did run through a short list of  possibilities. Don’t bother asking if you were considered. I’m not .

www.voteformyebook.com You probably have this link memorized by now,  I put it up only for the newbies. Don’t be offended.

In any case, the brains(?) behind the contest took pity on me. They said I put up a good fight, though I lost by a sneaky last hour 8 votes. (My attorneys are consulting with the FBI about voter fraud infractions. I’ll keep you informed. You may be called as a witness.) So, in their infinite sadism, they put up another of my books, Fear Killer , a psychological thriller,  for the December contest. So, after I got through punching the computer screen while screaming, “No! No! Please, not again. How much humiliation do you expect me to take?” once again I’m searching, gently, with the utmost respect for your political, religious, and moral beliefs, computer expertise, the dark secret (that you actually read this blog)  you hide from your spouses, BFFs, and strangers who talk you up at the bar you hang out in at odd hours, (hmmm, another secret?) and oh, I almost forgot,  your time.  www.voteformyebook.com If I win, then I, and you, won’t have to go through this again and I can go back to shameless hucksterism of my books (did I mention a Hell Cop Bundle?) and you can go back to ignoring said hucksterism. Now that’s a deal!

By the way, I’m not the only loser out there (whew, misery loves company.) There must be a hundred, maybe even (gasp) a thousand of us, anloser and winnersd I think we should be shown a little appreciation by all those gloating winners swimming in their vaults full of cash like Scrooge McDuck. After all, without us losers there wouldn’t be any winners. So I think they should share some of their fraudulently (I mean, really, how could those shlubs have won all those millions, or cars, or a literary consultancy critique, over me without a little fakery going on)  gotten gains. 5% sounds fair, don’t you think?

IDEAS

I have no ideas for loser stories. I mean who wants to read about losers? Even about ones who are having a beer in a bar and meet another gulosers1y having a beer who was just dumped by his girlfriend who happens to work for the Lottery people. Before he was dumped, because she thought he’d never amount to anything, she showed him how it all worked, so he tells loser 1 who happens to know a genius loser girl who knows something about everything, and they have a few more beers and call loser 3, the girl, and pretty soon they have a plan involving magnetics, sex, stolen lottery balls and the like, which they actually attempt. What do have to lose they haven’t already? Hilarity, mayhem, sex and romance ensue. Of course the plan doesn’t quite go so smoothly, but of course they all end up amounting to a great deal. Who’d want to read that?

As necessary as losers are, I’d rather be a winner. It’s that Season. Won’t you help a poor starving writer who hustles his wares on a cold, blustery sidewalk just down from a Salvation Army Santa where he hopes snag a little of his generous HoHo Ho spirit instead of the spirit of indifference endemic of the general public?

Have pity, Sir. Have pity.starvwriter2

Poor me.

Who you calling old?

Posted in Birthdays, death, Identity, immortality, Novel writing, reincarnation, screenwriting, Short Story Writing, story ideas, Story Subjects, Uncategorized, Vampires, Writing, Young Adult book with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2012 by davidburtonwriting

One of the characters in the novel I’m working on, Blood on the Water, (the sequel to Blood Justice) had herself turned into a vampire to seek revenge. That got me thinking…

If there are such things as vampires, I hope before one changes me into a ravaging blood-thirsty beast I have time to get hair plugs, a face lift, a tummy tuck, a bit-o-liposuction, and a little tightening of the neck. My nose is good. Even though I’ll be lurking in back alleys and dark parks looking for cute, blonde teenage girls (I didn’t add smart because a smart girl wouldn’t be in those places) to slake my maddening thirst for fresh young blood, I want to look good for the rest of my immortal life.

I just celebrated (?) one of those milestone birthdays no one looks forward to. If I’m destined to be changed into an immortal beast monster gentelman this isn’t the one I’d have chosen to be changed at.

What  would be the best age to be upgraded to immortal? “Go Young” you might say. But how young? Certainly not less than 18. It might sound fun to be a teenager for ever, but after 30 or 40 years you might want to go into a bar and have more than a Shirley Temple. They card vampires too, you know. Not to mention that as a teenager you might think you know it all, but you don’t. Unlike Rodney Dangerfield, if you want some respect, you should wait until at least 21 before allowing that charming bad boy/girl vamp to give you the bite that lasts. Even at 21 you’ll still get carded everywhere, and after 20 or 30 years nobody is going to look at your ID and believe you’re 40 or 50 years old. You don’t want people looking into your birth records then bugging you for the secret of how you’ve stayed so young looking, do you?

If you want to flow through the centuries with a certain level of gravitas, you might wait until 50, or even 60. Maybe 62 if you’re big on Senior Discounts. Who knows, if us mortals continue to live longer on our own 60 might be the perfect time to get that sporty convertible to scratch that mid-life crises itch. However, if you’re going to choose that option I suggest you go vegan and to the gym, starting now.

30ish would seem to be the ideal age to receive the gift, or curse, of immortality. Old enough to leave some, not all, of that youthful wildness behind you and still have your body, good looks, and hair.  If male pattern baldness is already creeping up on you, you might consider going younger, or learn how to shave your head. Bald is beautiful, Baby! You’ll also be young enough to be envied by all those old folks over 40. A plus for sure.  At 30, with experience and youthful indiscretions behind you, you’ll be ready to start building the fortune that will sustain you for the coming millennium or two; houses, cars, boats, travel, spouses.

Speaking of hair, make sure you have your hair cut in a classic style for the ages that you like. Because I’m not sure the hair of vampiric immortals will grow out to fix a bad haircut.

IDEAS

What if you were young and down on your luck, maybe living in your car, with few prospects, and a stranger, say 65-70 years old, offers you $100,000 dollars for your youth.  You would still be you, just 65-70 years old. Maybe some grey hair and some sagging here and there, but still you with the same mind as now, just older. You agree. Abra Cadabra you’re old, but not without some intelligence. You look into this age swap thing, find out the stranger’s secret, reverse engineer it, offer some not too bright drunk 25-year-old $5000 for his youth. “Sure. Why not?” he says. You swap, and then you find someone else with $100,000 and make them an offer. And you do this swap again and a again, a nice lucrative business. Except there are some bad guys who want a piece (all of it) of your action. And then there’s the father of a woman whose youth you sort of stole. And a cop who knows more about youth stealing than he should and he’s looking for you.

What if some kids are telling their Grandpa how proud they are of him that he’s such a hero, and he says, “Ain’t nothin’ to be proud of here.” And the kids say, “But everybody says you saved the town, village, city, country, world, galaxy.” “Humph,” he says. “Maybe at the end I did somethin’ good. But that ain’t how it started. They don’t tell ya that, do they?” “What do you mean, Grandpa?” He sips his whiskey and tells them, “Once upon a time….”

What if  you were a retired criminal well into your 60s, but still vital, living nicely with your wife on your ill-gotten gains. Then you had a visit from a some of your old crew. One of the old crew is dying of cancer, because a particular doctor misdiagnosed him, possibly on purpose. He has a family that depends on him. So you agree to look into it and find a criminal enterprise way beyond what you used to do. So you all decide to go against the doctor and all the other white collars who are letting people die for their own gain. The old street-smart tough guys against  the new ruthless, boardroom smart guys.

What if there was a planet where the sentient inhabitants grew old in the usual way, but at a certain time they grew younger, Benjamin Button style. As the unaged they brought all their experience of growing and being old to their government, business and culture. How would that make said government, business and culture different from ours?

What ever your age, be nice to the oldsters. Because sooner than you think you’ll be one of them bitchin that them youngsters don’t give any respect, just like you.

%d bloggers like this: