Dead Man's Curve The End

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

And now the finale to Dead Man's Curve

       The arm pulled her up and out through the window. Joyce's dad turned and in a flash stood crunching on broken glass. 

"Joyce."

The banging started to stop, and he watched as the horde started to head back towards the road with one of the ghouls dragging Joyce by the waist. 

"Joyce! I'm coming."

Joyce's dad kick the remaining shards of glass out of the window, but the ghouls were still gathered on the front porch. 

“I can't get out.”

Joyce's screams got farther away and soon the knocking stop. Joyce's dad looked out and saw the horde begin to follow Joyce's voice. 

“Nows your chance. Go and I'll be right behind you.” Mr. Rob said.

Joyce' dad tightened his jaw and leapt through the window. Mr. Rob and the other troops started pushing the table and books away from the door until it was clear enough to open. David still stood motionless in the middle of the trading post. He watched Mr. Rod run out into the night followed by Freddy, Richie and Will. 

“Wait.”

David shuffled across the floor towards the open door. A figured moved outside on the patio and David stopped. 

“Mr. Rob?”

He took another step forward before the figure appeared in the doorway. Shivers ran through David’s body as he saw the burned remains of the man's face. The man turned to fit through the door swinging his eyeball back and forth hanging by his chin from the long vein still attached to the socket.

David tried to step back, but fell hard on his backside. The ghoul turned its head to look at him with its good eye half covered by melted skin off its forehead. A shrill scream rang out across the camp. The ghoul pivoted and twisted itself around flinging its eyeball all over the place towards the sound. It stood bobbing back and forth straining to see then limped off towards the scream's direction. 

David watched it stumble off towards the hill then gasped for air. He put his hands down to lift himself up, but felt a wet puddle of liquid then looked down over his urine soaked pants. He jumped up and stomped on the puddle before taking off out of the trading post. 

Joyce kicked and screamed, scratched and pulled, but the ghoul held her tight under its arm. She looked up to see shards of glass sticking in its face and a long gash across its neck. The ghoul turned its head and she saw a larger piece of glass fall out from behind its ear. Blood began pouring out of the wound splashing onto Joyce. She screamed once more and began her regiment of kicks and punches to break free. 

The horde swarmed around them in a tight formation, walking past the hill to the camp site towards the tree line by the camp's entrance that led to the road. They were moving much faster than before, but Joyce's dad was behind them trying to break through. 

"Joyce."

She could hear the voice of her father, but they began moaning in a unison chorus, "Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve", squeezing themselves closer and closer towards her until she almost couldn't breath. 

They went through the trees trudging through long grass until they stepped onto the road. A small group stayed surrounded around Joyce while the others marched onward in a singe file towards the curve in the road. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

Joyce continued fighting to get away as the surrounding ghouls flesh began to peel at the edges, blood bubbled from open sores spurting down on Joyce. She flailed her body to get loose, yet another one of them grabbed her legs to hold her still. She tried to kick it away, but felt her foot get stuck between its exposed organs from a wide rectangle cut across its chest down to the hip.

"Daddy!" 

Her father ran through the line of grotesque bodies calling her name when he felt a weight latch onto his leg and cause him to fall on the road. He looked down and saw a child digging its nails into him. Its face sunken in between the nose and eyes with sharp points of cracked skull tearing the skin around its cheeks. 

Joyce's dad grabbed the hands and pulled them off, but more ghouls started to surround him. One leaned over and an eyeball hanging out of the socket dangled close to his face. 

Mr. Rob came charging in and knocked a number of them down. Joyce's dad stood up still holding the child's hands and let go dropping it to the ground. He took a last look and felt empathy for the child.

"Where's Joyce?" Mr. Rob asked. 

"She's up in the front."

"We won't make it going in this mess. Cut through the trees to get around them."

They both climbed up the short hill into the trees.  

Joyce pulled at the ghoul's arm until the bone cracked and fell off dropping her to the ground. Her palms skidded across the pavement as the other one still had her legs and dragged her down the road. 

"Dead man's curve, dead man's curve."

She kicked her legs back and freed herself from the ghoul. The small horde surrounding her started to close in, but one of them was missing a leg and she darted through the hole on all fours. She stood to run then froze as a bright on coming light came straight at her.

Tires squealed and Joyce jumped to the other side of the road landing hard on her hip. The car swerved, but was traveling too fast around the curve and drove off the road CRASH! Straight into a tree. 

Joyce sat up to see the front of the car demolished, yellow blinking lights filling the darkness every half a second, the faint sound of music playing in the air. 

"Joyce!"  

She looked over and saw her dad followed by Mr. Rob. She got up and limped towards them feeling the pain in her hip where she landed on the hard concrete road. 

"Dad."

He ran out to meet her and wrapped his arms around her. 

"Are you hurt?"

She tried to speak, but only tears came out. The passenger side door opened and a man fell to the ground.

"Help me."

Mr. Rob rushed forward. 

"Sir, don't try to move. We are here, we can help you."

He took one more step and stopped. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The ghouls were all there, swarmed around the man chanting in unison. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The man screamed as they picked him up off the ground. 

"No. No. Where are you taking me? Help. Help me!"

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

They carried the man off into the woods and soon everything went silent except for the faint music coming from the car radio. 

"That's the song." Joyce said. 

Her dad looked down at her.

"What song?"

"The song I heard, when I woke you up about the car. That's the same car."

"Stay here."

Joyce's dad walked to the end of the car. He waved his hand for Mr. Rob to follow him over. At first he didn't move, but finally took a few steps forward. Joyce followed a little bit behind until she reached the end of the car. The sound of crunching leaves came from behind them.

"Stay back."

The other scouts; Freddy, Will, Richie and David following behind them came out out of the darkness.

"What was that?" Richie asked.

The rest of the scouts followed with questions and stories of what they had just witnessed.

"Everyone quiet. I told you guys to wait under the light. Those things may still be out there." Mr. Rob said.

They all went silent looking around in every direction. Joyce wanted to say something, but couldn't speak until she saw a movement inside the car.

“There.” 

Dad and Mr. Rob looked and began to move with caution towards the car. The scouts all watched as they made it to the passenger door and FLOP! They all jumped in fright as the man fell onto the ground.

"What? How did he--"

Joyce's dad squatted down next him and put his hand on his neck.

"He's dead." 

Joyce swung around and glanced down the long stretch of dark road past the camp entrance, then back towards the dramatic curve in front of her half lit by a streetlight high in the air. Three square signs with black arrows against a yellow background all pointed in odd directions from their metal posts being bent and re-bent back into position. The line of trees behind them had missing bark, deep scars in the trunk and burns around their trunks. Some smaller ones were broken in the middle with limbs and branches scattered all about. Deep ridges where the grass grew lower than the rest revealed tire tracks that lead straight towards them. 

She wrapped her arms around herself, cold from the horrific encounter they had experienced, and a sudden understanding of the events, she whispered under her breath, "Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The End

Dead Man's Curve Part 3

Click to Read:

Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Dead Man's Curve Part 2

And now, 

Part 3

"Is there a key hiding under a rug or something somewhere?"

They looked around the porch in the mailbox, under the steps, they lifted the rug that said Welcome, but there was nothing. 

"They're coming." David said.

Members of the horde were picking themselves up off the ground and continued coming towards the scouts.

"Over here." Richie said. 

They looked over and saw him standing in front of the window. He jammed his pocket knife underneath and raised it up enough that he could squeeze his hand between the small opening to lift it up. Mr. Rob put his hand inside and helped Richie push it all the way open.  

"Inside everyone." Mr. Rob said. 

Richie climbed in first, followed by Will then Freddy.

"Joyce, go."

She put her knee up on the ledge and fell face first through the window. She twisted her body landing shoulder first onto the hardwood floor. David was lowered down by Joyce's Dad next to her. He followed stretching his long leg through the window and bending his torso underneath to clear his head and saw Joyce on the floor. 

"What happened?" Dad asked.

"I fell on my arm."

Her dad helped her up while she rubbed her shoulder. He took a look at her and only saw a small bruise forming where she landed. 

"You'll be all right."

Mr. Rob came through the window and did an immediate turn to shut it and flip the lock.

"Everyone into the middle." 

The troop gathered in the center of the large room near a long rack of camp souvenirs. It was dark inside the trading post with no way to tell if the horde was coming or not. 

"Are they gone?" Will asked. 

They continued to stand together in silence, listening for a sound. Joyce hugged her dad around his hip, David hugged him on the other side. Mr. Rob stepped forward trying to listen from behind the door. 

"Maybe they--"

BOOM! BOOM! And another BOOM! Then more BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Rumbled against the door and walls. 

"Secure the door. Grab everything you can and put it in front of it." Mr. Rob said.

Joyce's dad followed his instructions and went for a table full of folded camp T-shirts. He slid it across the floor in front of the door. Mr. Rod grabbed a deer head off the wall and wedged it underneath the table. Freddy and Richie began taking books off the shelves and threw them on or under the table. 

The banging kept getting louder and louder, never stopping. David was still paralyzed with fear while Will started helping throw the books. Joyce saw a box full of walking sticks by the window she thought would be able to hold the door shut. She ran over to take one, SMASH! Window glass flew in all directions as an arm came crashing in and wrapped itself around Joyce.

"Daddy!"

Dead Man's Curve Part 2

Read Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Now for 

Part 2

The crunching of metal and shattering of glass rang out over the camp site. The blaring of a horn sounded and -

CRASH!

Then -

CRASH!

And another -

CRASH!

Joyce flew out of her tent. This time her dad was struggling to get out, Mr. Rob unzipped his tent. The muffled voices of the boys groaned in their tents as they woke up in a panic. Soon everyone was centered around the smoldering fire. 

All our voices merged into one as we asked about the noise until Mr. Rob spoke up. 

"Everyone calm down. Me and Mr. Stephen will go check it out. You kids just stay here and wait for us to get back. Ok, just wait here."

They both took off with their flashlights through the trees. From the camp, Joyce could see bright headlights lighting up the woods and flashing yellow lights like she had seen before, except now it was much brighter. The other boys, now awake and with their coats on, walked towards the lights. 

"We're suppose to stay here." Joyce said. 

"I just want to see." Freddy said. 

The other boys followed in agreement. Joyce was hesitant, but followed along with them.

"Just to the tree line." she said. 

"Ok." 

Will stopped at the first tree and the rest lined up next to him. Joyce stood over Richie's shoulder. 

"Do you see your dad?" Richie asked. 

"No. Do you?"

"I think that's him, there."

He pointed to a shadow down by the road. 

"Dad!" 

The shadow crept up the hill crunching on dead leaves, twigs and sticks up towards them. 

"Dad, what's happening?"

The children focused on the figure until it stood in front of them. It leaned down into the light and they saw the  out of a hole between two ripped open pieces of skin across his forehead dark red blood oozing down his face. 

  The children screamed in unison that echoed off the trees and rattled their eardrums as the bloodied man reached out towards them. They ran back towards the middle of the campsite by the dying the fire. 

Will jumped through the front of his tent, then returned with a powerful D battery flashlight. He clicked it On and raised the light beam onto the man's face. Blood continued to flow out of his injury all the way down his neck and soaking into his shirt. 

The leaves rustled and Will shined his light towards it. A second man and a woman came out from the trees behind the first man. Each with similar deep cuts across their face, each spilling dark blood down their shirts and onto the ground. The woman walked forward at a crooked angle to point her eyes in the direction of the children. Will shined the light into her face and she turned away, but they all saw the bone sticking straight out of her neck. 

The couple pushed past the first man into the camp. Through the trees more men, women and children came walking out. All bloodied with some missing limbs, some dragging broken legs across the ground, but all of them charging towards the campsite where the scouts stood petrified in front of the oncoming horror. 

More leaves rustled in the trees and through the horde of ghouls the two scout leaders came running. 

"Dad." Joyce shouted. 

She jumped into his arms. 

"Everyone alright?" Mr. Rob asked. 

He counted the scouts and wrapped his arms around Will, Freddy and Richie as they ran to his side. David stood motionless, still staring at the growing number of bleeding and broken bodies continuing their descent onto the camp. 

Joyce's dad sat her down to one side and reached out for David.

"Let's go. Go! Go! Go!"

Mr. Rob pushed Joyce and the children forward to put them in motion. Mr. Stephen wrapped up David and followed them down the hill. Freddy took the lead as his long legs carried him down the hill faster than everyone else. The horde stomped through the camp knocking tents and supplies all over the ground. Joyce didn't dare turn around for fear they would be right behind her. 

Freddy stopped at the bottom of the hill under the tall lamp post. 

"Which way? Where do we go?"

Mr. Rob pointed to a wood cabin a short distance away. 

"There. The trading post. Go there."

Freddy took off as the rest of the scouts reached the bottom continuing to run as fast as they could. Joyce's dad still carried David in his arms with his head resting on his shoulder who then screamed a high-pitched squeal. Joyce told herself not to look, but her head turned before she could stop herself. The horde began falling and tripping over each other, hitting the ground and started rolling down the hill after them.

Freddy pulled on the door. 

"It's locked." 

Mr. Rob and the other scouts arrived at the trading post. They all pounded and pulled at the door trying to get it open. Joyce's dad sat David on the ground and began searching for a way inside.

To be continued...

Follow The Rules, To Break The Rules

As I was listening to the amazing authors speaking at the Gen Con Writer's Symposium over the weekend (Aug. 1-4, 2019) about the rules of Show, Don't Tell, a topic I have written about a lot over the last few years: What Does Every Book On Writing Say

I suddenly had an thought occur to me when Melissa F. Olson said, "Follow the rules, to break the rules." about the treatment of criminals in fiction.

Follow the rules, to break the rules applies to criminal behavior as the best criminals break the rules while also following the rules. That is why high level gangsters or politicians get away with crime because they are so good at hiding in plain sight. They follow the rules of society and law while breaking them at the same time. These types of criminals are usually leaders of the organization.

Criminals who don't follow the rules, but just break them are the criminals who end up getting caught or worse, being killed right in the beginning. They go straight to breaking the rules without ever following the rules setup in the first place. Learning the ins and outs of society and how to strategically break them. Instead they go for the top the first time.

Even though each type of criminal can engage in a plethora of criminal activity including tax evasion, robbery, bribing, or even murder. The rules follower might have a chance of getting away with it, than the rule breaker.

Popular Follow the Rules criminals in fiction include:
Tony Soprano
Micheal Corleone 
Lex Luther
Gordon Gekko
Most Bond Villains

Not many popular Break the Rules criminals exist in fiction, or any I can think of, because they usually die early on in the story. Plus, this doesn't include henchmen which are a different type of criminal all together.

A straight to Breaking the Rules criminal might be popular because he/she is caught in the first act and through a road of trials is returned to the ordinary world as a better person or rehabilitated from a criminal to a hero who helps others not go down the same path.

If you are writing a mystery, thriller, suspense, paranormal detective or any other type of genre fiction involving crime and criminals, think about the different types of criminals and how they are committing those crimes so you will be able to organize them into one of these two categories.

Happy writing!

Joshua

Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Dead Man's Curve

by 

Joshua J. Wood

1

Joyce laid in her tent following the stitching up and down the grey walls. She had picked it out because of its green color, but that was all on the outside. On the inside was all grey, no green, just grey. And each of those grey lines of stitching formed triangles, so instead of counting sheep, she counted triangles to fall asleep.

The wind blew and rustled the leaves right outside where she laid her head. Camping is the only reason she wanted to be in the Cub Scouts. Her and her dad, who was already snoring in his tent next door, had gone camping together a lot. Then, when the scouts allowed girls to join, his friend Mr. Rob convinced him to sign them up and become a troop dad with him.

They're first activity together was the Fall jamboree at Camp Harris. The other boys, who shared tents, were Will and David next to dad, Freddy and Richie next to them, and Mr. Rob, Richie's dad, on the end. They were the smallest troop there, but had all agreed to do their best to be this year's Fall Jamboree Troop of the Camp. 

Camp Harris was big, with woods and trails covering about five miles along Mud Creek, squeezed between two winding roads on both sides. One of which was Scout road that ran along the front entrance of the camp. A long stretch of road that ran straight into an almost ninety-degree curve when traveling North towards town, right next to where Joyce's troop was assigned to pitch their tents. A curve a lot of people thought they could take at high speed, a curve that gained legendary status as Dead Man's Curve after those people didn't.

The counting of triangles started to work. Joyce started to close her eyes and listened to the lullaby rhythms of the crickets when a bright yellow light filled her tent, flashing on and off and on then off again. Joyce sat up and tried to peek through the small screen on the back of the tent. She couldn't see a thing until the yellow shining light flashed back on brighting the trees down by the road. She grabbed her flashlight, put on her shoes and unzipped her tent. 

Outside, the campsite was dark. The fire pit that still had burning orange embers when she went to bed were now just black and grey ash. She turned and faced towards the road. The yellow lights blinked again bouncing off the hill leading down to the road, then off again. Joyce clicked on her flashlight and started walking. 

        On her way down, she started to make out the shape of a car stopped on the side of the road. The closer she got, she could hear the faint sound of music. The passenger door was open as she shined her light onto a white SUV. She stepped out on the edge between the gravel street and the damp grass behind the car that she could now see was smashed against one of the trees right off of the curve. 

"Is there anyone there? Do you need help?"

She listened for an answer, but only heard the music that she now recognized as one of the songs her mom sang to in the kitchen. She walked towards the open door and stopped. Her heart began to race when she shined her light on the ground and saw a man lying there.

A weak voice came out, "Help me." 

"Oh crap. I'm going to get help, ok. Just stay there, and I'll be back with help, ok."  

Joyce took a step to go back when the man pushed himself up off the ground. He moaned as he sat up on his knees and raised to his feet. 

"You just stay here and I'll go get help. Do you understand?"

The man moaned again while turning his head towards her. She tried to hold the light down, but it crept up farther and farther until it was in the man's face where it reflected the crimson red of blood smeared across it. Joyce screamed in terror just as the man lunged towards her growling incoherent words. She darted up the hill, around the trees and didn't stop until she fell on top of her dad's tent. 

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up."

Joyce scraped on the front of his tent with one hand, looking for the zipper with the other. 

"Joyce, was is it? Was is it?"

The front of the tent zipped open and Joyce fell into her father's arms. 

"A man wrecked on the road. He's really hurt. It's awful."

Joyce couldn't hold back her tears any longer as they began to stream down her face. Her dad rushed to put his shoes on, took the flashlight out of her hand and leaped to his feet. 

"You wait here. Don't move."

He ran off towards the road. Joyce crawled into her dad's tent and tried to forget the man's blood covered face. Footsteps came back up the hill as Joyce's dad appeared in the doorway. 

"Where did you say he was?"

Joyce sat up.

"Down on the road."

"On that road?"

"Yeah, right there, by the curve."

"I didn't see anything honey."

"His lights were flashing. You didn't see them?"

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't. I didn't see anything.

Joyce couldn't believe it.

"You didn't have a bad dream did you?"

"No, it was real. I'll prove it."

Joyce crawled back out of the tent and headed back down to the road. 

"Joyce, there's nothing down there. It's late, let's just go to bed."

She continued on forcing him to follow her with the flashlight. He caught up to her just before the hill reached the road. There was nothing. 

"I swear. There was a car crashed right over there and a man, a hurt man, and he jumped at me."

"He jumped at you?"

"For help, I think. But it scared me, and, I ran. To get help."

She looked up at him to show she was telling the truth. 

"That was smart, but, there's nothing here now. And thankfully no one is hurt."

Joyce looked around at the dark street. She took the flashlight from her dad and shined it at the tree the car had smashed against. Nothing. No sign of any damage at all. She turned back towards him. 

"You're right. No one was hurt, and maybe it was just a dream. It just didn't feel like a dream, I don't know what it was."

Footsteps came from the top of the hill. Joyce pointed the light up into the face of Mr. Rob. His arm shot up and covered his eyes. 

"What are you guys doing? Is everything alright?"

Joyce's dad pushed the flashlight towards the ground. 

"Everything is fine. Just a bad dream."

"If you say so. Come on back up here and try to get some sleep."

Joyce walked back to the campsite followed by her dad. She went straight for her tent and went inside. Her dad leaned over and peered in at her. She found her towel and wiped the tears from her face.

"You sure don't want to sleep over in my tent. No one is going to think it's weird. I promise. It's how we always go camping."

"No, I want to be able to do this on my own."

"That's right, you're a Cub Scout now. I get it. But, no more late night walks alone. If you hear or see anything again, you come get me right away. Got it?

"I got it."

"I'll see you in the morning my joy."

"Ok." 

He walked off as she reached out and zipped the door shut. Outside she could hear dad and Mr. Rob whispering to each other before going back in their tents.

After several minutes of her father rustling to get comfortable, everything went silent except for the crickets and echoes of croaking frogs down by the creek. Joyce took some deep breaths and tried to forget about what had happened, she'd be able to try and make sense of it all in the morning. She looked around at the triangles, and soon felt the world of sleep wash over when -

CRASH!

To be Continued ...

Steven Wright Job Interview Truth

I was watching Steven Wright and he told a joke in an interesting way. He was in a job interview and pulled out a book. A clear sign he is bored with the interviewees questions, and obviously the interviewee is offended, and asks, "What are you doing?"

So Steven asks, "Let me ask you a question, if you were in your vehicle going the speed of light and turned on the headlights, would they do anything?"

The interviewee said, "I don't know." 

Then he said, "Good, cause I didn't want to work here anyway." And that is exactly how I feel. 

I want to ask perplexing questions and brainstorm answers, not hear, "I don't know" from business leaders. 

Here is my answer:

What would happen is, the lights would turn on and you would see in front of you. 

If you are in the vehicle traveling the same speed, then nothing would change traveling as fast as the speed of light as traveling 55mph down the highway. 

Because time is relative. It happens at the same time as you. Objects that are stationary, as in Star Trek or Star Wars would blur at warp speed, but everything you experience inside the object moving that fast will seem the same speed. Even the headlights. 

Although, if you would have time to turn them on going the speed of light in the first place, is a different question?

The Death Of The Store

People want to learn, they don't want to be told, they do want to be entertained, but to sell to someone is to teach them how to use it. That is why Sears went out of business. A company use to hire salespeople who knew how to use the tools, those salespeople taught the customer how to use the tools, and then the customer felt comfortable buying the tools. People made a living at doing this. When that went away, when Sears just hired people willing to work for nine dollars an hour, take the tools or leave them, I get paid regardless attitude. They lost their customers. They sent them to learn how to use those tools on the internet through How-To blogs and YouTube videos, and while there, on the internet, they were a click away from buying them online, with no need to go to the store. And this how stores still hire people today, and that same attitude persists, thus they want to lower wages because they think, "No one works hard anymore." So one day when you look around and ask yourself, "What happened to all the stores?" You will know, the store is dead, because all the teachers found a better job on the internet.

Aphorism

Eugene Thacker says, "the pessimist is understood to be the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever offering a solution."

I think this a correct observation, but it is wrong for the neutral or optimist to perceive of the pessimist. As a pessimist myself, I believe the source of my pessimism is that I do offer up the solution, but no one listens, and so the world continues on the wrong track towards its inevitable tipping point of doom. 

Give The Gift of Four Roses Bourbon This Valentine's Day

     During a slow hour at the store, a customer came in looking for a specific brand of Bourbon called Four Roses. She needed three bottles as a house warming gift for a friend. I asked, "Why three?", and she answered, "To make a dozen roses." Brilliant! 

     I urge you to steal this lady's idea, I'm sure she won't mind, for this Valentine's day and give that special Bourbon lover in your life, maybe not three, yet at least one bottle of Four Roses as an inspired Valentine's day gift. It is the type of roses they really want after all. 

     Four Roses has three different types of bourbon that you could buy to make as the perfect gift. 

     The first is the standard Four Roses that runs around 18.99 on average with a crisp and smooth tast of pear and apple flavors.

     The second is the Small Batch Bourbon that runs around 26.99 on average with a mellow and well-balaced flavor of dried spice and ripened red berries.

     The third is the Single Barrel Bourbon that runs around 36.99 on average with a robust and full-body flavor of ripe plum and cherries.

     Valentine's day doesn't have to be all about cards and candy, or real flowers anymore. With Four Roses bourbon you can celebrate with good whiskey and a dash of cleverness. Happy Valentine's Day!

Visitwww.fourrosesbourbon.comto learn more. 

Advice for Storytellers by Sam Simon

Sam Simon is best known for co-creating The Simpsons, but also worked as a writer, director and producer for many television and radio shows from 1979 to the 2000's such as Barney Miller, Taxi, The Norm Show, The George Carlin Show and a list of others. He died in March of 2015 of cancer, but before he did he appeared on WTF with Marc Maron and gave this wonderful advice for people interested in telling stories:

1. Story above all

2. Don't be afraid of the quiet moments

3. Love your characters

I could sit here and tell you everything that I think they mean, but really, you have to find the meaning for yourself. Meditate on these three rules, philosophize about them in the shower, use them as writing prompts in your journal, or tattoo them on your body. Whatever you have to do to find the meaning from his advice: DO IT!

To find out more about Sam Simon and his legendary career check out his Wikipedia page.

Google+ Is Dead

Back in 2011, Google created its own social network, Google+ (aka Google Plus). Everyone with a Gmail account automatically got a profile whether you wanted one or not. Many just ignored it and kept using Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. 

You couldn't blame them, the major flaw of Google+ was its lack of a user friendly mobile interface. It worked better on your desktop or laptop than it did on your phone, which made it difficult for people to stay in touch when they were away from their computer, and thus didn't have as many users as they wanted. 

For those of us that did though, it was pretty cool. What Google did right was they created communities. Users could create a community, say Nature Photography, and let people join who took or enjoyed nature photography, and share their pictures and joy. 

Through the years I was on Google+, I joined many street photography and writing communities and participated in them. Some were better than others, but they all had interesting stuff in them. They let you connect with others without having to Friend or Follow them. Although, Google+ did have a somewhat complicated Circle that you could pick and choose what people in your network saw what you wanted them to see. A direct response to the number one complaint on Facebook, "How do I keep my mom from seeing my posts?" Well, most of our moms weren't on Google+, or never any heard of it, so their was nothing to worry about. There also wasn't a lot of opionated garbage or harassment, or if there was, I never experienced any. 

For most of us, especially creative types, it was our own personal salon. A place we could put our work and share it with others who would appreciate it. A place hidden away from the trolls who like to tear your down, and was instead inhabited by people who liked to lift you up. 

Yes, you're right, the trolls were probably out there, and any community moderator you talk too probably has a lot of stories about horrible people saying horrible things, but like I said before, this was not my experience as it has been on other social media sites. 

One of the best experiences I had was in one of the writing communities. Every week they would post a picture as a writing prompt and have participants write a 600 word flash fiction story based on it. Because of those, I started writing again. 

Every week, I looked forward to the new prompt and would write short short stories based on them. Many I reread recently and were almost all written in the present tense. Yet, no one ever badgered or overly criticized me on the matter. They took my story for what it was worth, and moved on. The only person who was embarrassed was me. So I have revised and edited them from their apparent first drafts, which are currently on Blogger. 

Speaking of Blogger, another free Google product unless you decided to buy your domain name so you don't have to use the .blogspot in the web address, was synched with Google+. Any time you made a blog entry, all you had to do was hit the share button to have it posted to your Google+ profile. A convenient feature for writers to publish their content for their readers. But according to Google, there are no users, so that means, there are no readers. 

On that note, I have to be honest, I haven't used Google+ for the last three years. Although, I don't use any social media for personal use that much. I have accounts on all the popular sites except Snapchat, I use them to stay in touch with people I have met around the world or to promote my creative content, just as I did on Google+. 

One of the best communities I was apart of was the street photography community. Seeing pictures from different photographers from places I have never been, seeing how people lived, and sharing my own experiences while living in Japan was a lot of fun. An experience I never had on any other site. 

Although Instagram has won the best social media site for photos, you still have to use hashtags to find content that you are looking for inside their app. Communities worked a lot better for people to find others interested in the same things without having to follow every photographer you found interesting. The size of the community also allowed for people to not have to share all the time. When you're building your Instagram profile, you feel pressured to add continuous content to stay at the top of everyone's feed. It is not for the casual user, even though it is the only one I use anymore. 

In all, I think it's a shame that Google is getting rid of Google+. People didn't like it as much as their other products, and that's ok. Knowing them, from what I've heard and read, they will work to make something better with desktop and mobile friendly interfaces. They will be patient not to release it until the time is right, which will be right after Facebook destroys itself. Then they will strike with their new platform, something similar to the old, but new and shiny to attract the masses. And hopefully that place will be called: Google Community.

Flat Earth Theory Is Killing Me

I read article about how Flat Earth theory followers explained the lunar eclipse that occurred last week on January 20/21. And, I have to say, it's the craziest thing I have ever heard.

In their theory, an unseen object sits in font of the Sun, it is unseen because of the powerful light radiating from the Sun hides it from us. When that object hit a certain spot in front of the Sun, it casted a shadow on the Moon causing the eclipse.

1) We have camera technology that can take pictures of the Sun with dark lenses or use computer software to remove the blazing radiation so that we can see the Sun's surface, and there is no object.

2) Yes, Mercury and Venus sometimes cross in front of it, but they are not big enough to cause an eclipse that would cast on the Moon.

Why is it easier for them to create unbelievable fantasy of how the Earth interacts with the Sun and the Moon as a flat disc, then to believe the centuries of astronomy from scientists such as Galileo, Copernicus, Newton and others who faced prosecution for what the undeniable proof that we revolve around the Sun, our planet is a sphere that also rotates on an axis, eight other planets also revolve around this one Sun, they also have Moons that are spherical that revolve around then, and beyond that there are millions more planets and stars scattered across the universe?

If it were fiction for entertainment, I would be thoroughly entertained, yet it is not. The scary thing is they are trying to pass this off as truth. That we are all on a flat surface and somehow there is day and night. I actually don't know how they explain this because the idea is so absurd, I don't want to know. Because at the end of the day, they don't have proof. They have no evidence that any of this true, yet astronomers and astrophysicists do have proof that the universe works in the way we have all been taught that it does in school.

Don't fall prey to this false information because of some sort of intellectual rebellion, or need to be different or part of a group. There are plenty of conspiracy theories and even more human drama playing out fulfill any and all of those needs. Believing in a flat Earth should not be one of them.

The Next Revolution Will Be Voicemail

It is time to revolutionize VOICEMAIL.

For a short period of time, you were able to answer your phone even if you didn't recognize the number. But now with SPAM calls on the rise, those days are over. So we hear a lot more of this:

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click. 

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system, [reading of number], is not available. At the beep, please leave a message. After you are finished recording, hang up or press one for more options."

Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP.

The same voicemail message we heard back in 2003 when cell phones started to become smaller and more affordable for everyone. Of course now, a person can not live without a smart phone. 24/7 connectivity is a must, even when you have ran through all your data and have to download news stories at a 100kb/s. Brutal, yet possible.

And why call anyway, when you could text message without all the anxiety of talking? It's faster and more efficient, except when you have to stop and google acronyms that really slow you down and the person you're texting thinks you stop talking to them and when you finally respond it's two or three days later when you hear from them. At least, that's my experience.

Well, you might not believe it, but sometimes calling is necessary, especially when it comes to business. Texting seems impersonal, where a voice to voice exchange means BUSINESS.

Or you're bored and would rather talk to someone then constantly spell check your text messages, especially if you have been partaking in mind altering activities such as drinking or getting high that impairs your ability to push those tiny little buttons. Another experience I have I had.

In those circumstances, the person you are calling will have your contact info programmed into their phone so they can see who is calling, or at least I hope. Except in business calls, NOT SPAM, the person won't have your number unless they do business with you on a regular basis.

The amount of calls I have to make are not that many soI don't have my customers numbers programmed into my phone, yet I do recognize most of their numbers when they do call. Although, my customers don't always recognize my number when I call. So again, I hear a lot of this:

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click. 

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system, [reading of number], is not available. At the beep, please leave a message. After you are finished recording, hang up or press one for more options."

Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP.

The same thing I heard when I had my first cell phone back in 2003. I am repeating myself, but the point is: WHY HASN'T VOICEMAIL BEEN UPGRADED?

Everyone knows what the Beep means. Everyone knows what to do when it beeps. And no one, I guarantee you, is pressing one for more options. What other options could there be? Unless it is going to translate my message into a foreign language, then don't bother having any other options.

In our current fast paced, I don't want to wait culture that we are living in theses days, the current voicemail message can seem like an eternity. A plain and simple solution to the problem of voicemail is to make it short, quick and to the point. Then this is all it should be:

"Leave a message for [reading of number]." 

BEEP. 

Finished.

The only other ornament is have the owner of the record their name to replace the reading of the phone number. Yes, that's right, personalized messages should also be abolished. Because you are just saying the same thing as the robot voice, only in your own voice, so it creates the same problem we already have. In the new version, all you have to do is say your name, like a signature, say it and you're done.

No pressure to be funny. No pressure to be quirky. No pressure to be professional. Only say your name, or don't and let the message read your phone number. No one is paying attention anyway, they are just waiting for that BEEP.

If you agree or disagree, feel free to let me know in the comments. Otherwise, let's get this thing started so that I don't have to wast my time listening to that old antiquated voicemail message I have already heard over a thousand times.

Writing: Time Jumps

I was reading Loser by Chuck Palahniuk, a short story in the book Stories: All New Tales
(Buy it here---->Stories: All New Tales Edited By Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrontonio  or pick it up at your local library.) 

In Loser, he tells a story of a Frat boy at The Price is Right (although he never says it) tripping on acid. It's very entertaining, as I enjoy Palahniuk's novels. Although, as I am also familiar with The Price is Right, he made a choice in his story to skip the part when you spin the wheel to win the chance to go to the showcase. He instead jumps straight into the showcase with a time job maneuver with the sentence:

"It's like forever later, but you win all the way to the Showcase Round." pg. 198

As a writer myself, I think about this choice and my own writing:

1. This is something I am afraid to do. 

2. This is something I don't know how to do. 

3. Is this something I want to do. 

In my novel, The Van Allen Horror (working title), I have them flying towards the moon and use the need for sleep, something very real, to pass the time as they fly without having to write a lot of extraneous dialogue and action. But, the wheel is something crucial to The Price is Right experience. Why wouldn't he take a paragraph to write about the experience of spinning the wheel, 

The curved object spun at a rate slower than I felt my muscles do. The sea of red shirted Zelta Delt brothers screamed for it to keep going, but not in those words, in the continuous chant they started forever ago. The smear of white with a splash of blue green beeped at a pace that made me feel I was having a heart attack. And with each slower beep, it calmed me down until it stopped, then time stopped and a ding that sent under a sign that when I kept looking up thought was an upside down 60. The United States Marine man made it up. It was his turn. He spun the wheel at a pace I was sure was going to send it off flying off the stage, hitting a perfect ten through the red sea of Zelta Delts. A collective 'Awww' before the marine shook hands with the grey haired man and mentioned returning after these messages. 

Something like that. Except in my own style. 

I like my stories to represent real time, yet every story, focusing on short stories, can't represent the whole day in the life of our characters. We have to break it up into the most important moments of the story, otherwise it will be boring for the reader, and the writer.

In a short story I am working on, Tub Licker, I am using time jumps with line spaces. After one scene ends, I skip two lines and start the new scene either an hour from the last line or a whole day, I've read other writers who use this method and find it to be a useful way to time jump through all those boring moments like: unpacking, cleaning, going to the bathroom, etc., that, in this story, don't have any plot or character development contained in them.

One writer, Edgar Cantero, in his great book Meddling Kids, calls the skipping of lines out in a brief moment of Meta writing. In the chapter, he finishes a paragraph, skips two lines then writes, "Two blank lines later," then continues the action without skipping any time at all. The key to this being that it fits the style of his writing throughout the whole book, and it doesn't break the reader's suspension of disbelief. It has a natural flow that fits into the story, and provides an instance of humor within the tense action that is happening to the characters. 

As a writing exercise, find a time jump moment in one of your favorite stories and write what you think would happen in that time. 

As a writer, think about how you use time and different techniques you use, or want to develop, in skipping over certain parts of your story.

Feel free to share your writing in the comments, or share any advice or other examples that you may have on the subject of time jumping in writing with me. I am always happy to learn and discuss writing techniques with other writers or avid readers. 

Test Taking Disappointment

   I took a test for my Wine Spirit Education Trust (WSET) Level 1 certification in wine. The first proctored test I have taken since I took the Japanese Language Proficiency Test (JLPT) Level 4 back in 2010. The first test of knowledge I had taken since finishing graduate school in 2007. And the one thing you forget if you haven't taken a test in a while, it's not always about what you know, yet also about making good decisions on the questions that you don't know. And, on the few questions I struggled with, I don't feel like I made good decisions when answering them.

   I know I got the questions wrong. I reviewed the answers once I got home and know that I choice the wrong answers. I don't care about being wrong, or not knowing the answer, but what I do care about is making the best decision on what the answer is based on what I do know, and I didn't do that. I answered too quickly without thinking through the answers and instead went with a gut reaction.

   I have been sitting here all afternoon working on excuses on why I failed and didn't receive a 100%. The best I came up with is: Test Dyslexia. I have known a lot of people through my schooling years who had text anxiety, and never thought it was a real thing. The only test I ever took that made me sweat was the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT), and I did very poorly, never studying or doing any SAT Prep didn't help either. But, I learned my lesson and with practice and studying did a lot better on the American College Testing (ACT).

   But those were the good old days when you took a test a week. You were doing something we call: Practicing. Taking all those tests every week prepared you to take, more tests. So now when you have to sit down to take a test, maybe there is a bit of anxiousness or nerves, and in some of the questions all the answers started to run together almost like I couldn't read, hence test dyslexia. But again, this is just an excuse I am making so that I feel better about getting those answers incorrect. I actually don't have test dyslexia or test anxiety, I didn't get them right, because I didn't know the answer.

   No matter how you feel about tests, when you are an adult and haven't taken one in a long while, you forget some of the simple rules of test taking like: when you don't know the answer, break it down into what you do know and find the answer that best supports that assumption. And this is the true reason why I am upset, because I made poor decision making when choosing an answer.

   I like to boast that I have confident skills in creativity, problem solving and decision making. But I didn't show those skills today. Even though I did pass, I failed at what really matters to me. So now I have to pick up the pieces, learn from mistakes and move on. I am still here, and have to continue to move forward and improving, and not let the mistakes of the past derail progress or hold me back from my final destination of a brighter and safe future.