Abacadabra, Don't Make Me Stab Ya

I was recently talking to a non writing friend of mine (they need a cool muggle-like moniker so we writers can quickly establish things when speaking about our not writer friends) when they asked me why I spend so much time researching when I write fiction.

"Just make something up," they said. "Why do you care if the neighborhood is right, you can see that bridge from the corner of that street, if a doctor would really prescribe that medication with those symptoms? It's all make believe anyway."

I nearly choked. I was downright incredulous on the inside but I smiled and racked my brain for a way to describe the magic of a fiction book to an obvious non-believer.

Then it hit me. Magic is the answer.

The really good authors truly are magicians. But we don't have smoke, mirrors, and scantily clad women in tight sequined dresses to fool the eye. we have clever words, emotions, and honest storytelling to deceive our readers.

I'm gonna go ahead and say it -- David Blaine, David Copperfield, Lance Burton. Y'all got nothing on Kent Haruf, JK Rowling, Barbara Kingsolver.

It's all an act, an illusion. The people who buy tickets or gather on the street to watch a magician and those who purchase novels all know they are being duped, tricked, bamboozled to believe in what is not real. And this is where the research comes in. So long as that audience or reader do not see up the sleeve, or spot the wires dangling they are perfectly willing to suspend their belief. A simple mistake ruins the whole thing whether it be a magician knocking over that mirror or me writing about Amarillo being overrun with Armadillo's. Armadillo's are a rare critter here in Amarillo, but can be found aplenty not far south of here.

I've read novels, otherwise good novels where the author made a simple or stupid mistake that jolted me out of the book. Once a readers pauses to think Uh-uh Buster, that ain't how it works, you've lost them.  And that my friends is a very non magical explanation of why I'm anal about the small things when researching my novels.

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Yeah it's been a while since I blogged but I've been in morning over the price of bacon. It's hard to sit down and right posts on a blog with Bacon right there in the title and not get a little choked up. Also I've been editing polishing and otherwise writing my butt off in the hope I can afford more bacon. Now on to the beer portion of this post ...

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If you are a discerning beer drinker and are not on www.untappd.com you my friend are missing out. Beer drinking social media that keeps track of the different beers you have consumed, offers recommendations based on your personal ratings and puts the social in social drinker. Look me up by name.

You can share pictures along with the reviews like this one of what might be the best beer I've ever tasted.

Ola Dubh 12 Year Special Reserve
Harviestoun Brewery

And here was my original Untappd review ...

Hell yeah! Puts hair on your chest and a smile on your face. Smells harsh but tastes smooth. Thick malty and robust.

That's it poured up in a glass. Nice and dark, like a good beer should be.      

THE MEAT #1 ... Eh!

Time to pay homage to the name change of this here blog.

Let's talk about meaty goodness, dark ales, and writers from north of the border.

It pains me a little to write this, but fact of the matter is, the satisfying piece of meat I've ever eaten was not cooked here in the great state of Texas. Or for that matter ingested within the borders of the Lone Star State.

Let me set the scene. We'd been walking for hours. now y'all know I'm a particular eater. Far from what you would call exotic. So as we trudged along World Showcase at Disney's Epcot in Florida I was in sort of a dilemma. I ate some meat nachos in Mexico but it was slim pickin's after that.

Norway, China, Germany, Italy.

I had a few beers to tide me over and when we hit the American showcase the Turkey legs didn't look bad but it had only been a  few hours since those nachos and I had some good German beer sloshing around in my belly so we walked on.

Japan then Morocco.

We shopped around. Watched a few shows. Me and the genie from Aladdin compared goatees.

My wife bought some quiche at France. What the hell is quiche anyway? This shit was wicked green from I think spinach.

At the UK I had another beer and was in line for fish and chips when I heard people talkign about a steakhouse in Canada.

Steak!

Hell yeah!

That's what I'm talking about.
I couldn't get there fast enough but my wife wanted to look at a tea shop and other stuff in England so my gut growled on. it had been hours since those Mexican nachos and frankly they were not all that hot to begin with.

We finally get to said steak dubbed Le Cellier only to be told there was an hour wait. I didn't care. I was willign to camp out right there in canada and wait. hell by that point if they'd asked me to don a beaver pelt speedo and shout "I LOVE CANADIAN BACON!" I would have done it as long as there was a hunk of hot beef waiting for me afterward.

So we finally get in and seated and I look at the menu. Oh there is meat aplenty but every last bit says it has been marinated in some kind of maple concoction. I'm immediately thinking syrup and I'm tired, hungry and grouchy so it pisses me off. What the hell is wrong with these damn Canadian, I mean I could forgive them for being confused what bacon is because there idea of it is pretty damn good atop pizza but maple syrup has no place in a steakhouse. I was worried they didn't know the difference between a Waffle House and Sizzlin' Sirloin.

So I asked the waitress if I could have a steak any steak devoid of their maple marinade. She shook her ehad. We marinate everything the day before. We don't have steaks on hand that are not already. I don't know where the Disney people store there steaks. maybe they are all finely aged in Goofy's underwear. What I did know was that I was starving so I said fine bring me the bone-in 20oz ribeye, medium rare.

They served that sucker with a giant maple leaf right on top. yes that pissed me off all the more.  I scraped off the offending vegetation and dipped one tine of a fork into the juice atop the steak.

I tasted it.

A hint of maple but not in anyway sweet or syrupy.

Huh.

I sliced a small piece. The beef melted in my mouth. That damn marinade was actually good. Subtle. Didn't overpower the beefy flavor but added to it. The steak was cooked to perfection and damned if it wasn't the most satisfying steak I've eaten even now. That was 1998.

I have been back to Le Cellier several times since but they changed their menu and the steaks are no longer marinaded int he same thing nor served with a maple leaf on top. They are still tasty but not as tasty. If any of my Canadian friend knows where I could acquire said marinade I'd be forever indebted.

Now to my favorite Canadian beer.

Trois Pistoles Dark Belgian Ale brewed by Unibroue of Quebec Canada. Here in my area it comes in both a four pack and 750 ML bottle. It pours dark (cola colored) and has a milk chocolate colored head. It has a malty sweetness with just a hint of spices not entirely different from a good spiced rum. A smooth beer for as dark as it is and it leaves a nice warm sensation in your chest as a good dark ale should.

There are many talented and famous Canadian writers. Yann Martel, Margaret Atwood, and Alice Munro.

There is my good friend Joanne Brothwell who write paranormal romance.

But my favorite Canadian author is Holly Kennedy because she writes books that make me say, "Dang, I wish I wrote that." Her novels The Tin Box, The Silver Compass, The Penny Tree all inspired me to keep writing Women's fiction. Check out both her and her work. You won't be sorry.

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Now to today's lyrics. Remember if you can identify even one set of these lyrics you have a chance to win a Kindle copy of TWISTED ROADS at release day. Sticking with the theme of this post think Canada.

               #7

Someday I'll get over you  
I'll live to see it all through  
But I'll always miss dreaming my dreams with you

              #8

I left her where I found her
And I walked off with a gun
I was half cocked and loaded
I went lookin for someone

             #9


We hit the road feelin’ cool as Crosby, Stills and Nash
Overflowin’ with the spirit and the bible on the dash

 



 

A Toast

You might have noticed I made a few changes to the blog. Yeah I know blogs are not as popular as they used to be but metaphorically speaking I am married to the venue. I believe through blogging I found my true writing voice as well as a large chunk of my reading audience. Abandoning it simply is not an option for me (I sort of tried the last year or so and it called to me like a siren in the night) and if I am not going to stop I might as well embrace it and try to build it stronger.

The old title reflected not only my goals but my original objective. To take y'all along on my journey toward publication. However I soon realized there were plenty of other bloggers far more qualified and more adept at educating and highlighting the path to publication. So I fell into storyteller mode and began sharing my experiences, opinions, and warped takes on life. I figured if I couldn't teach ya''' anything I could at least entertain you. 

Yes, I have achieved my original publication goals of seeing my name on the spine of a novel. Technically speaking THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES was not a novel, but TWISTED ROADS is pure fiction so upon its release next month that last rung I originally transcribed is met.

No, My journey is not complete. I am still, and hopefully forever will be, growing as an author. I have not gotten that huge advance from a New York publisher, but times have changed and I perfectly happy with my smaller Indie publisher. Should a book take off I am poised to make more than I ever would with one of those New York houses and while it would be nice to have their clout , marketing, and prestige there is no guarantee they would put those things behind me or that they would lead to more book sales. I know people who got that contract and are no longer writing because they never sold. and I know people who self-published or landed an Indie deal like myself that are now on best seller lists the world over.

There is more than one way to climb a ladder.

Back to the new title. Yes only a few days ago I blogged about this whole bacon thing getting out of hand. Don't get me wrong I do enjoy a nice crispy slice of bacon, but it is not my favorite meat. Bacon is however the glory of the meat world and while I debated the name Beef, Beer, and Books simply did not have the same ring.

I also pondered Meat, Mead, and Manuscripts but not only did that sound rather medieval it was also technically off since mead is not really beer and manuscript really is not the correct term for any of the published books I read.

So here we are together at Bacon, Beer, & Books. To that end I am going to create a new blog series. Not to appear at any regular schedule but whenever the mood strikes me. I think I will simply title this series THE MEAT and in each post I will rave about a delectable cut of meat I've sampled (I will share recipes when possible), paired with a beer I've sampled recently (yes I am a beer snob) and a book worthy of recommendation.

There will still be the regular slate of absurd slice of life stories, of me poking fun of myself and those around me so I hope y'all will keep reading and keep giving shout outs on Twitter, Facebook and wherever people gather. Because while I know it is unlikely I'll ever get he amazing amount of hits I once did, it is nice when I know people are out there reading.

So I raise a beer in your honor ... Y'all make this an endeavor worth doing.

I Might Never Eat a Baconator Again

I am quite proud of my meat man status here in the web-o-sphere. Not a day goes by that I don't get a meat related picture, link, or product posted on my Facebook wall or Twitter stream. They never fail to make me smile and bear my carnivorous teeth.

I am every bit as devout in my Lettuce is the Devil dogma as I ever was.

So it might come as a shock when I say ... This whole bacon thing has done got out of hand.

Before I proceed I should point out if you have delicate sensibilities, are prudish, or embarrassed by sexual discussion now might be the time to click that X up in the right corner of your screen as this blog post is headed nowhere wholesome.

Of my regular meat contributors, the Jacksons, Steve and Elizabeth routinely send me the best jokes and most unique links. this morning was no different. (Don't worry Steve I won't question exactly how you discovered thee bad boys.)

Yes, those truly are bacon condoms. Bacon flavored, I read in the article though I do no see that description on the box and further investigation brought me to discover the inside packaging ...

and the actual product.

I have three words -- No! No! No!

Actually I have many more words. So many in fact, I don't really know where to start.

First he obvious pun, This gives a whole new meaning to porking.

Moving on.

Blowjobs are glorious things. I sang their praises in THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES for those who ahve read that little tome. But who the hell wants to get a blow job while wearing a condom, and furthermore who would want to suck on a chuck of latex? No doubt the Center for Disease Control recommends protection for oral sex, but let's face it, if you are ready to put another person's dick in your mouth you are probably a live for the moment, throw caution to the wind kinda of individual.

Now I get the bacon flavor is meant to cover up the latex taste so for the sake of arguing let's toss aside the blow job while wrapped up debate and move on to the next WTF moment.  

Bacon is Delicious. It is hard (no pun intended) to resist. No, I am not saying these condoma are going to turn a straight man into a cocksucker. Or even a hungry woman into one. You either are or you aren't. Makes no matter to me and if you are thank you for making the world a better, happier place. What I am saying is it takes teeth to eat bacon. The last thing you want in that glorious tender moment of bliss is teeth crunching down.

"Oh shoot, honey. I forgot I was giving you a hummer. My mind went blank and I thought I was at Denny's having a Grand Slam."

"How many stitches you think that's going to take?"

Now let's forget all about blowjobs. (Y'all have no idea how hard it is for a man to type that sentence) 

Let's say a fella is wearing one of those bacon flavored condoms, complete with bacon scented lube. Yep, it says that right there on the box. And let's say that fella is going to town like Peter Cottontail on crack. Friction comes into play and that lube gets warm. Like bacon grease in the frying pan.

Now the last thing you need is the distraction of a growling stomach just as you are hitting your stride.

And what happens when that delectable scent of hot bacon grease drifts out of the room. I happen to have to hungry growing boys. If that scent were to reach their bacon grubbing nostrils they would be bounding down the stairs shouting "BACON!" at the top of their lungs.

Try explaining that to the kiddos.

"Sorry son, but I don't have any bacon."
 "I don't care what you smell." 
"No, we didn't sneak off my McGriddles." 
"That is the smell of me and your mom preventing more of you hungry little heathens."

And God forbid they find the discarded aftermath of your porky poke.

Therapy for sure.

And let's say you don't have kids. You are a fun loving single out our for the  prowl. Why limit your quarry. What if that person you pick up is Muslim? Jewish?

No siree. I can't see one positive benefit.

If you want to wrap you wiener in bacon, might I suggest this ...