The Anatomy of a Viral Post

WordPress recently shared a link to five posts that had gone viral. I was happy for these bloggers whose lives had been turned upside down with the push of the submit button. But it felt to me like a reminder of my own shortcomings. I’ve been blogging for 15 years, and guess how many of my posts have gone viral?


Not that I’m jealous or anything.

And by “not jealous,” I mean, totally jealous. I have always aspired to have something of mine go viral. I came close once – there was that flu bug I’m pretty sure I passed on to a few unassuming coworkers – but it’s much easier to make germs go viral, it turns out, because…well…they already are. The only “work” I had to do was breathing in their faces. Easy-peasy.

What we need is a button. Like this. going-viral-online

For years, I hoped that one of my blog posts would catch the attention of the WP gatekeepers who choose the daily “Freshly Pressed” posts. I focused on clever titles and pretty pictures and content that I hoped was engaging, but it never worked. Meanwhile, I’d see other bloggers’ posts go viral all the freakin’ time. In an effort to emulate their success, I’d dissect those posts for clues as to what made them resonate with other people. I was looking for that one common denominator I could apply to my blog posts, but kept coming up short.

Story of my life. 5’8″, people. But I digress.

Those viral posts ran the gamut from serious to silly, from sad to salacious. They were all over the map, and therefore, of no help to me. The answer to my question, what does it take to have a blog post go viral? – aside from a few thousand shares, of course – remained unanswered.

So I turned to my research partner, Dr. Google, for assistance. He was kind enough to share a few tips on creating a viral post. It’s a multi-step process (great…sounds like work) that involves the following.

  1. Lists. “The internet loves lists,” I’m told. Hey, it worked for Letterman. I’m-a gonna give it a go.
  2. Tags. Add relevant tags to your post to group topics together and let potential readers know what you’re writing about. You’ve heard of hashtags, right? They draw people to your Instagram posts and Tweets. Blog tags work the same way, and you don’t have to use the annoying # symbol. Search engines index posts based on tags, so slap a few relevant tags on your post and you’ll go all L.A. freeway as you watch the traffic come rolling in.
  3. Be topical. Write about current events or the latest pop culture phenomenon. Today, that would be the violence at Donald Trump’s political rallies, or the tugboat crash on the Hudson River, or Iron Maiden’s 747 crashing into a tow truck, or Zootopia. Merely mentioning certain names should pay off. Kanye West. Bernie Sanders. Kardashian blah, blah, blah. We’ll see.
  4. Be knowledgable. Know your topic inside and out – you’re the expert, right? Well, shit. If I knew how to make a blog post go viral, I’d have a blog post that went viral and would never be writing a blog post on how to make blog posts go viral. Right?
  5. Be interactive. People love talking about themselves. Get the ball rolling by asking a question at the end of your post. Better yet, share a poll, quiz, or survey! Those always garner attention. How many times have you taken a stupid Facebook quiz to find out “What tattoo are you?” only to be dismayed by the result [“tramp stamp”]? They’re pointless and a huge time suck. But for some reason, we can’t resist ’em!

Or perhaps I just need to do as one guy says and write epic shit.

In any case, it’s time to test my own theory and see if this one takes off. How cool would it be if a blog post about going viral went viral? You’d have to love the irony.

Have you ever contributed to a blog post going viral? Wanna help a brother out?!

Like Old Friends

When I got to work this morning, I ran into my boss in the parking lot. “Looks like you had a great hike on Saturday!” he said. “How was The Bite of Oregon?”

And I realized in that moment the extent to which social media has changed our lives. In the past, you wouldn’t know what your coworkers had been up to unless you asked them. How old-fashioned, right? But Jeff could have recited a step-by-step recap of my weekend because it was documented for posterity on Instagram (my platform of choice these days) and Facebook.

For that matter, he’s probably well aware of the fact that politically, I side 96% with Bernie Sanders. And that I liberally doused my Mexican street corn with Tajin.

There’s no mystery left these days, you know? We’re all open books. Good if you’re sharing photos of beautiful sunrises…


Not so much if you’re talking about all the Bloody Marys you have consumed in a single sitting.

(It was three, okay? I’m not quite a lush).

What’s even weirder is when somebody you’re meeting in person for the first time ever knows every little detail of your life. This happened to me (again) yesterday. Last week, my friend Allison messaged me to let me know she was going to be in Portland and wondered if I’d like to meet up for lunch. “Sure!” I said. I’ve known Allison for more than 10 years. Only “known” is a relative term, because I’d never actually met her. Really though, that’s only a minor detail in the blogging era. I’ve mentioned before how many of my closest friends have come from the blogosphere. My own wife, even. So I jumped at the chance to meet Allison, who lives in New Orleans – so far away it might as well be another planet. A party-happy planet where you can walk down the street with booze in your hand at 2:30 in the afternoon, a/k/a my kind of town. I honestly never thought I’d have an opportunity to meet her.

But there she was, sitting across from me and Tara a mere 28 hours ago, and we were chatting it up like old friends. Which is exactly what we are. Allison was vacationing with her husband Ben, who was unaware of her blogging past, so she had to let him in on that little secret first. Otherwise, how would she explain traveling to a city she’d never been to, thousands of miles from home, to meet up with a guy she’s known practically forever? Believe me, I get it. All of it. I blogged for five years when I was married and never advertised that fact to my wife. Not that I was doing anything wrong or had things to hide; blogging was simply an outlet in which I could be myself without fear of recrimination. Open Diary was such a self-contained little community it can be hard to explain to outsiders, but those friendships have been both genuine and long-lasting. To his credit Ben took the news in stride, and he was very outgoing and friendly. Allison, of course, is awesome.

But I already knew that.

We had a great lunch at McMenamin’s Bagdad Theater, and should we ever find ourselves in N’awlins we’ll let them have a turn showing off their city.

AllisonThis brings the number of bloggers I’ve met in person now to 10, plus an additional three that Tara used to read. Not bad! I’m waiting for Wendy to make it 11.

I know many of my readers have also met up with people they got to know online first. What have your favorite experiences been? Anything bad ever happen?

When Fiction is Nonfiction

Earlier in the week, I came across an interesting and thought provoking blog post by a longtime favorite, Jess Witkins. Jess is currently working on a book of her own, and talked about the worst thing she ever did as a writer. If you don’t feel like following the link, I’ll “out” her for you: Jess once cheated on a boyfriend, all in the name of her craft.

She explains her actions thusly:

I truly believed, in the deep down pit of my soul, that I did what I did because I thought it would make me a better writer…I believed the only way I could write like all these other authors I loved was to “experience everything.”

I am not condoning her actions – but I am not condemning them, either. I kind of get it. Many people misguidedly believe you need to experience the things you write about in order to do so convincingly. There’s an excellent scene in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous that addresses this; a young journalist is interviewing a rock ‘n roll star and asks,

Do you have to be depressed to write a sad song? Do you have to be in love to write a love song? Is a song better when it really happened to you?


Ooh. Those are deep questions…

Which, unfortunately, are never answered in the movie. It didn’t take me long to respond to Jess’s post (below), but her question weighed on me afterwards for quite some time. I came to realize the answer isn’t as black and white as I’d first thought.

Screenshot 2015-05-26 16.04.40

Obviously, I am not going to kill anybody in order to know what that feels like. I’m pretty sure Stephen King never broke down a hotel room door with a hatchet when researching “The Shining,” and it’s doubtful Michael Crichton actually reanimated a dinosaur when penning “Jurassic Park” (but, how cool would it be if he had!).

Smaller details, however? I think immersing yourself in the experience does help. I’ve had a bacon maple bar or two from Voodoo Doughnut in my lifetime – a place that plays a minor role in my book. I know the layout of the joint, and exactly how airy and delicious that first bite is…how the maple icing sticks to the roof of the mouth while the savoriness of the bacon cuts through the sticky sweetness, and…Voodoo

DAMN YOU, diabetes!

So, my point is, I can see it both ways. The most important trait a writer needs (besides the ability to write) is a good imagination. Experience can help round out the details, perhaps – but I don’t think you have to cheat on somebody in order to find out it’s wrong, or that it leads to a whole bunch of bad things, like guilt and hurt and insecurity. Jess closes by saying,

I often wonder if the life lesson overall wasn’t worth it. I learned what it means to hurt someone, I learned what it means to be hurt by a friend. I don’t think it helped me with craft or editing, but it helped remind me I’m human. I will make mistakes – foolish ones I won’t believe I did. But I will try better next time.

Tough way to learn a lesson, that’s for sure. But a great way to turn a negative into a positive.

I would love to hear what other writers think about the question posed here. Or what anybody thinks, really. Even if you’ve never commented before, go ahead and share your thoughts if you are so inclined.

And here’s that link to my novel, No Time For Kings. It’s not all about murder and mayhem. There is love and hope and optimism, too. And some mighty tasty doughnuts…

Passion and Poetry: Turning 500

WordPress has notified me that this is my 500th blog post.

The fun and frivolity all began on December 16, 2009 with the following declaration:

I have one goal in life: to publish a book before I die.

Thankfully, I accomplished that goal within two years of penning (“typing”? “keyboarding”?) those words. Please don’t think I’m ready to die just because that goal was met, though. Life is pretty good these days. A lot different than when I first began this blog.


In thinking of how to celebrate 500 blog posts, I thought I would talk a little about blogging itself. Specifically, how it has changed my life. Because I can’t think of another person more influenced by blogging, other than perhaps my wife. Whom I met through blogging.

See what I mean?

I started blogging a long time ago. I don’t think it was even called “blogging” back then. It was simply an online journal. I’d tried to keep a handwritten one when I was younger, but always seemed to give up after a few entries. Back in 2001, there was a lot of talk about how the internet was suddenly inundated with digital versions of diaries, and I was intrigued. So I found a site called (it’s still around) and started a blog. My first post is dated April 23, 2001.

Amazingly, I am still able to pull that blog up. I just did so this morning. Had to guess at the username and password, but it took exactly one attempt. I was pretty predictable back then. And also, angsty. As embarrassing as it is, I’ll share that very first blog post in its entirety right here.

I feel so old :(
04-23-01 05:44 PM

After reading the other entries on this site, I feel like an old man. I’ll be 32 in a few days. Can I really be twice as old as many of the people that post here? Is there anybody who can relate to a married guy with two young children? I don’t act my age. I just got a Playstation 2 for my b-day – first game SSX is fantastic! And the CD in my car stereo is Shaggy.

I’ve got a serious Lester Burnham crisis happening (see “American Beauty”).

Woe is me.

Current Music: “It’s Been Awhile” – Staind.
Current Mood: Tired 

I felt old then?! Give me a break. And what was up with Shaggy? And CDs?? At least I can still say American Beauty is one of my favorite movies.

So, it’s pretty obvious to me I was feeling disenchanted with my marriage, even back then. In case there’s any doubt, the opening sentence of my next post on that blog was,

What does every red-blooded American male want? That’s right…a bandage to stop the hemorrhaging.

Ouch. It’s a wonder my marriage lasted another five years.

I abandoned that blog two days later for greener pastures. There was a new site making a splash called Open Diary. OD (as we all called it) was like a self-contained little community, and was the first platform to allow comments by strangers – a novel concept back then. I blogged on Open Diary, off and on, for the next 13 years, though I pretty much gave it up for good in 2009 when I started Mark My Words. One of the first people I got to know really well on OD was Monica. She was living in Denmark at the time and unhappily married. We struck up a friendship that continues to this day. Since we first “met” she has gotten divorced, moved to California, and remarried. She and her husband came up for a visit last year and stayed with us. There have been many people I met in person after getting to know through blogging. Heidi, Nancy, Laurie, and more – friends to this day. One blogger even became my mother-in-law. There are others I hope to meet someday. Jess, Kathy, Ron, Wendy, etc. The one thing that impresses me most about blogging is the friendships it has led to.

In 2006, I went through a divorce (guess I finally stopped the hemorrhaging) in a very public fashion, documenting the whole thing on OD. And if it weren’t for the support of my readers, I don’t know if I could have gotten through it unscathed.

In 2007, I started dating a blogger I had known for a few years. She moved up from California to pursue a relationship, one that was on-again/off-again for years. Ultimately things did not work out, probably due to the fact that she was secretly still married (oops!) and also crazy with a capital CRAY, but this showed me that even romance was possible with fellow bloggers, and paved the way for my relationship with Tara.

She and I started reading each others’ blogs in 2003. Met in person for the first time in March, 2011. Kissed for the first time that August. Moved in together in April, 2012. Got married in September, 2013. But most of you already know that story well.

Blogging has been about life, and about love. It has been passion and poetry. Birth and rebirth. Ecstasy and acrimony. And death, as that person I dated earlier passed away unexpectedly last year. I have experienced all its highs and lows, for better and worse. It’s more than just sharing words and telling stories. It’s experiencing this shared existence we call life together. Blog

If I had never decided to hit “publish” at 5:44 PM on April 23, 2001, I can’t imagine how differently things would have turned out for me. Blogging has had a deep and profound impact on my life, one that continues to this very day. It has made me the person I am.

Considering the other blogging sites and years’ worth of posts that existed prior to my WordPress blog, 500 is kind of an arbitrary milestone anyway. But one I felt I should pay homage to regardless. If nothing else, it shows persistence, commitment and dedication. Not to mention long-windedness. (My posts have gotten shorter, but this one is an exception. It’s number 500. Cut me some slack).

I’ve probably written about every topic under the sun. Love. Sex. Death. Travel. Politics. Religion. Geoduck. There is nothing left to cover…except everything.

Will I ever stop blogging? I don’t see how I could. It’s in my blood now, as ingrained a habit as breathing and sleeping. Every 3-5 days, the itch returns, no matter how much I scratch. I will be that person blogging from my deathbed.

Mark my words.

The Tittle Becomes an Umlaut

Maybe I’m naive, but I have no idea how to type those two little dots over the word naive. Nor do I know what they’re called or why they’re there.


Fortunately, I’m a pro at cutting and pasting.

Normally, there’s just one dot over the letter i. This is called a tittle. Adding a second dot turns the tittle into an umlaut. An umlaut is a type of diacritic mark – a glyph added to a letter – that is  used to change the sound value of that letter. Other examples include façade (the dangly glyph is warning us we are to pronounce the c like an s instead of a k) and fiancé (that glyph, called an acute accent, tells us it’s a instead of e). Is your head spinning yet? Mine is. And I’m a professional writer. Man alive, the English language is complicated enough with apostrophes and commas. Start throwing dots and curls and tildes and hooks into the mix, and you’re just asking for trouble.

Why all the grammar talk when there are far more pressing issues in the world, like how many hours a night the Royal Baby is sleeping now? Because I recently went toe to toe with the owner of the company, waging a battle over the Oxford comma…and lost. For the record: I’m pro-Oxford, he’s against it. What is an Oxford comma, you ask? I’ll let the experts at the Oxford Dictionary (appropriately enough) tell you.

The ‘Oxford comma’ is an optional comma before the word ‘and’ at the end of a list:

We sell books, videos, and magazines.

It’s known as the Oxford comma because it was traditionally used by printers, readers, and editors at Oxford University Press.  Not all writers and publishers use it, but it can clarify the meaning of a sentence when the items in a list are not single words:

These items are available in black and white, red and yellow, and blue and green.

The Oxford comma is also known as the ‘serial comma’.

'Nuff said.
‘Nuff said.

There ya go. We writer types get very passionate over this sort of thing. Which means we writer types are nerds…umm, yeah. We writer types are nerds. There’s no two ways around that. Luckily, some women find nerds attractive. Am I right, Penny?

Anyway. I’ve been writing articles for my company for eight months now, but until recently wasn’t involved in editing. And then suddenly, I was. While looking over something management had written, I added all the Oxford commas they had omitted, and returned it to my boss. Who returned it to me, with all the Oxford commas I had added omitted. Thus began a battle in which, sadly, I never had a chance of winning. I mean, it’s their company. They sign my paycheck, not vice-versa. So if they say Oxford commas are stupid, then Oxford commas are stupid.

There's hope for nerds everywhere!
There’s hope for nerds everywhere!

Only they’re wrong. Because by their logic, This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God is correct. Ayn Rand and God are not your parents. Say instead, This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand, and God. 

It’s crystal clear. I’m right, and they’re wrong. But whatever.

In happier news, today is a very important day for Tara and I. Not just because we filled out our application for a marriage license (we did, and we’re only working a half-day tomorrow so we can go into Portland and get it signed), but also because August 22nd was the day when Everything Changed. Two years ago this evening, Tara “stopped by” my place on her way back home from Seattle. Our initial date 11 days earlier had fallen through because she decided to go and get gallstones. The gall of her! (As revenge, I got them myself 3 months later, when she was visiting for Thanksgiving). I’ve written before of our gradually evolving friendship that had reached new levels via phone and text in the weeks preceding her visit, but I still had no expectations other than a nice dinner out, a couple of drinks, and some small talk. All of which happened, but then back at my townhouse we were suddenly kissing, and that was completely unexpected and thoroughly amazing. I still get shivers thinking about the first time our lips met. It was (and still is, every single time) electric. So there we were, making out on the couch, things were getting passionate, yada yada, she didn’t end up leaving until the next morning.

About that goodbye: I don’t think I’ve ever written about this, but when I walked her to her car, we hugged tightly. And then something happened that stopped my heart.

“I love you,” she said.

There was a hastily added addendum – “as a friend” – but I’ll always remember the rush of adrenaline that coursed through my veins when I heard those words. No, I didn’t really believe she loved me, loved me. But it gave me a little thrill to hear. When her car pulled away, I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. I certainly had no idea I’d be pulling up in front of her house 16 days later, or she’d be moving in with me in 8 months, or – best of all – we’d be headed to the courthouse to pick up our marriage license two years to the morning that we said goodbye.

It’s poetic. All of it. And the story is still being written.

Could Be a Fortune Cookie

Well said.

Do you want to hear something ironic? My freelance writing career is booming these days – a recent development, one that did not occur until after I found a “real” job that I love. And, just like when I was hired here, I wasn’t even pursuing new work. They came to me.

Universe, you amuse me.

I mean, really. I was unemployed for twenty long months, desperately trying to build a freelance writing business, with very little success. $84 a week from my “big” client, $15 a pop for articles, a few paid Groupon samples, all money that I had to have deducted from my weekly unemployment checks anyway. The bloom faded from that rose awfully fast, even though I invested in a box of fancy business cards with my information on them. The one big project I landed was a brochure from my former employer that netted me a sizable little chunk of change, but that was a one-off deal.

Or so I thought.

Turns out I have an advocate over there, a guy I used to work with but only in a roundabout way. He was our IT guru, I was the marketing coordinator. Our paths didn’t cross all that often. But he was impressed with my writing skills, and when a big project entailing a whole bunch of web articles, press releases, and blog posts fell in his lap, he picked up the phone and called me to gauge my interest. This was a few months back. To be honest, I hadn’t given freelance writing another thought in a long time, since I was gainfully employed. I had a big, whopping $0 in self-earned income to report on my 2012 taxes so, in my mind, that ship had sailed.

But when I thought over his offer, I was intrigued. He had a generous budget to work with, and was offering it all to me. This would be supplemental income, on top of my regular salary, and the work is essentially the exact same thing I’m doing every day already. SEO-focused articles on a series of industry-related topics. It’s pressure washers instead of ear, nose and throat conditions, but I did work there for six years and know a thing or two about that stuff. Plus, search engine optimization is my bread and butter. Suddenly, I was envisioning all this extra cash going to really fun places. Sure, there are bills to pay, but there are also bar tabs to rack up and concerts to attend and Mini Coopers to be driven. This money would really give me some extra wiggle room, plus the experience would boost my profile. So of course, I said yes. How could I not?

And then, my advocate began spreading the word to other departments within the company, and suddenly I had a meeting with the marketing manager of another brand. This led to me quoting on a separate project and landing that job, too. The pay is not insignificant.

I wanted to clear all this with my present employer on the off chance that there was some conflict of interest, and to have everything out in the open. I wasn’t sure how they’d react knowing I was doing side work writing for somebody else, particularly an ex-employer. Their response? As long as I wasn’t dealing with the competition, I could feel free to go for it. Oh, and by the way, my supervisor has a friend who could use some copywriting…

So, let me get this straight. Work that I didn’t ask for or seek out is falling into my lap almost literally. It’s right up my alley, something that I excel at, and the money is like an ongoing bonus check. I already feel like I lead a charmed life thanks to this great relationship with Tara, and now amazing work-related things are happening, too. It boggles my mind. And this, after struggling for years to find a decent foothold in life. To merely not be miserable. Seriously, that was my goal at one point. To wake up and not hate life. I feel like I’ve won the lottery in so many ways.

This all just further solidifies my belief that karma is real and it works (it just sometimes takes awhile) and that life harmonizes.

I submitted my first batch of articles, they got rave reviews, I turned in an invoice, and now I’m just sitting back waiting for a paycheck and the next batch of articles, which will be coming soon. Life is good.

On top of all that, I’m trying to write another book. I’ve had several ideas over the past few years, all of which were either discarded or shelved for the time being. And then about a month ago I had a dream, and that was inspiration for a novel about dreamers (literally) that I’m calling A Strange And Beautiful Flower. I’ve made headway on an introduction and the first chapter, so at least that’s a start. My mom is worried I’ll burn out on writing, but I just shrug my shoulders and say if you’re doing work you’re passionate about, then it’s not really work, is it?

That’s so good it could be a fortune cookie.

Peace out and have a groovy weekend. We’re headed to Seattle to celebrate Tara’s nephew’s first birthday. Catch you on the flip side!

Well said.
Well said.

Meet Your Next Reality TV Star…

Reality TV


Or at least I could be, based on the email I received this morning.

Hey Mark!

Bray Entertainment, the Co-Creators of Pawn Stars, is casting and developing a new documentary TV series about the real life Clark Griswold from National Lampoon’s Vacation Movies. We are looking for an entertaining and charismatic dad, like you, who is always trying to go over the top on cool projects for his kids. If you or anyone you know would be interested in this opportunity, please give me a call at blah, blah, blah…

How cool is that?! Obviously they found me through my blog. I’m forever going on about how I’m like a real-life version of Clark Griswold. I titled my series of road-trip posts Gettin’ My Griswold On (and stopped at offbeat places along the way, like the Spam Museum in Minnesota). Hell, I even nicknamed my kids Rusty and Audrey here. So, it’s not entirely surprising that I have been plucked from obscurity and given the opportunity to become a bona-fide reality television star.

This is a really exciting development that is sure to change my life! I’m going to have so many new experiences. Things like:

  1. Talking to the camera to summarize everything that has just happened or is about to happen while wearing the same damn outfit in every single episode, all season long. 
  2. Speaking in cliches. “I’m not here to make friends,” “I’m going to bring my A game,” and “I have worked so hard to get here” will all become part of my vocabulary.
  3. A teary phone call home on a brand new state-of-the-art HTC/Samsung/LG video-equipped cell phone.
  4. Lingering product placement shots. I’ll probably drink a lot more Coca-Cola® and eat a ton of Doritos® now.
  5. Black-and-white slow-motion recaps of things that have happened to me on previous episodes.
  6. A surprise visit from a family member or loved one.
  7. A. HUGE. TWIST!!
  8. An “I overcame adversity!” video montage of my past, set to a sappy pop song.
  9. Shenanigans in a hot tub.
  10. An opportunity to win a brand new 2014 Toyota Avalon that I will then have to drive all over the damn place (a minimum of two trips will be required each episode).

There’s only one downside to all this: I have no desire to live my life in front of a camera. I value my privacy too much! Besides, I’m not seeking fame. Fortune, on the other hand, would be nice. I figure if I’m ever going to get rich (or famous), I’ll do so the old-fashioned way.

By robbing a bank.

Reality TV
Time to prep my “You haven’t seen the last of me!” speech. (Courtesy of

I kid, I kid. By working hard, is what I meant to say. Selling a bunch of books. Something along those lines. Granted, this Clark Griswold-themed reality show seems a tad better than most of the crap out there. A little less backstabby than the others. Centered more around kids than angry black women or gay men with chips on their shoulders. It doesn’t even sound like a contest, but more of a let’s-follow-this-guy-around ala The Osbournes type of deal, which means no “You’re fired!” or “The tribe has spoken” or “Please pack your knives and go.” In other words, a kinder, gentler reality show. But still, not for me.

Speaking of my book, No Time For Kings has been out a year and a half now, and I’m still playing around with promotional ideas and trying to get sales when and where I can. Every once in awhile I’ll get a check for $11 from Amazon, which is nice. A few months ago I dropped the price to $2.99 for the Kindle version, and I just recently added a whole slew of Book Extras to the Kindle version. This is a great feature that gives you the opportunity to add bonus content to your e-book. Honestly, I don’t know why more self-published authors aren’t doing this, or why more readers aren’t clamoring for it. If you’re reading my book, for instance, and want more information on the IWC (International Whaling Commission) mentioned briefly in passing in Chapter 1, you just have to click on a link and you’ll learn all about the organization – what it does, when it was founded, etc. Same holds true if you’re wondering what, exactly, “molybdenum” is or if you’d like the background on characters like Trey or Rachel or Drake. There’s even a section that talks about the themes and symbolism in the book. I’m working on an idea that would give readers a link to what happens to some of the characters after the book ends, as a way to bridge the gap between NTFK and the next book in the series, which will be released…someday. It’s tough when you write all day long for your job, and then you do freelance writing in your spare time. But eventually, I’ll get to it. In the meantime, if you’ve got the Kindle version of No Time For Kings and would like to access the Book Extras, click here for a great primer from Amazon on how to do so. It’s really cool, trust me.

And if you haven’t bought my book yet – what are you waiting for? Seriously. Go. Right now. Right here. Please? (It’s good, I promise).

But enough groveling. I’ve got a reality show to plan for! First order of business? A trip to Walley World! Just gotta gas up the Family Truckster…

I’m Dying from 2 Rare Diseases

Let's see which disease I have today...

A while back, I mentioned how writing medical articles on a daily basis was making me pretty knowledgeable in terms of illnesses and diseases. I joked that I felt like I was just a stethoscope away from being a bona fide doctor. It’s true. In the past week several friends on Facebook posted about sick children and not feeling well, and I couldn’t help but dispense treatment advice (“use a warm compress and over-the-counter medications for pain relief”). What can I say? I may not have taken the Hippocratic Oath, but I still like to help people.

There is another, more serious consequence of writing about medical conditions all the time: I’m turning into a hypochondriac.

I’ve always been a generally healthy person overall. Pancreatitis/gall bladder surgery aside, I rarely get sick. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a cold, despite being surrounded by a house full of sick people on more than one occasion. Good genes apparently run in the family. And yet, ever since I began penning these articles, I’ve become paranoid that I am suffering from whatever condition I’m writing about at the time.

Let's see which disease I have today...
Let’s see which disease I have today…

Take this morning, for instance. Hyperthyroidism. It’s a disease in which an overactive thyroid produces an overabundance of thyroid hormone, speeding up the body’s metabolism. One of the symptoms of hyperthyroidism is an increased sensitivity to heat. A-ha!! I thought when I read that. I am hot all the time. I must have hyperthyroidism. Never mind the fact that there are at least a dozen other symptoms, including hand tremors, fatigue, clammy skin, itching, protruding eyes, and goiter, none of which I have. Fortunately I talked myself off that ledge after a few minutes, but there is always some new disease lurking around the corner that I’m able to identify with, even if it’s only a single shared symptom. Or, worse still, there will be no symptoms, and yet I’m still convinced I’ve got it. I was writing about cancer earlier, and learned that people who have pancreatic cancer – one of the deadliest, with a very high mortality rate – often experience no symptoms until the cancer has progressed to an advanced stage that is untreatable. Oh, shit! I thought, my heart skipping a beat or two as I read those words. I have NO symptoms of pancreatic cancer. WHICH MEANS I MUST HAVE PANCREATIC CANCER! 

Logic and reasoning have never been my strong suits.

It’s a lot more fun playing doctor with other people than it is playing with yourself. Err…you know what I mean. So I’ll just soldier on and try not to think too much while writing these articles. My sanity depends upon it.

Smaller And Better Things


Last night, when the kids came back from their mother’s house for the week, I was telling them about my new job. “I start tomorrow!” I declared excitedly. To which Audrey replied, “Does that mean you’re unemployed right now?”

Hmm. I hadn’t thought about it that way, but realized that – technically, at least – she was right: I was unemployed, albeit ever so briefly. From 4:30 PM Friday until 8:30 AM Monday. A whopping 64 hours. Which beats the hell out of the 618 days I was out of work last time.

The celebrating began Friday evening, immediately after work. For some reason I actually worked a full eight hours that day and, in fact, didn’t leave early once all week. Which is kind of a bummer, because when you’re a short timer you can get away with stuff you normally couldn’t when you have to worry about actually holding onto your job. I had moments where I was tempted to stroll in around noon wearing a smoking jacket and fuzzy slippers, or dump my dirty laundry on the boss’s desk and ask him to “have it back to me, pressed and folded, no later than Thursday, please – and go light on the starch” or something equally absurd, but common sense won out and I remained professional all week. Damn me and my overbearing sense of responsibility! Plus, I was busy training my replacement. Did I mention they hired this guy the very same day I gave my two weeks’ notice? They don’t waste time around there, apparently.


I met Tara at our favorite local watering hole downtown, where we noshed on healthy delicacies like fried pickles and steak bites and had a few drinks. It felt surreal, saying goodbye to a job that it seemed like I had just started, but onto bigger and better things, right?

Or, more accurately, smaller and better things.

smallfishBecause the company I am working for now is the smallest I’ve ever worked for. I’m used to large international corporations with hundreds of employees scattered across various continents. The music job was a little smaller, but we still had 100+ people (and it was also international so long as you consider Canada a foreign country). At this new place, I am employee #21. Instead of working in a multistory office building with a warehouse in an industrial park, I’m in a tiny office adjoining a mattress store where the “break room” is about the size of my bathroom at home. We don’t even have cubicles – the work spaces are a tight squeeze, separated by a prefabricated mini partition, and the “desks” are flat slabs of granite without drawers. If you turn around, you bump into somebody. It’s a completely different atmosphere than anything I’m used to.

And I absolutely love it.

There are benefits to working for a small company vs. a larger corporation. It really is like a family. The office has a ping pong table and a couple of flat screen TVs hanging on the walls. Lunches are “go whenever you want, come back as you please.” Time cards are nonexistent. There’s a profit sharing plan. And, we are having an amazing Christmas party in two weeks. Not only is the company shuttling us off to Mount Hood Meadows for a few hours of tubing in the snow, they are hosting a dinner and full bar for employees and their spouses or significant others at a swanky hotel in Troutdale – and springing for rooms so we can spend the night, too. And then giving us 5 days off afterwards. All of this on top of the fact that I am their official Content Specialist and earning a paycheck for writing. As the Barenaked Ladies once said, “pinch me.” (I may no longer work in the music industry, but I can still make references, dammit).

I would much rather be a big fish in a small pond than a small fish in a big pond. It’s much easier to get noticed that way. Of course, the drawback is, it’s much easier to get noticed that way. I’d better not screw this one up! There will be no dumping of laundry on the boss’s desk here.

And the minor inconveniences, like the cramped work areas, are temporary. They’re going to be making changes to the office layout next month, and we will probably be moving to a bigger office in a year. It’s all good, kids. One day in – just one day – and I’m already diggin’ it.

I’m also really diggin’ the snow. Glad it’s back on the blog. Nothing screams Christmas like fake snow on your WordPress blog!