alwaysjbj

If you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do when I grew up, I had an immediate answer. No hemming and hawing between plumber and proctologist, no sir. It had been clear since I watched the first Apollo Moon landing at 9 years old, on a black and white console TV:

I was going to be science officer on a starship.

Yes, I was aware the position didn't actually exist at the time, but we'd just landed on the moon! By the time I entered high school we'd have a city on Mars, and by the time I graduated college I'd be shipping out to explore the galaxy. I already had a blue sweatshirt with a logo on it, and a Spock haircut.

It wasn't the same logo, but what the heck; and as long as I kept that haircut, I wouldn't have to worry about interested girls distracting me.

Which is why I gave up the haircut in middle school, but never mind.

Back then it seemed obvious our future was in space. Why? Well, the example of Europeans continuing to explore the Americas after Columbus (or the Vikings) is problematic--although if they hadn't, I wouldn't be here. Still, the Native Americans themselves once followed the path of exploration:

"What's over that next hill?"

"Food, maybe? I see there's a glacier coming up behind us, so maybe we should check it out."

By high school manned space exploration seemed a thing of the past, but I was still optimistic of humanity's future in space. I signed up for every science class my school offered, starting my freshman year with what was called General Science. I excelled, earning an A+ and a certificate of merit. I wanted to take Physical Science next, but the only opening on my sophomore schedule was Chemistry.

My science teacher cautioned me that maybe I shouldn't jump ahead so fast. I ignored him. My science teacher was very smart. I wasn't.

As a kid I had every Apollo related toy, including this one.

Because, you see, going into space takes math. Lots of math. Taking Intro to Algebra in my freshman year taught me my proficiency in math was, well, not proficient. In fact, I stunk at it. But what the heck, science isn't all about math. How much math could there possibly be in chemistry?

And that's how I learned I would never be a science officer.

Science is cool, it really is. It's just that some people can do science, and some people are better off watching other people do science. Now we have Artemis returning to the Moon, several decades too late even if I was good at science. With my prostate, I'm better off not being in a place where peeing is a challenge, anyway.

(No, I'm not going to debate anyone with the idiotic idea that the Apollo missions were faked. That myth has been busted over and over, and I spend most of my time on social media trying to avoid stupid arguments.)

This, by the way, is an anime character named Artemis. My household was nuts for Sailor Moon.

But should we go back to the Moon, with all the expense, with so many problems on Earth? I mean, we've been there. Once we invented chocolate ice cream, was there any point in inventing Butter Brickle?

Maybe that's a bad comparison: I hate Butter Brickle. But humanity is never going to be wiped out by a five mile wide scoop of frozen Butter Brickle, or for that matter a super volcano made of cheese, which would at least smell good for an instant before our nose hairs burned. The technology used for Butter Brickle isn't likely to bring great new inventions and products to the masses. Also, to be honest, there's no joy of discovery from exploring Butter Brickle, unless it's your first birthday party.

So I'm going to say yes, it is worth the risk and expense to explore space. Not just for the science and economic benefits, but also for the pure joy of discovering things. We could easily find the money by zapping government waste with a big Butter Brickle colored space laser.

After all, how do we know there's not some new kind of chocolate out there?

Our books don’t involve space travel—yet. But there’s bound to be something for everyone else.

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: It was discovery that brought us the ability to print books in the first place.

Current Mood: optimistic
Current Location: the Moon
Current Music: Apollo 13

ozma914

It's Photo Wednesday! Which I just made up. Only it's not--in this case it's Meme Wednesday, which I also just made up, although I'd imagine I'm not the first. Somebody should make a meme about that.

So instead of my photos, I'm posting images about what I like to call Dispatchers Week, because National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week really doesn't roll off the tongue.

I spent over three decades as a full time dispatcher, and now I'm a part time dispatcher until our books start pulling in, oh, five figures. Should happen any minute now.

When I came back, one of the first things I noticed is that we now have a dispatch goose, who tends to change clothes a lot and goes by the name Gertrude. No, I don't know why.

I think most of my coworkers are glad to have me back, so I can teach the newbies about puns and inappropriate humor. Or, it could be because we're shorthanded at the moment. It turns out we're supposed to do this job 24 hours a day--who knew?

How do I keep going? Ibuprofen and Mountain Dew.

When I first started in the emergency services, some 45 years ago, I was told I'd never make it in the business if I didn't drink coffee. In the time since, I've had exactly one cup of coffee, at a winter mobile home fire when the temperature was below zero. I'd have drunk antifreeze, if it was hot enough. These days, most of the other dispatchers don't drink coffee either. I have no explanation for this, although when you pick up a 911 call and someone immediately screams in your ear, that tends to keep you awake for awhile.

Anyone in this business can tell you there are, indeed, stupid questions. But here's the interesting thing: Often the person who calls in and apologizes for wasting our time, then spends five minutes trying to convince us it's nothing, has a legitimate complaint. People who ask stupid questions usually have no idea we're pretending to shoot the phone while listening to them.

This is exactly why our moods, like our shifts, can veer in any direction in an instant. Except when we have visitors. When people are watching, nothing happens.

It's one of the most important jobs there is, because we're the first first responders. If we don't take the call, none of the other first responders know to respond. Unless there's a fireball on the horizon, or something.

So thank you for your dedicated work, dispatchers! With you in mind, there's a minor character in my Storm Chaser series who is, indeed, a night shift dispatcher. You can tell by how grouchy he is.

Fires and other emergencies tend to pop up a lot in our books, both fiction and nonfiction. Check us out!

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: People who read are much more likely to remember the number for 911.

denise posting in

dw_maintenance

I keep forgetting to post about this: we've been troubleshooting the "missing notifications" problem for the past few days. (Well, I say "we", really I mean Mark and Robby; I'm just the amanuensis.) It's been one of those annoying loops of "find a logical explanation for what could be causing the problem, fix that thing, observe that the problem gets better for some people but doesn't go away completely, go back to step one and start again", sigh.

Mark is hauling out the heavy debugging ordinance to try to find the root cause. Once he's done building all the extra logging tools he needs, he'll comment to this entry. After he does, if you find a comment that should have gone to your inbox and sent an email notification but didn't, leave him a link to the comment that should have sent the notification, as long as the comment itself was made after Mark says he's collecting them. (I'd wait and post this after he gets the debug code in but I need to go to sleep and he's not sure how long it will take!)

We're sorry about the hassle! Irregular/sporadic issues like this are really hard to troubleshoot because it's impossible to know if they're fixed or if they're just not happening while you're looking. With luck, this will give us enough information to figure out the root cause for real this time.

kazzy_cee

Yesterday, Mr Cee and I went to London with our U3A 'London Explorers' group to visit the Peek Frean's museum.

The museum is in a room in the old factory site (the factory finally closed in 1989), which now houses lots of companies, including the 'Actor's Exchange' (Mr Cee suggested if you weren't happy with your actor, you could bring them in to exchange them *eyeroll*). The museum is run by two volunteers and former employees of Peek Freans, and our guide was very knowledgeable.

Peek Frean's began production of sweet biscuits (which our US friends would call cookies) in 1857. Up until then, a biscuit would have been a twice-baked hard tack biscuit taken on long sea voyages to supplement the lack of bread for sailors. Jack Peek came up with the idea of incorporating sugar into a delicate, sweet biscuit, and the company grew from there, producing favourites such as the sweet custard cream, garibaldi, bourbon biscuits and savoury snacks such as twiglets.

Photos of fun memorabilia under the cut.
( Read more... )

It was a tiny but very interesting museum (and free to visit). They had original handwritten books detailing complaints, which made fascinating reading. So many customers reported finding hair in their chocolate biscuits! LOL!

I can also report that we got to eat some biscuits! I had a chocolate bourbon biscuit, which was delicious!

ozma914

I've had to explain to people that the events of the movie Apollo 13 really happened. They couldn't believe such a string of disasters could strike one space mission, or that the astronauts could have actually survived.

But the unrealistic part was the personal conflict. The astronauts yelled at each other, the ground crew yelled at each other, the astronauts yelled at the administrators ... it was a yell fest. Front and center was when Fred Haise blamed newbie Jack Swigert for not checking pressure levels before stirring the oxygen tanks, which led to the initial explosion.

Never happened. These people trained and practiced constantly, and were notorious cool under pressure. They didn't lose their tempers to the extent shown in the movie: they were rational, level headed, and team oriented. Why were they scripted differently?

Because a story needs conflict.

Conflict!

There was plenty of excitement in that story, but by adding conflict between the characters, the writers upped the tension and made the audience care more about the story. Go listen to the audio from the real Apollo 13 accident. They don't sound like they're in a life or death situation: They sound like a minor inconvenience broke out.

"Uh, Houston, Apollo 13 ... we've had a problem. A TP problem."

"Say again?"

"Houston, we've run out of toilet paper up here, and Fred has to take a big one. Well, leave a big one."

"Roger, Apollo 13, copy he's venting."

A problem with many writers is that they don't put in enough conflict. That includes me. I like my characters--I want them to get along. Sure, my good guys fight bad guys, but they got along with each other no matter how bad things were going. In real life, that's desirable; in fiction, it's boring. After all, a lot of what makes the reader happy are things you wouldn't want to have happen in real life. The Apollo 13 crew wanted a nice, uneventful walk on the Moon.

I still struggle with that, especially with my romance stories. I won't let my lovers be torn apart by something they could fix just by talking to each other. I poke fun at that in Radio Red: There's a scene where Kirsten gets mad at Aaron over something easily explained--until he easily explains it. Within minutes it's cleared up, leaving her embarrassed ... and leaving me to find other ways to keep them apart. (I don't think anyone caught on that I was poking at the trope.) If you're a writer, remember that conflict is important, but it can't be artificial. Don't have your characters fight over something ridiculous.

Conflict in Apollo 13 would have been understandable--those guys were literally in a life or death situation. So make sure your characters don't always get along--if it makes sense with them and the story.

Even in the future, stories must have conflict.

Here's an example of how I added conflict to my romantic comedy, The Notorious Ian Grant. It's kind of an easy example, though. It's Ian's first meeting in several years with his sister, Allie (the star of Storm Chaser), and to say the two haven't gotten along is putting it mildly:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time everyone took a full plate to the dining area downstairs, and Ian headed for the sink to rinse out cans for recycling, he figured he had some karmic points that might come in handy later.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Or maybe I need those karmic points right now.

He turned slowly. He’d been watching for his family, but didn’t realize there was another entrance from outside, at the back of the kitchen. Behind him everyone who’d helped with the food had stayed upstairs, and now paused in the middle of getting themselves a meal from the leftovers. Ian glimpsed one already full plate in front of an empty chair, and figured it must be for the latecomer – and building owner.

“Hey, Al. So … you still mad about me blowing up your Malibu Barbie?”

Allison Craine stood in the doorway, hands on hips and rage on face. “Who let you in? I thought I had this place sprayed for pests.” Her chocolate hair was braided tight against her head, and everything else was covered with mud: work boots, jeans, oversized flannel shirt, right up to the fine features of her face. She could easily pass for someone Beth’s age, if that someone had been playing in a mud pit.

“I missed you, too.” Looks like I’m sleeping in the car tonight. Moving cautiously forward, he gestured toward the empty spot at the table. Look, we made a plate for you.”

“It’s actually for you,” Heather whispered. Beth shushed her.

“If you were involved, I’d check it for alcohol.” Allie stalked forward, fists clenched, until she came face to face with her brother. “What are you doing here? We have enough trouble.”

“I came here to help.” He dropped the last can into her recycling bin. “See? Also, I gave up drinking over a year ago.”

“You –" She rolled her eyes. “You did not.”

“I was there –"

“Just last month you were seen dirty dancing with that Bethani girl.”

Heather gasped.

“Al, that wasn’t –"

“In the middle of Hollywood Boulevard!”

“She was drunk, not me – I was trying to keep her from getting run over, and you of all people know how the scandal sheets love to change the facts. If you’d picked up the phone, I could have told you.”

“What possible reason would I have to speak with you?”

“So I can apologize!” He heard his voice rising, and knew it was the wrong reaction, but couldn’t stop himself. For the last year he’d tried to clean up his act, and nobody believed him. “It’s all well and good that you’re everybody’s Pulitzer Prize winning darling, but some of us have to atone for what we did in our youth. I can’t make things right if nobody will let me try.”

“Do you have any idea what you did to me over the years?”

“Of course I do.” Ian looked over his shoulder at the silent table, mostly women and teenagers, with Fran the closest. Two men wearing blue fire department t-shirts stood frozen in the other doorway, and he realized it was Chance and the firefighter from earlier, Rich. So … an audience.

“I showed up drunk at Allie’s coming out party. I wrote a book about our dad – for money. I posed for a skin magazine, smoked and drank and partied my way through my twenties, fought with bouncers, and drag raced my way across California. I blew all my money in Vegas and then took jobs in bad B movies to make more. I ruined her childhood and mine by fighting with dad, throwing things, running away, and giving drunken interviews, and I slept with her best friend.”

Ian paused to catch his breath. Total silence reigned until he turned back to his sister.

“Who needs to make up for what they’ve done more than I do?”

But Allie shook her head. “How can I trust you now? Wherever you go, trouble follows.”

The kitchen window exploded inward.

Someone shrieked as glass shot across the room between the dining table and the kitchen. Ian felt shards dig at his bare arm and saw others spatter across Fran, in the seat closest to him.

For an instant afterward Ian heard nothing but the tinkling of falling glass. His gaze went from the shattered window across the room to the wall, where a small hole showed at head height. “Hey … that’s a bullet hole.”

Before he finished speaking Fran launched herself from her chair. Behind her Chance shoved Rich into the hallway with one hand and pointed with the other: “Everybody get down!” Ian saw no more because Fran slammed into him, driving him into Allie, and all of them into the sheltered space behind the kitchen island.

“Get off me!”

Ian rolled away, slammed into the island, then yelped when silverware showered over him. He scooped up a butter knife and started to get to his knees, but Fran waved him down. She had her pistol out, and crouched at the end of the island while speaking urgently into her portable radio. Of the others Ian could hear only rustling and panicked whispers.

“Sis, you okay?” He looked over at Allie, who’d scooted to sit with her back to the stove and grabbed up a spoon. “I think we’d be better off with silver bullets, instead of silverware.”

“This is your fault!” She brandished the spoon at him.

“My fault? This is your place, how is it my fault?”

Fran glanced back at them, looking disgusted. “Excuse me, we just got shot at.”

“But seriously, my fault?”

“Because you’re here!” Suddenly realizing what she held, Allie threw the spoon down and reached for a fork. “How often has this place been shot at before? Never, until you arrived.”

“Oh, come on. Who’d want to kill me?” Even as he said it, faces and names flashed by.

“Ex-girlfriends, husbands of ex-girlfriend –“

“I’d never –“

“Property owners, judges, cops, producers, directors, creditors, bookies –“

“Don’t forget music moguls.”

“And all your relatives! And my best friend from high school.”

“She still likes me.”

“She has a voodoo doll of you.”

“That explains my chronic neck pain ...”

“That’s not where she stabs it.”

Suddenly Ian realized Fran had disappeared around the island. “Fran?”

“Fran?” Allie repeated. She crept toward the end of the island. “Chance?”

“Be careful.”

“Get stuffed. Chance!”

They both jumped when Fran appeared around the corner again, at a crouch but holstering her weapon. “Help’s right around the corner. We just need to sit tight until they’ve cleared us.”

“Oh, good.” Allie turned to glare at her brother. “Until next time.”

“Hey … maybe it was debris from the tornado.” Even as he spoke, Ian knew how ridiculous that sounded.

“The tornado three days ago?”

“Maybe Dorothy’s house just landed,” murmured Fran, as she tried to peek out the nearest window.

“Look …” Ian put the knife down and held his hands out toward Allie. “If this turns out to be my fault in any way, I’ll gladly pay the damages.”

“And get out of my life?”

“Yes, but in the meantime I’ve got something very important to ask you.”

Eyes narrowed, Allie gestured with the fork. Not a friendly gesture. “What?”

“Can I spend the night here?”

The books of the Storm Chaser series, and all of our other published works, are hanging around, just waiting to be read:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: It’s hard to get into conflict if you’re busy reading.

Current Mood: amused

ozma914

Last fall I visited Black Pine Animal Sanctuary and, as one does, took pictures. Last month I decided to do a photo post around the middle of every week, so ... there you go. We're blessed to have BPAS only a couple of miles from our home in Albion, and Chain O' Lakes State Park just a little further out.

For some reason, this photo makes me think of politics. I don't know why.

Honestly, I'd rather face a big cat than a primate. Having said that, I was happy to have all of them on the other side of a fence.

My full body photo of this guy didn't come out, but this one is a lot scarier. Ostrich, yes, or ... dinosaur? The time I saw him before this he nibbled on my arm a little.

I have a bad habit of not getting the names of the animals, or even their species. This one, obviously, is not an ostrich. However, I did get its name: Petronus.

Turtle! Alligator photos didn't come out through the window--but I was happy to have that window. My secret to photography is to take lots and lots of pictures, in the hopes one or two will come out.

Emily says I have a way with animals. I don't know, but some of the humans with me noticed a lot of Black Pine's occupants keeping an eye on me. Maybe they were wondering if I taste like chicken.

If you want to pay a visit, or donate--and you should--check them out here:

https://www.bpsanctuary.org/

Black Pine rescues exotic animals who've been neglected or mistreated, then give them a good home for the rest of their lives. Pictures are fine, but there's nothing like seeing these guys with your own eyes.

Of course, you also might want to support ours writing! I believe Mufasa, a former resident of Black Pine, appears in Images of America: Albion and Noble County.

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914