Ting-a-ling-a-ling, crackle-

crackle, POP!, fizzle, HO-HO-

HO, bzzzzzzt, scrape-scrape,

clatter-chatter, ding-dong,

burp, chop-chop, snip-snip,

clink, ZzZzzZzzzz, CRASH!

     IF YOU CAN NAME 10 of the sources of today’s 15 Sounds of the Seasons (Above) and 5 of yesterday’s 10 Sounds of the Seasons (Below) . . . YOU’LL WIN your name in type as big and bold as my post headlines (your choice of colors) PLUS your picture AND an up-to-300-word message from you, posted right here on this site from 12 noon ET New Year’s Eve, 2008, to 12 noon ET New Year’s Day, 2009! 

     Just think, you can New Year’s party your brains out and then  –ZING!–  fling open your laptop and call everyone you know to see your 24 hours of Internet fame, and still have it be there when you sober up the next morning. 

     The perfect way to kick-off the bowl games, propose to your sweetheart (or maybe someone you meet New Year’s Eve!), initiate your first quarter sales program, publicize your Polar Bear Club winter swim schedule, or get your worry list ready for your annual January shrink visits! 

     Imagine the envy and jealousy you can create as your parting shot to 2008.  Think of the hope and positive vibes and well wishes you can send as your welcome message for 2009! 

     If you do a really good job of guessing the Sounds of the Season sources, or if you don’t guess right, but you do it creatively, I will also consider posting your bio (or resume if you’re job hunting — hey, y’never know!).     

     You heard me, even if you guess wrong but do it creatively, you could still win worldwide creative genius acclaim and notoriety, right here in blog city. 

     This site is visited regularly by thousands of people from more than 30 different countries.  We’re not just talking “hits” here; these are quality visitors who stay on this blog site an average of 15-30 minutes each . . . enough time to decide to interview you, hire you, marry you, or just send you cash!

     Here’s your chance to give a sales pitch for yourself, or your business or political or community or organizational cause for FREE. 

     No strings attached.  No one will make sales calls and your email address and name will be kept in a shoebox under my bed — no sales or rentals; no spam; no annoying anything.  That’s a promise. 

     Winners will be notified by email by December 27th, 2008.  I reserve the right to edit any submission for decency, good taste, and overall presentation. 

     GO FOR IT!  Emails to Hal@TheWriterWorks.com with “SOUNDS OF THE SEASON” in the subject line.  halalpiar    # # #

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Aaaargh, OOoooh, Umpf,

GlugGlug, Gurgle, Gobble,

FaLaLaLaLa, Hiccup, Yum,

STOP YELLING!   

     Well, a little digest-yesterday’s-turkey-soccer-game today with my son-in-law, my all-state soccer star nephew, my travel team soccer star grandson and my two soccer-player grandaughters reminded me about the notion of time slippage (funny, I would have sworn I was hitting my late teens before the game started as surely as I felt 95 by the time we finished –10 to 8 final score), and the need to eat less next year!

Have you ever seen a beaver wearing glasses? 

      As for sounds of the season, btw (thumb-basher-text-messaging-shorthand for “by the way”), by the way, I’m really not a bah-humbug guy; in fact, I LOVE Christmas, BUT I TRULY HATE Christmas music and commercials that start before Halloween, and that steamroller over Thanksgiving like it was Ground Hog’s Day. 

     What in the world makes retailers think they will make more money if they advertise earlier? Right-o, jolly-good, and all that.  Of course I’ll just dig deeper in my wallet and start pulling out all those sequestered thousand dollar bills to spend on gifts because all that wonderful, exilarating advertising is reaching me earlier this year!

     Oh, yeah, and all those blessed charitable moods that start to kick in about now . . . you know, the ones that are sabotaged by print, broadcast, online and direct mail requests for my hard-earned dollars that came by way of hard-working wage-earning needy neighbors right here in my community.   

     Well, la-de-dah, now I’m supposed to pile up those hard-earned dollars and kiss them goodbye (along with my needy neighbors!), and immediately wire my money half-way around the planet to such needy causes as the NFACLISSYBB (Nonprofit Foundation for the Astigmatic Correctional Lens Implants of Speckle-Spotted, Yellow-Bellied Beavers).

     Of course, with some tenacious googling, I might find that these poor, afflicted beavers are critically essential (like cones and cups are to ice cream) to nocturnal pigmies in the Outback who rely on them for nighttime navigation when the moon is not full . . . because numerous pigmies will undoubtedly wander about aimlessly through the night, midst crocodiles, snakes and wild boars without beaver beacons to guide them.  I mean have you ever seen a beaver wearing glasses or contact lenses?

     So present-wise, what’s a person to do?  Do you go for these needy charities and hope your relatives and friends will understand and appreciate the potential tax deduction possibilities? 

     OR, does one, for example, spring for the $400 electronic book reader as a potentially emancipating Christmas gift accompanied by expressions of your seasonal hopes and prayers for cousin Billy Bob (whose idea of a book is something he was told that the judge once threw at him when he was brought in on a DUI charge for riding a large senior citizen tricycle . . . yes, of course one with a tall antenna brandishing a bright orange pennant . . . for cutting across the 20-something lane plaza at the foot of the Driscoll Bridge on New Jersey’s infamous Garden State Parkway at morning rush hour when the 65 mph speed limit goes to 387 mph (350 mph if roads are wet!) OR, do you just get him the antique Arthur Godfrey ukulele he fawns over at the corner pawn shop?

     Such a quandary!  Oh, and to the sounds of the season list, add:

Y  I  K  E  S  !               

  halalpiar

# # #

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With all this fowlness in the air

     Okay, so I’m thinking if he looks like a turkey, and moves herkey-jerky like a turkey, and gobbles like a turkey, he’s not a duck! 

     Regrettably, however, because mixed feather-beds can be confusing when it’s time to get some sleep, the talkative new leader of all the other turkeys has managed to exercise his powerful gobbling to attract some duck followers as well. 

     With all this fowlness in the air, it’s surprising to hear the turkey leader hasn’t been able to find adequate appointees to the upper echelon of turkeys . . . strong active turkeys who get the pecking orders straight. 

     No, instead, the new turkey boss has thusfar selected a scrawny gaggle whose get-things-done qualifications flutter aimlessly around their experiences of having already spent themselves trying to appease the whims of their past leaders.

     This collection of left-limping turkeys he plans to surround his nest with, is, I suppose,  better, in a way, certainly, than the unscrupulous and anti-flying creature contingent of past associations, but not much better. 

     The top turkey’s choices are also hardly satisfying, or instilling of confidence to those who feed them.  Though, alas, the turkey chieftain resolutely declares his choices to be “fresh faces.” 

     This means that all the turkeys in the land –and that bunch of misdirected ducks– will accept the appointee collection on (fresh) face value.  [And turkeys, you may want to remember, are not among those creatures God has blessed with great-looking faces!]    

     Perchance the turkey boss has forgotten these worn out fresh faces were spent years ago accomplishing nothing in the footsteps of their then do-nothing turkey leaders?  Who exactly are we talking about here? what past leaders? you may ask. 

     Oh, please, surely you know.  Remember the one who was preoccupied with the varied uses of Cuban cigars that were –like other similar products– tried but never inhaled?  And still he hangs around like arm-candy under his turkey-wife’s wing.

     Or, then there was the homely peanut farmer who turkeys, ducks (even pigeons) wish would just go back to quietly tending (shelling and salting?).  Surely those products of his would be more appeasing to elephants on the cusp of a stampede than his meddling insistence on beating the bushes to stir up the natives. 

     [Maybe none of the other turkeys have told the ex-turkey boss, or the new one, that elephants can’t “reach across the aisle” when the turkeys on the other side are all swinging machetes?]   halalpiar

# # #

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Yep! History In The Making… 

This being a thankful week, I thank you for joining me today.  With anticipation of my blog post #200 coming on Thanksgiving Day, YOU now have the chance to be part of history in the making . . . 

     I am asking all my friends and blog followers to write favorable comments in the window below that I can take with me to Washington. 

     I will print out your comments and hand them over as accompanying support for my request to be granted a real, honest-to-goodness, taxpayer-dollars-paid-for government bailout. 

     This financial relief will enable me to continue writing blog posts that benefit society without putting any compensation burden on me to have to sell advertising banners, or pay myself a salary with money that I’m just not earning right now. 

[Of course the future will be different, and I’ll only need annual bailout money for possibly seven or eight more years until my, ahem, ship comes in!]  

     I don’t think this is asking too much.  After all, I have a great many years under my belt of paying taxes at great personal sacrifice.  It’s probably time to get some of that back, maybe even more than what I’ve paid in. 

     I have also accumulated significant business debt that came about as a result of my focus change to write helpful business and personal growth hints for others instead of to make sales for myself. 

     Being accustomed to a $900,000 a year lifestyle, I imagine it would be awfully hard to get myself under that to qualify for those campaign-promised tax cuts so I wouldn’t have to be paying into the bailout kitty — let’s see, was it a $250,000 level according to one candidate, or $100,000 level promised by his running mate?  Hmmm.  Well, a hundred, two hundred and fifty, not much difference. Whatever. 

     Paying for incompetence with bailouts funded by taxes.  Now that’s a unique idea.  But, hey, that’s what government is for anyway, isn’t it?  I mean, who else could I turn to?  You might find this surprising, but no one I know of has the ability to pump $3,000,000,000,000+ into shoring up sinking businesses.

(Oh, and, don’t kid yourself: considering that absolutely no one on this planet has even the slightest clue about how many billions and trillions are about to get shell-game shifted around, or by whom, and to whom, and what for, and for how long, and where it’s all coming from, it could be the + on top of that three trillion that’s the real kicker!).

     Of course, I’m sure I will need to unionize first to qualify.  It’d be wonderful to add a dozen or so employees to my blog staff (maybe I could write posts twice a day!) just so I could collect. 

     None of the union folks would actually do anything, but what else is new?  They provide qualification clout.  That works.  Why, it’s almost like being able to get more food stamps by adding more kids to the family!       halalpiar     

# # #

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Whew!   

Well, let’s see, in just this one single week, for the recap benefit of those who have been kind enough and masochistic enough to visit my bloggerings regularly, we have:

• slept with the boss

• gotten physical, occupational, speech, and psycho therapy

• ordered $100,000 worth of astronaut tools for Christmas

• Read firsthand witness reports of NASCAR-finalist dump truck drivers on the NJ Turnpike, and been outmaneuvered on the road entering downtown Wilmington by two multi-tasking champion bimbettes, and . . . 

• Re-visited the whole outrageous idea of authenticity! 

Whew!  

What more could you ask for? 

And in the middle of it all, we still managed to continue the increasingly infamous 7-word story [See note below the # # # if you’re not familiar with this ongoing challenge to the clever-witted young-at-heart literary community out there, seeking a publishing venue for their talents] 

Now if ever there was an exciting week down in the blogmines (blogmires?), this has to have been it!  I mean where else can you get all that in one fell swoop, so to speak? 

And where does that leave us off for NEXT week?  Well, I could always suggest, for the more automotive-minded among you, to check out the blog site I do for my friends at I.G. Burton car,  truck, and bus Dealerships in Milford and Seaford Delaware. 

It’s http://blog.igburton.com for all the best and latest new and pre-owned Chevrolet, Chrysler, Dodge, Jeep, BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and Blue Bird Busses to be exact.  In fact, the post before tonight’s for them was offering a FREE MERCEDES!  Now sit there and tell me you could pass this up.  Anyway, see y’all tomorrow with new and exciting stuff!  Off to watch “24”!   halalpiar

# # #

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Hey, Home Depot!

Hey, Lowes!

Hey ACE Hardware!

Contractors, Repairmen, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ear!  Pack your tools up safe before you drink beer.  Or if today, on the Milky Way, a grease gun floats by . . . SIGH.

You’ve no doubt heard the news by now that one of our space-orbiting Astronauts lost a bagful of tools in the middle of doing a spacewalk repair.  Priceless.  Well, not quite. 

Actually the tool bag contents are estimated at roughly $100,000 worth of stuff, including a high-tech grease gun.  Hmmmm, whatever will space aliens think when they find out that Earthlings have been at war, shooting grease at one another?

There’s an old movie (name escapes me, but please let me know if this rings a bell): It opens in some desolete, remote jungle clearing occupied by a native tribe (Aborigines?) that has never before been exposed to civilization outside its own primative fire and spear devices of living, when suddenly from a rare passing airplane, a Coke bottle falls from the sky into the sand and ends up wreking havoc on the puzzled tribe members who I seem to recall think it came from God, dropped on them with some deep meaning from heaven.

Okay, now fast forward to the week before Thanksgiving, 2008, and a $25,000 (or $50,000?) greasegun crash lands in your front yard snow bank (if you’re in Maine, Alaska, Minnesota, Buffalo, or Canada, or the Swiss Alps or . . .) or your Southern California, Florida or Caribbean swimming pool, or W H E R E ? 

W H E R E ?

Tell me where it lands? 

What’s the situation? 

Has someone just screamed into the sky for help with the annoying garage door squeak? 

Is it in the middle of a major football game? 

How about you, all you Home Depot and Lowes employees?  Where are your voices, Sears Craftsman, and Black & Decker retailers? 

What would YOU do with a $100,000

bagful of high-tech space shuttle tools? 

Send me some ideas Hal@TheWriterWorks.com (“Space Tools” in the subject line.  I’ll publish your response, even your (decent) photo right here for all to see. 

Be creative or not.  Hard-nosed capitalists are also invited.  I’m waiting!  halalpiar        

 # # #

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When you can offer customers 

a clear differential, do it! 

     I know most men shy away from grocery shopping, but I’ve always enjoyed it.  I like seeing what’s new . . . products, services, promotions, packaging, pricing, fresh offerings (fish, meat, deli, bakery, produce). 

     I am what market researchers refer to as a “high tryer” for new and different items, especially those that never made it to THE list because they were considered too new and different by the List Boss! 

     Besides, when I tag along, I can also see firsthand all the wonderful savings most men only get to hear about (as in, “I saved over $50 on groceries today because I had my coupons and was able to get 437 twenty-four-packs of paper towels that were on sale!”)

     So, anyway, as I walked ten feet inside the front door of GIANT Supermarket, that has purportedly been losing customers to the new more upscale HARRIS TEETER supermarket down the street that caters to Yuppiedom descendents, I was confronted by a display of sorts featuring two shopping carts. 

     One cart was labeled GIANT.  It was filled to the brim with food products and accompanied by an actual GIANT itemized cash register receipt (under a heavy plastic lid covering the cart) for some total amount like $97. 

     Next to that was a second shopping cart labeled HARRIS TEETER that displayed the same products as cart #1, but was accompanied by an actual HARRIS TEETER itemized cash register receipt (same date as the GIANT receipt) for some total amount like $155. The amounts are likely wrong, but the impression was not. 

     When you can offer customers a clear differential, do it! 

     Even though I guess I knew there were significant price differences between the two supermarkets, and often would go to the more expensive one anyway just because I liked the atmosphere there, I must confess I haven’t forgotten this little piece of GIANT supermarket showmanship, and am now forced to question my own sanity for spending so much more for the same products. 

     Now I realize, the display –of necessity– was mostly dry packaged goods.  It would, after all, be a bit hard on both customers and staff, if the carts included week-old fish or ice cream or black bananas and gray hamburger for example, but it didn’t matter.  Like taking a called third strike that’s right down the middle of the plate: you have to accept it and walk away without arguing.  There was no arguing with this display.  It did it’s job. 

     When you show customers a fair and balanced, objective and clear differential, with an emotional trigger (wallet and pocketbook contents!), you win! 

     Oh, in case you forgot, by the way, thinking and acting like a winner is a choice!  Halalpiar

# # #

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Too much use of color.  

                                                      

Too much use of color. You can’t be all things to all people. The type sizes are too big. The type sizes are too small.  The blue color on the right is too light. Your manuscript synopsis is too wordy. Delete half the paragraph. The sentences are too long. 

Okay, okay. You’re right! Thank you!

(And stop using exclamation points!) 

Yes, indeedy.

I wrote about being a REwriter the other day, and tonight I was reminded by my wonderful, talented, loving writers critique group that everything I said then is still true a couple of days later.  Does that qualify for a longevity label?  It certainly qualifies for reinforcement of the truth. 

Everything every writer writes is going to end up rewritten if the writer is indeed serious about the process and the intent of her or his writing.  It’s not like you hammer a nail that’s a little crooked, but that serves the purpose of holding pieces together, that you can just overlook the bend without prying it out, and go on to the next nail because nobody will notice it anyhow.  Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.  When you write something, SOMEbody notices EVERYthing.

So instead of a too long, too colorful, too wordy, too exclamation-pointed blog post tonight, I am going to work on my long-overdue-for-REwrite-attention synopsis.  Hey, maybe it will get done by tomorrow, and we can return to my regular blog postings, the ones filled with uproarously provocative commentary.  You remember them?   

Tune in tomorrow.  Same time.  Same channel.  New synopsis.                halalpiar 

Check out and contribute to the daily growing 7-Word Story started 48 days ago (inside a coffin) that previously appeared at the end of each daily post, that now has it’s own home: Click on the link to the right, or go to the “BOOKS” tab at the top of this page, then to the lead headline link!

BULLETIN!  NEWS FLASH!

From the wire services . . . The communications industry has been rocked by the surprise announcement today of a new microchip that developers claim will allow the sending and receiving of text messages simply by thinking of the person with whom a user will want to communicate. 

The bead-sized chip, called “BeeDee” short for BrainDrain(c) was developed after three years of research on chickens. 

BeeDee(c) is embedded in the skull with a simple, minimally-invasive procedure that any family physician will be able to do during an in-office visit.  No anesthesia is necessary. 

The announcement came early this morning from two teenage tech game developers who embarked on the research project as a response to their chronically sore thumbs.  

     Weird news, huh? 

     True?  Naw, at least not yet.  I suppose we couldbe close to something so bizzare actually happening.  Well, okay, maybe not “chickens,” but mice are kind of overused these days.

     What’s the point? 

     In business, as in life, it seems that those who succeed most often are those who expect the unexpected.  Now I’m not advocating endless planning and worrying about what hasn’t yet come (and may never).  I’m simply saying something I’ve said in other ways on different days, that the healthiest physical, mental, and emotional place to be is the same place every good Boy Scout would recommend: PREPARED.  You know that place? 

     No, don’t start getting out your boots, umbrella, parachute and belt-holstered knife.  Not that kind of “prepared” (unless, of course, these kinds of items fit your lifestyle or situation). 

     I’m talking about regular stretching and exercising plus eating and sleeping right to be physically prepared for whatever comes along.  I’m talking about quickly considering “what’s the worst that could happen?” before taking any non-routine action so that at least you’ve thought it out and can respond promptly if necessary. 

     I’m talking about always keeping an open mind when dealing with others and try forcing yourself to listen 80% of the time and talk only 20% of the time. 

     Whoa!  Are you kidding?  Nope.  Try it three times this week and watch what happens!

When you sleep on

                                          

your ideas . . . “ 

     “And you, Sir, what do you do for a living?”

     “I’m a rewriter.”

     “A, ah, REwriter, Sir?  Um, a REwriter.  Is that what I understood you to say?  I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that career.  Do you write about RE’s, as in DO-RE-ME?  Or does this mean you write subject lines for memos where it says RE:?  Ha, Ha, Ha!”

     “Aaaah, yes, that’s very funny!  You must be the same guy who comes up with Letterman’s ‘Top 10’ lists.  No.  Sorry to disappoint you, it’s just that I am tired of lying all these years when people ask me that question, and I answer, writer!  Why?  Because the truth is that I—like every other writer—am a REwriter and that NO writer on Earth is a writer!  All of us are REwriters!“

     How do I know?  Show me one single writer who has ever written anything that she or he has not spent untold hours REwriting!  Go ahead!  Mention just one in the comment box below. 

      I have completed hundreds of articles; a few books; 125 blog posts; over 800 feature radio show scripts, numerous short stories and poems; thousands of ads. websites, news releases, commercials, speeches, business plans, college course curricula, billboards, and matchbook covers. 

     I’ll bet that I’ve spent at least 3-30 hours of REwriting for every 1 hour of writing! 

     Shakespeare REwrote.  Today’s most successful writers: Cormac McCarthy, John Grisholm, J.K. Rawling, David Baldacci, Kent Haruf, E. Annie Proulx, Richard Russo, Dean Koontz, Stephen Cannell, as just a short list of fiction-writer examples, REwrite every page of what we read in final published form as much as 20-30 times PER PAGE! 

     Why?  Because when you “sleep on” your ideas and then return to them a day (or week or month, sometimes years) later, you have lived and experienced so many more hours of life, that you have acquired a more perceptive perspective and improved skill for communicating more clearly than you had when you first rattled out your story or reporting ideas into manuscript format. 

     It’s refinement.  It’s enhancement.  It’s coming up with better word choices.  It’s figuring out better ways to paint verbal pictures.  It’s tweaking.  It’s the key ingredient in the creative process regardless of whether you’re a writer, and artist, a musician, an actor, a photographer, or a craftsperson. 

     It’s taking what you’ve started with and making it better. 

     So, RE-painting, RE-composing and RE-arranging, RE-hearsing, RE-shooting, and RE-crafting are all legitimate avenues that lead to standout performances and exceptional  accomplishments?  ABSOLUTELY! 

     In fact, RE is the ONLY avenue!      halalpiar

Check out and contribute to the daily growing 7-Word Story started 46 days ago (inside a coffin) that previously appeared at the end of each daily post, that now has it’s own home: Click on the link to the right, or go to the “BOOKS” tab at the top of this page, then to the lead headline link!