The 12 days of Obsessive Christmas Decorating-day 3

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You might have a Obsessive Christmas Decorating problem if;

If the timer that turns on your Christmas lights has its own satellite dish so it can synchronized its time to three different GPS satellites. For a backup the timer has it own Internet connection to the Navy’s atomic clock in Washington DC.

If you duck tape an umbrella over your inflatable snowman in the front yard to keep the rain from shorting out the 350 extra Christmas lights you packed inside him.

If each family members gets their presents wrapped in their own color. Then you take off all the blue wrapping paper because it causes depression. Then you take off the green paper because the color is too light and it clashes with the Christmas tree. Then you take off all the red paper because people might think it’s naughty. Now you’re worried about all the presents being wrapped in yellow paper.

If you love fruit cake and think that anyone who doesn’t just doesn’t use enough bourbon, before, after, and on the fruit cake.

If fellow office workers threaten to do very un-Christmas like things to you if you play that Mannheim Steamroller CD once more.

If you rig a photo cell light beam so that anyone walking up to the front door will breaks the beam causing the wreath on the front door to light up. The lights on the wreath are so bright that they stunned the mail person and she fell backwards off the front porch.

(Sung to the tune of “Walking In A Winter Wonderland.)
All the lights they’re a blinking, all the decorations are a twinkling, we’re listening to the song as we’re walking along, marveling at the Christmas wonderland.

Stay strong, write on. Professor Hyram Voltage

The twelve days of a Power Tools Christmas

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The twelve days of a Power Tools Christmas (nothing says Christmas like home made Christmas decorations and POWER TOOLS). You know the tune.

On the first day of Christmas I went and bought myself
a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the second day of Christmas I went and bought myself
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the third day of Christmas I went and bought myself
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the forth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the fifth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the sixth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the eight day of Christmas I went and bought myself
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the ninth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
9 spot lights,
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the tenth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
10 paint brushes,
9 spot lights,
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the eleventh day of Christmas I went and bought myself
11 extension cords,
10 paint brushes,
9 spot lights,
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

On the twelfth day of Christmas I went and bought myself
12 sheets of plywood,
11 extension cords,
10 paint brushes,
9 spot lights,
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

The 12 days of Obsessive Christmas Decorating-day 2

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You might have an Obsessive Christmas Decorating problem if;

If you have ever cut a branch off a Christmas tree and glued it back on in a different place so the tree would look natural, balanced.

If you have rearranged the Christmas lights, decorations, and displays in your neighbor’s front yard because they weren’t aligned with his house.

If your boss tells you to take down some of the Christmas decorations you put up in your cubical, at work, because they’re blocking the hallways and keep blowing the circuit breakers.

If the shelf in your cubical at work collapsed because you had too many elfs on the shelf.

If your boss tells you to stop answering the phone HO, HO, HO.

If you stop and buy three strings of Christmas lights on your way home after work and you have ten new in-the-box strings of lights setting on the work bench at home that you haven’t put up yet.

If you see a great, you-build-it, decoration in a woodworking magazine at the dentist office and stop off at the hardware store on the way home and get;
12 sheets of plywood,
11 extension cords,
10 paint brushes,
9 spot lights,
8 vampire plugs,
70 feet of garland,
6 rolls of wrapping paper,
5 gallons of paint,
4 inflatable snowmen,
3 boxes of nails,
2 nail guns,
and a really big, humongous, table saw.

Stay strong, write on, and build a Merry Christmas. Professor Hyram Voltage

The 12 days of Obsessive Christmas Decorating day 1

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You might have an Obsessive Christmas Decorating problem;

If your neighbor complains about you using a precision machinist ruler to measure the distance between Christmas ornaments when you put them on the tree in your front yard.

If you get upset when you explain to your neighbor that a yard stick isn’t accurate enough.

If your wife gets upset when you order a 24 inch long calipers on Amazon (I always wanted one of them) to measure where to put the Christmas ornaments on the tree. I forgot the rule. No buying tools starting one month before Christmas. But honey my eyes aren’t as good as they use to be.

If you cut up a string of Christmas lights and re-solder the lights back together because the lights weren’t exactly the same distance apart and the colors weren’t in the right order.

If you use a triple beam balance scale to weigh your home made chocolate chip cookies to ensure that each cookie weights the same. You also count the chocolate chips in each cookie to make sure each one has the same number of chips.

If you take all the misshapen cookies, the over or under weight cookies and the cookies that have the wrong number of chocolate chips to work and give them to your frenemy and you get mad because the frenemy likes them. Likes them a lot, but they’re flawed.

If you take home made chocolate covered sun flower seeds for your friend the red neck at work, and you forget and left the shells on the sun flower seeds, and he likes them. You have a real problem if the boss likes them to.

If you go back to the fancy gift warp store for paper with a different design because the design on the paper you got is too big and goes around the edge of the gift spoiling the picture.

If you take the Christmas tree back to where you bought it so they can cut the bottom of the tree straighter after you tried to cut it straight three times, you have a problem. Hey after all that cutting the top of the tree doesn’t touch the ceiling any more.

If you take it back twice to the place you bought it to have it cut again, you have a real problem.

If you take it back three times, you’re drunk which was the problem all along.

Stay strong, write on, decorate massively. Professor Hyram Voltage

When Will I Know I Am A Writer?

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You are a writer. I can say that till I’m blue in the face and you won’t believe me.

You want prof. You’ve been one since kindergarten, when they forced you to use a pencil the size of a blunt telephone pole to trace out the alphabet on a sheet of brown paper that had pieces of tree bark imbedded in it.

You are a writer if you write, once a day, once a week, whenever. No law says you have to write a certain amount by a certain time to be a writer.

You’re a creative writer when you fill out a tax form, an expensive form at work, a travel claim for a trip you took.

You’re an author when you get something published. It could be in a club newsletter, Your writer’s group blog, the local newspaper, in someones else’s blog, or even your own blog.

You’re an author if you write fan fiction and post it on the web. I don’t care what anyone says, you’re not only a writer, you’re an author.

You’ve make it as an author when you publish a book on Amazon. No one has to buy the book. You’re published, you’re an author.

You’ve made it as an author if someone writes fan fiction using your characters.

You’ve really made it as an author if someone writes slash fiction using your characters.

You’re better than average author if you get trolled for your writing.

You know you’re a real writer and author when you start your second book before you finish your first book, even after all the suffering, the giving up of watching TV, giving up time with family and friends, the hours of sitting by yourself writing. Writing is hard, writing the second book is incredibility hard, but you’re a real writer.

Don’t tell people; “I’m a writer.” That’s passive. Tell them; “I write Horror,” “I write Steampunk,” “I write Fan Fiction.” “I write the best story you’ll ever read.”

Stay strong, write on, and publish. Professor Hyram Voltage.

The first person you need to convince is you, yourself. And it’s real easy to convince yourself if you’re standing there holding a book, a book you wrote, in your hand.

Loss

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A friend lost his house in the fires around The City of Ventura, California yesterday. I offered to help all I could, but it’s not enough. He looked in bad shape the morning after he had to evacuate. He couldn’t get back to his house to find out if it was gone or not. The police still had the area blocked off.

His neighbors saw their house burn. The neighbors house was across the street and up a little on the side of a hill. They could not see my friends house from the spot they saw the neighbor’s house burn. There were no fire trucks or anyone around the house when it caught fire.

All the pain of loss. There are many things in my friends house that can not be replaced. Things that have memories tied to them.

How do I or anyone capture the feelings, of loss, of the heartbreak of not being able to help, of being helpless for someone? How do you put that in a story? How do you make someone feel those emotions?

Stay strong, write on, stay safe. Things can be replaced, but you can’t be replaced.    Professor Hyram Voltage.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

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Twas the night before a Steampunk Christmas
And all through the Castle and Keep
Not a creature was stirring
Not even the monsters dared make a peep.

The tree was trimmed
but underneath it looked so bare
waiting for presents
soon to be placed there

The guards were asleep,
in their barracks so quiet.
A couple of Mickey Finns,
insured there would be no riot.

The ice box was full
of good food and beer.
Tomorrow there shall be
lots of good cheer.

And I was in my laboratory
beneath the dungeon so deep,
assembling a child bicycle.
Tonight I would not get much sleep.

Bells rang, siren screeched.
Up periscope to take a peek.
Was it taxman, the swat team?
Was my electric bill over do this week?

Up to the ramparts,
I ran in a mad dash.
Out in the distances,
I saw a bright flash.

I pulled down my goggles,
to shield my eyes from the light.
The glare on the snow was so bright
it blinded my sight.

From the ramparts I saw
such a magnificent sight,
A sleigh pulled by 8 rocket powered reindeer
flew through the night.

The pilot of this missile
this airship dancing on flame,
threw levers and called orders
to the reindeer by name.

Up Rivet, up Washer,
Bank left Pan-head, and Lug Nut.
now right Cross-threat and Grommet,
fly on Set screw, and Wing Nut.

Only one person I knew,
could drive such a thing,
good old Robot Saint Nick,
had come once again.

Through the still of the night
I heard that jolly pilot call
Up to the turret,
now to the top of the hall
There are so many presents
we must deliver them all!

Just when it seemed
they would crash into the wall,
he pushed buttons, threw levers.
and turbo charged them all.

From above I could hear the pounding
of each mechanical reindeer hoof.
Followed by the noise
of a pallet full of toys hitting the roof.

I raced and I ran to the great tree in the Hall,
but I found he wasted not a moment at all.
The gleam of silver hands flashing in the lights,
his bright cheerful garments were a pleasing sight.

A wave of a little vacuum
that made so much huffing and puffing,
all the soot and ashes on his clothes
were gone as if sucked into nothing.

A smoke stack rose from his shoulder by his ear,
up and over his metal hair.
The puffs of white steam made crystals wreaths
in the cold winter’s air.

His eyes were glowing,
his brass cheeks gleaming.
He was quite a pleasing construction
this mechanical being.

There was a life in those eyes
and that shiny metal face,
and the room filled with mellow laughter
as he rushed about the place.

The present he placed with precision and care
he gave the room one sweep of his gaze
turned and bowed
and then with speed that left me in a daze

With pallet jack and bag
into the chimney he went.
He pulled on a cable
and was raised by a winch.

With quick motions he stowed
everything away
and with a hop he bounded
into his sleigh.

With a blast on a steam whistle
he turned and waved.
Then with a rocket blast
he sped on his way.

It’s been said many times
but could be no more truer than tonight,
Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

Stay strong, write on, Merry Christmas.      Professor Hyram Voltage

It’s in the mail didn’t work in the 1850’s

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When I was very young, I would stay with my grandmother. Grandfather ran his own business and Grandmother always got anxious when the mailman was due. There could be a check in the mail.

Back then the mailman came twice a day. Once in the morning and again around 3 o’clock.

In the 1850s there were not that many telephones, no radios, and telegrams were very expensive. You had to go see someone in person or send them a letter. You could send a letter in the morning to invite someone to tea and get a response that they would be coming well before tea time.

I haven’t seen a story that implies that the mail was prompt and delivered several times a day. Also there were messengers, professional messengers, not just any old person off the street.

How could they afford to deliver mail twice a day. Estimates for how much a 1850 dollars could buy today range from 33.33 dollars to 4000.00 dollars. I recently saw an inflation article that stated that a dollar in 2014 could only buy $0.13 in 1965. So I feel that a dollar today may be worth 1/2000th of a 1850’s dollar. That’s half way between the $33.00 and $4000.00 estimate. So a penny postcard would cost a dollar of today’s money or several dollars in today’s money.

Don’t forget that train service was good in the past and the mail traveled by train. Mail traveling by ship could take several days but it could beat a messenger.

People that lived before cell phones and telephones could and did communicate, some times weekly or even daily. Without telephones letter writing was the only way to communicate long distances and people took letter writing seriously.

Your story should take letter writing seriously.

Stay strong, write on, write a letter today. Professor Hyram Voltage.

Thanksgiving past

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I went to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things for lunch. It’s a straight shot from the front door to the meat section. I headed to the meat case looking for an alternative protein for lunch.

As I was looking for the specials there were several people arguing about turkeys. This one or that one, the neighbors paid 49 dollars for a turkey.

I then realized it four days till Thanksgiving. Grabbed a package of turkey thighs and a box of dressing. I’m good.

I’ve been busy with projects. Time has got away form me. I’ve got friends coming in the day after Thanksgiving. I got to clean up the house, big time.

What’s this have to do with Writing Steampunk?

What was Thanksgiving like in 1880? There’s little information was on the web. Did they eat turkey? Dressing was common with most meals. It was a way to use old bread. You didn’t waste food in the 1880’s. Ice boxes were somewhat common. Ice was shipped in from the Northeast from ice houses where the frozen top of lakes were chopped up and stored. Still long term storage of food was hard to do. Some food could be salted, brined (as in pickled) or dried.

Canning wasn’t common. A lot of canning still used glass containers. Hard to ship the glass jars making canned goods expensive.

Your character could be working so hard on her river going pile driver hoping to win the new bridge contract that she forgets Thanksgiving is right around the corner. She has to make her mother’s famous turkey biscuits for Thanksgiving.

Or the hero is in a race to develop a steam powered crawler that can travel through deep mud to supply remote areas that has had their crops wiped out by floods. The storms and rain are stopping the air ships from making the run, and it cost too much to send food by airship.

Think of having your hero drop food out of an air ship. Supplying cattle trapped in a snow storm. The enemy cattle baron tries to shoot down and heavily damages your hero’s air ship. Saved by the native Americans that the air ship supplied earlier with food (the cattle food is grain and it wasn’t really meant for them). Think of the big show down between the air ship crew with the Native Americans against the Cattle Baron and his army of werewolf gunslingers.

Stay strong, write on, give thanks.  Professor Hyram Voltage.

A Time to Stop Writing

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I stopped writing for the NanoWriMo challenge this year. I know you what you are thinking, he wrote for a little over one week and then quit.
I didn’t quite writing. I have two manuscripts setting here that need to go to an editor and they’re not ready for the editor to see. To paraphrase Ben Grimm, It’s editing time. And I mean massive edit and rewrite time.
It’s also time to find more Beta Readers to run the manuscripts by before sending them to an editor. Finding Beta Readers is proving to be a huge time sink. Why is it so hard for me?
I have a four inch pile of print outs, covered with multicolored notes to crank  into the second manuscript before I can start editing it.
I’m a writer of books. It’s time to turn those manuscripts into books. Right now I don’t need another manuscript. So why am I coming up with so many ideas for stories, fascinating ideas. It’s amazing how your mind can sabotage you.
Editing and rewriting is writing, I’m not goofing off. Editing is painful writing. Slow painful writing. Emotionally trying, heart wrenching writing.
I am getting my priorities straight. I have fallen back to the priority of writing books, not to writing manuscripts. I’ve got manuscripts, I need to get some book published.
Could the manuscripts be better? Yes, but as Stephen King put it, the way to write better books is to write more books. That’s books not manuscripts.
I did not quit. I traded my time I would have spent writing in the NanoWriMo challenge for time to edit and get my manuscripts edited and published.
Stray strong, write on, edit more. Professor Hyram Voltage