Fleshing out...

Well, it was another disappointment for The Platinum Ticket and it would appear that I've pretty much tapped out the North American market for this one. At just over 23,000 words the piece is a difficult length - it's not a short story, nor is it a novel. There may be a few British markets that still entertain novella-length science fiction and if there are I'll find them but I really do think it's time to flesh Ticket out to novel length.

I have been repeatedly assured by those who have read The Platinum Ticket that it is a fine piece of fiction...and I'm pretty sure it is too, so I do think it is certainly worth the effort to build upon the root story.

I recently reconnected with an old high-school chum through Facebook - yes, I have a Facebook account - I know, I know - I'm too old and too grey but they say everyone's welcome and there's a lot of us over 40 folks sitting in our rockers typing away, I'll have you know... Anyway, this old friend reminded me of a road trip we once made in a convertible VW Bug with a shitty European heater in the dead of winter that I'm thinking is uniquely Canadian enough for the CBC Literary Awards. I'll have to get it on paper to see. Thanks for jogging the memory, Brett.

Well, tonight is the first night of the indoor soccer season for the young lad so I must be off.

yeah, that's the Ticket, baby!

It was an exciting weekend here at the Beynon homestead. My sweet missus was away for the weekend leaving me with the kids. It was great...but tiring.

What I would really like to know is who sneaks into the house and slips the kids the cocaine. Seriously, one second everything will be fine. Everyone will be full of love and happiness and then something happens and all hell lets loose.

Now I worked extra hard this weekend monitoring for the early signs of escalation and headed each potential derailer of harmony off at the pass but I was doomed to fail from the start. There's two of them and even though I'm the adult...they're smarter than me.

All told, there was no blood and only some tears and most of those were shed by me late in the day when I had finally cajoled, bargained and sang the kids to sleep.

When my wife came home on Sunday afternoon two lightning streaks swept by me to greet her. You'd have thought I'd had them in shackles from their reaction. I was equally glad to see her, though she did show up just as Mike Weir and Tiger Woods were closing in on the fifteenth hole of the President's Cup and thus had to wait for her hug.

Last night after the children were asleep I had to retreat for about an hour and a half to the basement to finish polishing The Platinum Ticket for submission to Jim Baen's Universe. I had forgotten about the September 30th deadline until earlier in the day. Fortunately I was able to tweak a few parts that needed some attention and get it submitted. Now the waiting game begins.

My wife has lent the manuscript for Patriot to a few of her colleagues at work and so far all of the feedback has been very positive. I've let a few friends take a gander at it as well and it has been received with some enthusiasm. Currently the manuscript stands at 112 pages - a typical length for an entry in the 3 Day Novel Contest - but Patriot could easily be fleshed out to full novel length without losing any of the spirit of the story.

The Dream Boss...

It has been a busy week with the new job. I have been reconnecting with old customers and reaching out to some new ones. Over the next few weeks everything should begin to gel and something resembling a routine should emerge - or at least as close to routine as something like sales can be.

I can't express how satisfying it is to have a boss who supports you and wants nothing more than for you to succeed. I spent too many years working for someone who didn't understand that if I was successful, so was he. Too many years wasted working for someone too thick to realize that when you're selling a good or service your customers are essential and need to be treated accordingly, not as a nuisance that must be endured.

My new boss built this company and knows firsthand that if I do well, he does well. He has said to me, "Any thing you need - any tools you require - any resources you have to call upon to be successful - just let me know."

A friend of mine - Diane - said, "Cool, you're working for Hank Scorpio!"

Hank Scorpio is the guy on the right. (I guess that kinda makes me the guy on the left, huh?) In case you don't know him, Hank Scorpio is the Bondesque, kind-hearted super villain who hired Homer to help with his world domination scheme. Scorpio's organization boasted full dental and health benefits, profit sharing, stock options and 3 weeks paid vacation to start. Hank rewarded results. "Thanks, Homer. Good job. When you get home tonight you'll have an addition on your house." That's the kind of thing Hank Scorpio throws out for a little effort.

Now I'm not saying I'll be getting the Denver Broncos as a bonus (Homer did, though he complained they weren't the Dallas Cowboys), but real rewards for real results sounds pretty good to me.

Writing has not be zipping along so well. I have started to rewrite Small Town Secrets, decided to start over with the new handwritten first-draft thing. I also just looked at the date and I need to polish The Platinum Ticket a bit for submission to Jim Baen's Universe before the end of the month.

I received a notification from the 3 Day Novel Contest informing me that the manuscript for Patriot was received. Now I just need to wait until January to see how I fare.