Slightly Off the Mark

From Scher Maihem Studios … my voice before I had sinus surgery!

 

And probably still my voice after, too. But here’s my column about winterizing, which you may have read last month under “Winterizing’s Not for the Weak” – now on audio with some whimsical video to go along. Personally I’m not a fan of my own voice, although I sound just find singing, as long as it’s in the shower without witnesses.

 

https://player.vimeo.com/video/147178362

 

Don’t forget, you can always see my Slightly Off the Mark column first in the Kendallville Mall!

 

Or:

 

From Scher Maihem Studios … my voice before I had sinus surgery!

 

And probably still my voice after, too. But here’s my column about winterizing, which you may have read last month under “Winterizing’s Not for the Weak” – now on audio with some whimsical video to go along. Personally I’m not a fan of my own voice, although I sound just find singing, as long as it’s in the shower without witnesses.

 

https://player.vimeo.com/video/147178362

 

Or see below if my computer talents work ... but I doubt it. Don’t forget, you can always see my Slightly Off the Mark column first in the Kendallville Mall!

 

 

<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/147178362" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p><a href="https://vimeo.com/147178362">Winterizing-SOTM</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/schermaihem">Scher Maihem Studios</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>

Coming soon to an ear near you:

https://player.vimeo.com/video/133668879

A preview for audible episode 2, where I tell the graduates like it is …

The good news is, thousands of writers report they’re making a pretty good living.


Unfortunately, that’s a proverbial iceberg tip, being held up by several hundred thousand writers deep underwater. Have you ever tried breathing while being held underwater by thousands of writers?


The median income for authors is less than the amount they spend on computer equipment, Starbucks membership cards, and books about how to write for a living.


Now, I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me, a writer. No, I’m telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me and buy my books. That’s the way it is, for a working writer: It’s not work if you don’t sell it. Until then it’s a hobby that saps your health and makes all your relatives question your sanity, but you still can’t stop


In other words, it’s an addiction.


There’s no Writer’s Anonymous meeting to go to, because a real writer is unwilling to quit. Oh, they’ll keep saying they will … but they can be found late at night, hiding in their home office also known as the basement, attic, or spare bedroom, working by the light of a computer screen. “I can quit anytime I want. Just … one more novel. And this one will sell for sure!”


So, if we write for the joy of it, why do we try to sell? It’s an art, right? We’re supposed to starve for our art. Somebody said it, so it must be true.


Yeah, you go ahead and starve.


Are there really that many artists who don’t care to make a living at their art? I’ll bet not. I’ll bet, deep down, that most artists dream of selling enough paintings, pottery, or macramé wall hangings to make a living. If it’s your joy, you want to do it all the time, right? With just enough break time for lunch?


So when I published my latest book, I decided to go on an all-out selling frenzy, to see if I could possibly push enough copies to encourage me toward that eventual goal of taking early retirement. The good news is, in eight years I can take full retirement, at which point I can expect a regular check of half what I’m currently making.


In other words, one way or another, in eight years I’m going to be taking another job—whether it’s writing or not.


The experiment started when my wife and I decided to drop the e-book price on my already-published book, The No-Campfire Girls. It wasn’t exactly flying off the shelves, partially because it can’t be found on a lot of shelves. We dropped the e-book price to 99 cents, which is less than you’d pay for a trip to most soda machines. We also increased how much of the profit goes to support my wife’s former Girl Scout camp, from a third to half.

Yeah, I know, that flies in the face of my earlier desire for a living wage, but sometimes it’s nice to do something nice.


I sent notice of this to all the local media, and to the local media down in Missouri, where the camp is. I also hit a heavy rotation on social media, blaring the word as far and hard as I could. I became so annoying that some of my internet friends flew in from other countries and knocked on my front door, just so they could slap me.


“We get it! You have a new book! But you’re interfering with our cute kitten videos!”


I sold four copies.


Not long after that my newest book, Slightly Off the Mark: The Unpublished Columns, came out. This was a book of my unpublished Slightly Off the Mark columns. You probably figured that out. I’m writing a column now for the Kendallville Mall, but I had a lot of material left over after being downsized from my old job.

I spent two weeks being as obnoxious as I possibly could about this book, which to be honest I’m pretty proud of. I blabbed about it on Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, and I’m pretty sure I got it up on a site that normally caters to people who dress in Wookie costumes to go swinging in Rio. I sent it to newspapers in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Well, the one newspaper. I sent it to CNN. I sent it to that guy who used to publish Penthouse magazine: “Dear Penthouse Letters, I never thought this would happen to me, but I published a book!”


I sent my grandkids out with sandwich boards. I decaled my website (www.markrhunter.com) on the side of the car. I wrote the book title in white paint on several area streets, thus causing an incident I’d rather not talk about. (It did NOT look like a railroad crossing sign!)


The result? Mediocre. I have not turned in two weeks’ notice at my day job.


Now, we’ll see what happens when my next book comes out, on August 24th. But that’s another media blitz.

 

This is what I was going to post to get the ball rolling on the release of Slightly Off the Mark: The Unpublished Columns (which are now the published columns). But now it’s up on Amazon, and on the website, and … we just got our delivery of print copies!

 

 

“I turned around a few minutes later, walked into the Albion New Era office with the aura of confidence and skill, and said ‘I changed my mind. Pleasssseeeee!!!!!!’”

--Slightly Off the Mark, from “Why I write, or: I hate needles”.

 

Thus began my career as a humor columnist, which resulted in some 1,150,000 words over the next quarter of a century.  Now, although my column has moved to the monthly Kendallville Mall, I’ve collected all my unpublished earlier columns into one volume.

 

Because “volume” sounds somehow more official than “book”.

 

It’s a short book, but my fourteen regular readers have short attention spans, so it’s all good. Now I’m asking you, my other hundred or so readers, to purchase Slightly off the Mark and then actually read it, and then tell all their friends. It’s a lot to ask, but I have no shame.

 

You can find links to all the ways you can get the Slightly Off the Mark on my website, www.markrhunter.com, or at regular internet places, and soon I hope to have news on such things as book signings and other places where you can get a copy. Or, knock on my door, or stop me in the street. Not in the middle of the street … maybe wait for me on the sidewalk.

 

To show you what you’ll be treated to—I hope that’s the right word—the book is divided into sections including:

 

Part One: because someone has to go first

Part Deux: the final second

Part Three: medical stuff, and things

Part Four: the writer’s life for me, or: Brother, can you spare a dime?

Part Five: how do you spell miscellaneous?

Part Six: part two of the writer’s life, or: Six into two makes … something

Part Seven: politics, or: Maybe you shouldn’t read this section—(my editor didn’t)

Part Eight: What’s the sundry word for miscellaneous?

 

If that’s not enough for you to part with your Starbucks money, at the end of the book you’ll find the first chapter of my upcoming space opera novel, Beowulf: In Harm’s Way. There’s humor there, too. Really, there is. I would recommend you pay particular attention to that part if you’re, say, a publisher, or an agent.

 

Hope you like it!

 

 

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

Mark R Hunter

 

Apparently the New England Patriots are being accused of having soft balls.

This came as a shock to me. I mean, they’re tough football players. At the same time I saw the comedic possibilities of such a thing, and made it halfway through a truly hilarious column full of crude puns and various other plays on words, just to prove I’m an athletic supporter.

Then I realized they were talking about their footballs.

Well, that took all the air right out of me. But I suppose it’s for the best, as this is a family paper and that piece was turning decidedly un-family friendly. I suspect there aren’t a lot of kids who read my column. Still, any who did read it would have thrown questions at their parents, who would have to explain the concept of gutter humor, so it’s probably for the best that I dropped the ball.

Speaking of dropping the ball, I actually watched that game. I’m no expert, but it didn’t seem to me the Patriots won it at all; it seemed like the Colts lost it. It’s similar to the way the Republicans did such a bang-up job of losing the last two Presidential elections.

When I say I’m no expert, what I mean is that it was the first football game I’ve watched since 2007. So yeah, no expert. I have nothing against football the way I do against basketball, which is a horror experience straight from hades, but I have to budget my time and there are books to read. Besides, they don’t show the cheerleaders often enough.

Not to mention cheerleaders in pro sports don’t look like cheerleaders anymore; they look like showgirls backing up Wayne Newton in Vegas. Not to mention they could now be my daughters, which takes most of the fun out of it. Not to mention my wife has a sword collection, which takes the rest of the fun out of it.

So we’ve established I’m no expert. However, I do know that a little pressure can make a big difference. We own one of those inflatable beds. I’ve learned a few pounds of pressure can make the difference between sleeping well until our 85 pound dog makes his full bladder known by leaping on my chest, and hardly sleeping at all. Both usually result in blinding back pain, but never mind.

The claim is that the New England Patriots deflated their balls, so they could be gripped better by their players, and no way am I going to point out the obvious joke in that sentence. Each team is responsible to bring twelve balls, plus the home team has to bring a dozen more backup balls. I assume they have to show the officials before the game starts that they have a lot of balls.

What happens after that I’m not sure. I mean, do they switch between the regular and the deflated balls depending on whether they’re on offense of defense? And if it makes that much of a difference, how do the officials never notice? They actually check the balls before the game and then hand them all over to a ball boy, who has the most uncool job title ever. 

The Patriots have a history of cheating. Apparently in 2007 their coach was fined $500,000 for filming the sideline signals of the other team, and his cameraman was fined $250,000 for filming the cheerleaders. I wonder if the New England cheerleaders look like cheerleaders? Be right back …

Nope. Showgirls. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Let’s keep in mind that the team is named after, well, patriots, those people who fought off the British to secure our right to drink coffee. The British were very perturbed, and in fact accused the Patriots of cheating even then:

“They hide behind trees and fences, instead of standing in a straight line across an open field and letting us fire on them! That’s just not cricket. On a related note, we might just have to replace these red uniforms with the white straps forming a cross in the middle of our chests …”

So you see, the patriots of old were accused of deflating the British soldiers.

Some people in football are saying their balls are messed with all the time. In one case, a quarterback admitted he paid ball boys to break in their balls before the Superbowl. I guess they handle better when they’re scuffed (the balls, not the ball boys), which seems to be the way a lot of drivers I’ve encountered feel about their cars.

In this time of war, government overreach, people not buying my books, and other equally important problems, I used to think sports were a good pressure relief. It took our minds off of cheating leaders, violence, commercialism, overspending …

I can’t even finish that sentence, it’s just too silly. Maybe I’ll just throw my support to a sport that’s real and honest, not staged for entertainment, not more personality than competition.

Maybe … pro wrestling.

No balls there.

 

Check me out at the Kendallville Mall:

http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunter---slightly-off-the-mark/im-dreaming-of-an-evergreen-christmas-slightly-off-the-mark

 

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

 

When we put up the Christmas tree last year, our dog became very puzzled.

“Dude, there are all kinds of trees surrounding this house already. Seriously, just come outside with me next time. Mind the yellow snow.”

Amazingly, he said all that with a glance.

If you take an objective, dog-like look at America’s Christmas traditions, you quickly realize we’re a little crazy. We bring a tree inside; we haul electric lights outside. People who refuse to listen to music that’s not still in the top 40 happily sing carols that were written by people who thought the Earth was flat.

(It’s a sphere; just thought I’d throw that in.)

And we celebrate Christmas on December 25^th, even though most experts agree Jesus was actually born in the spring. Why? Because it’s close to the shortest day of the year. What else are you going to do in late December? Go to the beach? Get that garden in? Take a road trip to Buffalo, New York?

I doubt very much if Jesus would care when we celebrate His birthday, especially since the truly important Christmas holiday is Easter. By then the days are much longer, so we don’t need the pick-me-up.

The Christmas tree is one of the most interesting and puzzling aspects of Christmas decorating. It’s also big business: Trees in all fifty states are grown for the express purpose of being chopped down in a celebration of life. I used to drive through an area of Michigan that had more trees than Indiana has deer on the roads.

The origins of that tradition make sense, though: In ancient times, anything that stayed green all through winter held special significance. Without evergreens, people in past winters would sometimes completely forget what color was. It was like being stuck in a 50’s TV show, without the laugh track.

Evergreen boughs, hung over doors and windows, were reminders that spring would return. They also helped keep away witches and evil spirits, and as a bonus could be garnished with garlic to fight off vampires. So far as I know, they did nothing against banshees or marauding politicians.

But it was the Germans who, with ruthless efficiency, decided to just bring the whole darned tree inside. Martin Luther added lighted candles to the tree, bringing us the Christmas tradition of homes burning down.

Christmas trees didn’t come to America until the 1830’s, when German settlers arrived with the tradition. Naturally, the neighbors were curious:

“So Hans, why did your house burn down?”

“Oh, I brought a tree inside and hung candles on it.”

“No, seriously.”

A lot of Americans were against anything like carols and trees anyway. People in New England got fined for hanging decorations, although it was legal to hang witches, as long as you didn’t decorate them.

Then, in 1846, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert (of “in the can” fame) were seen standing around a Christmas tree. Suddenly it was all in fashion, even though hanging witches didn’t catch on at all. They were often decorated with popcorn, berries, and nuts, a great idea to guard against food shortages. (The trees, not the witches.) Rodents were a problem. (With the trees. Well, maybe both.)

Then, in 1850, Christmas trees went up for sale commercially in the United States. Next thing you know the early version of Wal-Mart, then known as “Mart”, got ahold of it, and the rest is history. They went up in Rockefeller Center, at the White House, and in Woodinville, Washington, where a 122 foot tall, 91 year old Douglas fir does not get cut down every year.

I like that idea, of leaving the Christmas trees alive. I don’t like the idea of going outside in December to look at them, so never mind. Besides, since 77 million Christmas trees are planted each year in an industry that employs a hundred thousand people, closing the business down would result in an unhappy holiday for many.

I used to love having a live tree. The wonderful scent, the look of it. Then I grew up, and after that I loved it for three days: From after it was up until it started dropping needles.

There’s a reason they’re called needles.

Now I have an artificial tree. I love my artificial tree. It looks exactly like a real tree if you squint a little, and I’ve never had to tweeze a single needle out of my foot. The dog, while still puzzled, doesn’t harass it. It has never burst into flames, not even for me, and I can break anything.

It doesn’t dry out, or spoil, and I don’t have to dispose of it every season. It’s durable and doesn’t wear out for years.

It’s a lot like fruitcake.

Ah, but that’s another puzzling tradition.

My wife and I sometimes confuse Christmas with Valentine's Day, but a tree's a tree.

 

 

I forgot to announce the results of my Facebook poll, in which I asked everyone which direction I should take my humor writing (other than in a downward spiral):

10 people voted I should sell my column to another newspaper or magazine; a regular income is cool. This I’ve done, with “Slightly Off The Mark” now appearing monthly in the Kendallville Mall. (If any businesses would like to sponsor my column, get in touch!)

9 people thought I should write more humor books; humor books are cool. My new book, imaginatively titled “Slightly Off The Mark” is mostly done, although its release may be delayed by other deadlines, so there.

3 people thought I should try monetizing my blog/website; ads are cool. (Okay, ads aren’t cool, but paying bills is cool.) This is something Emily is looking into. I hope people who support my writing won’t be too offended by that.

2 people thought I should try selling my column on a subscription plan; it could work, and things that work are cool. For now this is something I’m not messing with, as my hands are full elsewhere. Since I’m already with the Kendallville Mall, a subscription plan would involve writing an entirely different regular column, and I’m hearing noises that it doesn’t tend to work well.

1 person thought a part time job at Wal-Mart is a perfectly valid career move. This is what I get for putting in a joke choice. But at least it’s nice to know one of my former English teachers is on Facebook.

Here’s the link to the poll, which is kind of silly considering I already gave you the results:  https://apps.facebook.com/my-polls/view/xch7gcs9tq

With mixed feelings I say goodbye to my first writing home, in the same week my column appears for the first time in Kendallville Mall. I’m going from a weekly to a monthly, but otherwise you’ll get pretty much the same stuff in the new “Slightly Off The Mark” … like it or not.

 

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

 

When I started this column I was a green, snot-nosed kid, which was probably just allergies. Maybe a virus. Today I take medicine and always have Kleenex nearby, so I think I’m a better person, or at least more hygienic.

            Today it’s twenty-three years later, and this is my last humor column in the New Era, Churubusco News, and Northwest News. It’s the end of what was once a—ahem—new era, and I’m poorer for it.

            I’m also grateful that the papers’ new owners have allowed me this chance to say farewell to you, the readers, the people who shared my ride of child-rearing, home maintenance, misbehaving pets, and exploding lawn mowers. This has been my best job ever, and if I’d had a choice I’d probably have gone on doing it until they pried my cold fingers from the keyboard.

            This is my love letter to you, the readers, and a thank you to the crews of the three newspapers that made me feel wanted all those years. Love letter is just an expression, by the way, so don’t expect chocolate … or jewelry. Definitely not jewelry.

            I sent articles to the New Era for a quarter of a century, everything from accident reports to features to movie reviews. In February, 1991, they began printing my humor column, and later it also appeared in the Churubusco News and Northwest News. Back then I had more hair, less weight, and no gray.

Let me grab a calculator … taking into consideration the occasional reprints and my poor math skills, we published over 50 columns a year. That’s 1,150 columns, each up to 1,000 words long, although they were getting shorter. That’s one million, one hundred fifty thousand words.

            My last novel clocked in at around 60,000 words. So I wrote 19 books worth of “Slightly Off The Mark” … 14 of them good books. Including the five actual books I’ve written, that’s more words than J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Myer combined. Not that I’d combine them.