As many of you know (meaning literally dozens), after harrassing you every Friday for two years with my writing tips, I put Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing on hiatus while turning that series into a book: Pearls of Writing Wisdom From 16 Shucking Years as a Columnist.
Set for release this August (no, really), it’s a writer’s survival guide that Editor’s Weekly is already heralding as, “A handbook for writers as inspiring as a life-skills pep talk from Dr. Jack Kavorkian…”
And what Master of Horror® Stephen King has touted as “An essential part of every writer’s tool kit, unless they know a good mechanic.”
But enough accolades!
The reason I bring this up is because, yesterday, the first of 12 video vignettes from my book was released at Gliterary Girl Media and Port Hole Publications. Thanks to Hollywood director J.J. Abrams and special effects wizards from Industrial Lights and Magic, the imagery and storytelling are truly spectacular! And by that, I mean in the latest Star Wars movie. Neither J.J. Abrams or ILM had anything to do with my video.
Then again, neither does Jar-Jar Binks. So, technically speaking, our movies do have something in common when it comes to production value. Continue reading My self-defense video for writers
There are certain perks that come with being a syndicated columnist. For example, just last month at the Oregon Plumbling Convention, I was honored with delivering the opening plunge in the Northwest Clogged Commode competition. In terms of prestige, this is like ringing the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. At least in the competitive plumbing circuit. I have also been a guest judge at the Portland Freestyle Burping Contest and keynote speaker at the Nouns of Baskervilles writers conference. Yet in spite of my notariety, I was admittedly a little surprised when 
By now, I’m sure most of you have seen the new 
For the last several years I’ve promised myself I would do my taxes early. And for the last several years I have found myself Tokyo-drifting my way to the post office at 11:59 p.m. April 14. This year, I was determined to get an early start. After clearing off the kitchen table and finding an outlet for the calculator, I sat down to do my taxes. As always, I made sure to have all the necessary documentation and forms, like W4s, tax forms, bank statements, insurance reports, tax schedules and, most importantly, a box of Kleenex.
Like many of you, I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the shocking news that obesity had officially become the No. 1 preventable health crisis in the nation. In fact, I can even tell you which super-sized meal I was eating.
Like millions of Americans, I recently stripped down, prepared myself for the worst, and stepped onto the scale. Soon after, I retrieved the scale from the front yard and accepted the fact that, yes — it probably was defective. At my wife’s suggestion, I tried our neighbor’s scale. This led to the discovery that, of the 23 scales I tested within a five-mile radius of our home, every single one was off by exactly 11 pounds. Being a journalist, I had to wonder: Was this a widespread problem? Were we being duped into needless exercise by faulty scales?
Over the last several weeks I’ve had a lot of bloggers asking how I got started as a columnist. Perhaps it’s because of the new year and resolutions made by writers to persue their goals of publication. Or perhaps they have been drinking and, in a moment of weakness, stumbled onto my blog. Which might explain why most of the messages I received asking for advice went something like this:
I have a basic rule of thumb when it comes to carnival rides: If the person running a ride, such as the Squirrel Cages, keeps a garden hose available for spraying out the seats, I stay away. That’s because this person’s sole ambition is to make me — and others like me — vomit. I realize this person may be a trained professional who, on a daily basis, makes countless split-second decisions on whether to push the red or green button to stop the ride.
For most of us, there comes a time in our lives when we must face the truth, and accept the fact we will never actually possess any type of super-human powers. This includes the ability to fly, shoot laser beams out of our eyes, or look good in a skin-tight costume.
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