mhtucker: (writing)
First of all, congrats to Justify on taking that wet, sloppy track and slinging it in everyone's face. Don't know how he will do in the Belmont, but I was happy with the Preakness on Saturday.

Now, on to business.

Seems I've been dropped from one of my writing gigs. Not really pleased about that, but what can you do.

What does this mean?

It means unless I find a new venue, my stuff isn't going online any time soon.

Except for fanfiction.

Yes, yes, I know I hate writing it, BUT I had some stuffed in a corner somewhere and I wanted to post it so I did. HOWEVER, because I loathe participating in such frivolity, I have yet again hidden myself under a mysterious username. (Maybe not as mysterious as it could have been, however.) I will tell you it is hiding in archive of our own, but that's as much as I'll tell you.

If you find it, comment below and you will get points.

Not real points, more like those imaginary points they give out in Whose Line is it Anyway?

I have also been working on one of my books. And because I have been asked by someone on twitter, I will share a few of the most recent lines.

'Cause stuff like this don't fit in a tweet.

She only slowed her pace when she neared the road crossing, where parents and students milled around, waiting on the crossing guard to signal. This was the point in her journey where the calming noise of wheels traveling over sidewalk became the uncomfortable hush of people who didn't know what to do. At her old school, people would greet her and chat about whatever random things people chat about early in the morning, but even after a year of making this journey every school day, the silence still washed over her like a tidal wave that pushed every eyeball in any direction but her own.

The crossing guard was different, he always had a smile and a fist bump. He always asked her how her morning had been. She was just another girl on her way to school, not a mute shadow traveling along the ground behind others that walked ahead of her.

“Hey there, Bree,” he called as he motioned her forward with his free hand, lowering it to her level when she was close enough. “How's it goin'?”

“All right,” she smiled back at him as her fist bounced against his.

“Ready for that test today?”

Brianne shook her head at the amount of work she had put in the night before, but answered contrarily to her motion. “You know it.”


Can't really give you any more at the moment. I can't even guarantee that this section will remain intact if the book gets published.

Time will tell.

Speaking of time, let's just give a standing ovation to the best of the cast from Once Upon a Time. No, I don't know any of them, but I felt that a few put in some of their best work in the last seven years and these people really deserve it. The top of that list has to be Robert Carlyle and Lana Parilla.

If you don't agree with me, I'm shipping you off to Neverland.

Oh, wait... I can't threaten you with that any more.

Spoilers!
mhtucker: (Default)
Previously, on My Journal...

I am highly agitated, so I am trying to keep away.

Back to this post when I have the time to explain all.

You'll know I came back because it will look right.

The good news? A friend of mine is filming in Atlanta.

Go, friend!

Told you I dream the future.


Now, on My Journal...

So I got this gift for my spouse, which the company printed the label to and then didn't ship.

I waited a week and inquired and was told to wait until the end of that week.

I waited almost a full week and reported back and was told to ask again tomorrow.

I waited a full day and repeated my confusion over this situation and a fairly smarmy fellow insisted that what I had been told wasn't what I had been told.

I have the transcripts. It's what I was told.

So the next day, when I still didn't have a confirmation of shipping, I emailed the company threatening to bring in a third party so that I can have some satisfaction.

I also took to twitter.

Minutes after my twitter post the package gets shipped out.

The company claims USPS was the problem.

Does anyone else smell fish?

I tell you, I've got a nose full of it.

Our twitter conversation smells a lot like cow fields too.

You know what I mean.

Do I care how long this took to get to me?

No.

Do I care that lies seem to be told at the expense of my sanity and a timely delivery?

Yes.

Here's my issue.

Why in the name of anything worshiped anywhere did I, the customer, have to wait two full weeks for shipment?!

Why are you as a company making me put up with this malarkey?!

You printed a shipping label and didn't attach it to the package, then lost the thing. Instead of being honest about that you spent weeks tolling me a new shipment would be sent out if the old one didn't show up.

Would it have cost you that much to say something reasonable?

"Oh. Everyone else has their boxes and yours hasn't shipped? We will happily send one expedited as a show of good faith, you being a BRAND NEW CUSTOMER and all."

That sounds like a company someone would stand with. Or how about the truth. Something like "We are aware that there is a shipment missing and we are tracking it down" would have been just as acceptable.

What isn't on the top of my list of trustworthy company behaviors is to say one thing in chat, one thing in twitter, and totally ignore an email, all while taking money for goods you seem to be in no hurry to deliver.

But you know what?

I am totally okay with their attitude with me on twitter.

It means I brought a flashlight to the party.
mhtucker: (fireside chat)
I am sitting up in bed, computer in lap, writing this post!

I've always wanted to do this!

Why haven't I? I never do this kind of thing on vacation, and our bed at home has no headboard and is kind of in the middle of the room. It's hard to explain, but there is no wall behind it.

So while I house sit, I bed sit!

I am far too excited.

This post is supposed to be about my amazingly awesome dream from last night, so here goes...

I was at some event with some friends of mine who are actors and after the event got out there was this huge mob of people trying to get to their cars in the parking deck, or waiting in cars for their turn to pull out of the parking deck. People were board out of their gourds and starting to get cranky, so I said, "Know what? I've got stuff in the car, let's do an impromptu autograph session and meet and greet. We'll surprise everyone in here."

Because, of course, no one knew the people I was with until it was announced who they were.

Then their eyes were opened and they all saw the light of the stars!

So there we were, three actors and their writer friend, standing in the back of some grungy car park, shouting out to the world, "Hey, we're here and if you form a line we'll chat with you and sign something while you wait!" I don't know whose idea it was, but somehow we ended up collecting $10 per fan for charity. Just by rubbing fans' cell phones on a piece of paper.

I have no idea what dream inventor created that technology, but it was hell, by the way.

Don't invent it for real.

So, after this great calming of the masses, we all hopped into a car and drove out to Stonehenge.

From America.

Imagine the mileage on that.

Plus the water damage.

Once at Stonehenge, I got to work with some other actors filming a TV show. These folks I knew of, but didn't know personally and I have yet to figure out if I was some kind of editor, or a costume designer, or just everyone's personal gopher, because I was a jack of all trades, literally bounding and leaping all over the grassy plains doing every odd job imaginable.

And even some acting.

Then, suddenly, I was in the corridor of my old grade school and there was an elevator where the window should have been. That was when I knew I was waking up.

Darn it.

Really I thought in worse language than that, but this is for public consumption.

I hate leaving dreams of my friends, it just makes me miss them more and reminds me that I'm all alone in this house, away from my family, watching property that doesn't belong to me.

Wait. Did I just coat my reality in a dream?

Well, that explains things, I guess.

Generally when I dream about filming, it's my mind's way of working out the plot of upcoming episodes. That or I'm psychic, because I usually dream what happens on the show in 4 weeks' time. This one ain't happening, because I doubt these characters are going to be having a literal Field Day at Stonehenge, since they all live in Seattle. ABC ain't forkin' out that kind of money either. Period costumes and a Scottish actor, sure, that's every day for them, but playtime at the actual Stonehenge? Forget it.

Unless they made a super convincing copy of the original.

And then explained how these people went from Seattle to Wiltshire just to play around on the grass.

Fun times.

Anyway, I woke up missing my friends and reminding myself how I got into the wrong business.

True confessions of a writer:

When I was much younger I wanted to be an actor, or at least work in theater, but I wasn't just hated at my school, I was completely despised. No matter what age you are, you've gotta be popular to get into "the business" and when even the drama teacher can't stand you, well, it's time to pack up your gear, pick up your pen, and tell everyone where to shove it. So I did.

Now I write and leave the acting to people who don't look like trolls and are awesome at what they do.

I probably would have been awesome enough if I'd gotten started as early as I wanted to, but I'll never know for sure and don't really care to.

Sometimes I do get a little swoony when my friends get new jobs and I'm taken back to my extreme youth memorizing Shakespeare and trying to make people laugh.

Ah well, dreams.

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M H Tucker

November 2019

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