Writer Wednesday—Radio


Say THAT three times fast—I dare ya!

My first radio gig was back in the ‘70s. I was “caller number” whatever and had to sing the Big Mac song. Scored a Big Mac, too. Awesome, right?

My second one was this morning. At 6:00. Yawn.

See, I’ve been plugging . . . er, promoting . . . um, talking about, yeah, that’s it, RECYCLED! Which is probably how I sounded on WTBQ this morning.

The interview was supposed to last about 10 minutes—it felt like it, for sure, but was really only three. I called two minutes ahead of the scheduled time, as requested, stated my name, and waited, listening to the program.

Then I was on.

They asked me what kind of book, and I said dystopian. There was some patter about the word, as both DJs said they’d never heard of that and asked for a  definition . . . they asked what RECYCLED was about, and I mentioned it was third in a series and this is what happens; they asked about the main character, and they asked how I came up with the idea. You know, the salsa story. And mentioned my website.

And that was it.

So now I know, since I have two more coming up next week; different stations of course. Whew. Glad this one’s over—hopefully I’ll feel more prepared. And, too, the next one is PST, and in the afternoon too!

Prep Tuesday—That Elusive Property Search


We haven’t had a lot of time lately to look for land, what with work schedules and school times, but on our last little adventure, I swear I heard banjos . . . and saw a still.

Why is it that places with the most “beware of dog,” “keep out,” and “no trespassing” signs are the places that NO ONE IN HIS RIGHT MIND would want to go to?

We did find one, but it’s not quite right. My husband likes it because it’s flat—I don’t object to flat, but it’s also about two-thirds open pasture. The opposite of what we want. So it’s on the “maybe” list, along with the lake property that adjoins the prison and the one with that huge cave.

The closest we’ve come to our ideal is about 90 minutes away, 40 acres, electric on site, a decent, wide trail all the way through (not quite a road), and a clearing in the middle.

The problem is the location itself: to get to it, you have to drive past half a dozen or more mobile homes right on the road. Sadly, even though they appear to be condemned and have most of their contents strewn around the yards, they are indeed inhabited.

Then, when you get to the turn-off to the property, there’s a deeded easement. Deeded, I’m okay with that—but for a couple hundred yards or so, on the easement, are several large piles of junk. Ugh.

So, yeah, if we could roll up this property and move it, that’d be great . . .

We were really hoping to find the right spot before now, but that’s not going to happen. And yes, there were things we could do there in the winter, to get the place ready: clearing brush, knocking down a few trees, putting in a gravel road. Now that will wait until spring, likely, unless we get lucky before then.

Where, oh where is it???