Tag: writing

The Decline of Personal Service: From Gas Stations to Grocery Stores

The Decline of Personal Service: From Gas Stations to Grocery Stores

Considering that roughly 216 million people shop at Walmart, one might ponder the sheer number of stores. The number of stores hovers near 4,500.

I don’t need to tell you that Walmart is responsible for the death of many mom-and-pop shops in small town america. Now Amazon is killing what is left. Do you remember the friendly face behind the counter the one that might ask you about your family or even know your name?

Not that long ago, I’d pull up to the filling station and, before I could even step out of my car, an attendant would be at my window with a friendly smile. They’d fill my tank for me, and if I asked, they’d wash my windows until they sparkled, check the air in my tires, and even pop the hood to make sure my oil was topped off. It felt like a small ritual of care, when someone else looked after both me and my car.

I still remember the little extras that made stopping at the gas station feel special. Not only would they fill my tank and check my tires, but I’d also collect S&H Green Stamps with every purchase. I’d save them, sticking them into those little booklets, dreaming of what I could redeem them for. Some stations even had promotional giveaways—maybe a glass, a bowl, or some other small treasure to take home. It felt like they truly valued my business.

And honestly, when you think about it, gas stations make money on every gallon sold. So why not have someone there to give you that little something extra? It wasn’t just about the gas—it was about the experience, the care, and the feeling that you mattered as a customer.

I’ve learned that the federal tax on gasoline has been stuck at 18.4 cents per gallon since 1993—unchanged for over three decades. For diesel, it’s higher at 24.4 cents per gallon. It’s strange to think about how much has changed since then, yet this tax has stayed the same, even as inflation has chipped away at its real value.

When it comes to gas stations, I was surprised to find out that they only make about 10 to 15 cents per gallon in profit after covering all their expenses—things like credit card fees, utilities, and employee wages. Sure, the markup on gas might be around 30 cents per gallon, but most of that gets eaten up by operating costs. In the end, the station itself is left with just a small slice of the pie. Of course, this can vary depending on where the station is, how much competition it has, and other factors.

And then there’s the total tax burden on gas. When you combine the federal tax with state taxes, it adds up. On average, state gas taxes are around 32.26 cents per gallon, which means the total tax—federal and state combined—comes out to about 50.66 cents per gallon as of mid-2023. It’s wild to think that over 50 cents of every gallon I pump goes straight to taxes!

As of July 1, 2025, I’m paying 61.2 cents per gallon in state gas taxes here in California. That’s the highest in the entire country, and it’s not just the excise tax—though that alone went up by 1.6 cents from the previous 59.6 cents per gallon. On top of that, there are all these other fees, like sales tax and underground storage tank fees, which push the total tax burden on every gallon of gas to over $1.15. It’s mind-blowing when you think about it.

Honestly, I can’t help but wonder how California hasn’t turned into a ghost state by now. With gas prices this high, it feels like only the Hollywood elite could afford to stick around. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left shaking our heads at the pump, wondering where all this money is going.

These days, I do it all at the gas station. I’m pumping my own gas, washing my own windows, and if I decide to step into the store, there’s a good chance I might not even understand the person behind the counter. It’s a far cry from the days when someone would come out, take care of everything for me, and maybe even throw in a smile or a little conversation. Now, it feels like I’m on my own, just another part of the self-service world we’ve all grown used to.

After finishing my transaction, I think what irritates me the most is that cold, robotic “THANK YOU” that comes from some computer chip with absolutely zero agency. It’s not a person expressing gratitude—it’s just a programmed response, a hollow echo of politeness designed to mimic human interaction. I know it’s just a chip running instructions, processing inputs, and spitting out outputs, but it feels so empty. It’s like the machine is trying to replace the human touch, and instead, it just reminds me how far we’ve drifted from real, meaningful interactions.

I can still remember a time when going to the grocery store felt like a completely unique experience. Back then, I’d push my cart through the aisles, and when I was done, someone would take it from me and handle everything. They’d ring up my order, carefully bag or sack the groceries, and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, someone would carry them out to my car. They’d even ask where I wanted them placed—trunk, backseat, wherever—and do it with a smile.

It wasn’t just about the service; it was the warmth of the interactions. There were genuine “pleases” and “thank you’s,” and as I drove away, I felt appreciated, like my business actually mattered. It wasn’t just a transaction—it was a moment of connection, a small but meaningful exchange that made the whole experience feel human. Now, I can’t help but miss those days, when customer service wasn’t just a buzzword but something you could feel in every interaction.

Today, things couldn’t be more different. Now, there’s an app for everything—even grocery shopping. I’m expected to pull out my phone, open the app, and start scanning my groceries as I pick them out. I place them in my cart myself, and when I’m ready to leave, I just show the machine a barcode on my phone. And Voila—transaction complete. It feels a lot like shopping at Aldi or one of those other stores where you’re left to bag, box, or otherwise pack your own groceries for the ride home.

As I glance around, I see several employees standing around, not ringing people up or bagging groceries, but instead directing traffic or helping someone with an item that refuses to scan properly. Is it quicker? Sure, sometimes it is. But can it be slower? Oh, absolutely. The entire process feels so detached. What used to be a personal, interactive experience now feels like I’m just another cog in a self-service system, where the human touch has been replaced by machines and apps.

Here’s the bottom line: H-E-B and Tom Thumb are the only places around here that still have full-service stores. So, I’ve decided to run a brief experiment. I’m going to visit each one and rate them on three things: price, availability of products, and the overall customer experience. Because let’s face it, prices are already way too high, and shrinkflation is everywhere. If I’m going to get screwed over, I’d at least like a little courtesy to go along with it—give me a kiss afterward, you know?

What I mean is, when I leave the store, I don’t want to walk out feeling frazzled, pissed off, and frustrated by the total incompetence of the people they hire. I just want a real person to look me in the eye, maybe smile, and say, “Thank you, have a great day.” Is that too much to ask? What do you think? Let me know your thoughts—because at this point, I’m starting to wonder if I’m expecting too much, or if the world’s just forgotten how to care.

“From ‘You Shithead’ to ‘Have a Nice Life’: A Journey in Self-Restraint”

“From ‘You Shithead’ to ‘Have a Nice Life’: A Journey in Self-Restraint”

Hey, happy Sunday night, wherever the hell you might be. So, I’ve been way too glued to social media lately. Honestly, people are losing their minds out there. Half of them are raging about TDS, and the other half look like they’d gladly watch the world burn if it meant kicking Trump out. It’s like everyone’s main hobby is being pissed off at each other. Grab some popcorn, because apparently, this is the new national sport.

Let me introduce you to something I like to call the “you shit head letter.”

Let me tell you about something I’ve perfected over the years. I call it the “you shit head letter.” It’s not trademarked or anything, but it damn well should be. The concept is simple: whenever some insufferable asshole—like the kind who makes you question if they share DNA with a brick wall—pushes you to the edge, you don’t respond right away. Nope. You take a deep breath, resist the urge to hit “send,” and instead, you write the most cathartic, profanity-laden masterpiece you’ve ever created. This isn’t just any letter. Oh, no. It’s a literary middle finger wrapped in words.

Let me tell you how this whole thing works. First, I write. And then, I write some more. Seriously, by the time I’m done, I’ve practically written a novella—just to explain, in excruciating detail, how fucking stupid someone is. And then, when I think I’ve exhausted every creative insult in the English language? I keep writing. Because why not?

Then what? Do I send it? Oh, hell no. I save it. Somewhere on my OneDrive, there’s a folder of these masterpieces. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if some government spy is sitting in front of a monitor right now, reading my rants and laughing their ass off. That’s fine. Laugh it up, buddy. Just don’t publish it, or I will absolutely sue under copyright law. I might be petty, but I’m not stupid.

Anyway, once I’ve exorcised the stupidity-induced rage from my system, I sleep on it. And when I wake up—calmer, slightly less homicidal—I go back and read the letter. That’s when I follow a little exercise in self-restraint that I like to call THINK.

Here’s how it works:

T: Is it the Truth?

H: Is it Honest?

I: Is it Inspiring?

N: Is it Necessary?

K: Is it Kind?

And let me tell you, the “You Shithead” letter absolutely fails this test. Every single time.

Is it the truth? Oh, most definitely.

Is it honest? You bet your ass it is.

Is it inspiring? Uh…no. Unless you consider inspiring someone to cry into their pillow a win.

Is it necessary? It felt like it last night, but in the cold light of day? Probably not.

Is it kind? Fuck no. It’s the opposite of kind. It’s downright savage.

So yeah, the “You Shithead” letter never sees the light of day. But damn, does it feel good to write.

But guess what I didn’t do?

Yeah, start a war with someone I disagreed with.

There is common ground out there. Somewhere. Probably buried under all the bullshit we keep piling on top of it. The problem is, we’d need to stop tripping over our own egos long enough to actually look for it. And let’s be real, that’s not exactly humanity’s strong suit. Here’s the kicker, though: searching for common ground? Not sexy. Not flashy. It doesn’t go viral, it doesn’t rack up likes, and it definitely doesn’t make you the star of some TikTok rant. You know what does get attention? Being a keyboard warrior.

Social media has basically turned us all into part-time gladiators, except instead of swords, we’re armed with shitty opinions, zero accountability, and a Wi-Fi connection. And let’s face it—it’s so much easier to call someone a moron online than to actually have a real conversation. Who needs nuance when you can just drop a snarky comment and rack up some imaginary internet points? Nuance takes effort. Snark is instant. And honestly, it’s addicting. You hit “post” and BAM—you’re a hero in your own head, even if you’re just shouting into the void.

But here’s where it all goes to shit. This constant stream of digital venom isn’t just harmless venting. It’s like dumping gasoline on a fire that’s already out of control. We’re not just creeping toward the edge of some global catastrophe, we’re practically sprinting toward a full-blown war with each other. Not, like, a nation-against-nation war. No, this is worse. It’s a war where empathy, understanding, and basic human decency are the first casualties. And for what? So you can roast someone who used the wrong “your/you’re” on Facebook?

So yeah, common ground exists. But finding it means doing the one thing most people on the internet absolutely refuse to do: shutting the fuck up. It means resisting the urge to win every argument, humiliate every stranger, and prove you’re smarter than some random person you’ve never even met. It means pausing for a second and remembering that behind every screen is another flawed, messy, probably-overcaffeinated human being. Just like you.

I’ve got a lot of people on my social media. If you’re on my “friends list,” odds are pretty good I’ve met you, shaken your hand, and wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with you if the stars aligned. I mean, I don’t just friend random strangers—I save that kind of recklessness for impulse Amazon purchases and gas station sushi.

Now, writers? Writers are some of the most wildly diverse people I know. And by diverse, I mean they can range anywhere from “delightful conversationalist” to “I need a drink to survive this interaction.” I remember one left-wing loon in particular. Trying to find common ground with her was like trying to convince a cat to take a bath—it just wasn’t happening. In the end, the best I could do was agree that we both have red blood. That’s it. That’s all we had in common.

I have no idea where she was born, where she grew up, or what series of life events convinced her that she was right about absolutely everything and the rest of us were just walking disasters. But hey, she probably thought the same thing about me. That’s the fun of it, right?

At the end of the day, when we parted ways, we both managed to wave goodbye—using all of our fingers, mind you, not just the middle one. And that’s the point. The thing worth noting here is this: it’s not about agreeing on everything. The real effort, the thing that makes us human and keeps us from tearing each other apart, is striving to find common ground. Even if that ground is just, “Well, at least we’re both technically alive.”

Here’s one last piece of advice I’d offer, and it’s this: try arguing the issue from the other person’s point of view. No, seriously. Give it a shot. Pretend you’re them and make the case for whatever it is they’re so passionate about. Like, why 64 million abortions is biblical, or totally fine, or falls under “my body, my choice.” Hell, even try arguing why abortion up to the ninth month is perfectly acceptable.

Now, let me be clear—any sane person is probably going to struggle (read: fail spectacularly) at making a convincing argument for something they fundamentally disagree with. And honestly, you might not get very far. But here’s the thing: I’ve found it’s a pretty effective learning experience to at least try to see where the other person is coming from. Even if their logic feels like it was cooked up on a rusty waffle iron.

And if that doesn’t work? If, after all your mental gymnastics, you still can’t find a shred of common ground or even a glimpse of understanding? Well, that’s when you break out the trusty “you shit head letter.” Write it all down, every insult, every “how the hell do you function in society” thought that crosses your mind. Don’t hold back. But—this is key—don’t send it. Sleep on it.

Then, when you come back to it the next day, edit it down to a simple, “Bless your heart, have a nice life.” Trust me, it’s the perfect mix of passive-aggressiveness and closure. Plus, it saves you the headache of a long, drawn-out argument that neither of you is ever going to win.

While I’m sitting here typing this, just remember: this shit doesn’t write itself. Seriously. So how about throwing me a little love? A like, a share, maybe even a follow if you’re feeling generous. And hey, a comment wouldn’t hurt either—bonus points if it’s not spam or you telling me I’m wrong about something.

In case you didn’t know, I’m an author. And while this blog post was fun to write, let’s not kid ourselves—it’s also marketing. Gotta keep the hustle alive, right?

Anyway, have a great week next week. Or don’t. I’m not your boss.

-Best

  1. #YouShitheadLetter
  2. #SocialMediaRage
  3. #KeyboardWarriorsUnite
  4. #CommonGroundOrBust
  5. #BlessYourHeart
  6. #PassiveAggressive101
  7. #RantTherapy
  8. #DontHitSend
  9. #ArgueBetter
  10. #SocialMediaMeltdown
  11. #ThinkBeforeYouPost
  12. #FlawedButHuman
  13. #WritingIsTherapy
  14. #LetItOutDontSendIt
  15. #WritersWithSnark
  16. #StopKeyboardWars
  17. #NuanceMatters
  18. #StayPettyStayCalm
  19. #InternetArgumentsSuck
  20. #ShitDoesntWriteItself
Master Grammarly and ProWritingAid for Flawless Writing

Master Grammarly and ProWritingAid for Flawless Writing

Using Grammarly and ProWritingAid Without Losing Your Mind (Or Your Shit)

Look, we all want to write like some literary genius, but the truth is, most of us end up staring at our screens, screaming internally (or out loud) when that squiggly red line shows up for the tenth damn time. And yet, even with every so-called “miracle tool” at our fingertips, plenty of writers still manage to churn out writing that’s about as polished as sandpaper.

Let’s be real: you can slap Grammarly or ProWritingAid on your Word doc, but if you’re not paying attention, you might still end up with a sentence that makes your high school English teacher weep. Or laugh. Or both.

So why bother with these tools? Because, honestly, they’re the next best thing to having a grammar-obsessed friend reading over your shoulder, minus the heavy sighs and passive-aggressive comments.

Why Even Use These Bloody Tools?

Grammarly and ProWritingAid are like having two very judgmental robots follow you around, pointing out every embarrassing typo, awkward sentence, and the fact that you’ve used “very” eight times in two paragraphs.

They’re here to:

Catch all those dumb little mistakes you swear you didn’t make.

Clean up your sentences so they don’t sound like you just woke up from a nap.

Suggest fancier words, because apparently “good” isn’t good enough.

Keep your tone and style consistent, so you don’t accidentally sound like you’re writing a breakup letter to your boss.

Grammarly is all about real-time nagging and telling you when you sound like an asshole.

ProWritingAid? It’s the tool you call in when you want a detailed report that’ll make you question your life choices and every sentence you’ve ever written.

Getting These Tools Into Word Without Pulling Your Hair Out

Grammarly in Word:

Download the add-in from Grammarly’s site. Easy enough, right?

Install it. If you see a shiny new Grammarly tab, congrats—you didn’t screw it up.

Log in. If you forget your password, welcome to the club.

ProWritingAid in Word:

Grab the add-in from their website.

Install and activate it. Yes, you might have to click through some annoying popups.

Log in and prepare to be judged.

Both work on modern versions of Word on both Windows and Mac, so unless your computer is actually powered by a hamster wheel, you should be fine.

Pro Tips: Not Just for People Who Like Pro Tips

Grammarly Hacks:

Turn it on before you start writing. Let it nag you in real time and maybe you’ll make fewer mistakes. Maybe.

Click the underlines for explanations. Sometimes they’re helpful, sometimes you’ll want to scream.

The side panel is where the real action is: grammar, clarity, engagement, delivery—basically, everything you’ve ever done wrong.

Hit that “Goals” button. No one else will, but you should. Set your intent, audience, and all that jazz so Grammarly can judge you more accurately.

Premium lets you check for plagiarism. So if you’re “borrowing” ideas, you might want to see how original you actually are.

If the constant suggestions make you want to throw your laptop, just turn off the damn underlines and review at the end.

ProWritingAid Tricks:

Run full reports. It’s like getting a 10-page essay on why your writing sucks. But hey, it’s thorough.

Use the summary for a quick “here’s what you did wrong” overview.

You can tweak what it checks for. If you’re writing a sci-fi novel, maybe turn off the business jargon checker.

Highlight a word and dive into the thesaurus or word explorer. Because sometimes “nice” just doesn’t cut it.

Want an all-in-one roast? Use the Combo feature and watch your ego deflate in real time.

Only want to check a paragraph? Highlight it, and spare yourself the pain of a full-document critique.

Don’t Be a Robot: Best Practices

Don’t just click “accept” on every suggestion like a zombie. These tools are smart, but they’re not perfect. Sometimes they try to “fix” things that were actually fine.

Take a minute to read the feedback. You might accidentally learn something.

If you really want to cover your ass, run your work through both tools. They’ll catch different stuff, so you can feel extra paranoid.

In Conclusion—Because Apparently You Need One

Grammarly and ProWritingAid are lifesavers, especially if you’re tired of embarrassing yourself in emails and reports. They’re not going to turn you into Shakespeare overnight, but they will save you from some truly cringe-worthy mistakes. Install them, play around, and try not to take their criticism too personally. Your writing will get better, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll stop screaming at your keyboard.

As an added bonus, let me tell you about the comma…

My Love-Hate Relationship With the Stupid Comma

Honestly, one of the most mind-boggling, rage-inducing parts of writing is that damned comma. I swear, I’ve spent more time wondering where to stick the little fuckers than actually writing. And let’s not pretend those fancy tools we talked about earlier are any better—they like to throw commas around as if they’re confetti at a parade. Sometimes it’s helpful, sometimes I wonder if the AI is just screwing with me for fun.

So, here’s the deal. Let me save you some pain and tell you what I’ve actually figured out about commas, despite their best efforts to stay mysterious.

The No-Bullshit Guide to Commas

Let’s make commas a little less terrifying and a lot less random. Here’s what you need to keep in mind:

1. Slap a comma before those little joining words in a compound sentence.

If you’re stringing together two complete thoughts with words like and, but, or, nor, for, so, or yet, throw a comma in before the conjunction.

Example:

I wanted pizza, but I only had ramen. (Honestly, isn’t that just the story of my life?)

2. Use commas in a list, because chaos isn’t cute.

Got three or more things? Separate them with commas. The Oxford comma (the one before “and”) is optional, but seriously, sometimes it saves lives.

She packed sandwiches, chips, soda, and cookies.

(“Let’s eat, Grandma” vs. “Let’s eat Grandma.” Commas: keeping your relatives alive since forever.)

3. Intro? Comma. Always.

If your sentence starts with some kind of intro—like a phrase, word, or clause—give it a comma.

After a long day, I just want to nap.

However, I have work to do.

(Relatable, right?)

4. Extra info? Wrap it in commas like a burrito.

If you’re tossing in some bonus info that isn’t totally necessary, put commas around it.

My neighbor, who always wears pajamas, just mowed the lawn.

But if you actually need that info to make sense of the sentence, skip the commas.

The guy who always wears pajamas just mowed the lawn.

5. If your adjectives are fighting for attention, separate them.

If you can stick “and” between your adjectives and it still sounds right, use a comma.

It was a long, exhausting day.

But don’t overdo it.

He wore a bright yellow shirt. (No comma, because “bright yellow” works together.)

6. Talking to someone? Comma their name.

Direct address means you set off the person’s name with a comma, otherwise you might end up accidentally inviting Tom to be dinner, not to dinner.

Let’s eat, Tom.

Tom, let’s eat.

7. Commas love dates, addresses, titles, and big-ass numbers.

On April 1, 2024, we saw a clown.

She lives at 123 Fake Street, Springfield, Illinois.

My friend Jamie Smith, MD, is here.

The prize was $10,000.

(If only that last one was my life.)

8. Sometimes, commas are just there so shit doesn’t get weird.

If your sentence could be misunderstood, a comma might save the day.

To err, is human. (But let’s be honest, to really mess things up, you need a computer.)

Bonus Round: Don’t Overdo It

Don’t go all Jackson Pollock with your commas. Only use them when you actually need to. Too many commas make your writing look like it’s had one too many drinks.

Quick Recap:

Commas keep your writing from turning into a dumpster fire. They separate ideas, make things clearer, and help your sentences not run together like a bad hangover. If you’re not sure if you need one, read your sentence out loud. If you pause (or if it just sounds weird without it), a comma’s probably your friend.

If you still hate commas after all this, trust me, you’re not alone.

Now go forth and write. Or at least, go forth and make fewer mistakes.

If you found any part of this useful, give us a follow. This shit doesn’t write itself.

If you’re a writer, there are three things you should basically always be doing: writing, editing, or marketing. That’s it. There’s no secret fourth thing, no magical shortcut, and definitely no “just scrolling through Twitter for inspiration” (nice try, though).

So, what am I doing here with this blog post? Well, this counts as marketing. And honestly, I’m also just being a really nice person by sharing it with you. You’re welcome.

  • #WritingLife
  • #WriterProblems
  • #CommaDrama
  • #EditingStruggles
  • #WritersOfYou
  • #GrammarHumor
  • #WritingCommunity
  • #AmWriting
  • #WordNerd
  • #MarketingForWriters
  • #SarcasticWriter
  • #BloggingWriters
  • #WritingTips
  • #ProWritingAid
  • #GrammarlyFail
  • #IndieAuthorLife
  • #WritersJourney
  • #WriteEditRepeat
Unraveling Family Secrets: My Journey with Amelia Earhart

Unraveling Family Secrets: My Journey with Amelia Earhart

A few weeks ago, I shared this story on the Reedsy website as part of a contest—one that feels just about as realistic as actually locating my distant cousin, Amelia Earhart. However, today I wanted to share it with you, my audience. Maybe it’ll brighten your day or spark a little curiosity about the connections we all might share, even on this very site.

You see, we all hear stories about our relatives from eons ago, whispers passed down through generations, fragments of lives that shaped who we are. For me, those whispers were irresistible. As a writer, I had to know the truth, no matter who my ancestors turned out to be. Even if they were mafia bosses or obscure nobodies, I knew there would be tales worth telling.

So, I did the DNA thing. I poured time, energy, and more money than I’d like to admit into genealogy research. And what I unraveled was a tapestry of intrigue that stretched far beyond what I ever expected.

My childhood was a kingdom built on whispers, stories of valor, tradition, royalty, and scandal that seemed to weave themselves into the very air I breathed. A haze of cigar smoke clung to the image of a defiant political figure, while hushed voices hinted at royal blood flowing through my veins. And always, in the background, there was a shadow—a darker figure, the man who erased eighteen minutes of history in Washington.

These weren’t just stories. They were my inheritance. Power. Secrets. A kaleidoscope of intrigue buried deep in my DNA.

When I finally cracked open the past, these stories took on new life. The more I dug, the more I found royalty, scandal, and power. And then, Amelia Earhart. A name that needs no introduction. A name that leapt off the pages of history and into my family tree.

A distant cousin. A bold trailblazer. A perfect metaphor for navigating uncharted waters or even waiting to be rescued.

But this isn’t just a story about her disappearance. It’s about the echoes she left behind, the way her legacy is stitched into the fabric of history—and, somehow, into me.

So here’s to the past, to the stories we inherit, and to the ones waiting to be uncovered. Sometimes, they lead to royalty. Sometimes, to scandal. And sometimes, to Amelia Earhart.

***

Sunlight blazed on the Papua New Guinea airstrip. Heat waves distorted the cracked earth. Morning light reflected off the hangars. Only faint insect hums and distant tools broke the silence.

Amelia Earhart stood by her Lockheed Electra, calm but tense. Her tapping foot betrayed her unease. The Electra sat ready in the sun, engines primed. Dressed in khaki slacks and a white blouse, her sharp gaze cut through the moment. Waiting wasn’t her strength.

Noonan was late.

Her sigh cut through the silence. Frustration burned in her chest, but beneath it churned something colder: anxiety. A storm of nerves tightened her gut. Ahead of them stretched 2,556 miles of ruthless ocean, no markers, no mercy. Just an endless expanse of restless blue. Howland Island? A speck on the map. Miss it, and they were nothing but ghosts swallowed by the sea.

She turned the thought over in her mind, locking it away behind a mask of calm. This leg was different. She felt it in her bones, and Fred did too, though he hadn’t dared say it out loud. He didn’t have to. The radio was dying, had been for days. Their antenna? A jury-rigged prayer held together by wire and hope. Every burst of static from the speaker stabbed like a cruel reminder: their mission was a house of cards, teetering in the wind.

A breeze stirred, carrying the damp tang of jungle earth. Amelia closed her eyes, letting it brush against her, grounding her. She thought of George, waiting for her back home. The reporters, waiting to write her triumph or her obituary. And the little girls, faces she’d never seen, who dreamed of reaching the sky because she’d dared to take it. Their dreams hung on her wings, and the weight of it all pressed down on her like lead.

Footsteps broke through the humid stillness.

She opened her eyes. Fred was striding toward her, untucked and unshaven, his hair a wild mess. That grin was back, the cocky, boyish grin he always wore, like danger was something he could charm away. Like the ocean wasn’t out there, waiting to swallow them whole.

“You’re late,” Amelia said, her voice slicing through the thick air like a propeller blade.

He strolled toward her, his untucked shirt flapping lazily in the breeze, that cocky, devil-may-care grin plastered across his face. “Morning, boss,” he drawled, like they were gearing up for a casual Sunday jaunt instead of staring down the most perilous stretch of their lives.

“Fred,” she said, her voice low and edged with steel, “this isn’t just another leg of the journey.”

“I get it, Amelia. I do.”

She gave a single, sharp nod. “Let’s go,” she said.

Without waiting for a reply, Amelia spun on her heel and strode toward the Electra. Behind her, Fred fell in line, tugging his shirt straight and rolling his shoulders back, as if shaking off the weight of what lay ahead. The plane loomed in the distance, its silver body catching the light.

They were all set. Or as prepared as anyone could possibly be for this.

The engines roared to life, a symphony of power and defiance, drowning out words, fears, and second thoughts.

Hours into the flight, the sky burned with the last light of the setting sun, the horizon splitting into gold and crimson hues. In the cockpit, Fred studied the stars, his hands steady, his mind focused. The constellations were their map, their lifeline in the endless blue expanse.

The stars wouldn’t wait forever. Clouds crept across the sky, swallowing their guides one by one. If Fred hadn’t overslept, they’d be closer to safety by now, before the night went blind.

The overcast wasn’t just inconvenient; it was catastrophic. The stars, his lifeline, vanished behind an impenetrable shroud.

“Have you heard from the Itasca?” he asked.

“No,” Amelia said flatly. “I’ve announced our position. No response.”

Fred cursed, the broken antenna flashing in his mind. Who could they even reach out here?

“Can we climb above the clouds?” he shouted.

“We’re burning too much fuel,” she replied.

Fred slumped. No stars. No antenna. Radio silence. A storm churned ahead. Below: endless sea. All they had was the compass, and luck.

Rain hammered the windshield, the storm howling against the Electra’s fragile frame. Lightning tore jagged scars through the darkness. Inside the cockpit, there was no horizon, no bearings, only chaos.

“Fred, give me a heading!” Amelia yelled above the engine noise. “What is our location?”

Fred’s hands trembled as he wrestled with the compass. “I’m trying! The storm’s throwing it off, it’s spinning!”

The Electra shuddered, caught in the storm’s grip, as the ocean below waited, silent and merciless.

“We’ve been on this heading for three, maybe four hours,” Fred shouted, flipping through his maps. “If there’s a headwind, we’re burning more fuel than we thought. We should be near Howland by now.”

“‘Should be’?” Amelia snapped, her voice cutting like the storm outside. “Great. I’ll just ask the ocean to wait while we figure it out!”

Fred’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what to tell you! Without the stars, I’m flying blind! The compass is all we’ve got, and with this storm, it’s probably off!”

That was not the answer she was looking for. Without her instruments, she would most certainly crash them into the ocean. She couldn’t tell where the sky stopped, and the sea began.

Fred froze, pale and silent. The storm battered the plane, each gust shaking the Electra to its core. The fuel gauges ticked lower, the needles creeping toward empty.

Rain blurred the windshield, the instruments glowing faintly in the chaos. Lightning slashed through the black void, illuminating the endless Pacific below.

“I… I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” Fred muttered, his voice breaking. “I thought…”

Amelia cut him off, her words sharp as steel. “You thought what, Fred? That the Pacific would be kind? That we didn’t need the antenna. That we could just point the nose east and hope for the best?”

The plane lurched violently, throwing them forward. Amelia gritted her teeth, fighting the controls as the Electra groaned under the storm’s fury. For a moment, neither spoke. The pounding rain and roaring engines filled the silence.

She exhaled sharply, frustration hardening into focus. When she spoke again, her voice softened, though the fear lingered beneath.

“If the compass is all we’ve got, we use it, imperfect or not. We keep on this heading until we succeed or we go swimming.”

Fred nodded, his breath unsteady as he forced himself to focus. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll keep us on this heading. I’ll recheck the drift estimates and adjust for the wind. We’ll figure this out.”

Amelia’s eyes stayed locked on the storm ahead, her jaw tight. “We don’t have much time to figure anything out. The fuel’s going faster than it should. This headwind’s killing us.”

Fred hesitated, his voice catching. “How much flying time do we have left?”

“Three hours. Four, if we’re lucky.” Her voice was flat, her expression unyielding. “But luck’s not exactly on our side, is it?”

Fred dropped his gaze to the maps in his lap, his voice barely a whisper. “No. It’s not.”

Lightning flashed, flooding the cockpit with white-hot light. Fred’s face was pale, every tight line around his eyes carved with worry. Amelia’s grip on the yoke tightened, her knuckles bone-white. The plane shuddered again, the storm clawing at their fragile craft.

Fred tried to summon hope. “Maybe it’ll clear. Maybe the clouds will break, and I can get a fix on the stars.”

He stared at his maps, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I should’ve fixed the antenna better. I should’ve been ready for this.”

His trembling hands adjusted the compass, eyes locked on the erratic needle jerking under the storm’s interference.

The engines droned unevenly, straining against the wind and rain. Somewhere out there was Howland. Their only option was to continue, slowly advancing as the immense Pacific stretched out beneath them.

The storm eased, just enough to reveal patches of rippling black ocean, infinite and indifferent. The Electra cruised low at 1,000 feet, its fuel gauges hovering dangerously near empty. Amelia’s face was set, her jaw locked. Fred sat in silence, ashen, gripping his map and compass as if they were the only things tethering him to hope.

Amelia shouted over the engines. “I’m calling the Itasca! Maybe they’ll hear us!”

“Itasca, this is Earhart. One thousand feet. Heading east. Position unknown. Low on fuel. Repeat, low on fuel. We estimate we’re near Howland Island. If you can hear us, we need assistance. Over.”

Amelia released the mic. The cockpit filled with an empty, mocking hiss.

Fred leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Come on… please…”

Nothing. Just the relentless crackle of silence.

Amelia tried again. “Itasca, this is Earhart! Do you copy? We’re out of time! Over!”

The reply was the same.

Fred slammed his fist against the armrest, his frustration seething. “Damn it! They can’t hear us.”

The engines groaned as the storm eased, revealing only the vast, empty Pacific below. The fuel gauges hovered dangerously close to empty.

“We’re at our limit,” Amelia said softly, her voice calm but heavy. “These engines won’t last.”

Fred leaned forward. “Drop lower! We might see something, land, anything!”

Amelia hesitated, then tightened her grip on the yoke. “Fine. Hold on.”

The Electra dipped, skimming just above the waves. The engines strained as Fred pressed his face to the window, scanning the endless horizon.

“Wait!” he shouted, pointing frantically. “There! Off the left wing—do you see it?!”

Amelia squinted, her heart pounding. Then she saw it—a faint outline, waves breaking against something solid.

“An island,” Fred gasped. “That has to be it. Howland, or something close!”

Amelia’s voice stayed grim. “We get one shot. If we miss, we’re done.”

The fuel needle dropped to empty. She clenched her teeth, aligning the plane with the distant shadow.

“Steady,” she murmured.

Fred’s voice cracked. “What if it’s just a reef? Can we even land there?”

“Fred!” she barked. “Shut up and let me fly!”

The engines sputtered. One died. The propeller slowed, then stopped, and the Electra lurched violently. Amelia wrestled the controls, leveling the plane as the second engine coughed its final breath.

“Get ready!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the air. “If it’s not land, we’re going to have to start swimming!”

With a shudder, the second engine failed. The silence was overwhelming, with the only disruption coming from the wind’s fierce howl against the plane. The plane glided toward the surf, a fragile machine against the roar of the ocean.

“Come on,” Amelia whispered. “Just a little further…”

The plane skimmed the waves, the salt spray misting the windows, then slammed into the shore, a mix of sand and unforgiving rock. A flicker of hope ignited in that instant.

“Amelia!” Fred screamed. “Watch out!”

The plane jolted violently, slamming into jagged rocks. Water sprayed on either side as the Electra skidded to a halt, its crushed nose buried in sand.

Silence. No engines. No voices. Only the crash of distant waves and the groan of the battered fuselage settling into the earth.

The sudden stop from the harness’s grip on the seat stole her breath. Frozen, she sat, the ragged sound of her breath echoing in the silence. “Fred… you okay?” she rasped, the sound thin and frail.

The Electra lay in a shallow lagoon, its crumpled nose half-buried in sand and rock. Tidewater lapped at its sides, creeping into the fuselage. Overhead, the storm had broken, clouds parting to reveal faint moonlight on a desolate beach.

Inside the cockpit, they worked quickly, soaked and shaking.

Her wet gloves slipped against the straps, her arms screaming with fatigue, but she didn’t stop. Finally, the emergency radio came free. “Got it. Help me with the power unit.”

Fred staggered back, panting. “This thing weighs a ton. If the tide comes in faster…”

“We’ll make it,” Amelia declared, her voice echoing with a steely determination. “Keep moving.”

They climbed off the wing, plunging waist-deep into the frigid water. The cold sliced through their soaked clothes, stealing their breath, but they pressed on. The lagoon reeked of salt and damp earth, the steady crash of waves the only sound beyond their labored breaths.

Fred shivered, his voice thin. “Do you think anyone heard us? Before the engines died?”

Amelia didn’t look back; her gaze was locked ahead. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

Her voice was steady, but Fred caught the strain beneath it, the fear she buried under sheer determination. She gripped the radio tighter, the cold metal biting into her gloves.

The shore drew closer. Their boots sank into the shifting sand beneath the shallow water. The lagoon, now calm, mirrored the pale glow of the moon. Around them, debris, seaweed, driftwood, and jagged rocks littered the beach like the remains of a forgotten world.

Fred broke the silence. “God, it’s so quiet.”

“Quiet’s better than thunder,” Amelia replied. “Let’s get everything to higher ground before the tide takes it.”

They fell onto the sand, the power unit hitting with a thud. Amelia rolled her aching shoulders. Fred gasped, dropping to his knees, the flashlight shaking.

“Could this be Howland?” he asked.

Amelia scanned the dark horizon, hands braced on her knees. “Maybe. Or another island nearby. Hard to tell in the dark.”

Fred’s voice wavered. “And if it’s not? What if it’s just… nothing? An empty speck in the middle of nowhere?”

Amelia straightened, her tone steady. “Then we survive. One step at a time.”

Fred’s pale face was fixed on the lagoon as he nodded slowly. The wrecked Electra, a spectral outline, sat half-submerged, its broken form a chilling sight against the vast Pacific. Crushed by the vastness, he felt nothing but the weight of his isolation, with no rescue or certainty in sight. A wave of nausea caused his stomach to churn.

Amelia’s hand gripped his shoulder. “We’re not done yet,” she said, her voice resolute. “As long as we’re breathing, we’ve got a chance. Let’s get the radio set up.”

Each step was a struggle, their bodies stiff and heavy, yet necessity compelled them to move forward. As Amelia unpacked the radio, Fred dragged the power unit, its weight a heavy drag, near the tree line. Her numb fingers worked with painstaking slowness. The night buzzed around them, a symphony of insect hums and rustling palms, each sound piercing the silent air.

Fred’s eyes darted nervously toward the deep, looming shadows. “Do you think anything could possibly be living in this quiet place?”

Amelia kept her gaze fixed downward. “Let’s not make that a priority for now.”

With meticulous movements, Amelia connected wires while Fred held the flashlight, the beam dancing nervously as he glanced at the shadowy tree line. The faint moonlight cast an ethereal glow, barely holding back the darkness of the night.

At last, Amelia straightened, wiping her hands on her damp trousers. She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cool air.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Let’s see if anyone’s listening.”

The switch clicked. The radio crackled to life, a faint, fragile hum. Hope jolted through them.

As Amelia grabbed the mic, the weight of the situation made her voice both steady and urgent. “Mayday, mayday,” a frantic plea cut through the otherwise silent airwaves.

Endless static stretched, creating a suffocating pressure. Fred’s heart pounded in his chest as he held his breath.

Amelia tried again, her tone firmer. “Mayday, mayday. This is Amelia Earhart. Is anyone there? Over.”

The radio teased them with faint crackles, as if a voice hovered just out of reach. But no reply came.

Fred closed his eyes, shoulders sagging in quiet defeat. Amelia lowered the mic, her jaw tight, her eyes sharp.

“They’ll hear us eventually,” she murmured, almost to herself. “We just have to keep trying.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The weight of their reality pressed down, heavy as the humid air. The moon hung low, casting long shadows across the beach. In the distance, waves broke softly against the shore, a haunting rhythm in the stillness.

“Help me light a fire, Fred.”

Gathering driftwood, Fred finally broke the silence, his voice barely audible. “What if no one comes?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the horizon. When she spoke, her voice was calm, resolute.

“Then we survive, one way or another, we survive.”

And that, my friends, is how I want to believe they slid into the history books, as survivors.

-Scott

Share the Journey

If this story resonated with you, I’d love for you to share it with others who might enjoy unraveling tales of history, mystery, and legacy. Give me a follow and stay tuned, there are more stories to come, and I can’t wait to share them with you.

If this is the kind of content you love, let me know in the comments! Your thoughts, connections, and stories mean the world to me, and I’d love to hear what you think.

Here’s to exploring the past, uncovering truth, and finding stories worth telling. Stay curious. 🌟

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“If the Glove Shrinks: Lawyers, Loopholes, and the Big Beautiful Mess of Justice”

“If the Glove Shrinks: Lawyers, Loopholes, and the Big Beautiful Mess of Justice”

In my latest literary masterpiece, The Big Beautiful Book of Stupid Shit (yes, that’s the real title, and no, I don’t regret it), I dive headfirst into some of the most baffling, infuriating, and downright idiotic aspects of the human condition. Spoiler alert: humanity is weird, and I’m here to talk about it.For example, let’s chat about lawyers. Specifically, the ones willing to defend the absolute worst people among us—the ones who make you pause mid-sandwich and say, “Wait, why are they even trying?” You know the type. They’re the ones standing up in court for murderers, war criminals, and people who willingly put pineapple on pizza.Take Charlie Kirk, for instance. Imagine defending that walking, talking Facebook comment section. The guy could probably strangle a basket of kittens on live TV, and some lawyer would still show up in court, briefcase in hand, ready to argue that “the kittens provoked him.” It makes you wonder—why? Why do these people do it? Are they just morally bankrupt? Are they paid in gold bars? Is there some kind of secret lawyer cult that demands sacrifices to the God of Loopholes?

The O.J. Trial: A Masterclass in Legal Shenanigans

Let’s rewind to the O.J. Simpson trial, that glorious dumpster fire of the 90s that had the whole world glued to their TVs. I’m pretty sure I taped it, but who knows—I might’ve just blacked out from secondhand embarrassment. Everyone and their dog knew O.J. was guilty. The man practically left a bloody trail to his living room. But did that stop his “Dream Team” of lawyers from turning the trial into the Super Bowl of legal theatrics? Hell no.And then came the moment that will live in infamy: the glove. You know the one. The leather glove soaked in blood that obviously shrank because, fun fact, wet leather shrinks. It’s science, people. But when O.J. tried it on and did his little “oops, doesn’t fit” dance, the jury collectively nodded and said, “Well, if the glove doesn’t fit, we must acquit.” I mean, come on. That’s like saying, “If the shoes don’t tie, the guy didn’t die.”By the way, did you know Native Americans used wet leather as a weapon of torture? True story. They’d bury their enemies up to their necks, tie a wet leather strap around their heads, and let the desert sun do the rest. The leather would dry, shrink, and slowly crush their skulls. Brutal, right? Now imagine some modern lawyer defending that. “Your honor, my clients were simply engaging in culturally significant headgear practices. They’re innocent.”

The T. Cullen Davis Shitshow

Speaking of Texas-sized legal disasters, let’s talk about T. Cullen Davis. If you’ve never heard of him, congrats—you have a healthy brain that hasn’t been poisoned by true crime rabbit holes. This guy was a millionaire accused of, among other things, murder. And who was his lawyer? Racehorse Haynes, a man with a name so Texas it might as well be wearing spurs. Haynes was so good at his job that you have to wonder if he made some kind of Faustian deal with the Devil himself. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Haynes and Satan are currently doing laps together in the lake of fire, swapping war stories about all the guilty people they got off the hook.

So, Why Do Lawyers Defend These People?

Here’s the kicker: defense attorneys don’t take these cases because they’re evil or because they secretly enjoy high-fiving serial killers in the breakroom. Nope. They do it because the justice system, as gloriously messy and flawed as it is, only works if everyone gets a fair trial. That means even the scumbags, the psychos, and yes, even the pineapple-on-pizza people deserve someone in their corner.These lawyers aren’t there to say, “Hey, my client is a great guy who accidentally stabbed 14 people.” They’re there to make sure the system doesn’t screw it up. Because if the system can railroad the guilty, it can definitely railroad the innocent. And that’s when things go from “mildly horrifying” to “full-on dystopia.”

How the Hell Do They Sleep at Night?

You’re probably wondering how these lawyers manage to sleep at night after defending, say, a guy who stole candy from babies or a hedge fund manager who tanked the economy. The answer? Compartmentalization. That’s therapist-speak for “shoving all your guilt and moral dilemmas into a mental closet and slamming the door shut.”Defense attorneys also lean on professional ethics, peer support, and the occasional stiff drink to get through it. They convince themselves that they’re not defending the crime—they’re defending the process. And honestly? They’re not wrong. The legal system doesn’t work without them. Just don’t expect them to win any popularity contests.

Final Thoughts: The Big, Stupid Picture

At the end of the day, defending the indefensible is a thankless job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Without defense attorneys, the justice system would be about as fair as a rigged carnival game. Sure, it’s frustrating to watch some smirking sociopath walk free because of a technicality, but the alternative—living in a world where justice is arbitrary and rights are optional—is way worse.So, the next time you’re shaking your head at some lawyer defending a guy who obviously did it, just remember: they’re not sleeping peacefully because they condone the crime. They’re sleeping peacefully because they know they’re upholding the system. Or maybe they’re just really good at compartmentalizing. Either way, they’re doing their job—and, like it or not, we all benefit from it.Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write my next chapter: “Why People Still Put Up With Reality TV.” Spoiler: I have no idea.

Thanks for visiting. Make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss my next satiracle, look at humanity, or learn about putting virgin olive oil in coffee. (pro tip: be close to the bathroom)

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Thanks @thetimedokAuthorScott

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Effective Book Marketing Strategies for Authors

Effective Book Marketing Strategies for Authors

As the Director of the Carrollton League of Writers, I talk a lot about marketing. Like, a lot. Why? Because, as a writer, you’re basically doing one of three things at any given moment: writing, editing, or trying to convince people to buy the damn thing you wrote. And let me tell you right now: that third one is where dreams go to die.

That’s why I tell people to keep their day jobs. Seriously. Writing is a business, sure, but half the time, it’s just a fancy way to justify a tax write-off. “No, honey, it’s not a failed hobby—it’s a business expense.” And let’s just say most writers aren’t exactly raking in Stephen King-level royalty checks.

But hey, I’m not here to crush your dreams of being the next EL James (although I could). Instead, let me help you out with some marketing tips. Because let’s face it: if you don’t sell your book, nobody’s gonna read it. Well, except for your mom—and even she might “accidentally” forget to finish it.

1. Develop a Book Marketing Strategy

This is step one, folks. Before you do anything else, you need a plan. I know, planning isn’t sexy or fun, but neither is explaining to your friends why your book has been on Amazon for two years and still has zero reviews.

Here’s the deal: set some goals, figure out who the hell you’re writing for (hint: it’s not “everyone”), and decide how you’re going to reach them. A clear marketing strategy will help you avoid wasting time on pointless crap that doesn’t work.

2. Build Your Author Platform

Look, if nobody knows who you are, nobody’s gonna care about your book. That’s where your author platform comes in. It’s basically your online stage—so make sure you don’t look like a total amateur while you’re standing on it.

Create an Author Website: Think of this as your digital home base. It’s where people will go to learn about you, your book, and why they should give you their money. Plus, it’s a great place to collect email addresses for future marketing. (Yes, we’re going to talk about email lists later, so don’t roll your eyes yet.)

Engage on Social Media: This is where you can pretend you’re a celebrity, even if you’re just a writer with 12 followers and a lot of opinions about coffee. Platforms like Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok are your friends—if you use them right. Post updates, share behind-the-scenes tidbits, and actually interact with people. Nobody likes a self-promotional robot.

3. Prepare for Launch

Your book launch is a big freaking deal. It’s like a party, except instead of booze and karaoke, you’re hoping people will buy your book and leave nice reviews. So, yeah, slightly less fun, but still important.

Write a Killer Author Bio: This is your chance to convince readers that you’re an actual human being and not some faceless entity who churned out a book because ChatGPT told you to. Be relatable. Be funny. (Or don’t be funny, if that’s not your thing—but at least try to be interesting.)

Build a Launch Team: Gather a group of people who are willing to hype you up. These could be friends, family, or random strangers you bribed with the promise of free copies. They’ll leave early reviews, share your book on social media, and generally make you look like you’ve got a whole squad cheering for you.

Find Reviewers: Bloggers, influencers, that one book nerd you know—they’re all fair game. Reviews matter. A lot. Especially on platforms like Amazon. Without them, your book might as well not exist.

4. Optimize Your Book’s Online Presence

Your book’s online presence is like its dating profile. If it’s boring, confusing, or full of typos, nobody’s swiping right.

Metadata and Keywords: This is the boring part, but it’s super important. Make sure your book’s title, description, and keywords are optimized for search engines. Basically, make it easy for people to find your book when they’re browsing online.

Decide Where to Sell: Amazon is the obvious choice, but you’ve got options. You could go exclusive with Kindle Direct Publishing (and maybe Kindle Unlimited) or distribute your book more widely. Just know that Amazon is kind of like the popular kid at school—if you’re not hanging out there, you’re probably missing out on a lot of attention.

5. Promote Your Book

Here’s where the real hustle comes in. You’ve got to put yourself out there and make people want to read your book.

Leverage Social Proof: Translation: beg readers to leave reviews. The more people are talking about your book online, the more likely it is that others will check it out.

Reach Out for Publicity: Bloggers, podcasters, and media outlets can help spread the word. Guest blogging and podcast interviews are great ways to get in front of new audiences. Plus, you get to feel important for a hot second.

Run Promotions: Discounts, giveaways, limited-time offers—these are all great ways to generate buzz. Everyone loves free stuff, so use that to your advantage.

6. Keep the Momentum Going

Here’s the thing about book marketing: it doesn’t stop after your launch. If you want your book to keep selling, you’ve got to keep working at it. (Yeah, I know. It sucks. Welcome to the grind.)

Build an Email List: Remember when I said we’d talk about email lists? Well, here we are. Use your website and social media to collect email addresses, then send out regular newsletters to keep your audience engaged. Think of it as your personal fan club.

Keep Marketing: Try new things. Experiment. Fail. Learn. And then try again. Marketing is an ongoing process, and the more you do it, the better you’ll get.

Start thinking about marketing before you finish your book. I know, it’s tempting to just focus on the writing and hope people will magically find your work later, but that’s not how it works. The earlier you start planning and building your platform, the better your chances of success.

And hey, if all else fails, at least you can say you gave it a shot. Worst case scenario, you’ve got a great story to tell at parties: “Remember that time I tried to be a famous author? Yeah, that was wild.”

If you want me to dig deeper into any of these steps—or if you just need someone to commiserate with—I’m here for you. Let’s make your book the next big thing (or at least a thing).

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Mastering Syllable-to-Word Ratio for Better Writing

Mastering Syllable-to-Word Ratio for Better Writing

Have you ever come across one of those carts parked outside a half-price bookstore, overflowing with books so cheap that even the employees inside wouldn’t bat an eye if you walked off with one? Yeah, those. The literary graveyard of rejected paperbacks and forgotten hardcovers. I’m a sucker for them. I’ll sift through the pile, find something that piques my interest, and then march inside like a responsible adult to actually pay for it.

But here’s the thing: you ever wonder why those books ended up in the discount bin of shame? Nine times out of ten, it’s the writing. Oh boy, the writing. Either it’s drowning in purple prose, or the author decided, “Hey, let’s crank this up to a college-reading level and see how many people’s brains explode.”

Target Audience Problems: A Writer’s Existential Crisis

In creative writing, we’re always told to think about our target audience. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. Here’s where it gets messy. Imagine this: someone brings their masterpiece to a critique group. It’s a highbrow novel meant for intellectual types who sip chai tea and quote obscure philosophers. But the group? They hate it. They can’t explain why, but they just don’t. The writer spirals into a pit of frustration, and the critique group sits there awkwardly like, “Sorry, we don’t know what’s wrong, but it makes our brains hurt.”

Let me save you the trouble. It’s probably the syllable-to-word ratio. Yeah, I know, sounds nerdy, but stay with me.

What the Hell is Syllable-to-Word Ratio?

I’m glad you asked (or at least pretended to). The syllable-to-word ratio is this super-geeky metric that measures the average number of syllables per word in a chunk of text. Why should you care? Because it can make or break how your writing feels to your reader.

Here’s the gist:

Readability:

Low ratio (1.2–1.4): Short words, easy to read. Think, “See Spot run.”

High ratio (1.5–1.8+): Long, complex words that scream, “I have a Thesaurus and I’m not afraid to use it!”

Pacing and Flow:

Lower ratios = faster pace. Great for action scenes or snappy dialogue.

Higher ratios = slower, more reflective. Perfect for moody, poetic, or “I’m trying to win a Pulitzer” moments.

Style and Tone:

Writing a child’s perspective? Keep the words short and sweet.

Got a pretentious professor as your main character? Break out the big words and make them earn that Ph.D.

Let’s Look at Some Examples

Here’s a basic breakdown to show you the difference:

Paragraph 1 (Simple Language):

The cat sat on the mat. It looked at the sun and purred.

Words: 14

Syllables: 16

Ratio: 16 / 14 ≈ 1.14

Paragraph 2 (Complex Language):

The magnificent feline reclined gracefully upon the embroidered carpet, basking serenely in the golden illumination streaming through the window.

Words: 20

Syllables: 38

Ratio: 38 / 20 = 1.9

See the difference? The first paragraph is quick, punchy, and gets straight to the point. The second one? It’s like the writer wanted you to pause dramatically after every word and think about life’s meaning.

Why This Matters in Creative Writing

Knowing your syllable-to-word ratio isn’t just some geeky flex. It’s a tool. A sneaky little trick to control how your readers experience your writing. Here’s how you can use it:

Want to speed things up during an action scene? Keep the sentences short and the words even shorter.

Need to slow things down for an emotional moment? Stretch it out with longer words and more complex sentences.

Writing dialogue? Match the ratio to your character’s personality. A street-smart detective won’t talk like a philosophy professor (unless that’s part of the joke).

Tools to Make Your Life Easier

Let’s be real, no one’s doing this math by hand. Use an online syllable counter or plug your text into something like Hemingway Editor. These tools will tell you if your writing is too complex or if you’re on track for that sweet spot of readability.

Final Thoughts: The Ratio is a Jedi Mind Trick

The syllable-to-word ratio is one of those sneaky things that can make your writing flow better, feel more immersive, and keep readers glued to the page. It’s not about dumbing down your work; it’s about making sure your readers don’t feel like they need a dictionary just to keep up. Trust me, I’ve been there. When I first started writing, I thought flexing my vocabulary was the key to literary greatness. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. People don’t want to stop every other sentence to Google a word. They want to stay in the story.

So, play around with it. Experiment. Try writing the same scene with different ratios and see what feels right. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t be afraid to use simple words. Sometimes, “The cat sat on the mat” says everything you need it to.

Share the Wisdom, Spread the Love

These writing tips don’t write themselves… Yes, I care about writers, but let’s face it, I am an author and my books need a little marketing. So…

If this was helpful, share it with your writer buddies. One share is like sending a virtual high-five to both me and them. And who doesn’t love a good high-five?

Until next time, happy writing, and remember, fewer syllables can sometimes make for a hell of a better story.

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How to Craft a Compelling Author Bio for Your Book

How to Craft a Compelling Author Bio for Your Book

After spending months or even years pouring your heart into writing a book, it’s natural to ask yourself: What else goes into this book to make it complete? Beyond captivating stories or compelling content, one of the key elements that often gets overlooked is the author bio.

The back-of-book biography is your chance to make a memorable first impression on readers. Keep it short, relevant, and engaging. Focus on what makes you the right person to have written this book, and sprinkle in a touch of personality to make it relatable.

Whether you’re a seasoned author or publishing your first book, your bio is an opportunity to connect with your audience, so make it count!

As our writers group, The Carrollton League of Writers, is working on compiling a book of short stories,

I’ve been thinking a lot about author bios. With multiple contributors, we’ve decided to dedicate a “Meet the Authors” section in our book, offering each writer a chance to connect with readers. Even with more space available in this section, understanding the art of crafting a concise, back-of-book author bio is essential.

So, what exactly goes into an author bio for the back of a book? Let’s break it down.

What Is a Back-of-Book Biography?

A back-of-book biography—often called an author bio—is a brief, engaging snapshot of who you are as a writer. It’s designed to introduce you to readers, build a connection, and establish your credibility. This small piece of text can have a big impact on how readers perceive you and your work.

Key Elements of a Back-of-Book Biography

Here’s what to include for a polished, professional author bio:

1. Brevity

Keep it short and sweet. A back-cover bio is typically no more than a sentence or two. There’s no room for your full life story here—focus only on the essentials.

2. Relevant Credentials

Highlight any qualifications, experiences, or achievements that relate to your book. For example:

Are you a former detective writing a crime thriller? Mention it.

Writing about personal finance? Note your professional background in the field.

3. Personal Touch

Include a relatable or humanizing detail, like where you live, a hobby, or a quirky fact. This helps readers connect with you on a personal level.

4. Tone

Match the tone of your bio to the tone of your book.

A humorous book might call for a witty, playful bio.

A serious nonfiction work should strike a professional, polished tone.

5. Current Work or Achievements

If you’ve published other notable works or received awards, this is the place to highlight them. Mention only the most impressive or relevant ones to keep it concise.

6. Call to Action (Optional)

You can include a website, social media handle, or email for readers who want to connect or learn more about you. This is optional but can be a great way to engage your audience beyond the book.

What to Avoid in Your Author Bio

1. Too Much Detail

Save the lengthy biography for the inside of the book or a dedicated “About the Author” page. The back-of-book bio should be quick and to the point.

2. Overshadowing the Book

The bio is there to complement the book, not steal the spotlight. Don’t let it distract from the main event: your writing.

Example of a Back Cover Author Bio

To give you an idea, here’s a simple yet effective example:

Jane Smith is a former marine biologist whose adventures at sea inspired her debut novel. She lives in Seattle with her two cats and a love of coffee.

This bio is concise, includes relevant credentials, adds a personal touch, and matches the tone of the book (which might be a fun, adventure-filled tale).

But what about the Author page? you might ask…

Here’s an example of what a more detailed “About the Author” page might look like, followed by an explanation of how it differs from a back-of-book bio:
About the Author
Jane Smith is a former marine biologist turned novelist who draws inspiration from her years of exploring the oceans. During her career, she spent over a decade researching coral reef ecosystems and leading deep-sea dives, experiences that serve as the foundation for her debut novel, Beneath the Waves.
Jane holds a Master’s degree in Marine Biology from the University of Washington and has published several academic papers on marine conservation. After transitioning from science to storytelling, Jane discovered her passion for weaving gripping adventures with environmental themes, which she hopes will inspire readers to appreciate and protect the natural world.
When she’s not writing, Jane enjoys kayaking along the Pacific Northwest coastline, photographing wildlife, and experimenting with sustainable gardening. She currently lives in Seattle with her two cats, Luna and Neptune, and an ever-growing collection of sea glass.
You can learn more about Jane and her work by visiting her website at http://www.janesmithwrites.com or following her on Instagram at @janesmithwrites.
How a Dedicated About Page Differs from a Back-of-Book Bio
The “About the Author” page is much longer and more detailed compared to a back-of-book bio, and here’s how they differ:

  1. Length and Detail
    Back-of-Book Bio: Short and concise—usually just 1-3 sentences meant to give readers a quick introduction to the author.
    Example: Jane Smith is a former marine biologist whose adventures at sea inspired her debut novel. She lives in Seattle with her two cats.
    About Page: Longer and more comprehensive, allowing the author to go into greater detail about their background, education, career, and personal life.
  2. Purpose
    Back-of-Book Bio: Its primary purpose is to establish credibility and give a brief personal touch, helping readers understand why the author is qualified to write the book.
    About Page: Designed to provide a fuller picture of the author, including their expertise, motivations, hobbies, and potentially their journey as a writer, creating a deeper connection with the audience.
  3. Tone
    Back-of-Book Bio: Matches the tone of the book and is usually professional yet approachable (e.g., witty for a humorous book, formal for serious nonfiction).
    About Page: Can be more conversational and personal, giving readers insight into the author’s personality and life beyond the book.
  4. Call to Action
    Back-of-Book Bio: Sometimes includes a subtle call to action, like a website or social media handle, but this isn’t always included.
    About Page: Almost always includes links to the author’s website, social media, or other works, encouraging readers to engage further.
  5. Audience
    Back-of-Book Bio: Targets readers who are deciding whether to purchase or read the book.
    About Page: Targets readers who want to learn more about the author after enjoying their book or discovering their work online.
    When to Use Each
    Back-of-Book Bio: A must-have for any book, as it’s often the first impression readers get of the author.
    About Page: Ideal for an author’s website, blog, or even the back matter of a book for readers who want to dive deeper into the author’s life and work.
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“How to Create Characters That Don’t Suck (and Maybe Even Kick Ass)”

“How to Create Characters That Don’t Suck (and Maybe Even Kick Ass)”

How to Build Characters : A Guide for Writers

So, while slogging through some stories (bless their hearts), it hit me that some folks could really use a crash course in character development. Because, let’s face it, reading about flat, lifeless characters is about as fun as watching paint dry on a rainy day. Great stories are built on great characters, so let’s talk about how to make them memorable, relatable, and, you know, not garbage.

Here’s the rundown:

1. Give Them a Damn Good Reason to Exist (aka Motivation)

Every character worth their salt wants something—something big, something juicy. It doesn’t matter if it’s love, revenge, a fat stack of cash, or just not dying a horrible death. Ask yourself: What’s their deal? What are they willing to burn down (figuratively, or literally) to get it? Take Harry Potter, for instance; he’s on a mission to take down Voldemort because, well, Voldemort killed his parents, and that’s kind of a dick move. See? Motivation. Clear as day.

2. Nobody Likes a Perfect

Perfect people don’t exist. (Except maybe Beyoncé, but even she probably has something.) If your character’s flawless, they’re boring. Like, “I ‘m-skipping-to-the-next-book” boring. Give them a mix of good and bad traits. Maybe your hero is brave as hell, but can’t keep their mouth shut when they should. Or maybe your villain is a manipulative jerk but secretly cries when they see stray puppies. People are messy; make your characters messy, too.

3. Growth Is Cool, but Stubbornness Is Also Fun

Look, people change or they don’t. Either way, it’s entertaining. Great stories often show characters evolving because of all the crap they go through. But hey, if your character is the kind of person who doubles down on their bad decisions instead of learning from them, that’s cool too. We all know someone like that in real life. (And we probably talk about them behind their back.)

4. Choices, Choices, Choices

Want your characters to feel real? Make them do stuff. Let them screw up, make bold moves, or accidentally burn down a metaphorical (or literal) bridge. Their decisions should have consequences, good ones, bad ones, or “holy-shit-did-they-really do that” ones. Actions reveal who your characters truly are. Plus, it keeps your plot from dying a slow, uneventful death.

5. Backstory: Sprinkle, Don’t Dump

A character’s past is like salt in a recipe, use just enough to enhance the flavor, but don’t go dumping the whole shaker in. Nobody wants to sit through five pages about your character’s traumatic childhood unless it actually affects how they act right now. Give us little breadcrumbs. Let us connect the dots. You’re not writing a therapy session, you’re writing a story.

6. Make Them Sound Like Actual Humans

Here’s a hot tip: not everyone talks like you. Shocking, I know. Give each character their own voice and quirks. Maybe one swears like a sailor, another spouts motivational quotes like they’re auditioning for a TED Talk, and another mumbles so much you’re not even sure what they’re saying half the time. Different speech patterns, body language, and habits make your characters stand out, and keep them from blending into one big, boring blob.

7. Make the Stakes Hit Home

If your character doesn’t care about what’s happening, why the hell should the reader? The stakes need to matter on a personal level. Sure, saving the world is great and all, but what if your protagonist is only doing it because their kid’s life is on the line? Or because their ex is leading the apocalypse and they want to prove they’re better at literally everything? Make it personal. Make it hurt.

8. Let Them Do Weird Shit Every Now and Then

Some of the best moments in stories come when a character does something you didn’t expect—but it still makes sense for who they are. Maybe your buttoned-up accountant suddenly punches someone in the face because they’ve finally had enough. Or your villain has a weirdly tender moment with their pet tarantula. Let your characters surprise you. Let them be unpredictable, but not completely out of character. There’s a fine line between “unexpected” and “WTF just happened.”

Final Words of Wisdom

At the end of the day, characters are the heart of your story. If you know them inside and out, their dreams, fears, secrets, and what kind of pizza they’d order at 3 a.m.—they’ll practically write the story for you. (Okay, not really, but you get the idea.) Keep them real, messy, and interesting, and your readers will stick around for the ride.

Now go forth and create some badass characters. Or don’t. But if you don’t, don’t blame me when your readers start yawning three chapters in.

In case you’re wondering… The Big Beautiful Book of Stupid Shit is still coming. I have to focus on editing, and I hate editing.

I did publish a memoir called “Lessons I learned at the wrong side of a badge. Yes, I had guns pointed at me and every mean, ugly, nasty thing you could imagine. After you read it, come back here, or there where you purchase it and tell me your thoughts.

BTW, it’s cheap and almost free if you’re on KDP.

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Point Blank: Lessons I Learned on the Wrong Side of a Badge

Point Blank: Lessons I Learned on the Wrong Side of a Badge

Point Blank: Lessons I Learned on the Wrong Side of a Badge

A Book You Didn’t Know You Needed (But Oh, You Do)

Let me hit you with a question: Have you ever looked back on your life, shaking your head like, What the actual hell was I thinking? Ever had cops point guns at you like you just robbed a damn bank? Or been pulled over for speeding, on a bicycle? If you answered yes to any of that, welcome to the club. And if you didn’t, buckle up, because this book will give you a front-row seat to the kind of weirdness you didn’t know you needed in your life.

Now, take that “what the hell” feeling, crank it up to eleven, sprinkle in a heaping dose of stupidity, and slather it all with dark humor. That’s my life in a nutshell. Well, that, and now it’s also my book.

Point Blank isn’t just a catchy title, it’s basically the theme of my existence. It’s a front-row seat to the absurdity of growing up chasing lizards in Carrollton, Texas, and somehow ending up walking a tightrope between comedy and total catastrophe. And let’s be real—who hasn’t been there?

This book is my love letter to the moments that make life… well, incredibly dumb. It’s a collection of stories, life lessons, and the facepalm-worthy memories that prove one thing: no matter how much you think you’ve got life figured out, you don’t. (Spoiler alert: no one does.) But honestly, isn’t that where the fun is? In the ridiculous, the unexpected, and the holy-crap-why-is-this-happening moments?

So, What the Hell Is Point Blank About?

At its core, Point Blank is a comedic deep dive into life’s dumbest moments. But it’s not just that. It’s part memoir, part roast, part free therapy session (for me, not you). It’s the kind of book you pick up when life’s been kicking you in the teeth, and you need a reminder that you are not the only one out here navigating the chaos.

Here’s a little teaser of what you’re in for:

Lessons I Learned While Staring Down the Barrel of a Gun

Pro tip: Don’t try to argue your case with the cops on the side of the road. Just don’t.

How to Survive a Head-On Collision (And the Bureaucratic Circus That Follows)

Because apparently, getting hit by a drunk driver isn’t enough. Nope, fate has to throw in paperwork, insurance nightmares, and a side of complete nonsense.

The Great Paper Route Fiasco

Picture this: ink-stained hands, 5 a.m. bike rides, and a not-so-charming run-in with the local cops. (Spoiler: they weren’t impressed.)

“Arrest-Me Red” and Other Car Choices I’d Like to Forget

Fast cars, flashing lights, and one particularly chaotic road trip from Miami to Key West that felt more like a cop magnet convention.

Reinvention 101

From engineer to IT guy to sci-fi writer, because apparently, I like to keep my life as unpredictable as possible.

Why You’re Gonna Love This Book

Okay, I get it. You’re probably thinking: Do I really need another book about someone else’s ridiculous life? But hear me out, this one’s different. It’s not just about my life. It’s about our lives.

It’s about the universal stupidity we all encounter—the shared facepalm moments that remind us we’re all just winging it. You’ll laugh (hard). You’ll cringe (probably harder). You might even tear up a little, but only in that holy crap, this is too real kind of way.

Think of Point Blank as sitting down with that one friend who’s been through some serious shit, lived to tell the tale, and somehow managed to find the punchline in every disaster.

Who’s This Book For?

If you’ve ever made a decision so dumb it deserves its own monument, this book’s for you.

If you’ve ever looked at someone else’s life and thought, Well, at least I’m not that guy, this book’s definitely for you.

If you’re a fan of George Carlin’s brutal honesty, Douglas Adams’ absurd humor, or David Sedaris’ ability to find hilarity in misery, congrats—you’ve found your new favorite read.

If you just need a good laugh, a break, or a reminder that life’s most chaotic moments are often the most memorable, this book is 1000% for you.

Where to Read It

Picture this: You’re sitting on the toilet (don’t even pretend you don’t scroll or read in there), flipping pages or swiping through your phone, and suddenly you’re laughing so hard you almost fall off the damn seat. That’s what this book is for.

It’s for the bathroom, the waiting room, the coffee break, the long-ass flight, or those sleepless nights when you just want to escape the madness for a bit.

A Final Word

Point Blank isn’t just a book. It’s an experience. It’s a rollercoaster through the highs and lows, the WTF moments, and the laughs that make life worth living—and retelling.

So here’s the deal: Buy the book. Read the book. Laugh at the book. Share the book. And who knows? Maybe you’ll start seeing your own life in a slightly less serious, slightly more ridiculous light.

Because let’s face it, isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? Find the humor in the madness, make sense of the chaos, and keep moving forward, one hilariously stupid moment at a time.

Go grab your copy of Point Blank. Trust me, your life will be better (or at least funnier) for it.

Then do me a solid, give it a review from where you bought it, or even read it for free on KDP.