The top ten traits of a crime novelist:
10. When you don’t answer the phone because you’ve just stepped out of the shower you worry for the rest of the day that the robber who called to ensure no one was at home is going to show up on your doorstep–or in your basement.
9. When you see the flashers of a cop car behind you, you’re pretty sure they are pulling you over to ask for your help in solving a major crime
8. You are certain that at some point in your life you are going to discover human remains and it won’t be in a funeral home or a graveyard
7. You know the number for Crime Stoppers and have to resist calling in tips on what murder investigators ought to be doing. You also want to read them your list of suspects.
6. You think your novel is more exciting and more realistic than that "other author’s" True Crime books.
5. You vehemently deny that you ever wanted a ‘real’ career in law enforcement. And you lock all your doors and are in bed by 10:00 pm–unless you are in the middle of writing an exciting scene. In which case you go to bed two hours before your alarm goes off.
4. You believe you would be a good candidate for the next Commander in Chief of the RCMP and are a bit disappointed when no one calls.
3. You believe that cops are simply engaging in an grand conspiracy of denial when they say real-life policing is not nearly as exciting as it is on TV.
2. The lady crossing the street in a wheelchair looks suspicious to you.
AND...the top trait of a Crime novelist:
You think publishers are rejecting your manuscripts because they are afraid either the police or organized crime will come after them if they print your novels
Eileen Schuh
Author "Schrodinger's Cat"
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Another giggle...
I'll give you another giggle to help me deal with the pangs of withdrawal.
A string slithered down the street, under the door of a tavern, and onto a bar stool. The bartender leaned over and stared at the string.
"You're a string!" he finally growled. "We don't serve your kind."
Disappointed, and very thirsty, the string slithered out of the tavern and continued down the street to the next bar. He crept in and wiggled up onto a chair at a table. The bouncer came over, crossed his mighty tattooed arms, and scowled down. "String," he said. "We don't serve your kind."
The string sadly crawled back out to the street. There was one more bar at the far end of the block and he slowly made his way toward it. As he passed a shop window, he caught sight of his reflection. He was embarrassed to see his tail end was unravelling. "I'm so dishevelled, it's no wonder they won't serve me," he muttered as he tied a knot in his end, hoping to stop the threads from loosening further.
He crept into the last bar on the street and snuggled up into a booth. A waitress came over, put her hands on her hips, chomped on her gum, and stared at him. "Didn't you read the sign?" she asked haughtily. "We don't serve strings and you are a string, aren't you?"
"No," the string meekly replied. "I'm a frayed knot."
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
A string slithered down the street, under the door of a tavern, and onto a bar stool. The bartender leaned over and stared at the string.
"You're a string!" he finally growled. "We don't serve your kind."
Disappointed, and very thirsty, the string slithered out of the tavern and continued down the street to the next bar. He crept in and wiggled up onto a chair at a table. The bouncer came over, crossed his mighty tattooed arms, and scowled down. "String," he said. "We don't serve your kind."
The string sadly crawled back out to the street. There was one more bar at the far end of the block and he slowly made his way toward it. As he passed a shop window, he caught sight of his reflection. He was embarrassed to see his tail end was unravelling. "I'm so dishevelled, it's no wonder they won't serve me," he muttered as he tied a knot in his end, hoping to stop the threads from loosening further.
He crept into the last bar on the street and snuggled up into a booth. A waitress came over, put her hands on her hips, chomped on her gum, and stared at him. "Didn't you read the sign?" she asked haughtily. "We don't serve strings and you are a string, aren't you?"
"No," the string meekly replied. "I'm a frayed knot."
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sepll Cehck!
Wonedring why yuo're fnindig it so esay to raed tihs wehn the sepllnig is so atorcuios? For more information visit my website feature: Did you know...?
http://www.eileenschuh.com/did-you-know/2009/7/20/crorect-seplilng-is-not-all-taht-ipmrotnat-researcher.html
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
http://www.eileenschuh.com/did-you-know/2009/7/20/crorect-seplilng-is-not-all-taht-ipmrotnat-researcher.html
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/
Friday, July 17, 2009
I'll give you a giggle
A mad scientist made a clone of himself, but something went terribly wrong in the process. All the clone would do is stand in the upstairs window and shout vulgarities at people passing by. Nothing the scientist did had any effect on the clone’s persistent rude behaviour.
It caused the scientist great embarrassment because the clone looked just like him, and people mistakenly thought it was the scientist giving them the rude gestures. One day, frustrated beyond measure, the scientist pushed the clone out the window.
Seconds later the police arrived and arrested the scientist.
Charged him with making an obscene clone fall. . . .
(Is that a collective groan I hear resonating through cyberspace?)
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
It caused the scientist great embarrassment because the clone looked just like him, and people mistakenly thought it was the scientist giving them the rude gestures. One day, frustrated beyond measure, the scientist pushed the clone out the window.
Seconds later the police arrived and arrested the scientist.
Charged him with making an obscene clone fall. . . .
(Is that a collective groan I hear resonating through cyberspace?)
Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com
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