THE SONG OF ZERN - 2019

1.     Now it came to pass in the days when many toddlers ruleth, there was no dearth in the land, for it had brought forth blessings in abundance. And a certain man of Saint Cloud-le-hem, even one Sherwood, once of Oviedo and all his tribe, did continue to camp in the land round about that city, near the Lake of much bass and air boats.

2.     And this people did build a patio of much bricks made of mud and straw, and seeing the building thereof, they did rejoice and invite-eth many to make merry upon the patio of mud and straw. And they did make merry, they and all those that did come to rejoice.

3.     And the name of the man’s wife was Linda and she did write much of her people’s doings both with mirth and much laughter, also making stories of her own imaginings, which being called fiction she did publish in abundance on a place, it being called Amazon.

4.     And their tribe did increase. Wherefore some did journey forth out of the land of much bass and air boats, both to Texas and to Ohio to bring forth their own righteous purposes.

5.     The Lorances did tarry in Texas, their father even T. J. once of Titusville, going forth to the oil rig to work. And he did telleth the youngest of them, even Boone, that should he not be good whilst his father worketh; he, that is to say Boone, would go forth to the rig to becometh a rig baby.

6.     Boone then sayeth, “Nay. Nay. I want not to be a rig baby.” And Boone’s sisters did laugh much at the jest.

7.     To the north, the Zerns of Ohio, did delight in the goodness of the land as Aric and Silas brought forth both pumpkins and tomatoes and cabbage and cucumbers until his goodly wife, Lauren, didest say, no more, for our cupboards be full. And Silas did ask his mother to go forth to see “the guns, the goats, and the boys” in Saint Cloud-le-hem. And she did sorrow to explain that this would be a trip requiring many days and much planning.

8.     So the Stahles brought forth their youngest son and calleth him Ender after the character in a book of like name.

9.     And the other sons did play much upon a hill of sand at the abode of the Poppy and the YaYa, bringing forth from the ground much and varied creations made of trash; forts and bases and castles and kingdoms. Then Kip did make report that he and the others, being the many children found upon the hill of sand, did “dig and dig and dig, until they could not dig anymore.”

10.  At present, the sand hill fort boasteth both a cannon and a moat. And the children doth count the minutes and the days that Poppy should come forth and play “Monster,” it being a game of hide and seek in the dark of night that oft doth leave the Poppy breathless and with leg crampage.

11.  The Zerns, Adam and Sarah and their four daughters, which did abide in the land round about Saint Cloud-le-hem adopted for their tent a dog, his name being Rowdy. He being a retired racing dog from the land of the east, being both tall and skinny.

12.  And the tribe did continueth in this way, worshipping their God both in word and deed as they brought forth many to their Sunday dinner table to both eat of the good of the land and to talk over the many strange and curious happenings of these the last days.

13.  And all these were the doings of our tribe in the land southward as we did scratch our heads and wonder aloud what God must think of the silliness that the world embraceth when left to itself. And with eagerness we did look forward to the drama and challenge and excitement of the year which is to come, even 2020. And I make an end. Amen.

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NEAR-FUTURE . . .

I write near-future, dystopian, post-apocalyptic, grid collapse, survival, prepper fiction and some other stuff. It’s not an “elevator pitch” but it’s accurate.

In the brave new world of publishing, getting your work “out there” in front of the public, above the morass of titles being published (i.e. marketing) can be a bigger job than writing the stinking book. It’s true. And part of that challenge is the elevator speech/pitch.

Presumably, while riding in an elevator with the Queen of All Things Publishable, an author needs to have a pithy, engaging description of her book that lasts the duration of the elevator ride.

I have questions. How tall is the building? How big is the elevator? Should the elevator pitch include an introduction? Is it stinky in the elevator?

For example, should I find myself in the presence of a mover and shaker on an elevator: “Excuse me, Queen of All Things Publishable, my name is Linda L. Zern—yes, formal, I know—but it makes me feel taller to have the extra L. in there.” I take a breath. “My goodness, what is that smell?” Doors slide open and the Queen pushes me out of the way to escape the smell of big city fun wafting up from the corner of the elevator.

Anyway, my elevator pitch is a work in progress. Here’s the raw material I’m working with if I ever corner the Queen of All Things Publishable in a smelly elevator.

Near-Future: Not in the far away space-alien future. Tomorrow, or one possible tomorrow, should the trucks quit rolling, the grocery store shelves empty, and people start having to poop in the streets. Oops, I mean everywhere, not just San Fran.

Dystopian: A genre dedicated to the collapse of civilization and the ensuing chaos—sort of like Junior High School.

Post-Apocalyptic: POST means after, or a hunk of wood stuck in the ground that you staple barbed wire to, and APOCALYPTIC means what happens when stampeding beasts run through your barbed wire and hunks of wood. Or it can mean the fire, earthquake, war, storm, EMP, solar flare, giant meteor strike, outbreak, Black Friday shoppers . . . etc.

Grid Collapse: The labyrinth of wires boiling with electricity fall down, and all of Granny’s ice cream sandwiches melt.

Survival: Eating goober pie and will we? You will if you want to see the near-future.

Prepper: The idea that with some planning and foresight your family won’t have to resort to cannibalism or progressive politics.

Fiction: Stuff that’s made-up with some basic tips and tricks that might be non-fiction. Check on that.

So, my speech:  “Queenie, if the lights go out and this elevator jams up between floors, I write about what happens next. Think “Hunger Games” without the ugly makeup. Here’s my card.

Sincerely,

Linda (Smell Ya’ Later) Zern

I is for Indignation

I is for Indignation

(Warning: PG-13, Dirty Word Talk)

Nothing says loser like the phrase “chickensh$%".  It’s a time honored expletive that conveys the speaker’s total lack of respect for the object or receiver of the expression. (It’s on the Internet, so it must be true.)

adjective

adjective: chicken-sh@&;

1.     worthless or contemptible (used as a general term of deprecation).

"no more chickensh&* excuses"

noun

noun: chicken-sh&@;

1.     a worthless or contemptible person.

Why is it such a powerful cuss word?

Because chickensh$% is the silliest poop in the world, also chickens are cowardly.

Well, some chickens are cowardly, and some chickens will rake your eyes out with their razor-like chicken spurs. And then they’ll take a icky dump on your lifeless husk as they eat you. It’s true.

But I digress.  

Chickens poop nasty. It’s pee-pee and poo-poo all wrapped up in one, which chickens leave like tiny landmines everywhere they roam, unless they’re roosting in the rafters of the barn and then they rain chickensh*% down on your head like tiny, stinky carpet bombs.

Mostly, we keep our chickens in a chicken coop, except when we don’t. When the coop is getting a makeover or the chickens have escaped it’s possible that our chickens are “free ranging.” At present, we are re-modeling our coop. They are freely ranging.

Free ranging means that chickens are allowed to roam freely—mostly to the rafters of our barn, over our heads, when we’re trying to have ballet class. It’s true. (Once a week, we have ballet class in the barn, leading to a lot of free ranging ballerinas wandering around. I just realized that ballerinas in the barn are weirder than chickens in the rafters.) So, there you go—free ranging chickens and free ranging ballerinas, and you’ve got the recipe for some crazy chickensh&# drama.

Sure enough, my daughter-in-law, while practicing her step-ball-change (or twerking or grand jete or whatever) got be-fouled (see what I did there?) by our rooster. In an explosion of pee/poop she was blasted from above. The goosh hit her sleeve, dripped down her arm, only to plop onto the back of her ankle. She howled. The rooster calmly shifted his position in the rafters and went back to sleep. A lot of the twerk went out of our dance class at that point, I can tell you. Sigh.

She was indignant, taking the rooster’s free ranging expression of biologic necessity personally.

Looking on the bright side, I said, “At least it wasn’t in your hair.”

The moral of the story: It’s a foul expletive.

As a real life experience: It’s a foul expletive.

Linda (Heads Up) Zern

NOTE:  I can’t remember my father NOT using the phrase in relation to: the world, his job, politics, modern life, daily life, family life, groups of people . . . etc. I mean he loved saying it.