Internet Story

something from years ago

Michael  Casey

Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/

www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com/

                  Internet Story ©

                       By

                   Michael Casey

So all I had to do was send an email, and then I’d be a writer, my book in every shop, my face smirking from cardboard cut outs of me holding my book aloft. My book had a great title, so it was bound to sell. A Nation Of Shopkeepers was a great title, if only people could remember their History, were people interested in History, and for that matter my book. It wasn’t a history book, would people think it WAS a history book, and then not buy it. It was a comedy drama, about a street of shops, interconnecting short stories, for all the family, but would people notice the levels, the strands of humour, or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book, and miss the joke, just as one publisher called  did?

I decided to keep the title, though I had a reserve title, The Butcher, The Baker and The Undertaker. Then I realised the US market would rename it The Butcher, The Baker And The Funeral Arranger. You don’t think about such things when you are writing the book, you’re just happy, on a roll, in love with your own intellect, or just surprised you actually DO have any intellect, then you discover that you are dyslexic, you really are dyslexic, thankfully not a really bad case, just dyslexic. As you proof read you see you have put BUT instead PUT, LEAD instead of READ, things like this and other strange things. Sure there are spellcheckers but or is it put, you have to check it anyway. As you read you are surprised at your own ability. You didn’t waste 4years in journalism school, but your writing is GOOD, Did I write that? Then your chest filled with pride you get somebody else to read it, and guess what? They think its crap. So now you have to decide, should I give up or should I carry on?

I gave up for as while, while is a unit of years in my  case, my life took another path, so the writing was forgotten, it lay dormant for years, then like a phoenix it arose, or more truthfully, like a tortoise awaking from hibernation, sleep still in my eyes I slowly poked my head out, then back in, went back to sleep again, then finally with the pangs of hunger in my stomach I just had to do something. In my case it was eat, as in really eat, then I turned to my old Atari and realised it was not PC compatible, so I bought a new, or rather an old new Atari which was PC compatible. Then I spent a day copying my files so that I could read them on a PC. Then I wrote a few more pieces before I realised I’d get nowhere in England. The chances of being published were 1 in 2000. So like a bear, I went back in my cave and slumbered.

Meeting my wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life, and not just because it was like Thunder as Jing Jie calls it, it was a turning point because I had a professional opinion on my writing, from a journalist at the very top of the tree. Her uncle is an editor in chief, so his comments were and are like gold, worth more than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate, the pleasure rush I treat myself to every day, his comments really were that important to me, and I really DO like my Cadbury’s, so being better than Cadbury’s is the highest praise I can give. So I knew the quality of my writing, even if others said and say its crap.

Getting a modern PC and internet connection was another turning point. Email in our house is like water and eclectic in any other homes. Jing Jie can “talk” to her mum in Shanghai every day. To friends all over the world as well. Birmingham IS the centre of the universe.So with hope and fear I had to transfer my files from my old Atari to the new PC. The floppy discs were  old and battered, several were unreadable, finally my work, my babies were safely on the new PC. Just to be on the safe side I set up a web site, so now my work was on somebody’s server in the US, thousands of miles away , safe from fire or theft. I could also put our new baby’s photos on the web site so that my Chinese family in Shanghai and Miami and friends all over the world could see Annie and Jing Jie and me, they could even read my work too.

So now all I had to do was market my work in the US, simple really, soon I’d be doing something useful with my life, making people laugh. I’d be a writing whore, I’d get paid to make others laugh, the best job in the world. So how would I set about it? I got a list of radio stations from the internet and started sending emails galore. I’m talking in the hundreds now, to radio stations the length and breath of the US.They could publicise my site then eventually I’d get published, or my play would get produced. It was simple wasn’t it. So merrily I went about my business, sending emails galore. Years before I used to send off big heavy envelopes with my work in, with more persistence than hope in my heart.”Thank you for your pieces of paper“was the best put down. I once even met a writer and he agreed to to read my play Shoplife, then he wrote back calling me a plagerist, because it was so good. So I used his note as toilet paper, Shoplife was so good because I had 20years of experience given to me by my sister, I just improved on it, but yet I was called a Copyist, so naturally I was angry and used his note to wipe my bum.

I wondered why my strike rate was so low with my emails to radio stations, then somebody casually mentioned, “You do know they will just delete anything with an attachment”. In these days of viruses or worms which I’ve discovered is the new trendy word, nobody can risk their PC, so I merrily send and they merrily delete. I’d been wasting my time, but not my money because I’d got a 24/7 package on my internet from AOL.However one radio station did read Shoplife. The DJ or is it Host, he called it hilarious and he could not stop reading it. It turned out he was an actor as well, though isn’t everybody an actor in the US?

So I thanked him, and quoted him in my future advertising.Humour is a funny thing. The things that make English people laugh are not the same as the things that make Americans’ laugh. We are constantly told by people on tv that English TV is the best in the world, the US material we see is the top 10%, the rest is rubbish. But I know I’d never get my foot in the door in England so I had to persist with my American campaign, so now I pasted in my material, no attachments. Just get them hooked, then paste in a sample then direct them to http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/ & www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

Then bingo part2 of my life could begin,I’d be the man that made America laugh, a naïve sentiment, but it was honest.Only AOL turns things into zip files and some people cann’t unzip your files, its like wanting sex but your zipper is broke and you cann’t get your trousers off. Such a strong urge, but no forfillment .

I switched to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff, things started to happen, my files weren’t being deleted or too zipped up to be read. At least I wasn’t frustrated any more. Now I had an agent interested, and a new magazine, even a theatre replied.All praise to Bill Gates, and to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the direction of a few good sites.However some of the sites that I trawled through were just, so very American. Hey, you too can be a writer, just send me 10 dollars and I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” ,  and he does. Then there’s magazines you can subscribe to, yes you’ve guessed it, just send another 10 dollars “Writing for Beginners”. There’s all these agents too who are so successful, persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write about Tap Dancing For Bus Drivers, the complete self help book, costs 10 dollars. The agent gets 20percent, and the bus driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies, then he can boast he’s a writer, not just a bus driver, and guess what if you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap dance too.

As for me, what do I think of all this? I’d say just keep on writing, stop your selling, or attempts at selling, just write a bit. Add to your catalogue of 3 poems and 2 short stories, then search for an agent. Believe you’ll never be published and then you won’t be disappointed. There is one final thing you can do though, just tell everybody to go to my site   www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com  

http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/

And help find a publisher for my book, and then you’ve guessed it, just send me 10 dollars!

                      End

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_54?qid=1373557050&sr=1-54 

to buy my 9 books on Amazon Kindle they also download to PC too.

The Witch is Back

The Witch is Back ©

The witch is back is what we say when mummy, my wife, comes back from her travels, either to the Aldi or Sainsburys or Korea Foods or the Chinese wholesalers. I spend a lifetime carrying carriers, she just jumps into her car and away she goes. Which is all very normal for a Birmingham/Shanghai family. That has now changed, why has it changed? Because of the invention of the hands free mobile, with free phone calls bundle.

The wife as I call her, it’s a reference to a former day and to Les Dawson school of comedy, the wife is a talker, she does work in sales and ecommerce after all. She spends her day talking to everybody here in Birmingham and to staff at the Peking office too. Peking was the name for the capital for those of you too young to remember, now we say Beijing, I  just thought I’d give you a quick History lesson.

Anyway the wife loves to talk, and we get the benefit of her wisdom as she drives hand free home to us. The orders and commands come thick and fast, along with the witch’s laugh, in English and in Shanghai dialect, don’t forget to vacuum, put my rice on, have you started your homework yet, has Totoro our cat, with the Japanese name, has Totoro done her business, and if she has then have we cleaned the litter tray. By the way Totoro can and will pee in the bath if she thinks the litter tray is not clean enough, she’ll even pooh in the bath too. She is an educated cat after all, she watches all the family use the bathroom, so she joins in, we are a family after all.

Back to the witch, she will phone 10 times a day to check up on us while she is picking vegetables or looking at fashion in the shops. The phone has free calls after all, so we have the benefit, or the curse of the calls. She’ll tell us she has bought some sea bass or any other weird fish, some are still alive when she brings them home, so we gather around for the requiem, luckily the fishmonger has tied claws together.

If you like it’s a verbal blog, a torrent of talk if you allow me to use cheap alliteration, as I said to my small daughter, a future writer, who uses alliteration writers, who cannot write. I just shouted that question to my small daughter, and she replied straight away, though she said it’s not true. Hang on I must answer the house phone again, I’m being asked to bring in the washing, but no mud of my feet, an impossible task from an invisible wife, made visible by her too many free phone calls.

Innuendo or 700 UP

Innuendo or 700 UP ©

By Michael Casey

Nudge nudge wink wink, you know what I mean, what’s it like, to win an Election as Miliband asked Cameron.  Eric Idle isn’t in Parliament yet, so we won’t be talking about the size of his majority, or how big his swingers are, sorry I write that again, the size of his swing, the one he has in his garden, under his oak tree, he is a conservative, conservationist I mean. It’s all a load of Politics, and you know what Politicians are like, a load of silly stunts, have I mistyped that?

There was a menu in stone, not even our local take away has a menu writ in stone, writ on plastic so when the drunks heave it can be cleaned up with a bucket of water, I think that what Hung Ho said, I’ll ask my Shanghai wife to translate. Put or is it but, disloxia however you can’t spell it, transposes words like that, or maybe I just type faster than my brain spells.

Innuendo was an album by Queen, I’ve got it in my box somewhere, you are all ahead of me now, you dirty dirty little twits, did I misspell that too? I’ll have to start using a dictionary, I don’t mean shoving it my nose either. Where did  you all go to school, you bunch of readers, and I deliberately miswrote that time, you’re all a bunch of readers. And where did you go to school anyway?

Eric Idle, Cambridge. Nothing to do with punting on the Cam, what does punting mean anyway, though I could guess, you and your python, I bet that has something to do with impressing the girls. Seeing a Don to guide you with your studies when you weren’t busy punting, what do Dons do? Do they teach you extortion and murder skills, plus Medieval Latin so you can write frightening notes  to the opposition farting about in Oxford, the dark side as it’s known as.

And before I forget why do all the spies and traitors come from Cambridge, is it a bridge over troubled water, or too much punting made them blind, blind to the love of their Country. Footlights what does that mean anyway, what did Stephen fry anyway, was it his kippers, and that’s what all the stink was about his “performance” no wonder his friend drove a lorry up the Cam, which must have been very painful, so he became a doctor in America.

What is Snow Whites favourite drink, well you can make your own mind up about that. I used to be a shandy drinker for a few years, then Jonathan introduced me to lager and pints, and no that’s no metaphor. Stella Artois is nice, and no Stella isn’t a girls’ name and Artois doesn’t mean “are you” Stella Artois is just a great drink, I may even have one when I have something to celebrate, heart pills permitting.

I have gone all tangential again, and what’s a Tangerine Dream, it sounds disgusting to me, oh it’s for my ears, I thought it was form of cricket box, to help players performance, or rather to protect their performance. And why when they are in they are out, and when they are out they are in, is it some form of dance? And what’s all this stopping for tea? Tea? Have they not heard of Costa Coffee, or even Stella Artois?

Rugby that’s my game, real men, with oval balls, it’s a sad affliction, but it does explain the way they walk. Why do they huddle with their bums in the air and move about like crabs, they haven’t got, no of course not, half the team are doctors after all. Or they used to be, very violent doctors but doctors none the less. Injure then Heal was their motto.

Well I can hear screaming behind me, no my behind isn’t screaming, I’ve hardly eaten all day, it’s my daughters behind me. I have to feed them before choir practice. Yes real singing, no metaphors included, they are in a choristers. So I’ll finish now this has been my 700^th piece of short writing, Julie Andrews is ringing the doorbell, she gives them a lift in her Subaru, such a noisy woman, and such a bad driver, I’m sure she’ll fall off a cliff.   

Hopes and Dreams

Hopes and Dreams ©

By Michael Casey

I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, well we missed that by 3 weeks, but are having it now. We have High Hopes and Low Desires too. Hopes for this and hopes for that, indeed prayers for this and that. The more we hope for this the more we turn to prayer. Our mind is so full of something that we dream about it when we sleep, we just cannot switch off, our very dreams want whatever it is that we want.

We dream of kissing that girl, and more. We hope that our dream becomes a reality and the girl says yes. We want to join that band or club, or just get a ticket to see that band. So our waking thoughts become our night-time dreams. Our one track mind, is still revving even as we sleep.

Sleep should restore our body and mind, deep deep sleep, which is essential for our equilibrium. If you destroy somebody’s sleep you destroy somebody’s very soul. Ask your local torture chamber they’ll explain it all to you. Insomniacs are very ratty people, like tax collectors or accountants something in their soul has turned to ice, because they have not had enough sleep.

Now if you have Hope, even if your dreams are disturbed, then the hope will guide you and be a life raft in the sea of dreams. Hope is more than dreams, its more than prayers too it’s inner confidence, its juice, its electricity if you like. It may be because of faith inside you, or you may just be made of the right stuff, whatever it is your hope will save you.  

I’ve had hopes and dreams in my own life and you have to be dogged about them. You have to be like a rabid dog, never let go and you’ll get your dream. Saving for a house nearly 40 years ago was one much dream. Then starting to write 30 years was another. You just have to persevere, nobody will read your rubbish, your pieces of paper, you just produce more and more. Nine books worth on Amazon to date, and 100pages of Undiscovered Words 2016 so far.

Nobody knows who you are or where you are, you are the Undiscovered Writer, with a picture of Charles Dickens at his desk as your screen saver.

But Martin Luther King had a dream too…. 

Journalism a Paper Won't Refuse Ink

Journalism, a Paper Won’t Refuse Ink ©

By Michael Casey

My dad used to say that “a paper won’t refuse ink” when he read something that he thought was too scandalous for words and should not be printed at all, or in my dad’s opinion was just all lies.  The old adage that newspapers can and do print anything.

Everybody reads the Sun, or used to, on your way to work you buy sweets, fags and a copy of the Sun. This presents one world view, a borrowed copy of the Mirror presents a different world view. As you grow older you read other papers, such as the Guardian in Dunkin Donuts then you graduate to The Daily Telegraph.

I am a DT person now, though it’s hard with all the pay-walls, so you have to have 8 browsers at least so you can continue reading it for free. I do look at the DM and DE too, I am a news junkie after all. My dad used to watch Sir Robin Day on Panorama, I sat with him watching maybe 50 years ago now, then a few years later I shared a double bed with my brother and Douglas Stewart Reporting, the world tonight on Radio 4. This has given me my love of words, and 20 more years listening to BBC Radio 4, before I started as a writer.

Its funnier still as my wife’s uncle was a Political Editor in Shanghai and her dad did a bit of writing in a newspaper in Shanghai too. I only found this out less than 20 years ago. So in a way it’s obvious that our daughter at 12 is already such a good writer, it’s in the breed as my dad would say. He also used to say, they couldn’t be honest if you paid them, which could be applied to some of the naughty boys, but let’s move on.

I do have a radio reporter in my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, you’ll have to read it for yourselves. But what of reporters here in UK, how do they go about their business. There are a variety of styles and weights, I do have one favourite who has now moved to USA in the massive crop rotation of BBC reporters. Suddenly without warning my favourites were now on different continents. Anyway my favourite one, XX, treats politicians with contempt, he doesn’t call them lying bastards but his manner towards them is so great to watch. He’ll no-doubt say he is drilling them, as they should be.  

You have different styles on different stations, and should you stray to foreign stations it’s more like a toothpaste commercial, all floss and no substance, but the clothes do look good even if the quality of the journalism does not match. Not that I want scruffs on tv, and of course radio reporters are all nudists after all, that’s why they are always sniffling and getting colds. However the quality is better on the radio, I did spend my formative 20 years with BBC Radio 4 nudists, in a manner of speaking that is. I’m sure they’ll be a rush of graduates heading for Radio 4 now.

Why do people talk to journalists in the first place? Is it the sight of the microphone and the pop filters that turn their heads, let’s put Radio 4 nudists behind us or we will be distracted, it was only a thought after all, I’m sure Nick and John would disapprove, not unless they are hiding something. Anyway why do people talk to journalists? Is it the overpowering reek of alcohol which overpowers them so they just give in and spill the beans? In today’s world it’s is more likely the Costa Coffee, though I’d rather have a pint of Stella Artois myself, and it’s probably cheaper.

People just love sharing gossip, and if it’s about that Slut or Bastard up the road, and no I’m not talking about celebrity journalists now, I mean people talking about people in number 94 by the bus stop, next door to the chip shop and that suspicious lock up garage. Well with a bit of coaxing the whole can of worms is opened, and why should he park his motor in that little garage, his very expensive motor. Jealousy and Envy are great tools to excavate a story. As is getting people blindingly drunk, or flirting outrageously with a a woman old enough to be your grandmother.

For balance I should say there are heart-warming stories too, and some reporters do a load of those. We’ve all seen Bruce Almighty and the lame film with Will Ferell, I’m sure the unctuous Royal Reporter would love to stop all the brown nosing and have a juicy murder mystery to sink his fangs into. A tale of modern day vampires, in the churchyard, or in the flat above the laundromat, the churchyard is so cold in the winter.

And on and on it goes, reporters report, what has been seen and what has thought to be seen, and there is a difference, and knowing that difference is the difference between good and bad journalism. And a Pulitizer Prize  is their reward, not unless they get caught making it all up, then they go to jail. When instead they should have just have sent it to Simon & Schuster, Inc.