psubrat | companions

I don’t talk much about politics, but just to show I’ve always paid attention, I uncovered this piece from way back in 2012. I think you’ll find me on the cutting edge of activism:

News has come that New York City Mayor Bloomberg wants to ban supersized sugary drinks, as a way to combat malnutrition.

He also signed a proclamation for NYC Donut Day.

Sometimes it just writes itself.

(Oh, another note of irony: I brought up several internet articles to familiarize myself with the Bloomberg Big Belly Ban, and the very first one was preceded by one of those annoying internet ads – for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.)

The BBBB would apply to any bottled soda or fountain drink over 16 ounces that contains more than 25 calories per eight ounces, which is pretty much all of them. They’d be outlawed at restaurants, sports venues, street vendors, and – brace yourselves – movie theaters. Gasp! Next they’ll be taking my large buttered popcorn.

But those goobers won’t get it without a fight.

No word on whether the 17 ounce Big Gulp will be available in government offices, but grocery stores and convenience stores would be exempt. Apparently large soft drinks sold there are not dangerous.

The good news is, banning things that are bad for us is always effective, and always, always works. Just ask the people who pushed Prohibition.

Well, they can have my Slurpee when they pry it from my cold, sticky hands.

If they criminalize supersized Cokes, only criminals will be truly refreshed.

Family reunions are a great place to exercise my right to choose.

When Bloomberg came for cigarettes, nobody spoke (because they were busy coughing). When he came for trans fats, nobody stood up (because they were too heavy to get to their feet). Now they come for sugary drinks, and who will stand up for Mr. Pibbs? Has the medical field even debated this? Did anyone ask Dr. Pepper?

Give me Mountain Dew, or give me death! And not Diet Mountain Dew, either. It tastes like artificially sweetened sheep dip.

The Founding Fathers would be horrified. The whole reason they settled in the New World is because the British wouldn’t let us sweeten our tea.

“One lump or two?”

“How dare they alter our national beverage? Off with their heads!”

Then we formed an independent country, so we could have southern style sweet tea. Thomas Jefferson wrote that right into the Declaration of Independence, along with a clause about fried chicken and gravy. Both were removed by a rather grumpy New York delegate named Samuel Chase, whose wife had just put him on a diet.

Say, do you suppose that’s it? Maybe Bloomberg’s just steamed because his wife has him eating fish and asparagus.

The Founding Fathers really would be horrified, as this kind of nanny state thinking is exactly what the Constitution was meant to prevent. It demonstrates that their written guide for the country is more relevant now than ever, despite the food stains.

Rumor has it the Founding Fathers fueled their revolutionary ardor with God’s snack: S’Mores.

Benjamin Franklin would be especially upset, as he’s been known to upturn an extra-large mug of mead himself, from time to time. Franklin, who famously said wine is proof that God loves us, and wants to see us happy, would have loved one of those fountain drinks that you need to haul around in a cart. Ben Franklin would have punched Bloomberg right in the nose. Well, maybe not … Ben would probably have slept with Bloomberg’s wife. He was into all sorts of excesses.

I’m not so sure about Thomas Jefferson’s reaction. He believed in personal freedoms (unless you were one of his slaves), but also had a huge vegetable garden that he took great pride in. He grew over 250 varieties of more than 70 different vegetable species, in a garden 1,000 feet long. His children hated him.

Once, Jefferson sent John Adams a sampling of twenty different types of lettuce. Adams wrote back: “Tom, would you relax and have a friggin’ donut? I’ll bet you can’t find twenty different varieties of donuts.” (This was before Krispy Kreme.)

Still, they would have agreed that no mayor of York, old or new, had the right to come over and tell them how many lumps they could put in their tea. Should you stop drinking huge sugary drinks? Of course. Should we bow to a government telling us we have to? Hell, no.

We can’t have true freedom without independence. A nanny state, by definition, is a lack of independence. I may disapprove of what you eat, but I will defend to the early death your right to pork rinds.

Yes, there have to be some limits in an orderly society, but we must draw a jittery line in the sand, with one of those big soda straws. Our voices, strengthened by a sugar rush, should shout out that we can be convinced to be healthier, but not be force fed. And, to paraphrase Franklin Delano Roosevelt, we would rather die on our Frostie than live on our salads.

Now. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for a little non-violent protest. Supersize me.

Find a snack you can eat while web surfing, so you can find us here:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

current mood: hungry
current Llocation: Dairy Queen

ozma914

Note: If you like happy endings ... you might not want to read to the end of this post.

In a previous blog I detailed my failed attempt to sell a novel to the romance industry's biggest book publisher. The synopsis: They liked my query, asked for the entire manuscript, then disappeared into a publishing black hole from which even emails couldn't escape.

I wish all my snynopsis were that easy. Snynopsis's? Synopsi?

I submitted to a specific line of books within the publisher, but that line's requirements have changed so much my story would no longer be a fit for them, anyway. So, I was free to submit Fire On Mist Creek to a different publisher.

Or to a different line within the same publisher.

No, I'm not insane, hear me out. First, here's the blurb I wrote for the story:

Thanks to insomnia, volunteer firefighter Alice Delaney is Night Watch for the little town of Mist Creek, Kentucky—the entire Night Watch, unless you count the firehouse dog. That’s a break for former Chicago firefighter Reed Carter, who she finds in a broken-down pickup truck near town. Soon after that he returns the favor, by helping her rescue the occupant of a burning house.

Both are on the run from their respective demons, but Reed may have found his salvation in the form of a little town in crisis, and a woman dealing with loss. Alice isn’t so sure: Newly promoted to Mist Creek Fire Captain, she’s dealing with a financial crunch and an arsonist. She’s not ready for a relationship with an action junkie who could be taken away from her. Not again.

I had to research firefighting, of course.

It's a work of staggering genius. Not the book, the blurb: I boiled that down from 60,000 words! Blurbs and synopsi ... sss, are the bane of book writers.

On a related note, the novel was 60,000 words. The Big Publisher had another line that would be absolutely perfect for this book, assuming they didn't change the line's requirements before I got it to them. There was only one small glitch: That line wants stories in the 70,000 word range. Maybe not exactly, but a 10,000 word difference is a deal killer.

Now, there are other publishers I could submit Fire On Mist Creek to. Still, I wanted to work with this publisher, I said stubbornly, in a rather whiny voice. But add 10,000 words to a story I thought was finished?

I found my answer in another dumb thing I did, which is where I find many of my answers. During the almost five years waiting to hear back after they requested my manuscript, I wrote other books. I wasn't just pacing in the back yard. Imagine all the dead grass.

Hundreds of books! Thousands of books! Okay, eleven.

Two of those books are set in that same small town, Mist Creek. Okay, one starts out elsewhere and ends up in Mist Creek. The point is, if I couldn't find a publisher that's interested in all the books, I may have wasted a lot of writing time.

But in my haste, I found the answer to my length problem. Many characters from Fire on Mist Creek show up in the other two novels, but a lot of characters from those two books didn't even exist when I wrote the first one.

And that's when I felt a great swell of inspiration, or maybe more stupidity.

If it's going to be a series, more of the people from the other books should be introduced in the first. In fact, it would be easy, because some of those later people are involved Mist Creek's emergency services. They'd naturally be around each other, anyway. In the other two books there's only one other new arrival; the other characters are already town residents.

Since the story is set before the others, I could put them in without having to refer to the other two books and confuse everyone. Sure, I'm confused, but if I could straighten myself out everyone else will be fine. Even as I mused over the idea, new scenes came to me that would enrich the story and also play into the main plot.

(Update, because I didn't post this right away: So that's what I did. The rewrite is finished, and the new story sent!)*

I have an office, and I'm ready to write! Once I find my laptop.

I told you it's genius. It's such a great idea, I'm pretty sure aliens showed up one night and inserted it into my, um, body. That would explain the tiny piece of metal in my chest. Even if I end up with another publisher, the book will be better. Hold my beer, I'm writing!

(Okay, I don't drink beer, but leave my tea alone--it's still hot, just like my typing fingers.)

*Okay, here's the bad news. All this was in the past: I submitted the book to Harlequin Heartwarming on April 6. The Publisher Who I Just Named, aware of how long they strung me along last time, sent me on a response on May 16, a blistering speed for a traditional publisher.

It was a form rejection. So, we move on.

You can find the books that did somehow make it to publication here:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter