Networking with the Ditch Diggers

Over the summer, on a warm moist night in the backwoods of Ohio, there was a castle surrounded by fireflies. There was also myself, Mur Laffery, Matt Wallace, and a delightful studio audience. We had a nice chat about networking for creatives and virgin goats, among other things. No fireflies were harmed in the making of this podcast. Probably. I take no responsibility for the actions of the delightful studio audience. They were all very nice people so I assume they treated the fireflies with respect despite the bugs' tendencies to bonk into faces. It was totes magical.


You can listen to the episode over at the Ditch Diggers site.


Huge thanks to Mur and Matt for having me on the show. It was a honor and I hope our wordy words are helpful to those struggling with how to connect with others.

Parsec Awards Call for Nominations

ParsecPoster-tardis Good news everyone!

It's that time of the year where you can show your love for your favorite speculative fiction themed podcasts by nominating them for the Parsec Awards!

What are the Parsec Awards? It's an award given out to celebrate speculative fiction podcasting. This year will be the ninth year running. The awards are presented each year during Dragon*Con.

How can you nominate? The best way is to go to the Official Parsec Awards Nomination page. Make sure to read through the podcast categories to make sure your nomination fits with the awards.

That's it!

If you feel so inclined to promote the awards, there are also a couple of handy PDF posters for your posting and sharing pleasure.

T'was the Night Before...

T’was the night before,They came without a sound, Scurrying across the yard, In little green pointed hats, Barely visible above frost covered blades of grass.

Doors and windows tightly latched, To keep out the cold and the damp, Did not hamper their entry nor bar their path.

With ruthless elegance and terrible grace, evilelves They found the milk and three delicate cakes, And finished them off with a quick snap and gulp of many sharp teeth.

They liked the cake, And they liked the milk, But that is not why they had come. No, they had come for the little ones.

Sensing their quarry, fast asleep in bed, They swarmed into the quarters aloft, Shaking with excitement they scampered and crawled, To the first room that held a child, tender and soft.

Slowly they clawed open the door, Careful not to make even the slightest of sound. Her serene breaths, so thick and sweet, Were lapped up with eager tongues, gleefully.

Working quickly now they infested her bed, And with a single rough whisper, Wrapped her mind in a web.

As they raised their blades to sever her soul, They faltered in their task ever so. For a fear grew in their dark awareness, That sent their black hearts into distress.

A faint jingling seeped into the air, Freezing them in a wide eyed scare, And as they helplessly glared, A ghostly form appeared to their despair.santaghost

He was as large and round as specters do come, With a hint of red and pale white hair, A grand wisp of long timeless beard, most handsome.

Floating beside the bed, To free the girl from the spell most foul, The spirit gently touched her upon head.

He then reached into his great pockets, As deep as the universe, above and below, And pulled out eight tiny horned bears, Each one wearing a tiny red bow.

With a predator’s grace they each took into their jaws, The immobilized creatures with spine crunching bites and deadly paws, And having finished their grave duty, Laid at their master’s feet the grisly booty.hornedbear

The specter, he grinned, with a proud nod, As he rewarded his pets with a gentle prod, And took each of the bodies in his large phantom hands, For they would soon form something grand.

He kneaded and crushed and pulled and squeezed The little forms into something a bit more pleasing. When he was finished he had before him a collection Of bright boxes filled with happiness and joy, He then gave to the horned bears the boxes so dear, To place for the young ones to find with smiles and cheers.

With his work all done, And all done well, He drifted out through the walls, To the faint sound of jingle bells.

With a sniff and a rub of his snout, He mumbled to no one in particular, “Merry Christmas to all, And to all an elf free night.”