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Showing posts with label Richard Dean Anderson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Dean Anderson. Show all posts

Friday, March 2, 2012

P90x for the Vortex: Principle 2

In this, week two of beefing up the Vortex's online presence, I'm tackling Principle 2: Participate in Communities Where Your Audience Already Gathers.

By nature, I'm a wallflower. So this will be a challenge.

First, I Googled keywords: time travel blogs, time travel authors, thriller author blogs, time thriller writers, thriller readers...you get the idea. I picked ten that sounded like something I would be interested in being part of-after all, I write what I love to read. I made an arbitrary list of ten, subscribed or otherwise bookmarked to ensure I would be able to frequent these sites, and tried his step 2 suggestion: expanding my list of ten using web-based  tools. Double Click Ad Planner was no help. I'd have rather flossed Abe Vigoda's teeth during those ten minutes.

Of course, this is only half the plan. I need to sink my toes a bit in each community, make thoughtful comments and find time to participate. Easier said than done, but I did find some fun places I can't wait to return to, like the t=time blog. Who knew there were other bloggers out there who loved all things time travel?

Are you participating in online communities where your blog audience gathers? Give us your best find so we may share in the awesomesauce.

Have a super weekend, everyone!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Teen Mags, Hubba Bubba and Duct Tape

Before the Vortex 10 unveiling tomorrow, I feel the unquenchable urge to project just how deep this MacGyver neurosis goes. In addition to my faux-journalistic intentions, my early teen years were dominated by a conspiracy to meet/stalk/otherwise possess some artifact of Richard Dean Anderson. It's a rite of passage for teen girls, right? That blurred line between reality and fiction, actor and character? The broken fringe off of Denver Broncos's Vance Johnson's leather jacket, my only true encounter with celebrity to that point, just wasn't cutting it. I plotted family trips to Vancouver. Attempted Macgyverisms for science fair projects. I went into cardiac arrest over lunch at a Universal Studios snack area when I spied his handprints and siggy preserved in cement. I had slides, people. I wanted to add them to our family trays on slide-show nights.

Dad: "Hell no."

My brother was relentless in annoying liberties with MacGyver's character:

"Do you ever see him with a girl? Really with a girl? He's gay."

"He's wounded. Every woman that was close to him died. He couldn't bear to put someone he loved in harm's way."

"He's gay."

"This isn't Falcon Crest. He doesn't have time. He's too busy carrying out Pete's orders."

"Pete's gay, too."

For the next decade, anytime I was in my brother's company and someone who'd dial the gay-dar up to full strength walked by, my brother would sing, "Da-da-da" in MacGyver theme-song-tribute. As an adult, I can address the truth:

"They introduced a love interest in season two and received so much hate mail, they wrote her out of the script."

"He was still gay."

My only request to the New Line producers who have green-lighted a full-length feature MacGyver film (as of March 2009) is to find that romantic subplot. Please. The fourteen year old in me is screaming for validation. Vicariousness. Nostalgia. And if you cast anyone but Richard Dean Anderson, let the stalking commence.

Check out this action figure from Brazil. They got the hair BEYOND wrong. Geez. It's like Lucille Ball in a Member's Only jacket.Lest anyone accuse me of lacking "author branding" focus in this post, I offer you this time-inspired MacGyver-ish tidbit on estimating remaining daylight courtesy of the ultra fun Show Me Now website.

da-da-da
.

Tomorrow: Ten Ways to MacGyver Your Way Through RWA National