Let's Talk About Press, Baby!

(I'm at RWA right now but I'll post the winner of last week's contest next Weds. I promise. I double-dog swear with a monkeybutt chaser.)

I had an interview last week that appeared in Sunday's local paper. I thought the interview went well. That should have tipped me off. I have done interviews for years on various subjects. And most of the time, they go pretty well. Sometimes, however, they suck outright.

The reporter asked me about social networking. I said that I didn't have enough time to do it all and I was in awe of people who could do it and not let it eat up there whole day, weekend, lifetime, leaving them feeling empty and craving the sweet taste of gunmetal... oh wait...what was I talking about? The article opened with;

"Leslie ________ (he used my real name? why not my address and bra size too?) 42 years old (REAL AGE??? He sealed his death warrant. I'm thinking something with honey, popsicles and morey eels) has no tolerance for people who use Facebook, Twitter and other social networking sites."

Damn. He's got me. All those nights hunting those bastards armed with malt liquor and a baseball bat were wasted.

The reporter goes on to say, "Leslie is blunt and opinionated." Well that's nice. If they're gonna make stuff up, why not say that I have bubonic plague and use deviled ham as deoderant?

Then, as if he has a change of heart, he says that I'm "Witty and breezy." Oh yeah. That sums me up.

I guess it's possible to find better fiction in the newspaper than you can anywhere else.

I'm planning his death. Ideas?

The Assassin