I have been wedged solidly into the Twenty-First Century as one might squeeze a buttered gerbil into an aspirin bottle. Naturally, there is a good deal of squirming and squealing and the uncomfortable position at the end has feet and tail tips in the most delicate of places. There can be some comedy to it, of course.
Two weeks ago, I was standing at the microphone to start my reading at Context’s Flash Fiction Competition. I blew into the mike as a test and my smart phone on my hip went “whirr-BLEEP!” The timing was so close that it appeared that the signal from my lips travelled down the mike stand, skipped across the floor, climbed up my pants leg and lodged in my phone. I was a bit surprised; the three people that ever called me knew where I was. I discovered that what the phone announced was that I had won a free book from one of the other publishers at the convention. I had entered the drawing in the most Nineteenth Century of ways: pencil and paper in a goldfish bowl. The publisher responded with a text message at the most comedic of moments.
I silenced my phone and went on to win the Pro Division of the flash competition. Thank you very much.
This last week I was approached through a Facebook group to be interviewed on my first live podcast. All I needed was to learn how to Skype. I did download the software and even tested it successfully. That means I stole a headset from my son’s X-Station and called my wife at her laptop.
Beside me on the couch.
I achieved something through modern technology that normally could be done simply by raising my voice. Still, last week I logged onto Zombiepalooza Radio to be interviewed about witches in genre fiction, per my novel Camp Arcanum. It would have gone fine except severe thunderstorms knocked the podcast off-line. Twenty-first century communications technology was trumped by Perkunis the Thunderer. I am set to appear again tonight in just a couple of hours. I just hope phones and livestreaming video isn’t effected by locusts