tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53536155947325616422024-03-05T00:31:00.223-05:00UnfinishedRamblings on life and pop culture by storyteller and voice actor Randy StreuRandy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-61251211703226929612020-09-03T02:12:00.001-04:002020-09-03T02:12:17.400-04:00No, I (Probably) Won't Sign Your Non-Compete Agreement<p> As a freelance voice talent and podcast producer, I've only been approached once (so far) by a client who wanted me to sign a "non-compete and non-disclosure agreement." Before I signed anything, I sent it back, asking him to remove the non-compete language. "I'm perfectly comfortable with non-disclosure," I told him. "But this is what I do for a living." My client understood, removed the language, and we've had a great working relationship ever since. And he's never had to worry that I would go off creating a similar product or sharing the fruits of his labor with a competitor. </p><p>So, what's the trouble with a Non-Compete, and why won't I sign one? Three reasons:</p><p><b>1. I'm not your employee. </b><br />Let's get that out of the way first thing. You don't pay me an annual salary, and your fees probably don't make up even the majority of my monthly take-home. I don't have a 401-k through you, I'm fully responsible for my income tax and retirement, and you don't help me out with insurance. You've paid me to do a job for which I am qualified, and that job, by definition, has a time limit on it. You pay me for my time and expertise; <i>not</i> for the time I do not spending working for you.</p><p><b>2. This is my living</b><br />I earn money, as you do, by working. Because I am self-employed, I do not, and cannot, depend upon a single source of income. The more work I bring in, the more I am able to make, and the better I am able to provide for my family. Since you are paying me to do one job, I would be foolish to shoot myself in the foot, and limit my earning potential, by agreeing to turn away your competitors. I want to do my best for you, and as my client, you have my utmost professional respect. You will always get my best work and customer service. But at the end of the day, when our contract is over, I still have a family to feed, a mortgage to pay, and a business to build. </p><p><b>3. A Non-Disclosure Agreement will afford you the same protection without limiting my earning potential</b><br />Let's be honest: What you're really worried about is not that I, your freelance consultant/writer/voice talent, whatever, may work for your competitor. It's not as if they can't find someone else who does what I do. The real issue is your proprietary information. You are my client, and we need to be able to trust one another. If signing an agreement telling you I won't do what I wouldn't do anyway--that is, disclose that information to another client for any reason--will enable that relationship to move forward smoothly, I'm more than happy to do so!</p><p><b>So, are there situations in which I might sign a Non-Compete?</b></p><p>I'll be honest: I'm pretty wary. You can help make the decision easier by using language that ensures me of my ability to keep doing my job. For example, if you limit the time encompassed in the non-compete to only the duration of our contract. If you limit the scope of the non-compete only to your direct competitors. Not peripheral competitors. Not companies that might occasionally do something that crosses into the same general territory as you. Direct competitors. If you include language that helps me understand the purpose of the agreement is to protect your proprietary information. Under these circumstances, I might be persuaded. If it's that important that your contractors sign, you could also always sweeten the pot: Make it worth our while to sign away our rights to work with certain clients for the duration of the contract. <br /><br />More companies, according to the articles I'm reading, are beginning to use Non-Competes in their freelance contracts. But you will find that, as that frequency goes up, so too does the frequency of freelancer advocates and advisers telling their circle of influence to stay away. For us, it's simple math. The potential number of clients we could lose by signing a non-compete is almost incalculable. The number of clients we lose if we can't reach a compromise on a Non-Compete is one. </p><p>As a freelancer, I want your business. I want to make you happy. I want my work to meet and exceed your expectations and to fulfill your needs. But I <i>need</i> to work. A good contract can benefit the both of us--and ensure your company's security and privacy--without limiting my ability to earn a living.</p><p><br /></p>Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-58757105756814645412020-08-06T12:35:00.004-04:002020-08-06T12:35:37.334-04:00My Crystal Ball Is Broken"Where do you see yourself in five years?"<div><br /></div><div>Man, I hate that question. Don't get me wrong. I have an intense dislike of ALL the standard job interview questions: "What are your greatest strengths/weaknesses? Tell me about a time you solved a major conflict or problem at work (because I carry those memories around with me??)?" But looking at the future? Where am I going to be in five years?</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know why: maybe it's a generational thing, or maybe just the way I grew up, or some combination of history and neuroses... but I've always had a near-pathological mistrust of long-term planning. </div><div><br /></div><div>I worked through my Junior and Senior years of High School. In fact, by the time I started college, I'd had at least five different jobs in three different industries. It wasn't flakiness--in two of those cases, I'd worked myself up to new, higher-paying roles from smaller jobs and had stayed on in two of my jobs through the summers and into the school year. During the Summer between my Junior and Senior years, in fact, I was working two part-time jobs. <br /><br />By the time I got to college, I had two jobs through the work-study program, and would go on to have an additional three college jobs related to my fields of study. In my Freshman year, I was a business major, minoring in Communication. By my Sophomore year, I dropped the pretense and changed my major to Communication with a Writing minor. By my Junior year, I'd become even more enamored with filmmaking and, along with three other students and two Professors, pioneered what would become the Film Major at my college. <br /><br />Then I got married to a wonderful girl who had it a lot more together than I did. She actually was a business major and graduated the year we got married. We went to LA, so I could continue my education in film, then moved to Michigan to start our life together. After a few years in Michigan, we and our two small children moved to New York, and seven years after that, now with FOUR children in tow, to Wisconsin. <br /><br />In the interim, we'd lived in seven different homes and I'd had another seven jobs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our marriage began in travel, and we stayed somewhat transient for a long period of time since then. Our last home in upstate New York was, up until then, the longest we'd stayed in a single place. We made it six years. I think.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, in 2012, I was invited to interview for a Morning Host position at a Christian radio station in NE Wisconsin. It was, to my mind, the job I really wanted. THE Job. Finally, my career position. During the interview, they asked me the fateful question: "Where do you see yourself in five years?"<br /><br />Back then, even if they'd said, "Where do you see yourself in 2020," my answer would have been the same: "Right Here."<br /><br />Eight years ago today, I started my new job. I'd lost some of my mistrust of permanence. I was willing to put my faith in A Plan. To put down roots. To start being an Adult the way I'd always understood the concept: A career at a workplace I thought I'd retire from, a happy family, a house we weren't paying rent on, two cars, cats. I looked at the future and thought I liked what I saw. </div><div><br /></div><div>Right up until I was unceremoniously kicked out of my Perfect Job and my Perfect Employers asked me to never return. <br /><br />I had put my faith in long-term planning. Had banked on permanence. And before I even knew what happened, Permanence had shown me the door. <br /><br />Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying it's bad to have a plan. Obviously, it's smart to have a plan. But we're in world in which your contingencies had better have contingencies, which themselves are bolstered by Plans B, C, and D. <br /><br />But don't get mad at me if, in the current year, in which everyone is literally nowhere near where they'd imagined they'd be, and plenty of folks are still wondering if they'll even have a job tomorrow, I can't help feeling a little vindicated in my seeing long-term planning as the Daily Life version of the Lottery. Maybe it'll pan out. And maybe you shouldn't drop your life savings on buying tickets. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, now I'm freelancing as a voice talent and podcast producer. I'm looking into other new avenues of communication and wealth creation. I'm constantly learning, constantly shifting, constantly looking forward and watching the sky in every direction for oncoming storms. </div><div><br /></div><div>So where do I see myself in five years? Still loving my wife and kids. Still moving. Still learning. Still growing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Beyond that? </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess we'll find out together.</div>Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-51542981112584559052020-08-03T12:47:00.000-04:002020-08-03T12:47:01.400-04:00Life as ImprovThere are no instructions for life. Not really. <div><br /></div><div>Now, I'm a Christian, and I happen to believe in the truth of the Bible. And certainly, there is wisdom in there on how to live well. How to serve God and others, how to love dangerously. But just living? Paying the bills, and being an adult and raising headstrong teenagers? Building a business, dealing with people when you don't want to, knowing when to stop going to the laundromat and just buy a new dryer, creating a workable schedule to fit everything you need to do, everything you want to do, and everything you really ought to do into the finite time we actually have?</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just making this up as I go along. And the scary thing is, I think we all are. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's an element of chaos in this life of ours, a world that doesn't always behave the way we'd like it to, things that happen that destroy our best-laid plans. I heard someone say once that no strategy survives the battlefield. And if we're being honest with ourselves, every single day is a new battle, and every single day we're adapting, reshaping our plans, rerouting. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm trying my best just to be a good husband, good father, live a life of kindness and gratitude, show mercy and charity and humility. And most days, I don't even know how to do that perfectly. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was a time I thought I had it figured out. I had a career I loved in an industry I knew I wanted to retire from. My wife had a great job. We had bought a house. We weren't out of the woods financially, but we had a solid plan. We were adulting, and Had It Together. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then I lost my job. There I was, doing my part, playing the role... and then someone came in and stepped over my lines with dialogue that just wasn't in the script. And that's when I realized: That's Life. We're all players in this ridiculous improv comedy and the best thing we can do is to look at what's in front of us and say, "yes, and..."</div><div><br /></div><div>And then Covid came along and changed our economy, our relationships, our travel plans, our daily interactions. Yes. And. <br /><br />I'm in my forties and I really have no idea what the hell I'm doing. We're all just riffing here, waiting on the Chaos to say its lines so we can pick up the act from there and decide where to lead the story next. </div><div><br /></div><div>If anyone tells you differently, that they have it Figured Out, that they know the secret key to unlock life and live it just exactly how you want it, they are either liars or fools and either way not someone worth listening to. </div><div><br /></div><div>The secret is, there is no secret. At best, what we have is acceptance. An understanding that reality doesn't care whether you want to go camping or buy a car or sleep in. Maybe you'll get to do it, and maybe not. But at least, we can understand that truth and learn to live with it as best we can. To take what life gives us and choose not to give up, but to accept what is and determine to make the best of it. To say, "Yes, this is what life is. And this is what I'm going to do about it. "</div><div><br /></div><div>Shakespeare famously said, "all the world's a stage." He just didn't get around to mentioning that the script is trash before we even read the first line. The world may be a stage, but life isn't a play: it's improv. Performance Art. And no matter in what role you've been cast, you're eventually going to have to dump the script and do your best to build your story up from whatever happens next. Just remember: Yes. And. </div>Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-46165762210312921372018-09-30T00:29:00.000-04:002018-09-30T00:29:02.768-04:00Freelance Life: :Beginning a New ChapterIt's been some time since I've written. The truth behind this is twofold, actually. First, I really just have to own up to it: I'm terrible at keeping a regimented schedule. Now that I work for myself, my day is generally tied up in Deadline Triage, making sure the day's work is done and clients are happy. Posting on this blog becomes something less than secondary. I'm working on it.<br />
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Second, to be honest, there really hasn't been much to report. I've been in something of a Limbo of starting my business, making contacts, getting some podcasts and other projects going. Sure, I could have made mention of some of this, but it just didn't seem like to right outlet for it.<br />
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But, it's been nearly two years since I lost my job and began this new adventure, so I suppose it's time for something of a State-of-the-Union. A progress report, if you will.<br />
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A little background, in case you haven't been keeping track. I re-started my radio career back in 2007 or so, working for a small country station in Northern New York. It was a career move, but not a career maker. It was a stepping stone--and I knew it at the time. I had a plan in place, and that little station was my Way Back In. After a couple years there, I made the next major move in my career: I took over hosting the morning show at the biggest country station in the county--and, simply put, number One station in the area. It was a big jump, and a good one. But it was still a stepping stone. It was close to where I wanted to be, but I wasn't there yet.<br />
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I realized, at some point in my journey, that what I wanted, what I felt called to, was to be back in Christian Radio. I had some experience there, and loved it. I loved the ministry, the people... just about everything, and I wanted it again. The Family, a Christian Radio network in NE and Central Wisconsin and I found one another seven years ago. After much prayer and consideration, my wife and I decided it was the right move, the right time, and suddenly, I was exactly where I wanted to be. The Family was my career choice. It was where I wanted to stay, and when I said goodbye to radio forever, I wanted to retire from The Family.<br />
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I say this so you'll understand: When I lost my job, it wasn't simply losing a job. It was losing what I had literally spent years of my life working toward. It turned out, I was half-right about The Family being the ultimate place from which I would end my career in radio. It was indeed the end of my radio career as I had known it. It has taken me some time to come to terms with this fact. After over a decade in the industry I loved, after seven years as a morning radio host and five years working in a ministry I felt passionately called to, my career was over. Yes, I made an attempt here and there to kick it back into gear... but nothing was right. Nothing was that foot back I so desperately wanted. I had begun a new chapter in my life--and I knew I had done so--but that chapter wasn't even close to what I thought it was. The reality was, and is, I am done with radio as I know it. Or, perhaps more to the point, it is finished with me.<br />
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It occurs to me, I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was. Like all good stories, there was indeed some foreshadowing. Burgeoning interests in the creative aspects of voice work and writing that my career simply couldn't support. I had begun taking on side gigs, looking for something else to fill what was a slowly-growing void in my plans. If I should have been surprised by anything, it should have been this: that this position I had worked so hard to attain was not, could not be, enough.<br />
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I had studied film production. Was and am a writer. A creator. I have always been in love with storytelling. There was a time that the standard radio format had a place for storytellers. This is no longer the case. As I was coming into my own on a path I couldn't understand was slowly being overgrown with the underbrush of expediency, Radio as a format was leaving people like me behind. My last conversation with my General Manager and HR Director was merely the final nail in a coffin that was being built around my without my noticing it.<br />
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And so, a new chapter began. If you've been keeping up, you know something about that new chapter. The decision to go into business for myself as a freelance Voice Actor. The support of my amazing and ever-loving wife. What you couldn't know--because I didn't--was that even this hasn't been a destination itself, but a wandering in the wilderness. More steps to a future that is still uncertain.<br />
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But it--neither this chapter nor the last--hasn't been without its signposts. That growing desire to become the storyteller I wanted to be. A budding interest in telling these stories through audio. A fascination with, and love of, audio drama. Of writing. Even of acting. Of using my words and my voice to tell weave stories.<br />
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And so, just over two years after losing what I had thought of as my life's work, I see the end of yet another chapter--or rather, the beginning of another. Yes, I am still a freelance Voice Actor, and will remain so for the forseeable future. But is this my career? I don't know. I've recently begun branching out into podcasting and, even more recently, into podcast editing and consultation.<br /><br />Thanks to my agent, I have even begun branching out into onscreen work. Acting, after a fashion, and have been advised to grow my skills in this area as well. Yet another signpost that nearly went by unnoticed.<br />
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Since losing my job in radio, I have acted in a short film, as well as multiple audio dramas (indeed, I had worked in several while still hosting my morning show). I have done voice work for multiple clients, including everything from commercial announcing to video narration, to voice acting animated characters.<br />
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All of which is a foreshadowing of this next chapter.<br />
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This Tuesday, I am driving out to Chicago to record my first paid, professional audio drama. A story written and produced by a man who has amazing credits in this field (co-writer of the Left Behind: The Kids audio series, a writer on the G.A. Henty audio drama adaptations, and others), it is called The Jake Muller Adventures. Not only am I blessed to work with someone with so much experience in this field, but my fellow actors and other crew on this project are amazing in their own right. I've been geeking out a bit for the last month with the knowledge that, among the actors in this new series is Adventures In Odyssey co-creator Phil Lollar(!). And there are others, too, who are amazingly credentialed, and among whom I am a neophyte in a room of masters. It is our hope that these episodes we're recording next week will be just the start of a phenomenal series, and I am overjoyed to be a part of it now, in its early stages.<br />
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Then, in early December, I am taking a supporting role in an upcoming independent feature film. I'll be detailing more about this as we move forward, but suffice to say, I am equally excited about this new venture.<br />
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The point is, I have made a discovery, and have rediscovered some old truths. First, a lesson relearned over and over again: God is good. I don't always know where I'm going or, as a favorite song says, what He's doing. But I know who He is. Sometimes I just need a reminder that I'm walking blind with a Guide who already knows the destination.<br />
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Second, a discovery: It's never too late to dream something new. The death of an old dream isn't the end if you're willing to keep dreaming. It's the end of the year, over two years after my dream died. I am forty years old. Yet, with my wife and children standing with me, with a God who loves me, I am starting over. I'm doing something new. I am beginning a new chapter. I don't know what it's about yet, but I can't wait to find out.Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-23357141589946432502017-09-27T17:16:00.000-04:002017-09-27T17:16:09.088-04:00Freelance Life: The Life of the SubcontractorAs a freelance voice talent, I most often work in the capacity of subcontractor. That is, though I do some work directly with end clients (phone answering systems, audiobooks, the occasional web video), most of my work comes either through an agency or production company.<br />
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This actually works well for me. As I have a background in video production as well, I find this helps me in my client relations. We speak the same language, as it were. I understand their needs from a production standpoint, and they know what they want -- and what's possible -- from me. Very often, they are also small businesses or freelancers themselves, so we understand one another when it comes to time spent on a project and, generally, payment.<br />
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The limitations of a subcontractor, however, are worth taking note of. For one, my client is generally not the end user. This can sometimes mean waiting for feedback longer than you normally would working one-on-one with the end user. Occasionally, this can also mean waiting to get paid until the project is finalized -- which means holding my breath until whatever back and forth takes place between the initial contractor and the client.<br />
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Being a subcontractor brings with it an element of uncertainty. I only rarely get direct feedback from the end user. I rarely know whether they're truly happy with my work, or even what the end product will look like when it's all said and done (sometimes, if I ask nicely, I can get a link or a copy of the finished product for self-evaluation and portfolio purposes -- but not always).<br />
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So, these are things you get used to. That said, if you're new to subcontracting, here are a few helpful tips to keep in mind.<br />
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<b>1. The initial contractor is your client. </b><br />
Your only concern is in doing the job the contractor asked you to do. You don't need to concern yourself with their relationship with their client, with the scope of their work, or with any part of the project outside those pieces for which you are responsible.<br />
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<b>2. The initial contractor is your client.</b><br />
Unless the end user decides he or she needs to open communication with you, your job communication begins and ends with the initial contractor. The end client probably doesn't know who you are, and honestly probably doesn't care. His or her connection to the project is with the person they contracted to get the work done.<br />
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<b>3. The initial contractor is your client</b><br />
Whatever happens to the project after you've done your part and have been paid is not really your concern. As long as your client is happy with the work you've provided for them, you've done your job.<br />
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<b>4. The initial contractor is your client</b><br />
The end client may or may not decide to use the work you did in the final project. This is entirely up to them. I had one contractor for whom I did a job, and then the end client decided they wanted to go with a stand-up presenter rather than a voice over. It happens. MY client, to their credit, paid me anyway.<br />
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Which brings up the final point:<br />
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<b>5. The initial contractor is your client</b><br />
You are hired by the contractor to do a job. Your completion of your end means you get paid, regardless of what happens on their end. If you do your job to your client's specifications, they owe you for that work. If the end client doesn't like the finished product, doesn't pay, or goes belly up, these things are not your problem. You bill the contractor; the contractor bills the client. You are hired to perform a service for their project, not to guarantee success of that project.<br />
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Obviously, your mileage may vary. For example, if in the case of points 4 and 5 the client for whatever reason decides not to pay the contractor for whom you worked, you may well decide -- entirely at your discretion -- to cut them a break. Making small sacrifices in order to save a solid and lucrative working relationship may well be something you're comfortable with. Particularly if they, like you, are a small operation. Sometimes, freelancers decide to help one another out, and a little bit of goodwill goes a long way.<br />
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But do not write such concessions into your contract, and do not agree to them if the contractor puts them in.<br />
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I did a job once, after which, for whatever reason, the client decided to use a different voice talent for the final product. Presumably, they wanted a younger-sounding, higher-pitched voice, since that's who they ended up getting. It's not a big deal, and it doesn't reflect on your work -- it just happens. But again -- and I can't stress this enough -- you did the work. If the contractor's client decided to go in a different direction, that really isn't your problem. Your contract was with the contractor, and you completed the work assigned.<br />
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Fortunately, I have yet to run into a situation where I've needed to enforce this rule -- again, since most of my clients are small businesses themselves, they understand how it works, and mostly likely have the same rules when they are subcontracted.<br />
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The most important thing is to understand where your clients are coming from. In fact, let's make that point #6.<br />
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<b>6. The initial contractor is your client.</b><br />
If they are doing contracted work, be willing to have some patience where communication and timing are concerned. If their demands start to seem unreasonable (for example, if, after approving your work, they suddenly need a revision, and need it an hour ago), keep in mind that they are probably dealing with a similar situation on their end. If they could have given you notice, probably, they would have. After all, they have just as much a vested interest in getting the project finished and getting paid as you do. Shrug it off, do the job, and commiserate with the contractor over beers later on.<br />
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<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-31044270947434828982017-05-23T16:01:00.002-04:002017-05-23T16:01:13.926-04:00Freelance Life: Time to Take Stock and Look ForwardI lost my job just over seven months ago. It was a blow, and a hard one. Not only did I lose the job I felt I was meant for, a job I loved, but it also meant my family would have to make do without the $35,000 I was bringing in annually.<br />
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I've <a href="http://r2streu.blogspot.com/2016/09/unemployment-end-of-week-1.html" target="_blank">mentioned before</a> that, throughout all of this -- the depression, the transition, everything -- my wife has been my rock and anchor. She was the one who encouraged me, and made the suggestion that now was the time to strike out on my own, to do my own thing. To find my passion and move forward. And I did. With her blessing, I bought the equipment I'd need, bought a domain name and built a website, and signed up on the necessary freelance and job sites I'd need to start working as a fulltime freelance voice talent.<br />
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When I began, I had a simple goal: make a thousand bucks a month. It wasn't much, but I was supplementing with unemployment and part-time work with another radio station. It would be something to build on. Once I got there.<br />
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It took three months to make my first thousand. Not per month. Total. In three months, I'd managed to bring in a thousand bucks freelancing. It was a start. Month four was almost a bust. There was depression. Apprehension. Wondering if it would work. If I really could make it. I started sending resumes out with a little more desperation than I had before. But I kept at it. I altered my goal. Year one: $2000/month. Find an agent. Keep moving forward.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvpG8ncJz8WzquL_aJ4crDLAn3g5Dw_RWA2M9tQJP39OHN0H-HirlLLDo1s9AaX1HYE_nxE-IujCu3oCaVShfSNGQY3d58BExwAMJZNORcsiWTv9GKhbEVvTCgHX6iz_AM6wTwip-K5s/s1600/RSVOlogo-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvpG8ncJz8WzquL_aJ4crDLAn3g5Dw_RWA2M9tQJP39OHN0H-HirlLLDo1s9AaX1HYE_nxE-IujCu3oCaVShfSNGQY3d58BExwAMJZNORcsiWTv9GKhbEVvTCgHX6iz_AM6wTwip-K5s/s200/RSVOlogo-1.png" width="200" /></a>It's been seven months since I lost my job. Just under seven months since I started freelancing. I did the math today, and realized that this month, for the first time, I would not just hit my goal, but I would actually earn what I would have earned in my old job.<br />
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Now, I'm not an idiot. Certain things came together this month. A couple big contracts came in that, put simply, I can't count on next month or the month after. But what it does tell me is that it can be done. That I can actually do this, and make a living. That I can actually contribute to my family in a meaningful way financially.<br />
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So, in other words, what this gives me is momentum. Now that I've seen it <i>can </i>be done, the goal now is to keep doing it.<br />
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So, I have fleshed out new goals for 2017. I'm writing them here, publicly, to provide for myself some accountability. Because goals you keep inside aren't really goals, I've discovered, but some nice thoughts.<br />
<br />
So, here they are. And I hope you'll be praying for me and keeping me to them as I go.<br />
<br />
<b>2017 Year End Goals:</b><br />By December 31, 2017 I will...<br />
-Build on the reputation I have gained (and continue to gain) for quick, quality work and professional service.<br />
-Update my website regularly with new work, demos, and blogs.<br />
-Make contact with at least three potential clients (outside the freelancer websites) per week.<br />-Contact at least three active or recurrent clients per week.<br />
-Actively audition for at least 30 jobs per month.<br />
-Be in front of my microphone working at least once a day, 5 days a week.<br />
-Invoice at least $3k/month on a regular basis, providing for my family the income lost with my old job.<br />
<br />
<br />
These goals, particularly the last, are lofty, hefty, difficult... and achievable. This month has shown me it can be done. Now it's time to focus and prove it can be done <i>regularly</i>.Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-75693998386853446902017-03-31T17:01:00.001-04:002017-03-31T17:01:09.439-04:00Freelancing And The Not-So-Lone WolfNow that I'm freelancing fulltime (which I love, by the way), I find that I still have days in which I'm sluggish and unmotivated. Depressed, even. While I easily chalk some of these feelings up to residual regret over losing my job, I have recently made a discovery that, I hope, will help me -- and perhaps others like me -- to push through and become as productive as I want to be.<br />
<br />
It came to me as I continued to apply for job after job in the Christian radio market, even all the while knowing that moving was, at best, a remote possibility. With my kids in a great school system and my wife working an outstanding job in a career in which she excels, the practicality of relocating to serve at another station was, and is, simply well outside the realm of probability.<br />
<br />
And in truth, I don't fully want to go back. I like working for myself. I like setting my own hours, pushing against deadlines, and knowing that I will rise and fall based on my ability to deliver quality. I love the freelance life!<br />
<br />
So why was I pushing so hard to find another fulltime job, even knowing it would take me away from this new career path I enjoy so much?<br />
<br />
One word: Loneliness.<br />
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See, when I worked for the Christian radio station, I had an office full of friends: people who would poke their heads in while I worked just to say hello or decompress from the day-to-day stress. And who I, likewise, could distract momentarily to work out my own daily restlessness. People I could talk to and pray with.<br />
<br />
I enjoyed those times, and my coworkers, but the thought that I was fulfilling a personal need never really occurred to me. After all, Myers-Briggs swears I'm an Introvert. I hate parties. I enjoy time to myself -- a LOT of time to myself. Crowds of people exhaust me. Classic Introversion.<br />
<br />
It turns out, I am what is known as an "outgoing Introvert." It's one of those personality types not really covered by good ol' Briggs and Myers. Extroverts think we're snobs, and Introverts find us either useful or exhausting, depending on their needs at the time.<br />
<br />
Actually, being an outgoing Introvert is, I'm starting to believe, probably among the best personality types for what I do: I have no problem networking and putting myself out there to find work and contacts, and I'm perfectly happy working on my own.<br />
<br />
BUT, the problem for us outgoing Introverts is that, though too much interaction is bothersome and exhausting, we do need to spend some time, occasionally, with other human beings.<br />
<br />
Turns out, being locked up in your house with only your cats and Social Media during the entire work week, every week, month after month, isn't all it's cracked up to be.<br />
<br />
So, I took the first step, and one that I recommend to anyone feeling the strain of day-to-day self-sufficiency: own it. Learn to understand what you need mentally and spiritually, and then start to do something about it.<br />
<br />
My second step was trying to figure out what to do about it. In my case, I looked for organizations for people like me in the area: freelancers and entrepreneurs. They exist, mostly if you're willing to pay dues, and mostly with the stated purpose of networking and learning about business. <br /><br />Personally, I don't want to pay dues. So, I got to steps three and four. If the group I needed didn't exist, I'd create one. I called a friend who is also a sole-proprietor and told him my idea, and he agreed it sounded like a good one.<br />
<br />
So that's where I am now. In my spare time, I'm looking to communicate with others in the area facing the same daily challenges as I am to create a group. The purpose of this group -- the only purpose for now -- is simply to come together in solidarity, be there for one another, have the occasional cup of coffee, and hold each other accountable for our workday goals. No dues. No lectures. Just time spent with other people.<br />
<br />
This works for me, because I'm in an area where I simply don't have a lot of friends outside my former job, whom I can call on when I need an ear. For you, maybe you have a friend or two who wants to just hang out. But whatever the case, if you're feeling lonely, if depression is setting in and hurting your productivity, I truly believe the cure is simply Hanging Out. Schedule something monthly that you can look forward to, or maybe a weekly cup of coffee during the less productive part of your day. Anything that gets you out of the home office and interacting with another human being who isn't a client.<br />
<br />
And, hey, if you happen to be in NE Wisconsin, drop me a line! I'm always up for a cup of coffee. You know. If I'm not working. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-44314728662522745132017-02-06T11:40:00.000-05:002017-02-06T11:40:45.528-05:00Job Loss: The Adventure of Finding PurposeIt's been about five months since I felt as though my world was crashing down around my ears. When you work in ministry -- really, when you work in any sort of job you love and believe in -- it's so easy to wrap your life's meaning around the work you're doing.<br />
<br />
When I accepted the role of morning host at The Family, I thought, <i>this is where I'm meant to be; this is what I'm meant to be doing</i>. I believed I had, finally, found my purpose in life.<br />
<br />
The only thing wrong with that was, I already <i>had </i>a purpose in life. More than one. I have a God who loves me. An amazing wife. Four beautiful children. And as much as I gave this idea lip-service, I lived my life as though it was my <i>job </i>that gave me my purpose.<br />
<br />
I have finally come to an understanding, and today I was able to put it into words: I am not my job. You are not your job. We weren't put here for <i>a</i> purpose, but for <i>many</i>.<br />
<br />
But it took losing my job for me to understand it.<br />
<br />
When you lose a job, it can feel as though you've lost your purpose. This is where depression comes from, I think. That hopeless feeling. That <i>now-what</i>-ness. But the truth, the reality, is that this is the beginning of a grand adventure: seeking <i>new</i> purpose -- and learning to recognize the roles you're already filling.<br />
<br />
This was never a self-help blog, and Heaven help me if I ever turn it into one. If you're dealing with a major life change, such as job loss, I'm not going to tell you what to do. What I can do is tell you what I'm doing, and if it works for me, hey, maybe you can glean a little something for your own life.<br />
<br />
So, for me, step one was recognizing that, indeed, I am on a journey. Step one was to recognize who God has placed in my life, and to ask the big question: why? Could it be that one of my purposes is to be the friend, husband, and father that each of them needs?<br />
<br />
Now that I'm at home most of the day, I'm able to help my wife get the kids around for school. This reduces her stress in the morning and helps her get to work in a better state of mind. That's something right there -- and it's not a small thing! I'm able to get stuff done around the house, attempting to create a more pleasant environment for everyone (when I actually, you know, do stuff). I'm able to be here for my kids when they're out of school, and not be the exhausted zombie they used to come home to. I can ask them about their day and truly be able to listen to their answers.<br />
<br />
This is Big Stuff. This isn't "passing the time while I wait for the next job" stuff, but truly important, life altering work.<br />
<br />
Step Two: I can explore my passions. As a mediaphile, my job did afford me the equipment I needed to work on some of the projects I wanted to... but in order to do so, I had to take more time away from my family. When I lost my job, I discovered I'd gained something (actually my wife pointed it out on day one) that I didn't have before: time. Time is precious, and no matter how much money you have, you can't buy more of it. Equipment is another matter. Equipment was something I could buy. <br /><br />So now, thanks to an encouraging and understanding spouse, I have both the time <i>and </i>equipment to explore those passions of mine. And I am, and as I do so, I discover more and more ways to use those passion to create purpose. Or, perhaps, to find it.<br />
<br />
For a season -- four years, to be exact -- one of my purposes in life was to be an encouraging voice on the radio; to be the person who maybe said just the thing somebody needed to hear at the right time; to offer an ear to my callers and words of prayer when necessary.<br />
<br />
That was my purpose -- or one of my purposes -- in life. And now, it isn't. Now, my purpose is to explore all the things God already had for me to do (like being the person my family needs), and to find out what's next.<br />
<br />
It's an exciting journey, fraught with surprise and even a little risk. It's not a journey to take lightly, or to take for granted, but even though I haven't -- and may never -- reach a final destination, I can already tell you it's a journey well worth taking. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-54110924243017010112017-01-18T00:17:00.001-05:002017-01-18T00:17:52.715-05:00Murdered, She Was: Fondly Remembering Sunday Before Netflix Killed ItNetflix finds new ways to irritate me every single month by pulling away more programming and trading it out for new, less entertaining fare. Whether it's losing the BBC contract for Doctor Who or, in its latest showcase of brilliant negotiation, losing <i>all programming</i> from Food Network, DIY, HGTV, and The Travel Channel, they continue, by and large, to utterly fail in the promises they made when they first changed their business model to "encourage" all customers to move away from DVDs and to the streaming service.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this is starting to get away from me. Though the exit of the Food Network is a big loss for us (my wife, kids, and I all truly enjoyed the programming), one of the most personal losses for my wife and myself is that of <i>Murder, She Wrote</i>.<br />
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For us, <i>M,SW</i> had become something of an unofficial Sunday afternoon tradition. We would send the kids upstairs for "Quiet Time" (getting our 9- and 12-year olds to agree to naps is a hill not worth dying upon), start the water boiling for tea, and turn on the next episode to see what Jessica Fletcher and all her friends in Cabot Cove have gotten themselves into.<br />
<br />
And for the record, yes, I said "tea." Though my wife and I are resolute coffee drinkers, some things are simply right. When you play Halo, you drink Mt. Dew. When you watch football, you drink beer -- or the commercial swill that passes for beer. And when you watch Jessica Fletcher solve another murder, you drink tea.<br />
<br />
For us, Jess, Doc Hazlitt, the Sheriffs, even McGraw and Hagarty, were old friends we invited into our homes every Sunday. We watched and laughed and sat, fingers to chins, trying to solve the murder along with our favorite mystery writer. We chuckled knowingly as she calmly fixed tea for her guest right before just as calmly accusing them of murder (my favorite part: she really was a gutsy old broad).<br />
<br />
Eventually, if we wish to continue our tradition, I suppose I'll have to buy the series. Or hope Neflix eventually pulls their collective heads out. Probably, I'll have better luck with the DVD thing.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, do you have a favorite mystery program or Sunday afternoon goody? Share it in the comments, and help the wife and me fill the deep hole left by Netflix's sucking. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-52956085343429510382017-01-12T17:36:00.001-05:002017-01-12T17:37:38.683-05:00Adventures in Unemployment: Forgiveness<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">For my beautiful, amazing daughter, who has more to offer the world than she realizes... </span></b><br />
<br />
We're all pretty familiar with those well-worn "stages of grief." You know the ones: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and, finally, Acceptance. If you've followed along with this blog, you've most likely seen me going through most of these steps since my loss of employment.<br />
<br />
But the problem is, it doesn't really end with acceptance. Because when you're dealing with grief, you're dealing with people. In a situation like this one, you're dealing with <i>other </i>people. There's a sixth stage, one that, while it isn't as automatic as the other Five, is just as -- probably more -- important.<br />
<br />
See, I ultimately did come accept my firing. To realize that, maybe, even if it wasn't ideal, I can make this work and possibly even turn it into something better.<br />
<br />
What that handy 5-stage list doesn't tell you, though, is that even when acceptance happens, the anger is still there. It may be suppressed, but it exists. I talked about some of the anger back in <a href="http://r2streu.blogspot.com/2016/10/a-bad-day.html" target="_blank">October</a>. I didn't go into everything then. Partially because, while I had by then started to work out my forgiveness of the organization over the firing itself, I still hadn't dealt with the human aspects of the situation.<br />
<br />
The person who fired me was someone I considered a friend. My direct supervisor, who wasn't there when they let me go, was a friend. I had a lot of friends there. People I could talk to, and who could talk to me. People whose company I legitimately enjoyed.<br />
<br />
When I was let go, some of my former co-workers reached out to me. I appreciated this more than I can say. Through calls, messages, letters, and even just popping by, these individuals let me know I meant something to them, that I was more than a coworker, and that I'd be missed. They still check in, and I'm grateful.<br />
<br />
A few never reached out. Didn't respond when I did. That hurt. Possibly more than the firing, the silence of my friends stung.<br />
<br />
Forgiveness took some time. But ultimately, I had to. Because, forgiveness isn't about the other person. It's about me. It's about you. Not the person who needs forgiveness, but the one who was hurt.<br />
<br />
A pastor once explained it to me this way: refusing to forgive is drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. My grudge didn't hurt my former co-workers -- they didn't even know anything about it. But it did hurt me. It affected my ability to find closure. It damaged my ability to move on. It stuck in my mind like a thorn and infected my spirit.<br />
<br />
But I am learning how to forgive. I don't know why I was fired. I don't know why my friends never reached out and contacted me. I may never know those things -- but it doesn't matter. Because it's about me. Not them. No, they didn't respond to my firing the way I would have if situations were reversed -- the way, in fact, I have responded under such circumstances. But they aren't me. The truth is, they were put in a hard (and awkward) situation. I don't know exactly what they thought or are thinking. But I'm choosing to forgive.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'll be able to tell them so one day, and maybe not. It doesn't matter, because it's not about them. They had reasons for exiting my life, and it's up to them to decide whether they'd like to be a part of it again. But I've done what I can. Should the time come that they decide they want to reach out, I'm here, and I'm ready to accept them back into my life. And if not, I mourn the loss of those friendships.<br />
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It's easy to say. As a Christian, forgiveness is not only marginally easier, but is a requirement of faith. I am forgiven and so I forgive. It doesn't always come naturally, but it must come.<br />
<br />
And if you're in my situation, the best advice I can give is that it must come for you, too. Because it's not about your former employer. They may or may not care whether you forgive them for firing you (and let's face it: they probably don't). It's about you.<br />
<br />
And because it's about you, there's one more thing you need to do. One more thing I needed to do as well. And it has to happen before that whole "acceptance" thing can really happen: you have to forgive yourself, too. Even -- maybe especially -- if you don't know why. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-18349281777185610192017-01-04T23:33:00.000-05:002017-01-04T23:33:33.780-05:00Hypothetical Dating For Beginners: Why My Descent Into Lonely Depression Was The Best Thing That Ever Happened To MeI'm going to tell you about one of the worst emotional periods of my life, and why I thank God every day that it happened.<br />
<br />
The loneliest time in my entire life was my Sophomore year in college. Some time in the middle of my Freshman year, I'd fallen for a girl. We were good friends -- best friends, even. Had many of the same interests. Loved spending time together. She was as quirky and uncertain as I was. We went to concerts. We walked the streets of Ann Arbor with no goals in mind other than enjoying one another's company.<br />
<br />
For her birthday, she said she wanted me to write her something, so I wrote her a letter: a deep and moving piece of sophomoric prose detailing everything about her that was amazing. She called me that night to say she'd been moved to tears.<br />
<br />
But always, always, there were other guys in the picture. She'd end it with one boyfriend just to pick up with another. She'd call me crying and asking why she couldn't just find one good guy.<br />
<br />
Early in my Sophomore year, after another night of lamenting to a close friend that we she and I never seemed to click on a romantic level, this friend, a photographer, got her to agree to a photo shoot. During the shoot, he asked her straight out: what, exactly, are you looking for in a boyfriend? I can't remember everything she said, but my friend responded, when she was finished, "you DO know who that pretty much exactly sounds like, right?"<br />
<br />
Her: "Don't say Randy."<br />
<br />
He told me this, I believe, in order to give me hope. It was his way of telling me she really did have deeper feelings for me, but didn't know it yet.<br />
<br />
What I heard was, she wanted everything I was... but not me.<br />
<br />
What followed was months of soul-crushing loneliness. I shouldn't have been lonely. I had friends -- good ones! I was constantly busy between the college radio station, classes, the student newspaper, and my job in Dining Services. But I couldn't shake it. I was depressed. I was so lonely, I could actually feel it, like an ice-cold, iron hand wrapped around my heart. I wanted nothing more than for the loneliness to stop. I even considered quitting school. It was... awful. I remember at one particularly low point even reaching out to an ex-girlfriend. I just wanted to talk to somebody who'd loved me once. <br />
<br />
I did try dating during that time. Once. She was a Freshman Art student. We had mutual friends, and she seemed interesting enough during our limited interactions. Again, my photographer friend took point in true Wing Man style, setting up a photo shoot in which she and I just happened to be the perfect subjects. We had a great time, laughing and enjoying ourselves and at the end, when I asked her out for a cup of coffee, she said yes.<br />
<br />
As broke artsy college student dates go, it wasn't bad. We enjoyed the coffee and the company. We talked and laughed and found ourselves completely and overwhelmingly... uninterested in one another. I asked her to tell me about herself, but my mind wandered a bit as she revealed her disdain for the '60s and '70s (I grew up with that music and was -- am -- a die-hard, unapologetic Dylan fan), and I barely heard her say, "and I really hate guys who say 'dig' instead of 'get' or 'like.'<br />
<br />
I nodded. "I can dig it," I said.<br />
<br />
After that night, we hardly saw each other again, and greeted each other on our small campus with a friendly nod as we passed. It wasn't that we decided we hated one another. She just wasn't looking for another friend, and neither was I.<br />
<br />
In the Spring of that year, my friend Melanie returned from a trip overseas. We knew each other, mostly through work and a class or two (I was a Business Major in my Freshman year), and had developed a friendship during my Freshman year. She knew I was someone she could talk to, and I'd always enjoyed her company.<br />
<br />
After she got back, we spent the work days joking around with another friend, the three of us surviving the hot drudgery of the Dining Commons with humor and sarcasm. She and I got to know each other better and, after she became the student lead for banquets and catering, I found myself volunteering for these events as often as possible. Sure, as a poor college boy, the extra money was an enticement, but really, I just found I enjoyed working with her.<br />
<br />
I think I had developed something of a crush at that point. I didn't think much of it at the time, but my loneliness had departed as we spent time together. The depression was gone. I was, in point of fact, happy.<br />
<br />
Eventually, we began spending off-work hours together as well. I'd stop by even when I wasn't working in the kitchen, just to say hi. She'd pop in to the college radio station while I was working to keep me from being bored during my shifts. Or call randomly to request a song I hated just because it made us both laugh.<br />
<br />
That Summer, we both stayed on campus. We worked together and actually enjoyed it. When we both had time, we'd find ways to spend time together, walking around the tiny municipality of Spring Arbor, hitting the coffee shop or ice cream place. Her brother told her we were dating, and we laughed it off.<br />
<br />
But by then, I was already smitten. The more we'd talked, the more I'd gotten to know her, the more my little crush deepened and turned, becoming something much more serious. How could it not? She was beautiful -- former head cheerleader beautiful. She was smart. Competent. Funny. Way, way, way out of my league. She still is.<br />
<br />
By the time she was preparing to head home for a few weeks' vacation, I was in love with her. Completely. I didn't know it yet, until she mentioned someone from home had written and that she was considering seeing him during her stay. It was at that point the lessons I'd learned started coming back to me. I realized I couldn't lose any more time. I couldn't risk her going home to New York and seeing this guy, whoever he was, and coming back to school with a new boyfriend. (I didn't know it at the time, but that scenario had never crossed her mind. I'm glad I didn't know.)<br />
<br />
I asked her if, "hypothetically," I were to ask her out, what would she say? She said she'd want to know where we were going, and I said dinner and a movie. "You know. Date stuff."<br />
<br />
After we failed to talk about it again, I realized I had to grow a pair and let her know I really wasn't speaking hypothetically at all, but actually wanted to ask her out. On a real date. She had to think about it. We were such good friends. It was sounding awfully familiar.<br />
<br />
During one of our many non-date excursions, conversation became stilted. Awkward in ways it never had been before. Indeed, our comfort talking to one another was one of the things we'd enjoyed most. It was getting weird. So, because she's intelligent and outspoken, she asked me. "Do we need to talk about something... or is there nothing to talk about?"<br />
<br />
We talked. We talked for a long, long time. We talked so long, we ended up going to breakfast at Denny's and then going back to her apartment to talk more. There were no resolutions when we were done talking. She knew where I stood. I knew she had feelings for me, too... but that she was afraid of losing another friendship. It's a valid fear, and she knew where she was coming from in this case. It's not as though it hadn't happened before.<br />
<br />
But I'd come from the other side. I'd already sacrificed my heart once on the altar of friendship, and that friendship had died along with it. When it was time for me to go, I stood at the door, my hand hovering over the knob.<br />
<br />
"Something wrong?" she asked, a hint of amusement lighting her eyes.<br />
<br />
There was. I never fully told her what was running through my mind in those moments, but it was the lessons I'd learned with my former friend. It was the realization that I couldn't just let it go without trying. It was knowing the way I felt about her was far beyond anything I'd ever felt for anyone, ever, It was a truth that, just maybe, hadn't been true in the previous situation: that we -- our lives, our futures, and our happiness -- were worth the risk.<br />
<br />
So awkwardly -- as anything done by a shy, nerdy college student must be -- I told her I wasn't sure why, exactly, but I really needed to kiss her.<br />
<br />
She responded with the single best piece of relationship advice I'd ever gotten: "Don't analyze it."<br />
<br />
We were engaged a few months later; married a year after that. It's been 17 years, we have four kids, and every day I thank God I had my heart broken by a friend. Because, without it, I not only wouldn't have found something even better with Melanie, but I wouldn't have been scared enough of a repeat to do something about it.<br />
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<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-10460078608410503842016-12-21T09:42:00.001-05:002016-12-21T10:48:36.052-05:00Five Things I Learned Recording My First Audiobook(s)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As has previously been mentioned, the audiobook <i>The Ghost Box</i>, by Mike Duran, is now available. I'm also pleased to say I'm polishing the final edits on Timothy Ayers'<i>Cruel Messenger</i> and currently recording another three. One is a sort of "ghost-reading;" the author is paying me -- well -- to produce the book and walk away. The second is of course the continuation of Reagan Moon's adventures in Mike Duran's <i>Saint Death</i>. And the third is a novella I was only very recently contacted about and am very happy to be a part of producing. Details on that one later.<br />
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I'm thrilled to continue my work in audiobook production and expand my newfound freelance business in that arena. But this is still actually pretty new for me. In fact, The Ghost Box and Cruel Messenger were contracted within weeks of one another and were the very first audiobooks I had the pleasure to narrate. And with firsts come lessons! Since I'm still finalizing the latter book and those lessons are still at the top of mind, I thought I'd share them with you -- because you're interested, right? That's why you're here, after all!<br />
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The following is not in order of importance, but in order of "appearance."<br />
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1. <b>The Pleasure Read</b><br />
I'm not going to spend a lot of time on this because in general time to do this isn't necessarily guaranteed. However, it is a wonderful luxury if you can get it. I had the chance to read both <i>The Ghost Box</i> and <i>Saint Death</i> before starting work on the audiobooks (truth be told, I had bought both and read the first before I even knew there would be an audiobook). If you're able to build the time into the contract, a pre-read is valuable. Don't take notes. Don't read it as a narrator. Read it as a reader. This will give you an idea of timing. It will prepare you for jumps and gags. It will allow you to put character voices in your head. It really is useful.<br />
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But it's not strictly necessary. Sometimes, even more useful is the...<br />
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2. <b>Author's Notes</b><br />
With <i>Cruel Messenger</i>, I received a character list from the author. Not only did he provide a list, but also some general notes on characterization as he heard them. Now, this could be more than necessary -- on some level, the author does need to allow the narrator to do his or her thing. But, having notes helps. The short version is this: if I'm going to find out one to 100 pages AFTER starting to do a character that he or she speaks with a southern accent, it's extremely helpful to go into it knowing that in the first place. This is what this author did for me. I didn't have to guess about how the characters' voices were going to be described in the book, because he told me up front. That is a vital time-saver and, for the authors reading this, will save your narrator a TON of aggravation.<br />
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3. <b>Consistency</b><br />
Again, not a lot of time is necessary on this. If you're a pro, you know how important it is to have a consistent sound. This means settings are standardized. Production is standardized.<br />
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Since my studio is in my home, one of the major house rules is, "<i>nobody </i>touches Daddy's equipment." This goes double when I'm mid-project. Every time I turn on the mic, it sounds the same as the time before. Every time I close out a chapter, the audio is compressed the same way as the chapter before it. Again, if you're a professional, this is academic. However, it's an important reminder largely because of...<br />
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4. <b>The Sound of Silence</b><br />
I'm going to spend a minute on this, because it made my life very difficult with my first audiobook, and pushed the release date back <i>at least</i> a week. <br />
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With a very, very few exquisitely- (and expensively-) engineered exceptions, there is no such thing as a perfectly silent room to an open microphone. The low level hum of Life On This Planet that the human ear mostly fails to notice is what most people call ambience, and what ACX (Audiobook Creation Exchange) and sound engineers call "<b>Room Tone</b>." ACX, with whom most of us will be producing audiobooks, has a requirement that each chapter or section submitted (i.e., each separate file) must have a couple seconds of Room Tone at the front and another few seconds at the tail. Do not cheat this. You can't simply eliminate the sound and opt to give them pure silence, because, A, though I've never tried it, I'm reasonably sure the ACX Quality Check team won't be fooled, and more importantly, B, because you're shooting yourself in the foot if you do. Room Tone allows your listener's ear to adjust to the ambience of recording before your voice starts. In other words, it keeps you from sounding like a recording. Further, it allows for consistent editing.<br />
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The problem is, Room Tone has to be basically flawless. Yes, there's a hum to any given environment, but basically, your needle doesn't move. You're not making a discernible noise. And if there is a discernible noise, your Room Tone is useless. When I sent my first files off for Quality Approval, easily a third of my chapters were rejected specifically and only because of noise in the Room Tone segments. Because of this difficulty, and how important it is to your final product, I would say Room Tone is possibly the most important five seconds in your entire production.<br />
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Fortunately, this issue taught me a valuable and time-saving lesson. It's very, very hard to create 5 seconds of pure Room Tone for every chapter. So don't. Here's what I do:<br />
Set up my microphone, ready to record my first chapter. Hit Record. Say... something. Anything. Maybe "Room Tone Recording." Or, "Why am I doing this myself instead of hiring a professional?" Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's not going to be there long. After you say something, walk away and shut up. For at least 60 seconds. Do nothing after you walk away. The desire here is an empty studio space in which nothing is happening. Once you've recorded a full minute of nothing, come back in and stop the recording. Next: produce it. Any compression and normalizing you normally do to your chapters, do here. After you do that, trim out the best, most silent 3 seconds, title it "Room Tone End," and save it as a high quality file. Trim one second off that, save the remaining 2 as "Room Tone Beginning."<br />
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And then, simply drop them in as your last step before saving every chapter. highlight and replace the front and back of your chapter (everything before and after you talk) with your Room Tone. Just copy and paste. As long as you're consistent in your recording per #3, this will work just fine for your entire book -- and if you're <i>really </i>consistent, it'll work across several without ever having to re-record it.<br />
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5. <b>Edit As You Go</b><br />
With the first two books, I didn't know what I was doing, time-wise, and so didn't manage it well. At the end, after I was finally finished the narration, I was still quite far from actually <i>being </i>finished. This is no good for your voice, for your time management, or, ultimately, for your morale. With the books on which I'm currently working, I've found a much better system that has multiple benefits. I record 2-5 chapters (depending on length), and then walk away and edit them. This provides my voice with necessary rest, gives you some finished files, and really helps break up the day. Furthermore, when you have a lot of editing to do at once, the tendency and temptation will be to move quickly and get sloppy. By breaking up your editing into a shorter group of files, you'll be mentally prepared to pay them the attention they deserve. Believe me: you'll thank yourself for taking the extra time (he says, waiting for ACX to finish replacing some old files with cleaner edits).<br />
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On top of that, be sure to finalize production on the files before moving on so you can submit or upload them. This will allow your author or publisher access to the finished files and moves the entire approval process along more quickly.<br />
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Well, thanks for reading. If you're new to audiobook recording, hopefully this helped you out. If you're an Old Pro, maybe this puts you in mind of the things you learned after the first few attempts. Hey, if so, drop them in the comments. And if you have any questions, drop those off, too! Commenters with a valid email address are automatically entered to win a free audiobook!Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-15609411592589068352016-11-26T12:16:00.000-05:002016-11-26T12:16:01.055-05:00Latest Audiobook is Pure Paranoir Joy (FREEBIES available)Well, it was pure paranoir joy for ME, anyway.<br />
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I am honored to announce that <b>Mike Duran</b>'s <i>The Ghost Box</i> is now available as an audiobook, narrated by me. In fact, I've been contracted as the voice of Reagan Moon and company for book 2 in the series, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Saint-Death-Reagan-Moon-Novel/dp/0990907759" target="_blank">Saint Death</a>,</i> as well.<br />
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The books follow paranormal tabloid reporter Moon as he discovers there is much more to his beloved Los Angeles -- and to the world itself -- than meets the eye. More than his skeptic mind wants to admit. And, worse than that, he learns he is to play a significant role in the events to come!<br />
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You can download the audiobook from <a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/The-Ghost-Box-Audiobook/B01N8RTTVC" target="_blank">Audible</a> or iTunes.<br />
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I also happen to have some freebies to give away. I have up to five Audible vouchers for The Ghost Box, which I would love to give in exchange for a fair review on Audible.com. If you'd like a free copy, please send an email to r2streu (at) gmail (dot) com.<br />
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And enjoy!!<br />
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<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-12301736900676876722016-11-03T01:01:00.001-04:002016-11-03T01:01:59.495-04:00NaNoBlog: Day 2 -- No Rainouts For WritersIt is the evening of November 2nd, and most of my friends are watching baseball.<br />
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Most of my friends don't even <i>like </i>baseball.<br />
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Actually, most of my friends are lamenting the rain delay that is preventing them from watching baseball. They want to watch History Being Made. Hey, the Cubs might win. If they do, it will indeed be historical. Not, you know, Felix Baumgartner jumping from the stratosphere historical, but yeah, historical. I get it.<br />
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Growing up, I loved baseball. A deep part of me still loves baseball. I played baseball. I collected baseball cards. Even chewed the crappy gum. I rooted for the Tigers, even though they have never, within the span of my personal memory, not sucked. (Actually, that's not true. In 1987, they were pretty darned good. The one game I ever saw from inside Tiger Stadium, they beat the Angels.)<br />
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A big part of me wishes I had as much passion for the game as I did back then. That I wanted nothing more than to sit through this rain delay until the game resumed at 12:15 tomorrow morning and maybe watch the Cubs win the series for the first time in over a century. That I was on the phone with my Dad, both of us watching the field dry, talking about how, either way, this was one hell of a game.<br />
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Me? I wrote. I encouraged my kids to write. While the world focuses on the final game of the World Series (it IS the final game, right?), November 2 is, in my household, Day Two of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and we've been focusing instead on our word count goals.<br />
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And while it's not a World Series Pennant, I'm pretty happy with our progress. Both my older children are participating this year, and so far our days one and two have actually been pretty similar. All three of us got off to a slow start on Day One -- something under 1% or so... and all three of us hauled today and landed very close to our daily word count average that will help us to hit our overall goals for the month. For me, doing the full NaNo experience, I'm shooting for 50,000 words by the end of November. My children, who haven't ever really written anything over 1,000 words, I talked them into putting themselves out there and shooting for 20,000.<br />
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And I'm pretty darned proud of 'em, because tomorrow, if things work out half as well as they did today, they'll be ahead of schedule.<br />
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And I'm happy to be here for them, encouraging them and coaxing them to victory. It may not make history, but it'll make a difference to them, and, really, that's all the history I need.<br />
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<b>NaNoWriMo Day TWO WordCount</b><br />ME: 3348/50,000<br />Son: 1332/20,000<br />Daughter: 1133/20,000<br />
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<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-14505654452195404992016-10-23T08:19:00.000-04:002016-10-23T08:19:02.601-04:00NaNoWriMo: Here we go again!!!Last year (or was it two years ago? I've already forgotten) I once again failed spectacularly to create a novel in one month. But -- and I say this knowing full well I say it every time -- this year will be different.<br />
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Actually, though, I have good reason to believe it really will. First, there's the issue of time. As in, this year, I actually have it. Being unemployed sucks, but if there's an upside for an aspiring novelist, time has to be <b>the </b>number one positive.<br />
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Secondly, I'm walking into this more prepared than I've ever been. I have stacks of notes. Pieces of unfinished works that'll be incorporated into this piece. An actual outline (that I'm still working on, but anticipate finishing before the 1st). And, for the first time ever, I even have a decent sense of what's going to happen in the <b>middle </b>of my story! (This last is of particular importance because I tend to love beginnings and endings, but middles always scare and confuse me. That's why I usually write short stories.)<br />
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Third, I have something to prove. And this year, I'm not just proving it to myself, but to my kids as well. I'm pleased to announce, <b>my two 11-year-olds will be joining me in this year's NaNo</b>, under the Young Writers Program! We'll be holding one another accountable, and if they're going to hit their 20k (that's the realistic goal we set together for them), I'm not going to let them down. I've promised them 50k, and that's what they're going to get.<br />
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And fourth, speaking of my kids, I have a deeper reason for writing this year. For the first time ever, I've decided to write something in the YA category because I want my children to have something to read that they'll enjoy, that fits their advanced reading level, and that I'd be happy to know they're reading. So this is for them. It's not about finishing my first novel. It's about creating a book that's good enough for <i>their </i>discerning tastes.<br />
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Now, last year, I promised and failed to deliver a NaNo live blog. I'm going to promise it this year, too... but this time, like the book, I'm going to deliver. Each night, as I update my wordcount for the day, I'll have something for you, here. Maybe a story excerpt. Maybe a tip I've stumbled across along the way. Maybe even a little something from my kids. Just hit the #NaNoWriMo label and subscribe to the blog.<br />
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Are YOU NaNo-ing this year? Tell me how YOU'RE going to accomplish your 50k in the comments!Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-70090207330623800162016-10-19T20:00:00.000-04:002016-10-19T18:14:36.121-04:00A Bad DayToday is... not a good day. It should be. I've finalized some contracts for freelance work. I've been on the phone with a new client talking about not only this current project but future work. I have paying clients. As a freelancer, I really ought to be very happy.<br />
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But I'm not. I have work to do today and haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I will. I'll force myself eventually. But for now, I keep watching television and telling myself I have things I need to be doing. The positive is: I've managed to finally admit to myself something I've been denying. It was easy to deny -- at first because of the sheer shock of being let go -- and later simply because keeping busy allowed me to keep it at bay. But the truth is, I'm depressed. And I'm angry. And the deeper, harder truth is, I have been this entire time. And the brave mask I've been putting on to lie to myself hasn't been any lighter for all that I've failed to notice it.<br />
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Truth is, I'm tired. I'm depressed and angry, and I'm tired of telling myself I'm not. It's shown up here and there. Little hints. Looking through the want ads and seeing jobs I've had and am perfectly capable of performing... and not being able to hit the "apply" button because part of me simply can't go back there. I don't want to work in retail again, or direct sales, or on a factory floor. I could. They're all good jobs, with great people working them. Probably even good companies to work for. But I can't. Because, the thing is, I want my job back.<br />
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That's what it comes down to. That's the depression and the anger I can't quite seem to shake: I want my old life back. The fact is, I've had dreams in which my boss came to see me, told me it was all a mistake, and that they needed me again, and I woke up happy at first, and then miserable, because I knew it could never happen that way.<br />
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But if it did.<br />
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The sad truth is, in spite of the anger, in spite of the confusion and hurt that came with my firing, if they called me and asked me back, I'd return in a second. I've said before I loved my job, and I did. I loved the people I worked with. I loved my listeners. I loved waking people up in the morning and being part of their day and knowing I was adding something to their lives. I loved it, and I miss it. <br />
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And it still hurts. And it still makes me angry. And depressed. And now that I understand it, I hope like hell it goes away again soon. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-82466623628172026022016-09-18T08:33:00.001-04:002016-09-18T08:33:36.667-04:00Unemployment: The End Of Week 1Last post, I was trying to explain the feeling of unemployment. To give a sense of the immediate personal aftermath and the frantic, hurry-up-and-wait pace of Day One survival mode. What I didn't mention, though, was perhaps the single most important piece of surviving unemployment: support.<br />
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When I called my wife, I had no idea what she would say. I knew she'd be sympathetic and loving, but as far as how she'd take the news? I hesitated calling her at work, but knew I didn't want to wait for her to come home tired, to a house full of kids, and then say, "oh, hey, by the way, I'm not going to work tomorrow. Or ever." So, I dialed, she answered, I stalled with pleasantries, and then dropped the bombshell: "So, I guess I'm going to be looking for a new job..." and held my breath. Would she be frightened? Harried?<br />
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What she was, was amazing. "Well," she said after digesting the news, "now you have time to do what you've been wanting to do." And she was right. I could finish a novel, get my house in order and get my home studio ready, really dig into writing and producing my podcasts. We talked about earmarking money for studio equipment.<br />
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Yes, the reality is that I will probably, eventually have to get a real job, but even on that score she's 100% in my corner. More so than even I am at times. I told her if neither of these radio jobs I just applied for came through, I'd start looking at things like retail. I knew she'd be happy knowing I was making an effort to support the family. Her response: "We're doing okay. Use this time to find the right job. You belong in radio."<br />
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The point is, this could have been one of the worst weeks of my life. Should have been, to be honest. I hadn't only lost a job, but what was, really, the best job I'd ever have, working with the best co-workers I'd ever had, doing something I truly loved. Don't get me wrong: It hasn't been sunshine and pancakes, but my wife has made all the difference.<br />
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I've been in that other state of unemployment: That depressed, lethargic unemployment. This was several years ago, before any of my kids were born. I wasn't fired at that time -- I'd left a largely dead-end job to become a freelance videographer, and the truth was, there simply wasn't the work available to keep me afloat. Then, I felt like a failure. This time, what I feel is loved.<br />
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And not only by my wife and family, who are all wonderful. God has also blessed us with friends who would do anything for us, and that's a great feeling to have when you're vulnerable. When I announced my unemployment I had at least one offer of a guest room whenever we needed it. Countless invitations to "whatever we can do." I have friends in the industry searching their contacts.<br />
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I have support, and because I have support, I don't feel like I've failed. I don't believe it's hopeless. I know that, one way or another, my family and I are going to be okay. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-40848630679705446142016-09-14T05:12:00.000-04:002016-09-14T05:15:37.974-04:00Unemployment: Day 2 BeginsI got fired Monday. Nobody made a big deal. It wasn't a blaze of Rebel DJ Glory. I simply got off the air, got called into a room with the GM and Human Resources and told that my services were no longer required. I was given the option to resign, but let's not kid ourselves, shall we?<br />
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I couldn't say anything. I packed my junk: books, CDs, notes from interviewees and listeners and coworkers, various accumulated knick-knacks -- put four years of my life back into my van and headed home.<br />
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And then I called my wife, got on the computer, and went into professional DJ mode: sent messages to colleagues and contacts and let them know I'd been shown the door and was now officially, for the first time in over nine years, "on the beach*." I searched radio jobs in the area (my wife has a great job, and moving isn't really an option) and updated my resume. Went outside, quietly celebrated my first ever firing (literally first ever) with a cigar, because it seemed like the thing to do, and prayed that God would show me what His plan was. Applied to two jobs that seemed like a good fit.<br />
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Those were my first four hours of unemployment. Things slowed down considerably after that.<br />
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Yesterday, my first full day of unemployment, was depressing. It was gray and rainy. My left hand ached with arthritis. I saw the kids off to school, which was nice, grabbed some coffee and... sat. I did manage to get industrious for a little while and went back into "unemployed professional" mode. Which mostly consisted of updating my LinkedIn profile and making contact with more colleagues to inform them of my newfound free agency. In a fit of aggressive optimism, went shopping for interview clothes and found out that if fat guys want dress shirts, we have to pay more than twice what "average" people do. So that was nice. My optimism dwindled swiftly.<br />
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Time moves differently when you're unemployed. When you have a job and are merely looking for an upgrade, you understand that job applications take some time to get into the right hands. That they have to be sorted, and gone over, and moved into piles. That it could take weeks before anyone even gets back to you with a "thanks but no thanks" or a "let's talk." In unemployment time, every phone call that isn't from a prospective employer is another reminder that you're waiting. Another reason to ask, "am I good enough?"<br />
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Because, no matter how big and strong your ego -- and in this business, they grow them pretty tough. Sampson tough. -- getting fired is a blow, and every minute you're not talking to someone who's telling you that you sound like a great fit for their organization just weakens it that much more.<br />
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And that's really what this all boils down to: Getting fired sucks.<br />
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Losing a job you loved, with people you truly enjoyed working with -- and getting the news from management you genuinely respect that you're just no longer a fit for their organization -- sucks.<br />
<br />
So, it's 4am, the start of my second full day of unemployment.<br />
<br />
I should be getting ready for work right now. <br />
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<br />
<br />
*("On The Beach" is a broadcaster euphemism for "unemployed." It... sounds nicer than it is.)Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-25253366917699812102016-05-20T18:05:00.000-04:002016-05-20T18:05:14.216-04:00Forgive The Radio SilenceDear reader,<br />
<br />
I'm not ignoring you. I promise. Indeed, I'm hard at work on all the stuff I put this site together to promote. Been reading for some upcoming projects I'm very excited to share with you (and soon will) and have been writing and doing producery things on new projects for A Flame in the Dark (If you're new here, A Flame in the Dark is my audio drama outlet). Hope to have some new things to show you on THAT front soon as well.<br />
<br />
So, I'll ask for your continued patience and trust that I will indeed have some new content coming very soon. Including more movies, more reviews, and more, well... just <i>more</i>. Hold tight.<br />
<br />
<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-84203770067077634122016-04-18T15:59:00.002-04:002016-04-18T16:00:57.616-04:00American (Zombie) Gothic: Maggie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoZjCYuW55wbj5o-AkdXG5k4hZpEQTpUQl9ImOL4yO2bB4DSxxTh8hpyTp05KL2qfy-Z0HEIoV7HgyzxZ0tNpmGQ6qNtUEbvFplwq5IPdYBWtqJd9aVlgURelJhsbuMbsIyRjCUIpUaA/s1600/maggie-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoZjCYuW55wbj5o-AkdXG5k4hZpEQTpUQl9ImOL4yO2bB4DSxxTh8hpyTp05KL2qfy-Z0HEIoV7HgyzxZ0tNpmGQ6qNtUEbvFplwq5IPdYBWtqJd9aVlgURelJhsbuMbsIyRjCUIpUaA/s320/maggie-poster.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
An almost ridiculously long time ago now, I heard the news that A new zombie movie was coming out that, A, starred Arnold Schwarzenegger and Abigail Breslin, and, B, was planned as a drama about a father and his dying daughter. An aficionado of sorts, when it comes to things zombie, I confess I was both titillated and confused (in equal parts). As most anyone must have been who has a basic, media-literate understanding of the words "zombie," "drama," and "Schwarzenegger."<br />
<br />
It's been well over a year, but I finally had the chance to give <i>Maggie </i>her shot. Let me put this out there right away: <i>Maggie </i>is <b>not </b>a horror movie. Zombies have been a part of our culture long enough now that they are, truly, their own cultural icon. While it's granted most movies, books, and TV shows featuring zombies are indeed of the horror genre, the reality is, they've grown above and beyond that narrow label. Or would, if we would let it. While we certainly have zombie comedies, for example, even they tend to stay planted pretty firmly in the realm of horror. The obvious reason for this -- fandom -- has been more or less enough to keep media companies from taking the zombie too far away from where Box Office wisdom had it firmly planted.<br />
<br />
So kudos, first of all, to the team behind Maggie, simply for having the guts to explore where else this particular bogey could hide. Drama was an interesting choice, but the right one -- if for no other reason than the very proliferation of zombie movies that made such a risk possible. Even as a fan of zombie media, it must be admitted that far too often the zombie movie, like most horror media, revels in death nearly to the point of glorification without often pausing long enough to allow the audience to soak in the horror. We settle for the cheaper thrills -- what's behind the curtain? Who's that in the woods over there? -- and ignore the most substantial elements of the fear these movies allow us to explore.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDimm0yXH0O04ZRjv_MnB0WXsLdOXaaHsZpgnBSrPttz0PE_AGVWt76gsDZ7e4tr1tJSsZMmewzXUU1QBsVfXb4NPP3hE3U7v8JjFqBjYDvnV7s9kL2G77-Hfm0yIE_JZBAL86_Colqys/s1600/Maggie-Featured.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDimm0yXH0O04ZRjv_MnB0WXsLdOXaaHsZpgnBSrPttz0PE_AGVWt76gsDZ7e4tr1tJSsZMmewzXUU1QBsVfXb4NPP3hE3U7v8JjFqBjYDvnV7s9kL2G77-Hfm0yIE_JZBAL86_Colqys/s400/Maggie-Featured.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
With Maggie, we get something different. We get a movie that, at its heart, is about a father's love for his child. It's not merely a movie about a girl (Breslin) who becomes a zombie. It's about a girl who is dying slowly, watching her body and her mind slowly betray her, worrying simultaneously about what's happening to her and what it's doing to her family -- emotionally <b>and </b>physically. It's about a father (Schwarzenegger) watching his daughter go through all these things and worrying about whether he ultimately will have the courage to let her go. It's a beautiful -- if depressing -- story, and one oddly, uniquely suited for exploration within the realm of zombie cinema.<br />
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So, zombie aficionados, I'm not really sad at all to say there are no exploding heads in this picture. In spite of both the subject matter and the headlining actor, there is little in the way of gore, and a surprisingly minuscule body count. Because that's not what this is about.<br />
<br />
The traditional zombie movies shows you that the walking undead are scary and dangerous. <br />
<br />
<i>Maggie</i>, with its dark social commentary and moments of slow, quiet terror, has the guts to show you what <b>truly </b>makes the zombie horrifying. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-76600020047694913662016-04-08T17:37:00.000-04:002016-04-08T17:37:09.849-04:00Friday Night Feature: Last Man on Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgs0I6ZtazStJCXQObzrjhwmXMMPhwr9WsGH4FUMcNVWktOX4jBcBhC7hj6jWin-5rCjPFuAMBS3J2oVUWsXbV1tj3VnGo43gVF_vEFXXUUJJ_uiy5r8vruLClsCPf0fJncq2p_3qSysE/s1600/Friday+Night+Feature.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgs0I6ZtazStJCXQObzrjhwmXMMPhwr9WsGH4FUMcNVWktOX4jBcBhC7hj6jWin-5rCjPFuAMBS3J2oVUWsXbV1tj3VnGo43gVF_vEFXXUUJJ_uiy5r8vruLClsCPf0fJncq2p_3qSysE/s400/Friday+Night+Feature.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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There have been at least four adaptations of Richard Matheson's "I Am Legend." Four, that is, if you don't count <i>Night of the Living Dead</i> (and I do not, no matter <b>what </b>Matheson himself says). The second filmed version starred Charleon Heston, and was called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067525/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank"><i>The Omega Man</i></a>. The most recently famous adaptation was, of course, the only moderately awful Will Smith vehicle. I almost didn't count the Syfy mockbuster <i>I Am Omega</i>, but fair is fair. The best adaptation, however, in my opinion, is the very first. 1964's <i>The Last Man on Earth</i> is a decently faithful adaptation of the source material, and is hugely entertaining despite being a mostly one-man show.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIYpGqYDKXTbd6cFfyeNyLoBDTl49AtMlYCgGk8TydyGDA7KZUocJOf0khAj2oFrGGB_GyTtjrwH7ssaOfNyIy32q8XZm_Sm_t_7PJOMyf_sCmREDIRwxV4JV4roGLdRlIHXzopmiiL4/s1600/the-last-man-on-earth-1964-subs-fiftymovie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIYpGqYDKXTbd6cFfyeNyLoBDTl49AtMlYCgGk8TydyGDA7KZUocJOf0khAj2oFrGGB_GyTtjrwH7ssaOfNyIy32q8XZm_Sm_t_7PJOMyf_sCmREDIRwxV4JV4roGLdRlIHXzopmiiL4/s320/the-last-man-on-earth-1964-subs-fiftymovie.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
This last fact is thanks, largely, to the charisma of star Vincent Price. I personally count this as one of the best-acted films of his career, which, when you consider <i>The Fly</i> and <i>House on Haunted Hill</i>, is saying something.<br />
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So pull up a chair. Turn out the lights, and enjoy, with me, The Last Man on Earth!<br />
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(Don't forget to add to the conversation in the comments section and on social media with #FriNiFeature)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZuPgXDWMB-Q" width="560"></iframe><br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-85976464139938733432016-04-07T18:15:00.001-04:002016-04-07T18:16:49.778-04:00Adapting for Audio: Shoo, Fly - the introduction<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since I'm adapting some of my short stories into audio dramas for<b> A Flame in the Dark</b>, I thought it might be fun to chronicle some of the differences and similarities in writing for the two formats. In this case, I'm adapting my short story "Shoo, Fly" (available now as part of the <i>'<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Zine-Killers-Short-Sci-Fi-Horror-ebook/dp/B00OROT1UU/" target="_blank">Zine Killers</a></i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Zine-Killers-Short-Sci-Fi-Horror-ebook/dp/B00OROT1UU/" target="_blank"> collection</a>) into a miniseries. Though I'll be adding quite a bit in the way of action and even characters to the series itself, I'm cutting quite a lot out of the narration. As you might expect, narration for readers is a far different animal than narration for listeners. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, as an example, here's an excerpt from the opening narration of the short story:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-67a892b5-f2c8-b52f-01b7-dab57d217e86" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I don't want to speak for what's left of humanity. I have no idea how they thought the world was going to end. Or even if they thought about it at all. If they did, I imagine they thought pretty much along the same lines as I did: A World War III nuclear blast scenario, a fast-acting pestilence -- hell, a zombie apocalypse. But I do guarantee that nobody -- not the Mayans with that calendar they always talked about on the History Channel, not those Nostradamus freaks, not the Nike-wearing Koolaid-drinkers who waited for that comet -- believed that the kingdom of man would be destroyed by houseflies. </span></span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-67a892b5-f2c8-b52f-01b7-dab57d217e86" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-ce632690-f2ca-5696-d03d-35f01f16359d" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And here are the opening lines from the audio drama: </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">NARRATOR: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It’s safe, I think, to say nobody expected humanity to go out this way. Global warming. Natural disasters. All-out thermonuclear </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">heck</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. Zombies, even. I think I personally expected Wrath of God, but I could have handled zombies. I mean, I’d have been alright with it. </span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Beat)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But this? This just feels… </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">stupid</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'll be adding more as the adaptation continues. Thoughts? Too many changes? Just enough? Let me know in the comments! </span>Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-41415833591086376172016-03-20T09:32:00.002-04:002016-03-20T09:32:50.659-04:00Best Thing Ever: 3.20.16<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRItQb3qzDgzB4wBZ3qK5cH7u7g3KPH7yiRqaVViYIH82Hc7Uxe4Lhl-IRlZh7F08B3tBGT5jM9ut24JBHx0pz7mnbVpa5Eff87oO9PNuQVkWOLvIF2pOAmtN54NTIF-CsLN3KGHvB30/s1600/Best+Thing+Ever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRItQb3qzDgzB4wBZ3qK5cH7u7g3KPH7yiRqaVViYIH82Hc7Uxe4Lhl-IRlZh7F08B3tBGT5jM9ut24JBHx0pz7mnbVpa5Eff87oO9PNuQVkWOLvIF2pOAmtN54NTIF-CsLN3KGHvB30/s200/Best+Thing+Ever.jpg" width="200" /></a>Possibly the only redeeming quality of any of the Republican debates has been watching Donald Trump's facial expressions while his opponents talk. He goes from faux amused to faux incredulous in mere seconds, while managing to avoid a single moment of sincerity. It's actually kind of brilliant, and is the inspiration for today's Best Thing Ever. I didn't create this gif, but it's my favorite thing this week.<br />
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Ladies and gentlemen, #Trumpfish!<br />
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<br />Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-83151253060041211172016-03-18T18:46:00.000-04:002016-03-18T18:46:29.557-04:00Friday Night Feature: Atom Age Vampire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tonight's Featured Presentation is a cold war classic. While it is unlike many other cold war science fiction fright pics -- you won't find any irradiated giant insects here! -- it follows familiar mad scientist tropes to ask the question many have asked since before -- and especially after -- the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasake: <i>does</i> the end justify the means?<br />
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As you watch tonight's feature, feel free to join in the conversation. What worked? What didn't? Was it heavy-handed? A good story? Think of questions and comments of your own and post them below! <br />
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You can join the conversation in one of three ways: in the comments section below, on my official Facebook page, or by tweeting the hashtag #FriNiFeature.<br />
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And now, as they say, our Feature Presentation!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9EOS-FFhTIw" width="560"></iframe>Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5353615594732561642.post-80066214599160802422016-03-13T22:25:00.000-04:002016-03-13T22:25:10.310-04:00Best Thing Ever - March 13, 2016This last week has been pretty awful. Like the week before it. At least, it you're the sort who pays attention to things like politics. One could be forgiven for believing there's very little hope of anything resembling sanity on tap for this country's political scene for the next four and a half years at least.<br />
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But enough of all that. This week's best thing ever brought itself to my attention just in time.<br />
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As an aside: in a moment of weird synchronicity, as I type this, my bride and I are watching an episode of Murder, She Wrote, co-starring non other than The Riddler himself, Frank Gorshin. Randy Streuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10078752335694398567noreply@blogger.com0