Note to All Cyborgs: DO NOT CALL ME

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m a grouch these days. I’m on a very tight deadline for not one but two books. I’m about to have to work on edits for a third. My father recently sold his home and moved into mine. (Since he’s 91, he really couldn’t do any of the packing and cleaning and everything else involved in moving.) Since he moved into the room that was once my library, I have books and bookcases stacked in my dining room until I get the rest of my house de-cluttered and rearranged to accommodate them. I’m also having my bathroom remodeled.

Don’t get me wrong. All of these things are good things. I’m thrilled that I continue to have contracts for my books. I’m very happy to have my dad live with me so I can look after him better. I need to get rid of a bunch of stuff I don’t ever use and basically make my house make more sense. The bathroom is gorgeous and much more functional for my dad. Still, what I don’t need in the midst of all this chaos is computers calling me.

I know they’re computers because there are little buzzes and whirs between the time I speak and when they finally answer. I know they’re computers because I get the same impossibly perfect, unaccented American-heartland voices saying the same spiel. “You’re harder to get ahold of than the last cookie in the cookie jar!” or “I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up much of your time.” And then, when I say, “Are you a computer?” I get the buzz and whir and then, “Ha ha, do I sound that bad?” or “I’m a live person using scripted responses.”

No, that’s not true.

According to this article in the Atlantic http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2013/12/almost-human-the-surreal-cyborg-future-of-telemarketing/282537/, there may be a live person running the computer for two or three calls at a time, but I am not speaking to a live person. That live person is in the Philippines or some other place with cheap labor trying to fool me into believing I’m speaking to a human. There is a vast difference between a human reading a script and a computer playing a .wav file.

According to the article, this type of system helps people who work for telemarketing companies not want to gnaw one of their own legs off after two or three days on the job. Granted, it’s a terrible job making calls all day to people who find your intrusion on their time insufferably annoying. I sympathize with the telemarketers. I do. But my solution to that problem is for them to NOT CALL ME. If I want a service, I will seek out someone who can provide it. You don’t have to tell me when I need what you’re selling.

If you’re looking for charitable donations, DO NOT CALL ME. I don’t donate over the telephone. There are too many scam artists out there, and I’m just not doing it. I donate to reputable charities like Salvation Army and Samaritan’s Purse who are well known and who do not spend most of my donations on “administrative expenses” like some charities I won’t mention (cough, Red Cross, United Way, cough, cough).

If I’m busy, I resent the interruption these calls make in my train of thought. Sometimes getting just the right turn of phrase is a delicate and elusive thing, and when one comes to me, I don’t need a computer interrupting me before I can even write it down. If I’m sleeping, and yes, I’m a night person and I keep odd hours, then I’m doubly annoyed by these calls.  Most of the time I just hang up. Sometimes I ask if the caller is a computer and, invariably, it tries to deny it is. Sometimes, following that, I ask for a supervisor and request that my number (already on the do not call list, which seems to be universally ignored by these machines) be removed from their list.

But, if I happen to be in a playful mood, I do enjoy messing with them. If I ask if it’s a computer and am told it’s not, then I ask random questions like “How’s the weather where you are?” “What did you have for lunch?” or “How ‘bout those Dallas Cowboys?” That usually earns me a lot of clicks and buzzes and whirs and then something like, “I can tell this isn’t a good time for you. We’ll call back later.” Click.

Ummm, please, don’t.

Three new romance novellas by three Inkwell Authors!  Please join us this week as we celebrate Route 66, The Mother Road, with a nostalgic trip to the not-so-distant past.

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It Happened One Night by Jennifer AlLee RELEASING THIS WEEK! 1939ish Rita Fisk runs the Durlin Hotel (today is known at the Oatman Hotel). Her predictable existence is interrupted one night when Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, newly married in Kingman, drop into the hotel to spend their honeymoon. Edgar, Mr. Gable’s driver and right-hand man, insists their stay be kept hush-hush. Of course, Oatie the ghost picks that night to cause mischief. Then, a reporter shows up, claiming he’s been trailing the famous couple and knows they’re in there somewhere. As Edgar and Rita fight their way through a comedy of errors, even pretending to be a honeymooning couple to throw off the reporter, they grow closer. By the time the night’s over, hopes are shared and promises are made. But is Rita the kind of woman to believe in promises, and is Edgar the kind of man to keep them?

Purchase Turquoise Treasure by Niki Turner Movies are king in 1956, and Gallup, New Mexico, on Route 66, is paradise for producing Hollywood B-movies. Veronica Scott wants nothing more than to be an actress, but her polio-afflicted leg has kept her off the casting rolls. Cooper Dean’s only interest in the movie industry revolves around finding justice for his wife’s death. When Cooper and Veronica are cast as secondary characters, much to their surprise, each sees an opportunity to help the other. But their cooperation will put Veronica in danger, and she’ll have to play the role of a lifetime to save them both.

 Purchase Starlight Serenade by Debra E. Marvin

The Englishman would look back one day and blame it all on Jazz… 

Flagstaff, Arizona 1930. Full-time Astronomer, and part-time sharp dresser Julian Dyson didn’t discover Pluto but he does discover a nasty case of self-righteousness when a former Ziegfeld Girl’s folly threatens his good name. 

Broadway understudy Clara Longworth and her peculiar younger brother are on their way to a new life in Hollywood when they're stranded along Route 66. Clara is asked to fill in as nightclub entertainment, but her good intentions set her up as accomplice in the blackmailing of a government man who makes the real thugs look classy. Until Julian and Clara put their heads together for more than dancing the Black Bottom, their big-as-the-night-sky dreams are on target to fail. Maybe they need a telescope to see what’s right in front of their starry eyes. 

Jen, Niki and Deb are part of this summer's GET YOUR KISS ON ROUTE 66 SERIES by Forget Me Not Romances.  

We're being virtually catered by  Mr D'z Route 66 Diner from Kingman, Arizona.  Grab a shake and some fries and here's a nickel for the jukebox!

We've spanned the thirties through the fifties, and sampled a lot of mom and pop motels and blue plate specials... Please leave a comment if you'd like to be our drawings-  Remember to safely add your email address. Three random winners will be eligible for our three Ebook giveaways.

We've all traveled on Rt 66. Have you?

Debra E. Marvin might have walked out of a diner in Albuquerque with toilet paper on her shoe.  Or maybe not. Check out her PINTEREST PAGE for Starlight Serenade and put a face to Julian and Clara.  

 Jennifer AlLee has been down this road before. Have you had a chance to read the incredible THE MOTHER ROAD? It's women's fiction with a contemporary setting you're sure to love

Niki Turner recently wandered the halls of the Gallup, N.M. El Rancho Hotel on a mental health road trip with two of her sons. Visit her PINTEREST PAGE for Turquoise Treasure details!



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Mr. Veitch may really have hit upon the best way ever to get endorsements for his (fake) book. Hey if it works for a fake one, why not a real one?

I wish I was as quick witted as he is. But I guess that's why I write. I can take a night, or a week to come up with the perfect come back if I need to!

Epic Bird Battle

by Anita Mae Draper

One of the constants on my grandparents' farm was a tree under which we would park, play, and picnic. It always seemed to be large and so when I saw photographs before it was planted the farmyard seemed stark. It's fun to look back at the photos and see how we grew along with the tree.

When we moved to our own farm in October 1999 the first thing we did was plant an 18" spruce tree that we'd brought all the way from Alberta 5 yrs before and had grown in a container while we lived in town.

Once planted in the ground, the spruce grew slowly for 10 years. So slowly that we didn't realize it was growing until 4 yrs ago when it shot up 2 feet in one season. Just as parents measure their children against a door jamb, we take family photos standing in front of "the tree" because it's fun to look back and see how we all changed.

A month ago our youngest child graduated from high school. We needed some images of his journey to adulthood to show during the graduation ceremony and the following image is one of the ones I created for this event:

I have a great view of the tree from my kitchen window and this year I've noticed a variety of birds nesting in it, such as:
- American robins
- Chipping sparrows
- Eastern kingbirds

There is one problem however, the kingbird and robin built their nests within a couple feet of each other and have been at war. This montage shows the tree with nest locations as well as one epic battle that took place on July 7th. There weren't any injuries as far as I could tell and life went on.

The kingbird babies hatched first and were practicing their flying by the time the robins hatched. One day momma robin was sitting on her eggs and the next day bobble heads stretched up for food.

Both robin parents worked tirelessly to feed the 3 babies with momma doing the babysitting and poppa getting the food. She was rounder than him with lots of fluffy down feathers that blew in the wind like dandelion fluff whereas he was much more slim from running around.

The babies grew feathers and looked cute with their ear tufts.

And then one morning I looked out the window while making my coffee and saw that the robins' nest was totally wrecked.

I checked around and under the tree but didn't see any babies, and the parents haven't been back. I don't know if it was the kingbird, a marauding cat, or some wild animal. It's all destroyed.

The kingbirds are still taking flying lessons but the juveniles are now hunting on their own.

The thing is, this reminded me of neighboring countries who could live in peace if they want to protect their families, but choose to fight because they feel their territory is threatened. Such a waste.


Have you noticed any nesting going around in your yard or area?


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Anita Mae Draper's historical romances are woven under the western skies of the Saskatchewan prairie where her love of research and genealogy yields fascinating truths that layer her stories with rich historical details.  Anita's short story, Here We Come A-Wassailing, was a finalist for the Word Guild's 2015 Word Awards. Her novellas are included in Austen in Austin Volume 1, and The American Heiress Brides Collection. Readers can check out Anita's Pinterest boards for a visual idea of her stories to enrich their reading experience.  Discover more at:

Website - www.anitamaedraper.com

Pinterest - www.pinterest.com/anitamaedraper/