Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Worst Typos EVER (in which our Comedy Writer gets laughs without even trying)

By Melodie Campbell (Bad Girl)

Ever make a really bad typo?  I mean really bad.

My worst ever professional mistake was in an Annual Report for a one-hundred-million dollar corporation, when I was the director of marketing and communications.  Unfortunately, an innocent little ‘t’ went missing from the word ‘assets.’  The board was not amused by “This year, we experienced an increase in corporate asses.”

Recently, I found out what one little vowel can do to Rowena and the Dark Lord, book 2 in the Land’s End sexy fantasy series.

Okay, REALLY uncool when the publicist misspells the name of your book on the launch announcements.

Rowena and the Dark LARD is probably not the best way to get sales for a ‘Outlander meets Sex and the City’ fantasy series.

However, as I do write comedy, I'm thinking about a parody.
Is it okay to write a parody of your own book?


Synopsis 1: Rowena moves back to Land’s End and opens up a bakery.

Synopsis 2: Cedric’s use of dark magic goes totally out of control, and so does his appetite.

Synopsis 3: Thane and Rowena return to Land’s End and become pig farmers.

Synopsis 4: Rowena messes up another spell that causes all who look at her to turn into donuts.

Synopsis 5: Rowena kills off Nigella Lawson in a battle with pastry rollers, and assumes the role
of Prime Time Network Food Goddess <sic>.

Synopsis 6: Someone takes a totally justified whack at the author. End of series.

Postscript: Recently was quoted by someone as the author of ROWENA AND THE DORK LORD.  Trial for murder is pending.

Post postscript (where is a Latin scholar when you need one?):  Another contract is out for the professional book tour company last month, who, in all their advertising, inadvertently switched book 3 Rowena and the Viking Warlord to… wait for it… Viking Landlord.  Yup.  Obviously there will be hell to pay if you forget the rent. 

Excerpt from Rowena and the Dark Lord:

Men’s voices again, echoing like souls lost in a fog. The mist lifted in one swift movement to disappear into nothingness. In its place, were at least a hundred men.

Bugger. I messed up.

“Houston, we have a problem,” I said out loud. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I must have pronounced one of the spell words wrong.

“Who is Houston?” Lars said.

“Romans!” Gareth hissed. He drew his sword.

“Romans?” I stared at the battle-scarred men before us. They looked exhausted. They also looked bloody, dirty and rather short. Not to mention confused.

How the heck could they be Romans?

Someone yelled “Form Square!” in—yup—that was Latin.

“What the hell?” I stared. The men came to life moving with purpose into a square. Within seconds we were facing a shield wall bristling with spears.

The man on horseback stared at me. No stirrups on his saddle. A helmet that was in history books. Definitely Roman. I stared back at him.

Romans? In this time? What the poop had I done?

“It’s a freaking temporal rift!” My laugh was strident. “Where is Spock when you need him?”

Amazon link for Rowena and the Dark Lord:

Sunday, 12 November 2017

More from Morticia's Advice Academy (Seriously STOP with the tomatoes...I have enough)

Many thanks to those demented people who asked for more of Morticia.  (reprinted with permission from the deluded places that pay me)

Brought to you by:  MORTICIA & CO., Distributors of Aftermarket Body Parts.

Dear Morticia;
My husband was married once before.  When he passes on, would it be appropriate to bury him beside his first wife?
Signed Planning Ahead

Dear Head;
Only if she's dead first.

Dear Morticia;
I keep asking my boss for a raise, but he keeps saying no.  As a last resort, I'm thinking of offering him my body.  Think it will work?
Signed Blondie in Bowmanville

Dear Blondie;
Gee, I don't know.  Chances are he has a perfectly good body of his own.

Dear Morticia;
What is the quickest way to a woman's heart?
No Don Juan

Dear No Don;
Zippered sweaters, although wrap-around blouses run a close seco

Dear Morticia;
My boyfriend and I won a hundred thousand dollars in a lottery.  I want to buy a house and he wants to buy a 427 AC Cobra sports car.  What should we do?
Signed Homeless

Dear Less;
Recent reports suggest that it is very difficult if not impossible to prepare a proper meal on a 427 engine block.  On the other hand, most houses built today can't travel at more than 2 miles per hours.  Tell you what.  Forward the winnings to my address and I'll do a test run for ya.
(Okay, a secret. This last one is my personal favourite.  Yes even demented comedy writers have favourites. See you next week, if you can stand it.)