by Barbara Poelle
Okay, don’t forget, this Thursday will of course be The Fifth Annual Poelle Polish Turkey Trot and Gobble Wobble 5K™
Remember: The rules are fairly straightforward. All you have to do is start walking/jogging and then if 3.2 miles later you are on your third rum toddy, who cares? As long as you wobble over the finish line you are still a competitor. And because running a 5K on the morning of a holiday feast negates any calories consumed later that day, we all come out winners.
You're welcome.
In the meantime, here are some pithy publishing lessons....as taught by turkeys. Enjoy them and the holiday!
Oh, and anyone who would like to entertain me in the comments with your own devised conversation between Ted and Tom above, feel free. There might be prizes. There will be drinking. You decide.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Posted by: Mark Phialas | November 23, 2010 at 06:27 AM
Ted: "Dear Agent,
I wrote this for the 2010 Nanowrimo and as I finished a little early, I thought I'd give you the first opportunity to represent me. My novel is about pirate ninja nuns from Mars who are defending Earth from the flying monkeys of Uranus. They sparkle and get laid a lot. *Uranus is Mine* is an adult political sci-fi erotic thriller mystery, complete at 50,003 words."
Tom: " . . ."
Posted by: Sarah W | November 23, 2010 at 09:17 AM
YESSSSSSSS, that one hit me where I live. WHERE I LIVE, Sarah.
Posted by: barbara | November 23, 2010 at 09:44 AM
Does that mean you'd like to see pages?
Just asking . . .
Posted by: Sarah W | November 23, 2010 at 10:40 AM
Ted: I was very clear when I signed with her agency that I wanted no less than a seven-figure advance.
Tom: Do you think they'll ever find the body?
Ted: I hope not. With that much liquor in her system, I don't know if the lime will do anything.
Posted by: DeadlyAccurate | November 23, 2010 at 10:53 AM
OMG. Turkey Noir. I could do that.
Posted by: Sophie Littlefield | November 23, 2010 at 11:56 AM
Happy T-Day! Liver scrubs 2 for 1 at the pharmacy! Woot!Woot!Woot!
Turkey Noir!!!!
The knife was as sharp as Dad's wit used to be, slicing through the leg like butter. Mother sucked on the neck while little Billy chewed some breast.
Outside in the yard, a grim smile played over Ted's beak. Poor Tom, always whining for cuts in line at the trough. Well, that'd be the last god damn time he'd ever do THAT.
Posted by: r. lewis | November 23, 2010 at 12:29 PM
BOOM. There it is. Love it.
Posted by: barbara | November 23, 2010 at 12:35 PM
A conundrum my husband has often mulled over
Posted by: barbara | November 23, 2010 at 12:36 PM
Maybe you could write the 3 other books first, how's about? GET BACK TO THE COMPUTER.
Posted by: barbara | November 23, 2010 at 12:36 PM
HAAAAAAAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!
Posted by: barbara | November 23, 2010 at 12:37 PM
Think we could get a pug interested in the following trilogy?
I, the Turkey
Pluck Me, Deadly
My Beak is Quick
Posted by: r. lewis | November 23, 2010 at 12:50 PM
Um... I mean "pub", not "pug", lol. Sorry 'bout dat!
Posted by: r. lewis | November 23, 2010 at 01:24 PM
Zombie turkies!
"When leftovers go bad."
Posted by: Daisy | November 23, 2010 at 06:44 PM
Ted:". . .So the TSA guy is getting all up in my giblets, and I'm like, Dude. Are you going to search me or stuff me? So he calls his supervisor over, and she pecks my eyes out."
Tom: "Bummer."
Ted: "Next year I'm taking the train."
Posted by: Daisy | November 23, 2010 at 06:47 PM
How do you make your rum toddies?
Posted by: Brenda | November 23, 2010 at 07:48 PM