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  1. Debbie McGowan: Author, Publisher, Social Scientist.
  2. See a Problem?
  3. The Christmas Chicken

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Debbie McGowan: Author, Publisher, Social Scientist.

All Rights Reserved. The contents found on this site are not intended to diagnose, treat or cure. And, of course, as I sat down today to iron out my outline for the first quarter of the book, I found that I followed the same pattern: Introduction, trouble, more trouble, resolution. This, of course, makes me want to start planning for a quadrilogy. Yes, I admit.

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Something that can be relatively character driven, so I can just churn out a chapter without much planning ahead of time. I can see why people get caught up in it. So if I can get into the swing of churning out this many words a day last night I churned out about in the span of three hours. Time is a funny thing. Never there when you need it, always slipping away when you least expect it.

The Christmas Chicken

I was just competent enough not to fall into the Dunning Kruger effect , but not competent enough to rise above it. It took another fifteen years to garner the life experience to understand why, and what it was lacking. I still have that hope, hence why I bought this domain name and started writing here. I hardly wrote a word for fifteen years, and yet looking back, I realize that the entire time I still thought of myself as a writer.

And the moment I put pen to paper again figuratively speaking. I have terrible handwriting, but can type WPM easily it just reaffirmed it. Hell, I still feel like I was being a fraud for all that time. And I lament all the time I spent not practicing my craft. Even if I knew no one would read it, I posted long notes on facebook detailing the methods I used for brewing mead. I tried my hand at doing video game reviews online. Amazon has started publishing serials on Kindle.

I am hoping that they accept it, of course. This has, of course, made it impossible to record anything for the audio version of Murder Most Fowl. So, when I awoke this morning to a blissful silence, I decided to make the best of it. This was not a beautiful, warbling mating call. This was a simple call to announce his territory. Territory that seemed to be right outside my window. And the call was a single note, repeated every half second, for more than an hour. But I could sure as hell hear it.

Clear as a bell. In every room in the apartment. It turned out that the bird stopped because the construction workers had shown up and scared it into silence. Luckily, they seemed to be close to completed with their work, and their work abated a couple of hours before I had to leave for my job. It was louder than the bird.

Gordon Ramsay Roast Chicken

Much louder. I could have sword that had it not been for the direction of the sound, I would have thought that the cricket was in my apartment. Finally, an hour before I had to leave, there was finally a true, blessed silence.

So I recorded. I took a few takes, fixed it up as best I could. It turns out that the mediocre microphone in my laptop is actually far worse than I had originally thought. And since I was recording straight, uncompressed sound, it must have been a problem with some kind of data compression that runs between the microphone and the computer itself.

It was, in a word, unusable. Needless to say, I started looking for alternatives. Cheap but good quality USB microphones. A working computer fan to get my desktop computer working so I could use my professional quality microphone.

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Then an idea occurred to me. No bells. No whistles. Just a simple way to record what it hears. I pressed the record button, turned it over since the microphone is on the back next to the back facing camera and started reading.


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When I was done, I emailed myself the sound file. It was clunky, took several steps to do, but worked.


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