Tom Holt's Agent

<anon2765.RemoveThis@firedrake.org> wrote:

 > Not so much annoyed, I don't think, as taken-aback and therefore inclined
 > to be Prickly about it. I hope you didn't find my email offensive -- I
 > wanted to suggest alternative ways forward, since the request here had been
 > a bit of a frost, I certainly didn't mean to sound as if I were castigating
 > you.

Taken aback was more the thing I was looking for, but I gave blood
yesterday and so my brain is a bit befogged. (aside, in a whisper,
"That's my excuse today, anyway.") So thank you for elucidating on my
behalf. I just wanted them not to run away. We can always use another
author to...hmm, maybe we shouldn't go there...

Elizabeth<!-- ~MESSAGE_AFTER~ -->

Hi All:

I'm Dale. Some of you my know me already. I'm the guy who's
apparently very bad at making a first impression. Hopefully I'm
slightly better at making second impressions.

Let me quickly address the frayed nerves that I seem to have touched
off recently. My last post was inspired by my wife (through her
account), who was concerned that she was looking like an idiot. I
think as most folks have seen in hindsight, none of the messages were
that bad, but in my wife's defense, she is very very (no, really, you
have no idea just how very!) pregnant. We are two weeks away from the
arrival and I think there was, what I lovingly refer to as a 'high
tide in hormone harbour.' So I leapt to the defense of my own fair
maiden (trust me, it's better to do that otherwise I risk 'tsunami in
hormone harbour' from which I really have no storm breaks that can
come close to saving me).

Now, if you will permit, I'll introduce myself.

I was born in Sheffield, England in 1968. A city best known as the
location for the movie "The Full Monty." Curiously, all the time I
was there, I never saw another naked man. If I had known this would
become a major export for the city, I might well have followed a very
different career path.

After studying both Television and Video Production at college - which
is how to make the programs, and not, as one job interviewer thought,
making the TV's and VCR's themselves (he was quite disappointed to
learn I wouldn't be able to repair his Sony Trinitron on the cheap);
as well as Computer based Graphic Design, I made a bold, if less than
linear career move, working in both retail and wholesale deliveries.
Perhaps I should have paid more attention to my Career Advisor when I
had the chance.

Eventually I got back on track, working for myself as a freelance
designer and electronic typesetter - nowhere near as much fun as it
sounds, though being your own boss does guarantee never having to work
Friday afternoons . It was a living, but pretty unfulfilling.

Marriage to an American meant relocation, and a whole new set of
opportunities opening up in the New World. Like so many Europeans
before me, I traveled west with only the clothes on my back and a
small suitcase.

Research might have been useful, as the clothes on my back were at
least three layers of outfits (a cunning plan to ensure a larger
wardrobe on my arrival). This proved a definite problem as the humid
heat of a North Carolina summer hit me as I left the cool
air-conditioning of the airport and crawled to the waiting car.

Just like generations of immigrants before me, I took a job auditing
mortgages for a major bank as soon as the Immigration and
Naturalization Service said I was fair game for their cousins over at
the Internal Revenue Service and my new life had begun.

Falling back on real career skills, I eventually landed a job at the
largest print company in the Southeast. During my interview, I
employed the same creativity that would serve me well when writing a
novel. I lied. I assured them of course I could work all their very
expensive equipment. My uncertain expression and use of the wrong
terminology was just delayed jet lag. A speedy, self-taught crash
course in their systems however, and I was flying.

Next came a stint as a technical school instructor, from which I was
thankfully fired. The idea that I was there to offer the best
education I could to my students, was in sharp contrast to the
School's Administration, who simply wanted a revolving door of tuition
fees in exchange for diplomas, and never mind the grades.

And so, after many jobs in many fields, I finally realized that being
unhappy and either quitting or getting fired wasn't a very good career
model to illustrate for my son.

A love of sci-fi and being constantly asked by my parents growing up,
and then later by my wife, "I suppose you think that's funny?" seemed
to suggest a combination that might work. It's certainly a lot more
fun.

So, there ya go. Now you know me. Well, kinda.

And I'll take any beers slid down the bar in my direction. So let
that be a warning to anyone standing just beyond me, your beers are
fair game if they come within range!

Thanks to everyone, especially Tom, for taking the time to offer
suggestions and advice and the welcome (especially graceful after such
a clumsy entrance on my part).

Dale