Blatant Self-Promotion: Creatively Telling Your Story

Tired of your job?

So am I.

Need change?

Yes you do.

Want to make yourself look better on paper?

I can do that.

What is a resume?

WRONG! A resume is a single page short story about you.

What is a CV (Curriculum Vitae)?

Close, but WRONG! A CV is a novella about you.

Most resumes and CVs read like textbooks. Are you a textbook full of facts? NO! Sure, facts-and-figures are pieces of your story, but they are not YOU! You are more than where you worked, where you studied, and the things you have done; your resume and CV should better represent you. Let your resume or CV do a lot of the work of getting you a new job.

How do you do that? Let me ask you another question, who better to tell the story of you than a storyteller, a writer?

That is correct. Nobody is better. That is not true either. A storyteller with training, with the skills, and the desire to tell your story is better and I am that writer, that storyteller.

Your story is not my story. Thus, your story will not fit into my template. I will craft a template just for you and your story, highlighting the parts of you that best fit the job you are going after. The job that you deserve.

Do you need some examples of why this storyteller is perfect for you? Yes, you do…

Instead of cashier, you are an essential cog in the financial machine of the United States of America (patriotic) or a redistributor of wealth or effortlessly handle customer and their money or a skilled up seller.

Everyone has people skills, but what are people skills…how about the world is your chessboard and people are your pieces or you read people like a book or you understand what a customer needs and wants before the customer does and can get them to purchase both.

Manager? Everyone is a manager or managerial skills. What are you a manager of…the best interests of the company or bottom line or keeping all of the ducks in a row and swimming in the right direction or putting out customer or worker (associate) fires or ensuring MAXIMUM efficiency or reducing waste.

Communication skills or great (excellent) communicator, great. How? When you speak people listen or you have the oratory skills and command of JFK (or other excellent historical orator) or be prepared to stay up all night reading your writing or you listen before responding.

You got skills? Awesome. Guess what everyone else has skills and their list looks and reads a lot like yours. Change that list up. Stop looking up buzzwords. Trust me if you found your resume or CV on the internet so did EVERYONE else. Who gets the job? Those who stand out. Let me, for a fee, assist you in standing out by crafting a story of you that they WANT TO READ.

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 13


This conversation was the end of what I had hoped would have been a fast moving montage of conversations and such explaining what happened and setting up what would happen. That did not pan out as I planned. As each previous section expanded the original purpose of this scene dissolved. The update for this scene ties together what has happened and moves the action forward. Enjoy. 🙂

Catching Up

“How long have you listened to Acid Chamber?” Chuck asked around a mouthful of rice.

Ignoring the rice caught in his chin fur Whiskers replied, “Since their first hoverport single, ArNk’Hal”

Stunned, Chuck replied, “That’s a long time.”

“Their music is great to practice to, inspiring a whole set of movement,” Whiskers said.

Amused, Puddles took a long sip of tea. Setting the neon yellow teacup down, “Whiskers’ choice of music aside, where are we on the cases?”

“Nowhere,” Chuck said sarcastically.

“Shut up Chuck,” Puddles fired back. “Seriously, what do we have on the three clients?”

Setting his tablet on the garish neon colored table, “Chuck is gathering the data on the Harowes.”

“Should have it tonight,” Chuck interrupted.

Flipping a screen on the tablet, “Acid Chamber’s manager…a…here it is, Janus is sending us data on their concerts and crew.”

“And Doctor Marlowe?” Puddles asked.

Chuck looked down at the neon green bowl full of rice in front of him. Whiskers flipped to a new screen.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” Whiskers replied lazily stirring his bowl of noodles with a single neon-flashing chopstick.

“Some investigators we are,” Puddles said.

“We don’t have the right connections.”

“Shut up Chuck,” Puddles snapped.

Staring Puddles down, Chuck continued, “The right connections to find whoever pretended to be Doctor Marlowe. I sent you the data on the real Doctor Marlowe.” Holding up his paw to stop any interruptions, “I have feelers out for information on what Titan is doing with Black Myst or in Tumbledown. These things take time.”

Setting his chopstick down, “Unfortunately, Chuck is right. We do not have the right connections,” Whiskers interjected.

“Whatever,” Puddles mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. “At least we are clear of charges. We are, aren’t we?”

“We are. Officer Tanx will send us any information he gets as well,” Whiskers replied. “This case is not dead. Put on hold is all.”

“Hold?” Puddles interrupted. Shaking his head, Chuck continued eating.

Ignoring Puddles, Whiskers continued, “We have a two cases to work. I suggest we move on from this and get back to work.”

“I like that idea,” Chuck said.

“Shut up Chuck.”

World Ship Horizon II


Confused chatter continued non-stop.

“What happened?” Maxwell asked on the squad channel.

“No clue,” Tyrell quickly replied.

“I heard there’s been an explosion,” David added.



“Cut the chatter,” Squad Leader Strum commanded. Silence.

Maxwell thought about the possibilities, according to training, upon arrival troopers load up, debark and lead a landing onto the target planet, secure initial landing zones for supplies, and specialists. Perhaps that is what happened, although in training the only time the emergency lights and sirens sounds was during an emergency.

Accelerating out of the launch bay, the blunt nosed assault craft banked to the right making room for following ships. On his helmet display, Maxwell watched the tactical display showing ships, their paths, and returns from ships scanners; in a smaller window, he watched live holo-from assault ship five. Tactical display showed the formation of ten assault ships and cover fighters moving around the edge of the Horizon. Live holo-feed switched to a side-mounted camera, the Horizon filled the feed.

Watching the Horizon slowly pass, Maxwell thought about their mission, colonization or subjection of the target system, establish a presence, and prepare for following world ships and supplies to bring the brilliance of the Empire to the corner of the galaxy they were assigned to. On the feed, Maxwell watched exterior gun batteries track their formation, thousands of windows he could not see through, ports for landing and launching; he felt proud to be part of a new world ship mission.

“Look at that!” Someone exclaimed. Other voices joined the chatter filling the squad channel with the white noise of confused and concerned people.

Another holo-feed window opened on his display; blackened and twisted metal filled the screen. The tactical feed borders flashed red as new information loaded, thousands of different sized dots, a debris field. As the assault ship moved closer to the Horizon’s hull, Maxwell saw the damage, a massive explosion or explosions created a large hole where according to his display the transport drives should be. He ignored the bodies floating in space and the debris, focusing on the damage.

“How could this happen?”


The edges of his tactical display flashed red, warning of danger; explosions from an unseen source bracketed the assault ship five, bouncing everyone inside. His tactical display updated with the likely source of fire; from the opposite side of the Horizon.

“Vacuum preparations!” Squad Leader Strum commanded.

Maxwell’s suit and helmet sealed, air system currently hooked into assault ship five’s systems kicked on, and seal flashed green on his helmet display. Pressed into his seat as the ship accelerated, Maxwell fiddled with his auto-rifle waiting for an update or some information. Waiting, always the hardest part.

More explosions and bouncing, a symbol for a patrol fighter blinked out of existence. Tactical updated, projected path around the Horizon and over the small moon. Maxwell thought whoever was firing had excellent targeting tech. Estimated time to contact under a minute. Clicking over to the external feed, nothing but the black of space and distant stars.

The edge of the moon slowly appeared in the live feed. Curious, Maxwell ran a check against mission data, no matching information. Nothing special there. As assault craft five crested the horizon created by the moon, large shapes appeared out of the black, indistinct at first. As the ship accelerated closer…

“What is that?” someone asked in shock.

“Is that another world ship?”


“Look at it.”

Explosions, closer this time, bounced gear out of racks and at least one trooper shouted out in pain. Calls for the medic filled the channel. On the feed and tactical display, another world ship, heavily damage, floated amongst other smaller unidentified ships and debris. Opening up other comm-channels, Maxwell listened in.

“Hot Shot! Hot Shot!” some pilot shouted in response to fire from the new world ship.

“Not receiving any hail.”

“Can anyone get the registry?”

“Eject! Eject!”

“Recovery ships on the way.”

“Prepare for assault! All troopers prepare for assault!”

As one, Maxwell and all of the troopers stood, turned to face the front of the craft, readied their weapons, and waited. Acceleration pushed against the troopers and explosions caused them to sway and take steps to remain in position.

“Brace! Brace!”

The blunt nosed assault ship five crashed into the side of the world ship at full speed lodging deep inside the hull. Inside assault ship five, troopers rushed towards the front of the ship as the blunt nose opened and defensive guns laid down suppressive fire.

Com-channels immediately flooded with orders, sightings, requests, and the sounds of gunfire. On Maxwell’s tactical display, his position, the position of living members of his squad, and any enemies or points of interest. Even with the training, the flood of information overwhelmed him.

“Trooper! TROOPER MAXWELL!” Squad Leader Strumm shouted at him while shoving him forward, “Eyes on your objectives and mates.”

“Yes sir,” Maxwell replied while running down the ramp into the worldship.

Games We Play: Tanks, Best 2 out of 3, II

Earlier I told you about the first two games of Tanks with our boy. Here is the rest of the day of Tanks.

Game 3, Assassination. We choose a tank that the other player has to eliminate to win. Sounds good and turned out to be more fun than expected. As in previous games, our boy rushes forward. I hang back a bit, especially my target tank. He rushes his target tank way forward and before he realizes it, BOOM. Target tank blown up. Win, Me.

Best 2 out of 3 vs our boy, WINNER: Me. 🙂

Next up, our girl…

German Invasion

Our girl has a tactical mind. In her words, “I have a plan with branches. When you break a branch, I make a new branch.” She adapts, as best she can, to changing game situations. She like units with firepower and maneuverability, that means Germans.

Her Army, number 1

  • Tiger
  • Panther
  • JagdPanther

tanks-5Game 1, Assassination. My target her Tiger of course. Her target a Sherman 76mm with “War Daddy.” This was a long game with lots of maneuvering for position. She set me up a few times, positioning her tanks in a way that I could gang up on two and get shot by all three of hers. In the end, the game came down to the JagdPanther.

As an assault gun only targets directly in front can be shot. This makes position extremely important. She did her best to get the JadgPanther in position for shots and keep it from getting ganged up. Unfortunately, cumulative damage took it down. Once that happened the Tiger went down under a fusillade of fire and a lucky hit or two.

Game 2, Objective. Our girl changed her army list, she did not see the Panzer IV on the shelf.

Army, number 2

  • Tiger Tank with Michael Whittman (commander)
  • Panther with “Bobby” Woll (gunner) and Clever Hans (doctrine)
  • Panzer IV

tanks-6Upfront, she lost this game. Not due to bad play. Due to bad luck. Tanks has a high element of luck at times, mostly in the Critical Hits area. On a roll of 6, a critical hit is scored. If the critical hit is not canceled by defense, draw a critical hit card. Critical hit cards range from 0 to 3 points of damage and often come with secondary effects, such a crew bailing out or losing movement.

To illustrate, one shot on the Panzer IV resulted in three critical hits for 7 points of damage. If the Panzer with 5 Health had survived, it would have not been able to move, shot, or anything else.

She took out one of my Shermans, which was an under performance by her tanks. Normally, an unmodified Tiger takes out 2 tanks and heavily damages a third. This game, one kill.

tanks-7In the end, bad luck more than bad play cost her the win. Part of bad luck is the rules themselves, a maximum of six dice can be rolled at one time. There were times due to positioning where she should have rolled 7, 8, or 9 dice to my 2 or 3 dice for defense. Suffice to say, we are working on some house rules to increase the value of positioning verse luck.



Games We Play: Tanks Best 2 out of 3

“Bring it on mutherfucker!”

“We’re gonna kick your ass dad!”

And with that, the challenge was thrown; best 2 out of 3 matches. While Warhammer 40k armies are assembled (literally), painted, and pointed out we continue to play Tanks. Fast and fun, the children are starting to settle into their respective armies and play styles, which works great for Warhammer 40k. How great?

Glad you asked, there is a lot of learning your style of play in miniature games from choice of army:

  • Do you like the look of the army?
  • Do you like the play style on paper? Fast, Slow, Methodical, Hard Hitting, Fragile, etc.
  • Once you start playing how do you play with them?

And so on. Thus, if I can get them to discover their play style with a reasonably inexpensive miniatures game when we start a HORRENDOUSLY expensive game…cough cough Warhammer 40k, I would like them to know in advance more about how they play so I can direct them towards units that works for them.

tanks-1First up, our boy, who at this stage of his gaming life is direct to the point. Give him an objective or story mission and he quickly blasts through to that target, side missions be damned. Keep that style of play in mind.

British Invasion

After setting up the board (read dinner table) and creating our 100 pt armies…oh yeah here are our armies:


  • Sherman 76mm with “Ground Hog” Oiler (gunner)
  • Sherman 76mm with John P. Irwin (gunner)
  • Sherman 76mm with “War Daddy” Pool (commander) and Sandbag Armor

Our Boy

  • Sherman Firefly with Joe Ekins and Super-Velocity Shot
  • Comet with Wilfred Harris and Super-Velocity Shot
  • Cromwell with “Woppy” Radley Walters and Precise Loader

Our boy wanted an objective game first, in the center of the board an objective marker representing supplies both sides wanted. Having played several games against the German army played by our girl I was prepared for tanks making two moves upfront and one move at the end of the turn. I was not prepared for fast tanks.

Fast is a keyword on some tanks (mostly British tanks at our house), allowing a tank to make three moves at a time. Three moves really opens up the table for maneuver. To explain this, I planned three turns to get to the objective, and spend the rest of the game fighting. Our boy’s British tanks with fast reached the objective in two, catching my tanks out in the open.

tanks-2A brief exchange of shooting where he lost one tank, but secured the objective when I moved my tanks to cut off what I thought was an end run to get behind my tanks. It was not. Round one to the boy.

Game two, our boy wanted to play to the last tank standing. He had a plan. I love it when people, especially children, get enough into a game to begin to plan ahead. His plan, drive his Comet down the center and right and left flank me with his other tanks.

tanks-4Great plan as I was moving down the center as a group. He could have caught me in a crossfire. Except, and this is where children tend to fall down, he did not look closely at his side of the table (he set the terrain there by the way). He also did not think about putting a slow tank as a flanker. Which caused him to move his fast flanker tank slow; he did something a lot of people do-symmetrical movement-I want both sides to reach the same spot at the same time. Good plan…

Until, his center tank got hit by all three of my tanks, treads fly off (no movement until repaired), sight got busted (-2 attack until repaired), and the crew, wisely, bails (no nothing until repaired). His flanking tanks out of position because the Firefly has a maximum movement of 2 and he symmetrically moved his Cromwell (up to 3 moves and could have made a huge difference).

Turn 2, Comet blows up. Firefly engages with a Sherman with no effect, and Cromwell accelerates for a side attack run.

Turn 3, Firefly’s ammunition explodes (really lucky critical hit) and Cromwell settles into the woods. Settles as defined by tread hit.

Turn 4, my three tanks shred his Cromwell.

Game two, me.

Game three on hold until he gets up. After game three, best of three against our girl and her German Army.






Puddles and Whiskers, New 3

This scene comes before the concert. I don’t know about other writers, but when a scene like the concert hits me I write it and then go back to where I was, which is how I wrote about a concert before even writing about Puddles and Whiskers and Acid Chamber. 🙂

More Work Than Expected

“Duck Chuck!” Puddles shouted, dodging a poorly thrown punch from some Acid Chamber fan in the bar.

Chuck ducked, fell on his rear, and began to back pedal away from the fight as a chair thrown from somewhere sailed overhead. Back against a wall, Chuck kneeled and took in the scene. Puddles fighting against at three different fans, all wearing Acid Chamber faux leather jackets with concert dates on the back. She kicked one in the knee, slamming his head against the bar and taking a shot to the chest for her efforts from one of the other two.

She was fine, Chuck thought. Looking for the clients, someone large slammed into Chuck causing both of them to stumble. A third jumped onto both of them swinging wildly, clipping Chuck across his left ear. A bottle or glass shattered near his head splashing all of them in drink and glass. Everyone rolled off Chuck, taking a breath; he stood up and began kicking both of them.

“What is wrong with you people!”

Puddles rolled with a punch to her face, snapped a quick chop followed with a knee to the ribs to another fan. How many fans were in this bar, she wondered for a second, before dodging down the bar. And where was Whiskers?

“I see what you mean,” Whiskers replied to Onhomgha or Blaster, lead singer of Acid Chamber.

“Just another night out with Acid Chamber,” he shouted.

Glancing at his watch, Whisker said, “Perhaps we should get you out of here. Your car has arrived.”

“No way! I want to see what you guys can do for me,” Onhomgha replied eyes on Puddles and Chuck.

“I see. Stay here,” Whisker commanded.

“Get ‘em Chuck!” Puddles yelled.

Leaping off a table Chuck landed on top of two fans dropping both them to the floor. Rolling with his leap, Chuck snapped off a sharp kick to the face knocking one of the fans out. The other stood up as Chuck did, flexing his arms he took a well-known gromathi fighting stance.

“Had some training?” Chuck asked sarcastically, “Don’t throw the ni-ghar and follow with a spinning sutohat.”

A brief flash of confusion on the fan’s face; Chuck struck punching the fan square in the nose. The crunch of bone and splatter of blood. However, instead of falling the fan’s eyes looked down Chuck’s arm, pure rage. With a single step, the fan picked up Chuck over his head.

Leaning against the bar, the last of her fans out cold under her feet, wiping blood off her fur with a towel, Puddles shouted with a laugh, “What are you doing Chuck?”

Whiskers stepped up to the fan’s back, jammed the stun rod into his ribs and held the button down. As expected, the fan fell down, Chuck landing on top of him. Rolling off the fan, Chuck gave him two kicks to the ribs before looking around.

“That is how we handle things,” Whiskers said to Blaster.

“Not bad. Night is still young, let’s go.”

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 12


The wash and dry brush phase is almost over, two or three more sections. Since I started I have added around 10 pages of new text. Next up for existing work, letting it sit for a bit while I work on the new material. Bet you are happy for that. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

The Second Client of the Day

“What do you think of this one?” Puddles asked Whiskers.

“Looks like a frying pan to me,” he blandly replied.

“Single forged no need to worry if the handle will separate with a good hit,” Puddles went on, “And look at the weight.”

“What do the reviews say about its ability to survive an impact?” Whiskers sarcastically asked.

Puddles extended a single middle claw in Whiskers direction, “Ass. I’m ordering this.”

“Have you pulled the data on the Harowes yet?”

I sent a message to Chuck,” Puddles said to Whiskers, “asking him to get the data on the Harowes.”

“That will save us some time. Reviewing the information she gave us, this should be a night or two of work at most.”

“A quick case, nice.”

At the sound of the door chime, two vid-displays on their desk activated; two korogin males wearing matching black leather outfits waited. The bone facial plates concealed their expressions and through the vid made telling them apart difficult. One of them with both ears and neck pierced down to his collarbone, looked at the vid-camera and pressed the door chime. Another chime.

“Friends of yours?” Whiskers asked Puddles with a smirk.

Her left flattened before responding, “They look like gangers and I bet they don’t have any isstas.”

“Let us find out,” Whiskers replied, opening the door.

Walking in step into the office, their heavy boots made each step thud ominously. The pierced korogin pushed a chair over to Puddles side of the desk. The other korogin stood, glaring, behind the seated korogin.

“I want to hire you to watch me while I am in town,” the sitting korogin abruptly announced.

“To do what?” Whiskers asked.

“Keep an eye on me while I’m in the city,” he said a bit slower.

Whisker’s ears descended a bit, eyes narrowed, “You want us to watch you, why?”

Puddles began a staccato beat with one of her paws trying not to glare at either of the korogin. Silence from the black clad, heavily pierced korogin male sitting across the messy side of the desk and from his similarly black clad bodyguard glowering behind him. Whiskers looked at Puddles. Puddles shrugged before turning her attention back to the korogin.

“I’m trying to understand what you want from our agency,” she said. Paws on her side of the desk, one drumming a staccato beat, “We don’t do body guard work and you have…” gesturing with the non-staccato paw at the bodyguard.

The korogin in front of her looked over his shoulder, looked back and smiled or at least what Puddles took as a smile; the bone plates on korogin faces made reading any expression a gamble at best. A low rumble from both korogin, turned into belly clutching laughter. Whiskers ears wide apart and tail swishing, shrugged his confusion to Puddles. Puddles ears went flat, tail slashing her irritation with these two rising quickly.

“What am I missing?” she hissed at them.

“You don’t recognize us?” bodyguard asked around the last of his laughter.

“Should we,” Whiskers asked hesitantly.

The sitting korogin abruptly stopped laughing, “You don’t know who we are, for real?” Looking over his shoulder, he barked in korogin, “Tak-ga shinnat ur gagganoth.”

Bodyguard shook his head before speaking, “Does Acid Chamber sound familiar?”

“The quadstomp duo?” Whiskers replied ignoring the stunned look on Puddles face.

“That’s us,” the bodyguard said.

“We will take the job,” Whiskers said in a rush.