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Thursday, 05 July 2012 14:28 |
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by Mark Hunter
I’ve been writing a long time, but didn’t think much about publicity until my first book was published a year ago. I figured a fiction writer’s job was to, you know, write. The rest was up to the publisher: Publicity, distribution, arranging for a limo to take me from the airport to my Pulitzer Prize ceremony … Sure, there’d be interviews, but otherwise my job was to churn out the next book. In between swims in the pool and swanky garden parties, of course.
Back then my phone had a dial, and I’d whack away at my manual typewriter while playing records.
Today, even those lucky enough to sign with one of the Big Publishers are expected to take an active part in blowing their own horn. Most writers hate that. Many become writers because they didn’t like to talk.
I like my small publisher, Whiskey Creek Press (which, regretfully, does not supply whiskey to its writers). But they don’t have the budget for a great deal of promotion, so I was left to do much of that myself.
I was clueless.
Still, if writers can do anything it’s research. Well, they can write, hopefully, but they can also research, so I researched how to promote myself. What’s the point of writing if nobody reads it? That’s when I discovered, to paraphrase an old expression:
When it comes to publicity, only certain things work. Unfortunately, no one knows which things.
My fiancée set me up with a website. I scored a TV interview, and did half a dozen book signings, which much to my surprise weren’t a misery at all. I spread my name and my book’s title all over the Internet, including doing several interviews for other bloggers. I hit up every media source I could, and got several bites. I even took shameful advantage of my position as a columnist to do that most foreign of things, blow my own horn.
I said “I” a lot, which bugs me.
Then came an idea that fit my strengths. Suppose I wrote a series of short stories, each one featuring one or more of the characters from Storm Chaser? I could post them online, to give readers a taste of my story’s world and my writing style, and maybe attract them to buy the book.
So in the spring of 2011, before Storm Chaser even came out, I started work on small tales set before the events of the book: Allie Craine at a disaster scene; Chance Hamlin as a volunteer firefighter; his teenage sister meeting a new boy in town; even a somewhat mystical encounter by supporting character Fran Vargas, who’s going to headline the novel’s sequel (if it does well enough to warrant one).
After finishing a few new stories it occurred to me: Shouldn’t I run this idea past my publisher? After all, while I own the characters, they should know what’s going on. So I sent my editor an e-mail detailing the idea, and this is the response I got:
“Yes, this is a great idea. In fact, once you have these shorts done, we can put them together and publish them too, so you have another work to sell.”
D’uh?
This was months before Storm Chaser even came out. They didn’t know if I could write a short story. I mean, writing a novel compared to a shorter work is like the difference between an Olympic sprinter and a marathoner – it’s not a given that you can do both well.
I was flummoxed. Poleaxed. Intimidated. Happy.
And busy, because I’d never imagined an editor would ask for a work before I finished writing it. Unless you’re already well-known, the business doesn’t work that way. But I finished the ten stories in short order, sent them off, and got my second fiction acceptance. If you include the piece I wrote for My Funny Valentine, my name was included in three published works in just my first year of publication.
Yeah, I’m happy.
The collection is titled Storm Chaser Shorts, mostly because I couldn’t think of a better title that would connect it with the original – and yes, I’m aware of the potential for underwear related title abuse. Since most of the stories are set before the events of the novel itself, it could be looked at as a less expensive way to check out my writing before getting to the book.
But how to publicize it?
Whiskey Creek Press is primarily an e-book publisher, which is why Storm Chaser didn’t get into any chain bookstores. They don’t do print versions of shorter works, which for me means no book signings, no taking orders through my website or handing out my work in person, no autographing, and no placing copies for sale at the Albion New Era, Churubusco News, Albion’s antique shop, or any other location.
That’s where you come in, dear reader.
Let everyone know that for the low, low price of $2.99, my humble collection of stories (most of which are set in this area, for those of you who care about such things), can be read on the electronic device of their choice. This will drive up the story’s sale rankings, possibly bring more readers for the original book as well, and make me comfortable enough in my ability to sell myself that I’ll stop doing it in my column and go back to making fun of politicians, instead.
And who wouldn’t want that?
So go to www.whiskeycreekpress.com or www.markrhunter.com, and follow the links to Storm Chaser Shorts. Then I’ll sign a copy of my fire history book for you, next year.
I guess the selling’s never done. by Mark Hunter I’ve been writing a long time, but didn’t think much about publicity until my first book was published a year ago. I figured a fiction writer’s job was to, you know, write. The rest was up to the publisher: Publicity, distribution, arranging for a limo to take me from the airport to my Pulitzer Prize ceremony … Sure, there’d be interviews, but otherwise my job was to churn out the next book. In between swims in the pool and swanky garden parties, of course. Back then my phone had a dial, and I’d whack away at my manual typewriter while playing records. Today, even those lucky enough to sign with one of the Big Publishers are expected to take an active part in blowing their own horn. Most writers hate that. Many become writers because they didn’t like to talk. I like my small publisher, Whiskey Creek Press (which, regretfully, does not supply whiskey to its writers). But they don’t have the budget for a great deal of promotion, so I was left to do much of that myself. I was clueless.
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Wednesday, 27 June 2012 15:21 |
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by Mark Hunter
It was our turn, wasn’t it? It seems like for years everyone around us has been getting hit with awful weather: Tornadoes, wildfires, hurricanes, floods, recall elections … it was just a matter of time before northeast Indiana got targeted by natural disaster.
So now we have a drought, which is better than a lot of other possibilities. We should have known that the mild winter was setting us up for something: Turns out more snow would have been good, after all.
Later I’ll deny ever having said that.
This is our worst drought since 1988, which is the most dry we’ve been since Prohibition. I used the memory of that drought as a backdrop when I wrote “Storm Chaser.” However, the rumors that I arranged for a heat wave and dry spell just to promote my short story collection are untrue and just a bit silly, and I really should stop spreading them.
Those of you who read the book might remember that in it some of Noble County burned down. I won’t mention which part because, hey – spoilers. Let’s just say that if you ever did anything to upset me, your fictional counterpart needed good insurance.
In 1988 the Albion Fire Department (and most of its neighbors), responded to a record number of calls, many related to “controlled” burns. I did air quotes when I typed that. It strained me a little, but now I know I can keep writing if upset readers ever break my arm.
Thank goodness we’ve learned our fire safety lessons, huh?
Yeah.
As I write this the heat wave has broken, but while there’s been rain north and south of here, we didn’t get any. My experience with human nature leads me to believe that somewhere out there, some moron is burning a brush pile, lighting a bonfire, hauling out fireworks, or flipping a cigarette into the ditch, all under the theory that hey – it’s cooled down, so the fire danger’s over, right?
Never mind the open burning ban! The word “ban” is just a suggestion!
A couple of weeks ago we got half an inch of rain, which was enough to make yellow grass blades awaken and cry out in agony before wilting onto the cracked ground again. The next day people were out with matches and lighters, thinking, hey – it rained. Never mind that we’re seven inches short of the rain we should have. Never mind that we’re still drier than an intro to an economics lecture.
For some reason, every time I see a column of smoke in the sky lately I get this picture of Homer Simpson with his eyebrows singed, looking around at the spreading flames and saying, “D’oh!”
Generally, our elected officials are doing the right thing: banning open burning while the threat of rapid fire spread is so real and immediate. (What’s going on with Whitley County? At this writing only local communities have put out a ban there.) We can only depend on dumb luck to protect us from disaster for so long, and it’s so dry right now that even when people watch a fire and keep something to extinguish it close by, it can still spread beyond their control. Angels with fire extinguishers are watching over us, but their wings are getting singed.
Generally speaking, I’m not a fan of telling people what they can do on their own property, unless what they do could adversely affect their neighbor. But there’s nothing like burning up your neighbor’s property to demonstrate how that works, huh? People are still burning despite the ban – many claim they didn’t know about it. The drought’s only been in all the papers, all the TV stations, and all the radio stations, not to mention the forefront of common sense.
Imagine how many more fires would be breaking out without it. Most people actually do obey the law. Most people actually do have common sense, although possibly in lower levels than previous generations. No, really. Ignore what you see on reality TV.
So, what do we do with people who have none? Mandatory sterilization? What a cutting edge idea. Let their property burn? I wouldn’t recommend that. Throw them into their own fires? Now we’re getting somewhere.
I recommend requiring each of them to buy a copy of my published works. Why? Well, because I need the sales.
Actually, I think I’m onto something, there. Anytime someone is caught burning during the ban, send them a bill for an emergency services response. Money talks, and in that case it would be saying, “Hey, dummy! You’re burning us!”
As a firefighter I used to like responding to ground cover fires, which I thought of as a way of getting to fight fire without someone losing their property. The first several dozen times a grass or field fire spread to a building made that attitude seem just a little off. When it’s this dry and any breeze at all pops up, we’re behind the game before we even leave the fire station … and tramping across the field wearing protective clothing in a 90 degree sun can be as wearying as election campaign season.
So it seems to me a ban is a good idea, and common sense an even better one. After all, droughts don’t last forever, usually. This time next year we may be throwing sandbags against a flood.
Only then will a burning ban seem all wet. by Mark Hunter It was our turn, wasn’t it? It seems like for years everyone around us has been getting hit with awful weather: Tornadoes, wildfires, hurricanes, floods, recall elections … it was just a matter of time before northeast Indiana got targeted by natural disaster. So now we have a drought, which is better than a lot of other possibilities. We should have known that the mild winter was setting us up for something: Turns out more snow would have been good, after all. Later I’ll deny ever having said that. This is our worst drought since 1988, which is the most dry we’ve been since Prohibition. I used the memory of that drought as a backdrop when I wrote “Storm Chaser.” However, the rumors that I arranged for a heat wave and dry spell just to promote my short story collection are untrue and just a bit silly, and I really should stop spreading them.
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Wednesday, 20 June 2012 14:34 |
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Writing, Weather and L. Frank Baum
by Mark Hunter
My birthday gift from last year made me ruminate. But I took some antacid, and I’m feeling better now.
The rumination, which improves with ibuprofen and ice packs, started with The Annotated Wizard of Oz, which Emily saw me lusting after at a bookstore to such an extent that they kicked me out so I wouldn’t slobber on the pages. This addition of L. Frank Baum’s classic children’s book was heavier than the Obamacare bill and almost as wordy, although much easier to understand due to a great deal of, as you might imagine, annotation.
I’m a fan of annotation. Well, I’m a fan of history, of which there’s plenty as the book covers Baum’s life and the times he lived in, not to mention the original story itself.
But that’s not what caused the rumination, which I’ve just realized is like unwritten annotation. As I leafed through the book, I began to connect the dots. Not literally – nobody’s marking up that book.
As all 14 of my regular readers know – as I’ve repeated ad nausea, to them, total strangers, and everyone in between – I finally got my first novel published last year. But only now have I realized how much my early love of the Oz books is connected to it.
Those of you who know the title of the book, don’t spoil it for the rest of them.
I never made the connection, despite the fact that one of my characters actually mentions Baum’s fairyland. I never made a connection between my writing career and the weather, either, which was foolish of me.
After all, the very first story I ever came up with was about a tornado.
I’ve told the story before, but here’s a quick recap: At a very young age, I dictated to my mother a story about a little boy who gets carried away by a tornado to the Land of Oz. I was too young to write, but she banged the opening out on a little manual typewriter that she later gave me, until I overworked it and the E fell off. Have you ever tried to write a story without any E’s? It’s possible, but not fun.
If I’d finished the story it would no doubt be what today is called a Mary Sue (look it up! It originated with Star Trek, one of my other early fandoms.) The boy character would save the day and have Dorothy Gale fall madly in love with him (even though she was an older woman), and end up staying in the Emerald City among all his admirers.
I didn’t finish the story, and none of it survives, which is a very good thing.
Eventually my parents got divorced, and I stayed in my childhood home with my father, who worked second shift. One afternoon, when I was 11, my brother went off somewhere with his friends, while I stayed home alone. I was drawn outside by a strange stillness.
Standing in the back yard, I watched while everything around me turned a strange, sickly green, which seemed to glow as if coming from inside everything. The moment made such an impression on me that when I started work on Storm Chaser some 25 years later, I wrote it into a scene.
Unknown to me, I’d become a bystander in the April 3, 1974 Super Outbreak of storms. Two of the twisters passed through Noble County; according to a map I saw years later, one touched down three miles from where I was standing. The other produced the longest damage path of the day, an F-4 that tore along for 121 miles.
Kinda spooky, ain’t it?
I was mulling all this over, as opposed to milling, which I also do for a small fee, when a writer friend of mine asked how I came up with the idea for Storm Chaser. Ideas, I declared, are like snow squalls – whirling around, filling the area, ready to be nabbed by anyone who wants one.
Now I realize they’re more like summer storms, just over the horizon and ready to strike at any time.
There are some forty official Oz books now, including the fourteen written by Baum, and dozens more unofficial ones. For years I’ve planned to someday write one of my own, but I realize now that Baum not only inspired my love of reading and writing, he inspired my interest in the weather and, ultimately, my first published novel. So in a way, Storm Chaser is an Oz book. (I included a more direct Oz connection in one of the stories from my just-released short story collection, Storm Chaser Shorts.)
Now that I think on it, maybe Baum was fascinated by disaster, himself. After all, in the first story Dorothy hitched a ride to Oz on a tornado, while in the third a Pacific cyclone swept her there and in the fourth a California earthquake started her on the path.
Maybe she saw the writing on the wall by the sixth book, when she decided to move there with her aunt and uncle. For all the dangers in Oz, at least the weather is nice. While there’s no place like home, home is where you hang your hat (or in her case bonnet).
That’s the story of my rumination, which needed only a bit of mental salve. How strange it is, that it took me this long to realize my first novel emerged directly from my brief flirtation with tornadoes and an author who died almost a century ago. Some ideas get snatched out of the air, but others have to gestate, which is like ruminate only without the need for medications.
Someday I’ll write that Oz book as a tribute, even though at 120 or so Dorothy’s now way too old for me. After all, I owe my writing career to L. Frank Baum. by Mark Hunter My birthday gift from last year made me ruminate. But I took some antacid, and I’m feeling better now. The rumination, which improves with ibuprofen and ice packs, started with The Annotated Wizard of Oz, which Emily saw me lusting after at a bookstore to such an extent that they kicked me out so I wouldn’t slobber on the pages. This addition of L. Frank Baum’s classic children’s book was heavier than the Obamacare bill and almost as wordy, although much easier to understand due to a great deal of, as you might imagine, annotation. I’m a fan of annotation. Well, I’m a fan of history, of which there’s plenty as the book covers Baum’s life and the times he lived in, not to mention the original story itself. But that’s not what caused the rumination, which I’ve just realized is like unwritten annotation. As I leafed through the book, I began to connect the dots. Not literally – nobody’s marking up that book. As all 14 of my regular readers know – as I’ve repeated ad nausea, to them, total strangers, and everyone in between – I finally got my first novel published last year. But only now have I realized how much my early love of the Oz books is connected to it.
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Wednesday, 13 June 2012 10:13 |
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BLOOMBERG DECLARES WAR ON COLA ... BUT STILL LIKES DONUTS
by Mark Hunter
I didn’t plan to have a month long theme, but I noticed my last two columns were about nutrition: One on my cooking and the other on losing weight. People can lose weight from my cooking, but that usually involves hospitalization.
Now comes news that New York City Mayor Bloomberg wants to ban supersized sugary drinks, as a way to combat malnutrition.
He also signed a proclamation proclaiming NYC Donut Day.
Sometimes a humor column just writes itself.
(Oh, on a note of irony: I brought up several Internet articles to familiarize myself with the Bloomberg Big Belly Ban, and the very first one was preceded by one of those annoying Internet ads – for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.)
The BBBB would apply to any bottled soda or fountain drink over 16 ounces that contains more than 25 calories per eight ounces, which is pretty much all of them. They’d be outlawed at restaurants, sports venues, street vendors, and – brace yourselves – movie theaters. Gasp! Next they’ll be taking my large buttered popcorn.
But those goobers won’t get it without a fight.
No word on whether the 17 ounce Big Gulp will be available in government offices, but grocery stores and convenience stores would be exempt. Apparently large soft drinks sold there are not dangerous.
The good news is, banning things that are bad for us is always effective, and always, always works. Just ask the people who pushed Prohibition.
Well, they can have my Slurpee when they pry it out of my cold, sticky hands.
If they criminalize supersized Cokes, only criminals will be truly refreshed.
When Bloomberg came for cigarettes, nobody spoke (because they were busy coughing). When he came for trans fats, nobody stood up (because they were too heavy to get to their feet). Now they come for sugary drinks, and who will stand up for Mr. Pibbs? Has the medical field even debated this? Did anyone ask Dr. Pepper?
Give me Mountain Dew, or give me death! And not Diet Mountain Dew, either. It tastes like artificially sweetened sheep dip.
The Founding Fathers would be horrified. The whole reason they settled in the New World is because the British wouldn’t let us sweeten our tea.
“One lump or two?”
“How dare they alter our national beverage? Off with their heads!”
Then we revolted, and formed a completely independent country, so we could have southern style sweet tea. Thomas Jefferson wrote that right into the Declaration of Independence, along with a clause about fried chicken and gravy. Both were removed by a rather grumpy New York delegate named Samuel Chase, whose wife had just put him on a diet.
Say, do you suppose that’s it? Maybe Bloomberg’s just steamed because his wife has him eating fish and asparagus.
The Founding Fathers really would be horrified, as this kind of nanny state thinking is exactly what the Constitution was meant to prevent. It demonstrates that their written guide for the country is more relevant now than ever, if only we could get our elected officials to go by it.
Benjamin Franklin would be especially upset, as he’s been known to upturn an extra-large mug of mead himself, from time to time. Franklin, who famously said that wine is proof that God loves us, and wants to see us happy (not beer, as some claim), would have absolutely loved one of those fountain drinks that you need to haul around in a cart. Ben Franklin would have punched Bloomberg right in the nose. Well, okay … Ben would probably have slept with Bloomberg’s wife. He was into all sorts of excesses.
I’m not so sure about Thomas Jefferson’s reaction. Although he was very much into personal freedoms (unless you were one of his slaves), he was also very much into a huge vegetable garden that he took great pride in. He grew over 250 varieties of more than 70 different vegetable species, in a garden 1,000 feet long. His children hated him.
Once, Jefferson sent John Adams a sampling of 20 different types of lettuce. Adams wrote back: “Tom, would you relax and have a friggin’ donut? I’ll bet you can’t find twenty different varieties of donuts.” This was before Krispy Kreme.
Still, they would have agreed that no mayor of York, old or new, had the right to come over and tell them how many lumps they could put in their tea. Should you stop drinking huge sugary drinks? Of course. Should we bow to a government telling us we have to? No way.
We can’t have true freedom without independence. A nanny state, by definition, is a lack of independence. I may disapprove of what you eat, but I will defend to the death your right to pork rinds.
Yes, there have to be some limits in an orderly society, but we must draw a jittery line in the sand, with one of those big soda straws. Our voices, strengthened by a sugar rush, should shout out that we can be convinced to be healthier, but not be forced. And, to paraphrase Franklin Delano Roosevelt, we would rather die on our Frostie than live on our salads.
Now. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for a little non-violent protest. Supersize me. by Mark Hunter I didn’t plan to have a month long theme, but I noticed my last two columns were about nutrition: One on my cooking and the other on losing weight. People can lose weight from my cooking, but that usually involves hospitalization. Now comes news that New York City Mayor Bloomberg wants to ban supersized sugary drinks, as a way to combat malnutrition. He also signed a proclamation proclaiming NYC Donut Day. Sometimes a humor column just writes itself. (Oh, on a note of irony: I brought up several Internet articles to familiarize myself with the Bloomberg Big Belly Ban, and the very first one was preceded by one of those annoying Internet ads – for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.) The BBBB would apply to any bottled soda or fountain drink over 16 ounces that contains more than 25 calories per eight ounces, which is pretty much all of them. They’d be outlawed at restaurants, sports venues, street vendors, and – brace yourselves – movie theaters. Gasp! Next they’ll be taking my large buttered popcorn. But those goobers won’t get it without a fight.
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Thursday, 07 June 2012 10:57 |
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by Mark Hunter
I have a healthy skepticism of any and all dietary plans and weight loss “experts.” As I’ve mentioned before, my diet book would be so clear and simple that it would consist of only three pages:
1. Eat less.
2. Exercise more.
3. Repeat.
In reality, I could then fill up the book with how to accomplish that fourth, all-important step: Have willpower. I haven’t cracked that one, yet.
Although those steps will work, it’s also true that you can tweak both diet and exercise in ways that help you lose weight faster. It’s also true that losing weight alone doesn’t make a person healthy: I give you as a famished example rail-thin, malnourished supermodels. At the beginning of last winter I was close to thirty pounds overweight (although I’ve somehow lost some since), and was still more healthy than any number of skinny people who I could snap like a twig.
Better to meet in the middle – or, for you vegans, to vegetate in the middle. That’s all well and good, but who do you believe? Eat all protein; eat all veggies; eat nothing but cabbage soup. (I actually tried the cabbage soup diet, and did lose weight even though it was winter. Plus, fringe benefit, once it worked its way through my system nobody wanted to be around me.)
Now I’ve discovered a new twist, on the website Health.com: Packing on the carbs.
Oh. Really?
What this article is talking about is Resistant Starch, which is what happens when your dry cleaner goes overboard with your suit and it won’t bend to fit your body, and is also apparently a kind of food. Starches would be that stuff people are always telling me not to eat. Like baked potatoes. Yum …
Resistant starches apparently include bananas and oatmeal, beans, potatoes, and plantains, which are like plantations only built under mountains. Also included is Pearl Barley, who you might know as a singer made immortal in the song, “Won’t you come home, Pearl Barley?” Pearl Barley, as I recall, was a very large woman, which makes me question her diet and make me wonder if she didn’t come home because she was at a fast food place.
(Oh my gosh – I just checked, and Pearly Bailey died twenty years ago! Is part of getting older having to explain your jokes to younger people? Also, it was her brother, Bill Bailey, you didn’t come home – possibly because she sent him for take-out.)
But according to this article, which is written with all the authority of someone with a website of their very own, resistant starches are cool, which makes them hot. The reasons:
1. Carbs fill you up.
That makes them appetite suppressants, more filling than protein or fat and digested more slowly. I usually accomplish the same goal of losing my appetite by watching disgusting TV shows: The Biggest Loser, Dirty Jobs, or … well, with Olbermann gone from MSNBC, I might have to try the baked potatoes.
2.Carbs curb your hunger.
Researchers say that when dieters go from a low-carb diet to one high in fiber and resistant starches, their cravings go to the curb.
Not unless they make resistant starch chocolate bars, bub.
3. Carbs control blood sugar and diabetes.
One study indicated a 38% improvement in blood sugar and insulin response, if carbs were eaten in certain combinations. Which is actually an idea I can’t make much fun of.
4. Carbs speed up metabolism.
In other words, the body fires up its natural fat burners. Usually, when I burn fat, I have to run for a fire extinguisher. In this case the body releases fatty acids, which sounds disgusting but kicks your metabolism right in its overly padded butt.
5. Carbs make you lose belly fat faster than other foods.
Even when the same number of calories is consumed this is true – calories, keep in mind, are a unit of measurement, so in theory one calorie is the same as another. In actual practice, with carbs the calories are the same, but the body burns them faster. Imagine the federal government maintaining the same income but decreasing spending. No, seriously, imagine it. Just try. Stop laughing.
6. Carbs keep you satisfied.
Foods high in resistant starch trigger your body’s fullness signals. Your brain says, “Gee, I’m full – I don’t want to eat anymore.” You’ll no longer crave foods, and can then go on to craving other stuff, like brains. Carbs will start the zombie apocalypse!
7. Carbs make you feel good about you.
That’s because dieters can lose weight without doing something really unhealthy, such as cutting out food groups, crash dieting, or cutting off a limb. They feel empowered by the results, although be warned: You’ll never be a runway supermodel.
The main problem I have with this article is that there’s a dearth of sources quoted. Dearth is more than an evil Sith Lord, by the way. Is this a big study, or the result of a poll taken after a big family reunion?
I’ll consider that one over dinner. by Mark Hunter I have a healthy skepticism of any and all dietary plans and weight loss “experts.” As I’ve mentioned before, my diet book would be so clear and simple that it would consist of only three pages: 1. Eat less. 2. Exercise more. 3. Repeat. In reality, I could then fill up the book with how to accomplish that fourth, all-important step: Have willpower. I haven’t cracked that one, yet. Although those steps will work, it’s also true that you can tweak both diet and exercise in ways that help you lose weight faster. It’s also true that losing weight alone doesn’t make a person healthy: I give you as a famished example rail-thin, malnourished supermodels. At the beginning of last winter I was close to thirty pounds overweight (although I’ve somehow lost some since), and was still more healthy than any number of skinny people who I could snap like a twig.
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