I have been accused of being a real devotee of the house that Steve built. I admit that yes, I do love me my Apple gear…

• MacPro…check
• MacBook Pro…check
• iPod…check
• AppleTV…check
• iPad…check

I have drank the Kool-Aid and I want more. I am impatiently waiting for October so I can treat myself to an iPhone 4 for my birthday. I love-love-love-love Apple…

…but today, my dearest love punched me in the nose. Really, really hard.

From Mur Lafferty’s Twitter feed came a posting that made me go “Wow…just…wow.” Apple is celebrating Podcasting’s birthday with a celebratory banner (seen above), featuring many “trailblazers” of the medium. Very cool…until you note the birthday.

I was willing to scoff at Steve Jobs when he went on record to say “Folks who want porn can buy a Droid.” I was okay with a face-palm when Jobs told their iPhone 4 users “You’re holding the phone wrong.” All of Apple’s recent successes could just be making him giddy with elation…

Today, with me and a few others, a line was crossed. So for Steve Jobs and the folks at Apple, allow me — one of the authors of Podcasting for Dummies — to give you a brief history lesson.

Podcasting came into wide distribution in 2005 when iTunes recognized it, I’ll give you that; but podcasting had been around a bit longer than iTunes claims…and some of their “early adopters” were pre-dated by others. Podcasting for Dummies traces the first podcast back to August 2004 (although just today, I was shown an article penned by The Guardian’s Ben Hammersley where the term “podcasting” is used — thanks, @ghostfinder!) when Adam Curry and Dave Winer created the code in RSS that made the magic happen. Apple didn’t jump on to podcasting until nearly a year later. June 2005 with iTunes 4.9, if you should ask (PfD, Chapter 1, page 24). While it can be debated which came first — the RSS or the iTunes — the truth is that there were podcasts available as far back as 2004, some of them including:

• The Dragon Page
• Slacker Astronomy
• Geek Fu Action Grip
• Useful Sounds
• Coverville
• Escape Pod
• The Radio Adventures of Doctor Floyd

…and a few others.

Many of those “few others” went omitted from the “Early Adopters” such as Mur Lafferty, Michael R. Mennenga, Evo Terra, Chuck Tomasi, Kreg Steppe, C.C. Chapman, Rob Walch, and Todd Cochrane. Podcast authors, including the early adopters such as myself, Mark Jeffrey, and Scott Sigler, went completely omitted.

I recall launching into this uncharted territory in 2005 with no help from Apple in the ways of distribution, and still I managed to find listeners around the world. I remember tracing the steps and working on roadmaps for people to try and avoid the pitfalls. I remember Steve Jobs condescendingly referring to podcasting as “the Wayne’s World of Audio” right before announcing that iTunes would provide a directory.

And I also remember when Apple made early adopters rewrite their RSS feeds in order to appear in said iTunes directory.

Still we managed through the up’s and down’s and the lack of a “real contact” at iTunes, particularly when it came to their “Show Approval” notices and rejections, and now, podcasting is rapidly approaching its birthday. We have now evolved into video, and there are still enhanced podcasts working their way through the podosphere. Some voices may have faded into the night, but more talent continues to appear on the iTunes Directory and share their thoughts with the world.

I do agree that this is a time for celebration. And gifts. So for you, Apple, I come bearing the gift of knowledge.

Now you know better. Happy birthday. In two months.

I’m not the biggest fan of April Fool’s Day. Never have been. The history behind April Fool’s Day is quite cool, but that’s about it. I don’t like pranks played upon me and playing pranks on others I’m not too crazy about. (I do remember one prank, though, where a college suitemate covered another suitemate’s doorway with newspaper. Guy opens the door and sees a wall of headlines staring back at them. I had a hand in that, and that was funny. Not to mention, harmless.) April 1st Is also crappy when you have to report news or stay on top of current events, and too many news outlets now think it’s “fun” to throw in gag stories. And now, on Twitter, tweetpranks are running amuck.

Yes, I hate April Fool’s Day.

I hate it all the more as one of my best friends, Joe Murphy, passed away on this day in 2007.

Every year, Jack and I ask that you remember our fallen friend, Joe Murphy. From the reaction on Facebook to my profile picture already (only posted an hour ago, and Robin Hudson, Marc Bailey, and Robert Goshko suggest Root Beers to be drank in his honor), the Community keeps Joe in their minds and hearts.

For those of you new to podcasting, you might have missed the audio wit and always-clever banter of my friend, Joe Murphy. He was (and still is) an amazing guy, his voice now part of the history of such podcasts, as Wingin’ It, Slice of SciFi, The Kick Ass Mystic Ninjas, and the award-winning The Case of the Singing Sword: A Billibub Baddings Mystery. He was taken from us too soon, and on April 1 we remember him.

I got to see Joe a month before he died, and it was hard. He was sick. You couldn’t deny that. On April 1, I remember my friend, Joe, in memories like the one I have posted above. I remember his banter against Michael, Evo, and the crew of the original Wingin’ It. I remember his loyalty. He pushed me to be a better writer, and he never pulled punches on how I carried myself, both as a writer and as a person. This is how I remember Joe. A smile that can turn around a bad day. An honest opinion that you could grow from. He was an amazing guy, and I miss him terribly.

Please syndicate this tribute show (originally produced in 2008 as part of the Give Us a Minute podcast.) through your feeds, blog about Joe Murphy, tell a friend today about Joe, show your support in an avatar change (be it a picture of Joe or a candle in remembrance), and let the Community know that you also remember Joe.

“I’ve put this off for far too long” — Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

This is something I’ve wanted to do for myself, for you all, and more importantly for my daughter whom you may hear me refer to here and elsewhere as Sonic Boom. I closed Comments on this entry as I think condolences and criticism people would express have already been made on Facebook, Twitter, and on my 5-word blogpost. If you have something to ask, something to share, or otherwise, it’s not like it’s hard to find me. I am visible on my respective networks once again, and my virtual door is open.

I’ll also tell you straight-up a motivation behind this posting has been the conjecture and criticism that others have expressed at both my expense, and at my daughter’s. As it is in a Community, there are a few that have been accusing me of not being up front, of misleading the Community, and taking advantage of the support and compassion I have been receiving over these past two months. Sure, you can’t have the positive without the negative, but this for them, too. “Put up or shut up,” you say? Gladly.

I don’t consider this blogpost “total transparency” because even with my love of Social Media I still believe some things are best kept private. This post is my perspective on a relationship spanning over ten years that took an unexpected turn and then came to a tragic end. No mudslinging. No ugly, sordid details. This will be my story, from the beginning.

I hope you will take a moment to read it.

My Love

After a significant relationship in my life, I was back on the dating scene …and failing miserably at it. I mean, when you’re ditched at dance clubs and stood up on blind dates, you’ve reached depths only Jules Verne comprehends. My roommate suggested I give America Online Personals a shot. Why not? I filled out the online profile, uploaded a picture, and waited.

In that first 24 hours I discovered a lot of lonely people. Everything just felt wrong and I was about to delete my profile, until I got an email very different from the others: it was sincere.

That was how I met Natialie. She was to be a complete and utter surprise in my life.

The irony in Nat and me as a couple was that it started off as a long-distance relationship, something I swore against after two heartbreaks I had no desire to relive. An advantage to our situation, though, was Nat’s employer at the time: Sprint. This was in my pre-Skype days, and Nat had unlimited long distance so we talked on the phone. A lot. We talked about everything and anything. We never shared an awkward silence that I can remember. The more I got to know Nat, the deeper I fell for her. We had not been dating for more than a few months when an opportunity came up for her to transfer to Reston, Virginia. She called me to ask if I was okay with it.

Within a few weeks, I was helping Nat move across the country. One of the happiest memories I have of the two of us.

I didn’t look back when we eventually moved in together. I was in for the long haul, for better or for worse. Nat was the first girlfriend I ever had that believed in me, believed in what I did, and believed in my potential. Things were far from perfect, and we had our moments where we both thought we were a mistake; but everything just felt right when we were together

It was on May 8, 1998 when we married, a new chapter in a book I was eager to write with her.

My Heartbreak

In 2000, things were beginning to change in our relationship. Of course, things always change in a relationship, it silly to assume they would not. Many of these changes I saw coming and welcomed, but there were others that I still don’t know when they happened or what triggered them; but distance started to grow between us. This was hard for me as our gift had always been open communication, something I cherished and tried never to take for granted. I would never claim that we shared perfect communication, but we did talk about everything. That was before we started to drift, before Nat couldn’t seem to talk to me like she used to.

I asked for help once.

Twice.

After a third time, I resigned to handle this on my own, and hopefully I could. Our daughter, Sonic Boom, had arrived by this point. A lot more was at stake than just us.

As I mentioned before, I won’t mudsling. I have no mind nor place to as I have my own share of faults contributing to this breakdown. Still, I fought for what we had, and what I believed we could be, until 2007 rolled around. I found myself completely and utterly alone in wanting to make things right. This meant having to make a choice. A tough one. Finally, in 2009, after hours of tears, hard words, and revelations, I left — what I thought was for the last time — the place I had called home.

There I was: 40, a dad, a rookie at the day job, and starting over in a two-bedroom apartment in Ashburn, Virginia. I thought I had been scared when I signed the papers to the house. This was a whole new kind of fear.

I was accused by those who knew of this separation as taking an “easy” out. There was nothing easy about any of this. There is nothing easy about sitting in an empty finished basement, holding your daughter and explaining to her why daddy can’t live there anymore. No, nothing easy about any of this at all.

Natalie and I were both very fortunate to have Allison Duncan, in the midst of a very ugly divorce, step in and give us sound advice: Seek mediation. That first meeting, hard as it was, was a huge step forward for both of us. We discovered we could still work together to create something positive, at the very least for Sonic Boom.

While mediation was helping us come to grips with all this, nothing had suddenly become easy about this. I remained optimistic, thought, that things would right themselves and in the long run. Natalie and I would be happier people from this point. That was essential for Sonic Boom and for everyone in our lives.

My Loss

I entered 2010 resolute that this would be the year I’d get back on track. With everything. I had already taken a huge step forward with Books & Braun. My day job (well aware of my situation) had been exceeding all expectations. I had mapped out to the summer a schedule and strategy for future projects in podcasting and writing.

And with the holidays behind us and Sonic Boom happy and smiling, Natalie and I were progressing forward. Slowly, but we were getting there.

When my Dad was knocking on my door on that Wednesday morning, I thought it was a neighbor’s door receiving this really insistent visitor. He had to call me on the phone to get me out of bed. Dad sat me down on my couch and told me Natalie was gone. Sonic Boom was okay. Nat had been sick with the flu, had been given orders by the doctor to quarantine herself, and sent her to Grandma and Grandad’s for a sleepover. Sonic Boom was at school presently. She didn’t know about mommy, but for the time being she was okay.

To this day, I remember the white noise, something like in Buffy: The Vampire Slayer when Buffy found her mom dead on the couch. If you remember that episode, people were talking to Buffy, and she sees them but doesn’t hear them. I never understood why Wheedon did that.

Now I did, and that was me. In the apartment.

I remember it being tough to breathe. I don’t know how long I was there before I started making the phone calls. The first person I contacted probably wouldn’t surprise anyone.

It would have been 1 a.m. her time, but Pip answered. Much like me, she was wide awake after I told her; and then started giving me things to do, people to call, and places to go. A priority list. Sounds simple enough, but at that moment everything was worse than slow motion. More like time lapse.

I needed to tell Sonic Boom. Holy shit. How the hell do I do that?

I was reaching for the phone when it rang. It was Sonic Boom’s school. The principal was calling a meeting at my convenience with the school councilor, Sonic Boom’s teacher, and herself.

I looked at the clock. An hour had gone by?

The meeting with Sonic Boom’s principal, councilor, and teacher later that morning was when I finally cried. Then came 4:00 p.m. when I sat down with Sonic Boom, both sets of grandparents, and my church pastor. I told Sonic Boom that mommy had died, that she was still watching over her (And yes, skeptics, I do believe that and that’s how I’m raising her. Cope.), and that I was going to take care of her. I offered to Sonic Boom that she could spend the night with Grammie and Grandpa (Nat’s parents).

“No, daddy,” Sonic Boom replied. “It’s Wednesday. I go to Ashburn with you.”

My throat tightened, but I nodded and gave her a kiss on the head. Sonic Boom then proceeded to play with the grandparents and the pastor while I packed the car for a few nights in Ashburn.

From this point, I went into auto-pilot. I had to identify Natalie. I remember touching her forehead, and remarking on how cold she felt. Then came the arrangements for her funeral, something that would not have happened had it not been for the earlier-mentioned Philippa Ballantine and my Twitter network. (More on that later.) I also began a frantic move back to Manassas, frantic nature because while I was managing funeral arrangements the tribute video offered from the funeral home fell through. This mean it was up to me to take care of it, so now I was reassembling my editing suite and planning to be attached for two days to Final Cut. I was okay editing Movements I and II of Trois.

When I hit the opening of III, everything caught up with me.

I had hit that point so hard I sent out a tweet asking for help. Within minutes, I was on the phone with a voice I’d not heard from in some time. Meghan listened to me cry, provided a calm in the storm, and helped me get back on track with the video. During the video’s production, I felt everything. I was empty by the time the memorial happened, but whatever I had to say about Natalie was in this 11-minute tribute. Still is. It had apparently been a popular assumption that as I had separated from the marriage I had stopped caring about Natalie. That could not have been farther from the truth.

Trois was (and always will be) a tribute to the woman I loved, the mother of my little girl. This is how I and Sonic Boom will remember her.

My Steps Forward…

I know this is still the beginning of a journey down an unknown road. However, even in light of banks re-enacting classic Three Stooges routines, ill-timed snowstorms, and government entities dragging feet as consummate professionals, I am still optimistic of what 2010 and the future  holds for me and my daughter. Back on my Imagine That! blog, I wrote a slightly edgy article on how Social Media will be growing up. I could hear in my own voice a bit of disdain for what started as a wonderful ways and means of keeping touch with friends old and new. When news hit Twitter of Nat’s death, I felt as if the Tribe that I remembered from the early days of Twitter had returned. In the podosphere, my peers expressed their condolences and played promos on Sonic Boom’s behalf. (Again, more on that later…) On Facebook, friends I’d not talked to in years all reached out to me. At the viewing and memorial, all aspects of my life came to show their respect and support, similar to the overwhelming day when other aspects showed up on my doorstep to help me move from Ashburn to Manassas and help reclaim my house. Sonic Boom met people she now calls her family. I discovered that while I was on my own with Serena, I was not alone.

Then Pip and Podcasting’s Rich Sigfrit launched The Boom Effect. While I wasn’t looking to have it restored, my faith in Social Media and in people received a much-needed boost. Because of the generosity of family, friends, and people I have not enjoyed the pleasure of meeting, Natalie received a tribute she deserved, Sonic Boom has possibilities afforded to her that would have been difficult to make happen, and I am able to keep things in order while the storm winds rage outside.

I now take stock of the “little wins” in my life. It is very easy to let the hang-up’s and pitfalls life throws at you to slow you down through these times; but I am working to be the best example, the best role model, for Sonic Boom. To do that, I focus on those days when things go right. Intersections Inc. where I work has been such an accomplishment. I am using my powers of Social Media for good in blogging, podcasting, and tweeting for ID Guardian. My boss has been cracking jokes with me as she did before Christmas. I’m finding myself back on a positive, productive direction. Not out of the woods, but I do see sunlight through the treetops.

And thankfully, I’m not in Phil Rossi’s woods. Again. A little triumph.

I’m also starting to write and podcast again. A recent Bird House Rules was my step back into working the microphone, the same week I wrote a column for my day job. More columns like that, listening to a few podiobooks, and a few talk with my peers are now pushing me to write again. This week, along with getting the taxes done of course, I’m carving out some time to write. Not for work, but for me.

That is what the next few weeks, months, and years will be: challenges. We don’t have instruction manuals, troubleshooting guides, or even a roadmaps through life. I can only strive to be the best dad I can be and help Sonic Boom remember her mommy the way I remember her. I know, even in light of this testimonial, people will question, draw conclusions, and criticize me; but really, is that anything new? Not really. I am now focused even more on how my kid is doing, and where I am headed in my own career choices.

This is my story of love, heartbreak, loss, and the first steps forward. I tell it to you so you can understand where I’m coming from, and where I’m going. I tell you this story in the hopes that if you ever find yourself where I’m at — and I hope you never do — that you find some insight, some inspiration. At these crossroads, some may hesitate. I encourage you to pick a path and move forward. That is what Sonic Boom and I are doing right now. There will be those times when we fall, but we know we’re not alone; and to all of you, “thank you” doesn’t really seem to be enough…but it will have to do.

Thank you. For yesterday. For today. For tomorrow.

From both of us.

In this picture are two people that I hold very dear in my life. One of them is my daughter. I will let you try and figure which one of them is her…

The other “bloke” is Martyn Casserly, a journalist, an accomplished musician, and now he is an award-nominated podcaster with his one-minute Movie Mantras podcast. (Martyn is also a dad and a good mate to boot…although his opinions concerning the new Craig-Bond films and recent Doctor Who are completely wrong, but I digress…) With the many endeavors he had going, Martyn approached me this Spring to talk about an article he was penning on podcast authors. He was optimistic that Wired Magazine (UK) would pick up the column. So I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

This morning, I checked my Twitter stream and found this waiting for me:

My article about Podcast Authors is up on Wired ! @scottsigler, @sethharwood, @jchutchins, @teemonster all appear. http://bit.ly/Pv53w

Now live on the site, Wired Magagine (UK) picked up  “Novels by Podcast” where Martyn discusses how we authors are giving away our hard work in audio format for free. He also goes into the genesis of the podcast novel and why we do what we do.

“Giving away your stories isn’t a risk… it’s a competitive advantage,” explains Scott Sigler. “If a reader who’s never heard of me has $25 to spend and they’re looking at my book next to a Stephen King book, who are they going to choose? They take King. He’s a proven storyteller. But if King is $25 and my story is free they may try me out first. Why not? It’s no risk to them. If they like me, they buy me. If they don’t they buy King. Whatever happens the customer gets what the customer wants.”

It is a tight article covering successes and milestones; and while many who follow us on Twitter, on blogs, and through podcasts, may consider what we do “old hat” after four years, podcasting — and more importantly, podcasting fiction — is still a brand-spanking new concept to the mainstream market. Articles like Martyn’s and venues like Wired are getting the word out about what we are doing. That’s what is important here: getting people to listen.

Show Martyn appreciation by blogging about this article (and yep, I got it covered from the business perspective over at Imagine That!), syndicating his link in your feeds, dropping him comments on the article’s page, and talking it up on your podcasts. Let Wired know we’re paying attention and appreciate their support, and let Martyn know both on Twitter and on Wired that his words ring true.

Thanks, Martyn. Well done!

I had something goofy-fun planned for this blog, but as it goes with blogging, writing, and ideas, I got an inspiration. It starts with my eventful yesterday at EEI Communications. The morning began with me being let go.

I’m only “mostly unemployed” as of Tuesday. I’m still a freelance instructor. I’m still available for public speaking events. I’m still working as a consultant. A problem with the freelancer’s lifestyle is if I’m not working, I’m not getting paid. Over the summer, one of my best clients — EEI Communications — came to me with a part-time position working logistics for all the trainers. It was a “trained monkey” kind of job, but it was income. In the end, I took pride in the fact I accepted a job nobody wanted and fixed a system that was severely broken. I was let go from this part-time gig not because I couldn’t do the job, but because EEI needed to make cuts.

So now I’m working on booking speaking engagements, landing freelance gigs, and finding a creative full-time position that would provide security. In my search-and-surf of opportunities, I came across Magpie. This service, in brief, puts ads into your Twitter stream. You set up how it works (i.e. for every twenty tweets, one ad with a Magpie hashtag is sent), and then are paid based on the reaction to the ad and how often ads enter your Twitter stream. The site offers you an estimate on how much your Twitter stream can earn, so I punched “TeeMonster” into my iPhone to see what would happen. According to Magpie, I could make somewhere around $7000 a month.

Woah.

GeekMommy‘s screenshot of Twitters using Magpie

I was all set to give this service access to my Twitter account; and then I thought for a moment about my last Survival Guide to Writing Fantasy, in particular my Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Moment. I had recently railed on an author for being a Twitter spammer. All this supposed writer does is pitch, pitch, pitch, and link, link, link in his tweets. This individual didn’t start out that way seeing as I block the TwitterBots that do nothing but spam TinyURLs. If it weren’t a hassle to weed through my followers, I’d drop this self-proclaimed weblebrity, but I’ve learned instead to tune him out. That’s how I regard Twitter if a post from this individual pops up. I zip by it because I know the tweet is simply pitching something and contributing nothing. This is an issue I’ve always talked about with Twitter and Social Media: If you want to use Twitter as a marketing tool, the secret isn’t pimping, but participating. You need to build a community, be part of the community, and actively contribute to the community.

That was bandying about in my brain as I thought long and hard about signing on with Magpie.

How would it look if every twentieth or, if I was feeling particularly aggressive, tenth tweet an ad related on something I was tweeting about suddenly popped up. How does that reflect back on me? This wouldn’t be like the free version of Twitterific where ads are interspersed throughout the stream. These would be ads with my handle, my face. Magpie is relying on the network and reputation I have fostered to help promote their sponsors, sponsors that I personally cannot vouch for. Did I really want to be associated with other free blogging sites or online services that I myself didn’t (or wouldn’t) use? Yes, when I call for sponsors on my podcasts, I pretty much will consider everyone and everything; but in those instances I know who is sponsoring me, I’m the one in charge of the ad, and I’ve got cash in hand. With Magpie, I’m offering up my stream and the frequency of ads, leaving the rest up to Magpie. That’s a lot of control I don’t have.

Apart from the mystery meat of sponsors that could latch onto my Twitter stream like remoras on to Great Whites, I lingered on how the Twitter community regards me. Let’s face it — I tweet. I tweet A LOT. I have, at the time of this posting, over 23,400 tweets. All that tweeting, and I blog, podcast, and do puppet shows for my kid’s school. (By the way, George and I are coming back for a Christmas show. I’m thinking a two-“man” Christmas Carol in twenty minutes or less…) I love Twitter, and those who follow me on Twitter know that. I don’t call my followers “Followers” but my network. It’s old friends, new friends, fans of my podcasts, and Social Media experts and enthusiasts. Yes, I get picked on a lot and tend to be the punch line to many jibes … but there is also a lot of respect out there granted to me. People ask me on both TeeMonster and ITStudios (my professional Twitter account) advice on podcasting and writing. The Crew (fans of MOREVI: Remastered) playfully pester me when the next episode is coming, and then give me assurance when things like my MacPro failing on me (yeah, that happened the day before the layoff…) occur. There was, at the time of my layoff, an outpouring of support, love, and — for a few in my network — resources offered freely and openly. My network respects me. In turn, I respect them. What is that respect worth?

I then returned to my WTF Moment from SGWF #41. Is that what I wanted to become? Less signal, more noise?

Magpie wants to put a price tag on my reputation and my name, and I am flattered that they put my potential worth so high. (I am confused, though, how my value dropped by $3000 when I performed their evaluation a second time on my laptop.) Even if I were to earn half of what Magpie estimates, it would be some nice fun money for me. I could travel a bit more with my books. I could take care of a few bills. I could spoil Sonic Boom with some fun tech toys. But is my reputation worth that? My Twitter Persona under TeeMonster can be described as many, many things, but the term “spam” has never been associated with my tweets. I tweet a lot, but it is always with my voice, my thoughts, my passions.

“What’s in a name?” my boy Will Shakespeare once asked. Quite a lot, it turns out. What’s a name worth to you?