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Blog of Jim Flynn
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AuthorJim Flynn is a humorist, writer and novelist. He is available for speaking engagements. To contact email: [email protected] Archives
January 2026
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Elevator Eavesdropping1/17/2026  Before the excerpt from Press The Button, this week's BREAKING NEWS: A reader has notified me that The Hallmark Channel is available in France. It is streamed in English with French subtitles. The Hallmark Channel's A Pickleball Christmas was shown in France. Apparently French has a word for pickleball racquet. It translates to: Giant ping pong paddle of shame. Some other time I'll get into my conspiracy theory that pickleball was invented by orthopedic surgeons as a way to increase business. ****************************** An excerpt from Press The Button: When I was working as a stockbroker, er, financial advisor, I needed to have an outlet for my creativity. Since I couldn't sit around writing all day, I had to pick my spots. One venue I enjoyed was the elevator.. They say you really get to know a person in a foxhole. Or after seven years of marriage. Or during eighteen holes of golf. I say-- just take the elevator with me. It’s quicker. And nobody gets trench foot. I especially love it when I catch someone eavesdropping. Because I immediately go into a stage whisper-- loud enough for the eavesdropper to hear—and say something like: “Spielberg called again last night. Wants help writing Act Two. I haven’t worked with him since Jurassic Park.” Or-- “And it turns out, I didn’t have Ebola after all. I don’t even need to wear a mask anymore.” (cough a little) Or "My therapist says I'm making progress. No panic attacks in elevators... almost a month." I call it a talent. Human Resources used to call it "a recurring pattern." I might launch an online course: Elevator Improv 101. I’m available for birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and elevator-themed improv festivals. Pro tip-- after you drop your line, exit at the next floor. Unless the eavesdropper does too. As my grandma always said, “Leave them wanting more.” She was often asked to take the stairs.  Want to sign up for this blog every week?
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Writer Industrial Complex1/10/2026  This week's excerpt from Press The Button. ********************* Remember these ads? Soft sell: “We’re looking for people who like to draw.” Right next to a picture of Norman Rockwell. Like Norman himself was running HR. Hard sell: A photo of an artist at an easel, looking straight at you. Caption: “Fed up? With your present job? Your pay? Your future?” Which—yes. Obviously. That’s why I’m reading magazine ads like they’re fortune cookies. Nobody’s thinking, “No thanks. I love my current job walking behind circus elephants with a shovel. It was worth it, four years of majoring in Art History.” These ads were for the Famous Artists School of Westport, Connecticut. Westport had a vibe. You couldn’t throw a Frisbee without hitting a famous artist-- or a guy who told you he was a famous artist. He had opinions. Mostly about the use of shadows. The Famous Artists School had a selective admissions policy. If you sent them money… you were selected. They offered mail-order art lessons and a big stack of expensive books. But that wasn’t what they were really selling. They were selling hope. Hope is the most profitable product ever invented. Right after gym memberships. The Famous Artists School peaked in the 1960s. Then technology changed. Drawing faded. So now we write novels. Because writing-- isn't threatened by technology, right? And there's not much competition. Except for six million people writing vampire romances. And Artificial Intelligence. The modern version of the Famous Artists School is what I call The Writer Industrial Complex. There’s a lot of money in writing. I know because I’ve personally contributed. The money isn’t made by people writing books. It’s made by people explaining—very confidently-- the easy hacks to writing success. We’ll get into that. As soon as I finish this webinar I already paid for: Unlocking Your Seven-Figure Author Mindset. Actual writing not included. Well, you better be successful writing. Because the circus went out of business. And now the elephant is writing a dystopian vampire romance. *********************** As long as you're here: Be Sincere Even When You Don't Mean It is having a resurgence in Australia. Why Australia? I don't know. But haven't you always wanted to be like Crocodile Dundee? Take a look, over at Amazon. The audiobook version features terrific narration by Gary Williams. also available in paperback and eBook versions. just click on the image below 
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 Before my weekly passage from Press The Button, BREAKING NEWS: In my never ending quest to see if the Hallmark Channel has run out of movies with the word Christmas in the title, I stumbled across a real made for TV movie called: A Pickleball Christmas. I watched a bit of it, and can honestly say it is the best Pickleball themed holiday movie I've ever seen. When Cassidy Winters, a small town girl who left to become a big deal real estate agent in Chicago returns home to help her grandmother who broke her hip while playing pickleball at Golden Paddles Village, complications arise. Cassidy's old high school flame, Luke Marlowe, stuck around and is now a gym teacher and pickleball entrepreneur. Could romance be rekindled under the watchful eyes of the geriatric pickleball ladies? Really? Yeah really. I'm not making this up. I am not capable of making this up. Golden Paddles Village? ******************************* And here's an excerpt from Press The Button that would not make a Hallmark movie: The December Roll Call I do a lot of jokes about dying. It’s my defense mechanism. Some guys yell. Some guys drink. Me? I make celebrity death my hobby. Keeps me busy. It’s too cold now for golf. And it’s the end of the year, which means one thing-- the big They Died This Year montage of celebrity obituaries. Every year I’m sitting there thinking, “Wait… this guy was alive? Since when?” They start with the big names-- movie stars, athletes, celebrity felons. But once they run out of those, they start scraping the bottom of the pop-culture barrel. Pretty soon it’s people you forgot ever existed. Like Zippy Mitchell. Remember him? He played the bilge pump operator on The Love Boat. A role so minor they could’ve replaced him with an actual bilge pump and nobody would’ve noticed. And every time I see a name like that, I wonder-- How does a guy like that make a living for the fifty years since that show ended? Did he invest wisely? Marry into a wealthy plumbing family? ********************* Thought: The term Golden Paddles Village should become a euphemism for the place celebrities go, who are, well, featured in the year end montage. As In: Coming up, immortal celebrities who are now playing eternally at Golden Paddles Village.  Remember: I write novels too. Darker, same voice, more bodies hit the floor. Stay tuned. Questions or comments? click here to reach me: [email protected] |
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