Okay, this is weird.

As some of you probably recall, I've been day-jobless since August of 2009. While contributing to God of War and writing Test of Metal & His Father's Fist, I've been hunting for a day job that's actually worth doing for its own sake, as opposed to just a paycheck. I'm at the time of life where some people retire and take up a second career . . . and while I don't intend to retire, I have been looking for a second career.

I may have found one — and if I have, it will be at least partially attributable to huàn dao.

No, really.

I had gotten to the face-time point in the recruitment process. They brought me in to spend a day at their corporate headquarters (which is absolutely stunning, by the way — imagine a witty, gorgeously produced mash-up of Skywalker Ranch and Prof. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters set on 500 acres of wooded rolling hills).

As part of the interview process, they wanted me to give a 10-minute presentation on a subject of my choice. As anyone who reads my books (or this site) can attest, ten minutes just isn't enough time to present my concepts of narrative structure, or the mechanics of tie-in fiction or pretty much anything else related to my writing life. So I was looking for something interesting that I could share in that brief slice of time.

My initial thought had been to give a presentation on Authority in Performance — three simple rules "to command attention, to establish trust, and to induce belief." I had it all mapped out, supported by quotes from Shakespeare to Abraham Lincoln, and I knew I could pull it off because, y'know, I yam what I yam.

Easy. Straightforward. And borrrrrring.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't worry about being boring — it was only ten minutes, and for ten minutes I can hold a crowd no matter what. But I really want this job. And I wanted to have a little fun, and make it fun for them.

So this was my presentation:

The funny thing is, I really do know the secret of huàn dao — and it's not because I made it up, either. By thinking about it seriously as a soft art, I discovered my Inner Grandmaster. Not only is huàn dao a real martial art, I can teach it — and save people's lives, or at least help them save their own.

I mean, I've been in the martial arts for more than 30 years now, and something about the Porcupine Way captures everything I know about self-defense in a nutshell. A snowflake. Well, something to do with nuts and flakes.

Remember Caine on fighting?

"Fights aren't about winning. Fights are about making the other guy leave you the fuck alone."

Porcupines don't have to be fast or smart or fierce at all. The predator knows just by looking at him that he should pick easier prey — and if the predator doesn't, its very first attack on the porcupine will persuasively demonstrate the truth.

This is the Porkie Mind Trick:

"I'm not the victim you're looking for. Move along."

– Obi-Wan Kenobi

Sort of.

Okay, not really.

To put it another way:

"The only fight you really win is the one that never happens."

– Grandmaster FatMatt Fu Wu-Wei

Or as another recognized authority on the subject might say:

"Being in a fight means you fucked up."

As I was giving the presentation (in a jocular tone not unlike the original Grandmaster post), it struck me that I know a lot about avoiding violence — and even more about surviving what can't be avoided — and that I can teach what I know. And that sharing this knowledge would be a positive good.

In fact, I promised my recruiter that if I get the job, I would not only share the principles and techniques of huàn dao with anyone and everyone who might express an interest, but I would establish and certify the very first Huàn Dao Society of America (Go PORKIES!) right there at the company's headquarters. And I am, if nothing else, a man of my word.

If this happens, I will be a very, very happy Porkie.

It also struck me during my presentation (the company is based in Wisconsin) that "huàn" can also be translated as "badger," which probably doesn't hurt.

This is on my mind today because their "week to ten days" timeline will be up Monday or Tuesday . . . and last Thursday, I got a note from one of my references that they called to chat about me.

I want this job.

And for those die-hard Cainists out there, it's worth noting that this position would relieve me of the necessities of writing for profit . . . which would mean I could go back to writing for fun (oh, and profit, but that's just gravy.)

This does mean, however, that the sale on black belts is canceled. Sorry.