The Spectrum of Bitterness Part Four

It is so much easier for me to write when I am ticked off.  I am trying to be reasonable and tell my self there are only 26 letters for us to use, so when I read something that I think was my idea first, I have to think about the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of pianos that eventually play Bach.

Then I have to tell myself that maybe that person who wrote the scene lived through something similar to what I did and had the same sort of reaction to it. I can be really fair about that one because, although I have done and lived stuff other people have not, I am by and large just your ordinary Joe Shmoe.  I am positive Joe Shmoe had some incredible high points in his life, some incredible situations that seemed troublesome and unsolvable at the time but were still the most enormously exciting parts of his life.  He just didn't bother to write about it.  And I hope that every Joe Shmoe has their "peak" to remember so they can have a little smile on their face when they are sitting in that rocker on that front porch.

I feel the need for a balance sheet, perhaps an incomplete balance sheet, but totally inspired by the passing of Steve Jobs which has definitely affected my ideas about life and death.  He left an amazing legacy.  That is all anyone can ask.  And when you are 94, you are not doing much to amplify, beautify, or in anyway, enhance your legacy except maybe making people tired of hearing about it.

MARRIAGE
Average blog writer:
"I am married to the most wonderful man.  We are still as deeply in love as the day we met, in fourth grade."
Me:
I've been married a really, really long time.

PARENTHOOD
Average blog writer.
"My amazing children are gifts from God and I adore them.  I can't imagine life without them. My husband is such a caring and amazing father."
Me:
I should have had a hysterectomy when I was thirteen.

LIFE
Average blog writer:
"I dedicate each day to the Lord knowing that no matter how things work out, I am living in His name and I can survive with His guidance."
Me;
"Jesus, cut me a break will ya?"

LIVING
Average blog writer
"That which does not kill us will only make us stronger.  God never gives us more than we can handle."
Me.
"You have to be in the right place at the right time.  You have to play the hand you are dealt."

PETS
 Average blog writer
"My dog/cats are like family to me.  I am so grateful for them and they deserve to live the best life they can. Why just today Poopsie did the most adorable thing to the back of my couch."
Me
"I am going to end up in the hospital because of this fucking animal."

Ah, me.  This is a beautiful warm, crisp Autumn day and the leaves are just starting to turn.  My autumnal decorations on my entryway are gorgeous.  The little speckle of golden glitter I placed on the leaves of the wreathes gracing my front doors is just perfect and catches the afternoon sun in the most attractive way.  I am so glad I did that.  Now I am going to lunch with two of my favorite people in the whole world, Fran and Ben. If I am lucky the adorable Delaney will be along.  So fuck the whole world.  I rock.

STOLEN WORDS

I lifted the following quote from the blog of Tetman Callis who very graciously attributed it, I am assuming correctly.  Now all I want to do is read about why they posited this and what are the statistics and the control group, and what were they searching for when they did the study and has it been proven and when does it apply.  Certainly not to the written word which means it probably only is applicable or even useful if you are a lawyer arguing in court, or maybe President Obama.


"We hear communications experts telling us time and again about things like the ‘7-38-55 rule,’ first posited in 1971 by UCLA psychology professor Albert Mehrabian: 55 percent of what you convey when you speak comes from your body language, 38 percent from the tone of your voice, and a paltry 7 percent from the words you choose.  Yet it’s that 7 percent that can and will be held against you in a court of law.” — Brian Christian, The Most Human Human

Life With Luigi. Vol.II

We were out for a while this evening. This afternoon, before we left, Louie put one of those frozen pies in the oven and we couldn't leave until it was finished.  That worked out fine.  A few minutes ago, when we got home, we walked into the kitchen and I said, "It's really hot in here."  So Louie walked over to the thermostat.  I walked over to the oven.  I said, "You left the oven on."  I did not touch it because if I had touched it, he automatically becomes not the person who left it on.  It is a rule.  He walked over and witnessed for himself the readout that says it was 300 degrees and said, "Well, I tried, but how do you turn the *&%$#* off?"  I showed him the button that says "OFF".

Don't you love the blonde joke where the girl asks what the 710 thing is under the hood?

In other news, Danielle  has moved back home.  She has been here about two weeks.  She has stayed here maybe ten of those nights.  The sewer backed up in the laundry room today.

And on an historical level, Mises(dot) org deleted my comments about Konrad Lorenz in the blog arguing about Intellectual Property.

So loving my multi-faceted life.

LINK

This is not to everyone's taste but very funny. And LOUD.

Left Handed Compliments

Sometimes it doesn't sink in right away, and if you get it right away, it is difficult to say "Thanks for the compliment." because, at the moment, you may not be sure that's what it is. 

I walked into Lord and Taylor and there was this outfit on the mannequin, a bright emerald green silk jacket and a fuchsia silk shell and I bought it and I got lots of compliments.  But one of them didn't sink in til much later.  I wore it a lot and never took credit for figuring it out.  Oprah says she buys what's on the mannequin, so I don't mind saying that.  It's nice though when someone says it looks good on you.  (You have to agree. ) But a year later I walk into a family event and a family member has on the outfit in slightly more subdued shades, and looks at me like "I'm glad you didn't wear that today, and, yeah, I got the idea from you."  She looked really nice in her outfit and I took it as a compliment. 

Then there are the  quickies:  In high school Mary Ann Perry asked me if I wore "falsies" (yeah, I'm that old)  and I didn't.  But I took it as a positive remark.  I had a really great figure when I was younger and yeah, I worked it.

"Do you dye your hair?"  No, I don't but if it looks like I spent money on it that's okay with me.

"Auntie Virginia doesn't look old enough to have a daughter as old as Lisa."  Well, that one is complicated, but I think it falls on the credit side of my balance sheet.   At work, my birthday, "How old are you?"  "Thirty two."  "Wow, you should wear a t-shirt that says 'I'm thirty two'.   No one will believe it."  Yeah, I worked out every day, and yeah, it was during my self-acknowledged peak years.

Ten year high school reunion:  "I wish I'd known you were going to turn out like this,"  Okay.  All these indicate I am extremely shallow and that is another thing that is a major component of my personality that I will never deny.  But I think this one is the best:

SOMEONE read my book.  It happens.  Anyway, the person commented that my characters were amoral and what made it worse was that they were parents.  (Jesus, save me.  I wish I had such clear cut parameters in my own life.)  Then it made my face feel all hot and embarrassed.  But, shucks, the book is not about the Amish and the person knew that going in.  Even wanted to know what pages the "good stuff" was on.  But, of course, given my mind, this percolated for quite a while.  And, maybe it is my tendency to try and turn a negative around, or maybe I have to rationalize criticism, but  he finished the book.  AND  he invested in MY characters and JUDGED THEM.  So I created characters.  I am basically thrilled at this point.  Well, feeling kind of warm and fuzzy about it, at the least. Anyway, I know they are not amoral, and I love them.  I think I love them even more now.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005H3EW3Q

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KN6S4E

No, seriously?

I had to write a blurb for my second novel, you know, the one nobody reads?  And I hit send and then I noticed I called the hero TIN.  Please just take me out to the woods and shoot me.  Just get it over with.  

How can you do something like that to someone you love so much?

Interest

This is from an amazing website called Pinterest.You will probably be seeing more of these as I am kind of a sucker for them.  As you have already seen. . .

Self Image

When I was sending out queries for my manuscripts, I felt terrified.  I viewed every rejection as a personal insult.  Strangely, the act of self-publishing does not hold such emotional weight.  Despite the fact that many people have downloaded samples of my work, I have had very few sales. This is a very clear indicator that after reading 15% of my writing, they are not interested in reading anymore which pretty much says I am wasting my time.  And theirs. And the few that have bought have not bothered to review, so I am basically dead in the water.  Still, I plan to put up the next two.  Some people say that more titles bring more interest, but so far that has not shown any effect in my case.  I have cancelled the sale contract on the Mediterranean Villa, but will continue to write my little fantasy revisionist history stories.  I think it's cheaper than a shrink, but my shrink was free.

It did bring in a new follower to my blog, but she has since thrown me off her blog roll, so far the only negative repercussion.  If I had a tail, I promise you, I would post a photo of me walking off into the sunset with it between my legs. Still, I walk on.

AUTUMN

It doesn't matter if I love the cool breezes and the colored leaves.  I get depressed in the Fall.  More depressed I should say.  It shows up everywhere.  My house is a mess.  If I get a row of counters washed, I have to pat myself on the back because, the job itself is not hard--is pleasant--provides instant gratification, but I have to "work" up to it.  To get myself to do it. 

I am sick of this book promo thing and have two more to publish and I think one is not actually "done".  I was having trouble remembering the main character's name the other day.  I am just tired of it.  I know the whole thing was because I was on that crappy Welbutrin, and the stuff I am on now is almost as bad as Paxil, that you totally do not give a shit about anything.   So, maybe I was manic, and after I came back down, I realized I was writing stuff that was practically porn, and I went in and got all fucking sensible and took so much crap out, and now I realize, it doesn't matter.  I opened a book in WalMart the other day cuz this one message board talks about Lora Leigh and I always envied that she did this whole book series about the Navy Seal, and I have trouble maintaining a character like that for more than a few lines in a couple of chapters, and I probably have way more experience with them than she ever will, but that is another story that I probably will never write cuz it is pathetically, fucking sad.  But I opened the book, and the cover doesn't even say Explicit Content and the page I open it to is this guy telling this girl to blow him in a kind of authoritarian cruel, definitely not loving kind of way, and she is so all excited to chow down on this guy and it was just so blah, and what the heck ever happened to the blue oxford cloth shirt as a sex symbol? And she has a whole web site devoted to how badly edited her books are, and how many mistakes she makes, and she probably is rolling in money, her sales are astronomical, and the reason they are not edited very well is that the editors have just read about one blow job too many at this point, and I suddenly realize I should have spent my life writing dissertations on the parallels between the color spectrum and the depression spectrum, or maybe continue, much as they have done  with the very successful Nancy Drew series,  writing the Mary Poppins series and sort of segued her into the Space Age and through the Cold War and into the computer age.  Mary Poppins and the Magic of HTML.

I get terrible attacks of give up-itis very frequently and have throughout my life, and I think it is because just getting through the day is such a huge enterprise for me that I should just not even bother with having something that is mine "to do" as my doctor puts it because it is minuscule and a total fucking waste of time.  I need to spend more time figuring out how to feed my granddaughter the bottle with out falling asleep and having the bottle fall on the floor and the baby roll under the coffee table.  No.  You don't have to report me.  That didn't happen.  But the falling asleep and dropping the bottle part did.

I spend too much time questioning the worth of my existence and not enough time washing  the dishes. And no, there are no dishes that need to be washed either, at the moment, which is why I am sitting here putting meaningless symbols on a plastic screen again.  I was being figurative.  My whole fucking life is figurative and when I understand what it is supposed to represent, it is all over.  

I

Whoops.

So, I was all set to do a huge rant on how you go on Amazon author boards and the grammar and spelling in their little self-promo posts is so awful.  (Are those different things?) And how can you expect me to buy your book if it is going to be that full of errors and that carelessly done, and then I noticed that in this morning's blog I misspelled loyalty.  So, pass the crow.

And FYI, if you see a typo, let me know.  Smashwords I can correct it in a jif.  Amazon not so easy, so if it is in the Amazon version, it might not get fixed.  At least not right away.  I am so obsessively focusing on this because certain other parts of my life that I probably could go right away and blab about cuz they probably cannot be bothered to read the blog of an inconsequential, invisible woman anyway, are just a huge suck fest.  You try to be dynamic and move forward and look at each day expectantly, like maybe there will be a pleasant surprise in store and isn't this fall weather amazing, but there are some things that are unchangeable and so completely out of your control that sneak in and piss all over the place, and, seriously, I am not talking about my dog this time.

PROMO

Just a  reminder.  My books are available at Amazon.com for Kindle and Kindle apps.  And Sacred Sin is also now available at Smashwords.  From my stats, I see that lots of you are stopping by to view my blog and I want to thank you all for your interest and your loyalty.  I would also enjoy it very much if you left a comment of any kind.  Thanks and happy reading!

Persevere you must.

For my loyalest of followers and for those who sneak in here late at night when the kiddies are all asleep to see if I wrote a naughty word today, well I didn't.  I am filled with sweetness and light because my dog did a terrible, spiteful thing to me and I used up my daily ration of naughty words on him.  The day was cool and pleasant, and the windows were only opened a little, so they only sent one squad car this time.  We're fine, just fine.

So as to make sure that you did not waste your trip here, as I am always so glad to see you, I am presenting the current incarnation of William Wallace.  He is willing to undergo a DNA test to support this. I got Ben.  I got Delaney.  Who could ask for anything more?  Oh, me, of course.

I haven't googled Dan Kearney lately. I wonder what he is up to.  He is going to rule our country.  Soon. Ben will help.

Getting to Me

I swear!  Honest to God!

Is this not the cutest thing ever? 

What does it take to establish perspective?  The life I have, the footprint I have left, the things that will happen tomorrow that are good, the things that happened yesterday and today that are good.  (Not this frigging virus)  And I let some stranger, probably some 52 year old virgin with greasy hair living in an apartment with two cats and a litter box that needs to be changed a week ago, get to me.  Actually make that hot buzzing  behind the forehead  "symptom" of being in "trouble"  happen to me.  Actually give that poor disenfranchised  person POWER to evoke a feeling in me?  In ME?  What the fuck is wrong with me?

I am so pissed.  So very pissed.  Almost pissed enough to make that hot buzzing stop.  It is actually growing more faint as I continue to vent by causing  electronically positioned symbols to appear on a plastic screen.   Which is what I currently list WAY too high on the list of things that I consider to be my legacy.

Instead of that cute little critter on the boppy that contains my DNA. On a quilt that I made, by the way, in the house that belongs to my daughter which is a wonderful house, and a wonderful daughter that contains my DNA.

So fuck you musty lady.  Blackball me.  Smear my reputation all over Amazon with your chintzy greasy keyboard. You don't suck.  You wish you had something to suck.

NICE ! ! and not so. . .

I had my first UK sale.  This is very pleasing news for me. 

In other news, a blog I used to visit a lot, but only drop in on occasionally of late, went on and on today about a book the agency (whose blog it was that I was then gracing with my presence) LOVED and accepted joyfully and couldn't sell.  The blog author, (you can't even say 'he' or 'she' anymore or some snarkiness will show up on their site about it) was dismayed.  The agency "finally" sold this amazing story that was difficult to sell because it crossed genres.  Yup.  It was vampires, zombies, love, ghosts, paranormal stuff, probably a little Steam Punk and a Celtic God or two, along with  an amazing character study of this person that was not able to fit into any of these sub categories of living beings in the unusual world in which she was trying to survive. 

Remember when coming of age stories were about people you might sit next to in study hall?  Like S. E. Hinton's Outsiders, That Was Then, This Is Now?  I seriously wonder what all these books aimed at young adults are contributing to the person's character who happens to be reading them.  Like that Twilight series. Hotcakesl  Couldn't print them fast enough.  T-shirts.  Movies.  And there is not one person who will argue the fact that Bella was a 'Mary Sue' (google) the absolute antithesis of what a young woman in this day and age needs to emulate in her adulthood.  (This from a person who just published a book that discusses putting on a banana flavored condom with your mouth.)  Maybe I am just bitter.  Not so much anymore!  I have already earned more money in my writing 'career' than a certain MFA I know. And we are talking mere weeks into it. 


And even I throw in a Celtic God or two.

Tedium

I got LAWMAN up on Kindle.  I finished the Smashwords revisions for SACRED SIN.  I learned how to remove a text box that you don't know you have until you learn what the coding looks like and go looking for it.  I didn't put that stuff in there, man.  Blame Word.  I am getting pretty good at manipulating photos, and I suck at self promotion.  I have investigated every angle any one has mentioned and none have brought results.  Supposedly Smashwords Premium Catalog is a big deal.  They say Apple sells more ebooks than all the other epubs put together.  I totally do not see that.  They don't even make  a dedicated reader.  Whatever.  We will see.  The thing is, I am getting so tired of this.  I use any excuse to get away from it and the Maze and Anymore need a little work.  Hopefully getting back to writing will seem like fun again.

It has to be word of mouth.  It just has to be read by THAT right person, and I don't think she is interested.  Well, I like my guys.  And I will never be sorry about that part of it.  And yeah, Bobby Joe, I did leave that one word out of  the Smashwords version.  You know which one I mean.

I'm going on the treadmill.  I think I stopped the ipod  at Crossfire, so after I listen to that about eight times I will be all inspired and ready to go. 
Yeah.  You can totally tell what is happening to me.  My blogs are getting so boring

.

In the Mood

Strange how things can work out so well if you are just in the mood for them.  Maybe like sex.  I don't remember.  But this publishing thing?  I can put a book on the site and actually sell them to people.  Hey, I am pretty great.  Then I notice one little thing I want to change, and I cannot even find the f-ing "Tool" bar in the word program.  C'mon.  How many times have I done this?

Sometimes my mind is like a whirlpool and the thoughts just keep swirling around and I am going deeper and deeper, but tonight my mind is a puddle of sludge on a hot day.  I do not want to probe beyond the surface and, in actual fact, I don't want to be any where near it.

The only thing that bothers me about this is that, truly, I do not want people to see my mistakes.  I know, I have seen typos in two page spread perfume ads in Vogue magazine, but damnit, I want my title page to be the best title page in the world.  And I am apparently competing with an awful lot of freaking perfectionists, because I have satisfied everyone's requirements except fucking Apple.  And they have said they sell more epub books than anyone.  Where do the people that publish for Apple live?  And where do all the people live that buy Apple epubs?  I have never heard of one of them.

THRILL

Well, you can think you are as cynical as would be possible.  But the excitement of that touchdown Saturday was so amazing.  They should study what  that does in your bloodstream.  I would buy some.

And then, today, after working on it for at least five hours, I got my Book up on Smashwords which is a gateway to every electronic reading device.  Anywhere.  I guess the reason I am so happy about it is that is was so much more work than the Kindle deal.  Picky, picky, picky.  It is still telling me I have things to fix, like text inside a table, and there are NO tables in this book.  At least not the kind they mean.  Anyway, it feels so good. Now for Lawmen.  He is getting impatient.  And that is not good.

Another Review.

http://www.openbookreview.com/review-id106/

UPTICK

Well, I took an extra half a Welbutrin, just in case, cuz I cannot stop crying.  Actually, I am not really crying, Water just keeps dripping down my cheeks from my eyes.

So did Ben's team win?  YEAH.  Ben ran eighty six yards for a touchdown.  No one can touch him when he runs.  No one under the age of eleven at least.  He owned the field.  Then the other team, the whatchamacallits from somewhere, had the ball and BEN took him down.  20-something to ZERO.  I may decide to live another day.  I have to go now.  I am tweeting with the Dallas Cowboys and I have to update them.

BUY THE DAMN BOOK.  $2.99 FOR GOD"S SAKE.  AND YOU WILL BE AMAZED HOW MUCH YOU ENJOY IT.  That I solemnly promise.

REVIEW

I am not getting too much action on the Amazon review thing, (only family has bothered) but received this in my gmail and had to share.  I am so thrilled.

GLOWING REVIEW from Roy York, Las Vegas, Nevada

Thank you very much for sending me the .pdf copy of your book.  After I received it, I intended to read a few lines to get the gist of it and then figure out exactly when I was going to read it, in addition to the two other books I am in at the present time.  Then, one page led to another and I damn near didn't get the stuff out for dinner, but I did and that turned out OK.  Then, the wife came home and we had a lot to talk about, her day at work, some things going on like the earthquake in DC which I didn't know jack shit about.  Nor the one in Colorado, or the fact that Tripoli fell to the rebels.  I was too damn busy enjoying myself with the book.

I got back to it later after dinner and finished it about 11:00PM.  (My bedtime is normally 9:00, so think of that as a positive.)  Here goes the  review.

I will be promoting this to family and friends and have a little gathering coming up with one of them that told me they would get it.  I will be interested in her take on the book.

I liked the book, but I'm an ending kind of guy and was a little bummed out that you didn't tie up a few loose ends, (which could have led to sequels

(THERE ARE TWO)

but I know nothing about bodice rippers, this is my first).

(SPOILER deleted)

At one point, and I loved this about your story, you had me guessing what was coming and I like that in a story, and interestingly enough, I was seldom right.  A mark of a good author (in my opinion) is not giving too many hints as if their readers are dumb and you have to tell them in advance — (SPOILER DELETED):

I actually wrote down part of your dialogue when Jenny confronts Ethan with "That makes it OK? If everyone knows you're an asshole, and you admit you are an asshole, then it's therefore all right to be an asshole?"  I loved that line and laughed out loud.

I liked your character development and could swear the sharp tongue of the redhead is someone I vaguely know. And, since I know a little about you, saw your writing reflect things with which you are familiar.    

I think you are a master at dialogue, however, a couple of times I got confused as to who exactly was talking and had to go back and reread some to catch back up.  I'm more of a "he said, she said" kind of author, but the literary jury is still out on that.

Conclusion: I will read more of your work, I will definitely promote your book to my friends and family, and hopefully, we will stay in touch, and see which of us gets to the New York Times Bestseller list before the other.

Congratulations and keep writing.

With great respect to a fellow author who, like I am, is doing something about getting our stories out there.