Something has to go "click" in my head.
I stumbled on a blog. The guy's name was Ray I think. I usually remember the name Ray. He was a writer. Some of you will stumble across it if you don't already know who I mean. He can write.
Lately, I think of everything in terms of long drawn out analogies. I think it is a way I explain things to myself. I did that long drawn out blog about the end product I come up with. For which I feel no shame. There is a place for that product and I think I handle it just fine. And it is what I want to do. Writing wouldn't do what it needs to do to the inside of my head if I had to keep a bunch of note cards and characters and plot lines sorted out. As it is, I have to search before I publish to make sure I didn't change someone's name along the way. So story one is the way I write. Story two is the way Ray writes. Process, not story or style.
Story One: I have a really pretty house. It is just a box. It is a pretty color. It has nice trees. It has a great yard. It has good proportions. It is large. It is a nice house. I change the wreathes on the front door for the season. I go to Michael's. I buy a wreath form. Sometimes I use last seasons. I strip it and start anew. I buy some fake flowers that make me think of something nice I remember, some color that makes me feel good. I buy some leaves that are the right proportion and color. I buy fake polystyrene berries. I am crazy about those berries. They have to be on every wreath. The size and the color have to be just right. Sometimes I use last seasons. If the white plastic is showing through, I color it in with a marker. I assemble the ingredients in a pleasing pattern. I put a little glitter on some of the leaves cuz my front door gets muy sun. Some times my daughter is supervising or assisting. "You should put a little more glitter here." "There are too many berries there." I have to make two because the front entry is double doors. They have to match but not identically. They have to harmonize. I make frequent trips to the edge of the yard to look back and see if the scale is pleasing.
One day a neighbor and her friend and their daughters knock to sell girl scout cookies. One of the first things the women says is, "I LOVE your entryway. I want to go home and copy it." My heart soars with the eagles. This is the end of story one.
Story two: A young man is walking along a stony beach on an island in the Outer Hebrides. It is chilly but there is a spring smell in the air. The beach is cross hatched with an occasional scarp. Farther down the scarp meets the water and the young man will not be able to walk further on the waterfront. But before he reaches the end of the beach, right around the place he first intended to turn and head back, he spots a very white baby lamb half way up the scarp. It is bawling piteously and very white but smudged with dirt and a little redness. It is in distress. The man, wearing a perfectly aged pair of Vasques, and happening to have an old thin pair of leather driving gloves in the pocket of his oiled cotton Barbour Mac, climbs somewhat carelessly, but with years of experience to support his efforts and grabs the baby lamb. He continues to the top of the scarp from which the lamb has fallen, carrying it over his shoulder and trying to hold its two back legs when he doesn't need both hands to keep his purchase on the craggy rock.
After he reaches the top and begins to walk over the barely perceptible path leading to his ancient but picturesque cottage, he examines the lamb and sees it is fine except for a few abrasions on its haunch from falling against the stone. He puts the lamb in the yard with the other few sheep he owns, some who have recently lambed. None of the ewes will let the baby nurse so the young man drives his little red car to town and buys special formula for abandoned lambs. He loves the lamb. The lamb loves him. The lamb thrives under his care and is always a bit brighter, a bit bouncier, a bit larger than the other lambs.Sometimes the other lambs, now young sheep, gang up to tease him, but they know he is the leader and usually they let him lead. He is a good leader anyway, they know. The next spring, when it is time to shear the sheep, the young man notices his favored lamb has a more lustrous, healthier looking crop of fleece than the others, so as he shears away, he keeps the wool from the special lamb separate. The wool goes to market as is usual. Walking around money. But the special wool he takes to his aunt's house who lives the other side of the tiny village. "This is wondrous wool," she says. "I will make a special sweater." And she does. Then the young man goes out in the world wearing the special sweater. As he progresses through the world many people say, "Hey, cool sweater." "Oh, what a lovely sweater." "Is that wool bleached? It is so very white."
Then one day the young man is on his way back home. He never stays away for long. He is on a pedway in an airport. Approaching on the opposite pedway is a lovely young girl. The pedway is very crowded but she looks up intently at the oncoming traffic as she notices a certain evocative scent of aftershave that gets her attention, and she spots the young man. "If I didn't have to run for this stupid plane, I would vault over this wall and make a move on that guy," she thinks, and gives him a delicious smile which he hungrily tastes as he moves past, returning a glimpse of self satisfaction over what might have been, as they both well know. As she moves on, the young girl, too busy to feel regret, thinks only, "God, that sweater he had on was gorgeous." The end of the second story.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Monday, February 06, 2012
THE BEST and the GHOSTS
LAWMAN is the best. I just keep rereading it, mostly cuz I can't take my eyes off Tim who is a Getty Image for god's sake. And the ending is so great. Life, whether you like it or not. SACRED SIN is a bit of a stretch. When I can afford it, I will do a rewrite, but already I left out about half. And I love the gas station sex. And the Maze, well, I hate what I had to do to Barney cuz I love him so, but that's life, like I say whether you like it or not.
And just when I start thinking the ole well has run dry, I got a great idea for Anymore to introduce a pivotal character that ties this all up. God, I am enjoying the hell out of this.
So ninety days is my deadline, but I will finish sooner. Especially if I stay this manic. Ghosts are in my house actually. They leave me things, tangible things. Some shiny and new. Puzzling.
And just when I start thinking the ole well has run dry, I got a great idea for Anymore to introduce a pivotal character that ties this all up. God, I am enjoying the hell out of this.
So ninety days is my deadline, but I will finish sooner. Especially if I stay this manic. Ghosts are in my house actually. They leave me things, tangible things. Some shiny and new. Puzzling.
Friday, February 03, 2012
So VERY Up
Well, Louie got the new transmission installed for his heart yesterday and that seems to be going fine. They desperately wanted to show us the one they took out and talk about how it worked and describe its various components. It was large and shiny and, strangely enough, shaped like a tombstone, but I didn't want the explanations because there were still little bits of blood and gore attached to it. He is asleep at home now, as usual. On the way from the hospital this morning, we stopped at the "Orgy of Gorging" pancake house near our home , (not its real name) and Delaney ate pancake and behaved delightfully, so that many smiles will last most of today and tomorrow for me.
PLUS, the KDPSelect program has kicked in, so I am rapt, watching those results come in, much as, I am just supposing here, that gubernatorial candidate with the dark secret would be watching his election returns.
Yes, I harbor dark secrets, many of them hinted at in my fictional works, many of them to be kept hidden beyond the grave. Except, I am not going to have an actual grave. But you get what I am saying.
PLUS, the KDPSelect program has kicked in, so I am rapt, watching those results come in, much as, I am just supposing here, that gubernatorial candidate with the dark secret would be watching his election returns.
Yes, I harbor dark secrets, many of them hinted at in my fictional works, many of them to be kept hidden beyond the grave. Except, I am not going to have an actual grave. But you get what I am saying.
THE MAZE
Free today and tomorrow on KDPSelect. If you don't belong to Amazon Prime you can sign up for 30 day free trial.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Spikes
It is either you guys or the NSA. HUGE fucking spikes.
Thank you!
This is a carefully copied Chinese rip off of a beautiful painting showing me and my best friends wreaking havoc. This took a very long time cuz I already took my sleep meds.
Thank you!
This is a carefully copied Chinese rip off of a beautiful painting showing me and my best friends wreaking havoc. This took a very long time cuz I already took my sleep meds.
Nice Review
Virginia,
First of all, thank you for allowing me to read your book. I must admit that while I am still relatively new to book reviews, yours was a hard one to sum-up. I did my best though, and I hope you like it.
Before I send you a copy of the review though, since you had asked for an evaluation of the wording. I hint to this a little bit in the review, but as you specifically asked for feedback, I shall give you my opinion directly. First of all, I was at first hesitant to read your book when I got to it with the question you asked... and yet I was dying to read it as I have a guilty-pleasure for stuff that I probably shouldn't read.
However, in reading your book I think the wording is very well done during the sex scenes. It's evocative, and intensely intimate, which I didn't know was possible in third person. This is particularly true toward the beginning of the book. Beyond that, I thought the wording was enough to convey what was going on, without being pornographic or anything like that. Perhaps your brother was referring to the the "strength" of the intimacy which I found so wonderfully done. *shrugs* that's my oppinion. I know that family can be pretty critical of sex scenes and the like- they are perhaps the most scrutinized part of a relatives writing. But I personally thought it added to the story and helped the reader get sucked into the story emotionally.
So... I hope that helps you some as far as what you wanted to know about the language. Below is my review, if for any reason you don't want me to post it, please let me know before Wednesday when I will post it on my site- barring any objections from you. Also, please reply with a brief about the Author that I can tag on at the end of the review.
One final note, if you are fine with the review and want the review posted anywhere in addition to on my site (goodreads, amazon, barnesandnoble, ect) please let me know that as well.
Sacred Sin by Virginia Llorca
Summary Provided by Amazon.com
After her first marriage fails, Jenny wants to concentrate on her education and her career, but "that guy" walks into her life when and where she least expects it and this guy means business. Will her new relationship survive when Jenny proves unable or unwilling to give up a life long relationship that is more than friendly?
What I Loved
The language of this book is so evocative. I'll say it here, before I go into much else that the reader of this book must be a mature adult. The wording itself isn't so graphic, as is the way the words work together. I usually have a hard time connecting with third-person narratives, and at first this was true in Sacred Sin as well, but there are different reasons that the third person viewpoint exists, and the intimacy conveyed in this particular instance is intensified by the third-person outlook.
What I Didn't Like
At some point or another, any reader reading a fictional book must be able to enter a suspension of belief- and that is very true with Sacred Sin. If you are hung up on morals and what is "right", this book may be hard to get into- it was for me at first and I usually do well with suspension of belief. At times the book seems to push the boundaries of a relationship- to where I just have to yell at the character's stupidity.
My Overall Review
(3 of 5 Stars) A Steamy and Evocative story of life.
I can't even think of a good 3-of-5 summary for this book. In fact, I would have to rate it objectively as a 3.75 if I did half-stars, which I don't. For me, this story was very evocative and intriguing... yet I'd still label it a 3. I can easily see someone else really enjoying it though. While steamy, sexy, intimate, evocative... I think you get the picture to an extremely high-degree, it does provide a story of a woman who truly loves two guys at once. Though life is not always glamorously wonderful for Jenny- it is a bit of fantasy for the reader. Who hasn't had to choose between two loves in their lives? Again, not for a younger audience, but for a steamy book that has an intricate story as well- very well done.
Thank you again for allowing me to read your book. I look forward to hearing back from you.
Sincerely,
Shayna Gier
Author of Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse
Book Reviewer for Shaynagier.com
Sample or purchase Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69040
Visit my Website:
http://www.shaynagier.com
First of all, thank you for allowing me to read your book. I must admit that while I am still relatively new to book reviews, yours was a hard one to sum-up. I did my best though, and I hope you like it.
Before I send you a copy of the review though, since you had asked for an evaluation of the wording. I hint to this a little bit in the review, but as you specifically asked for feedback, I shall give you my opinion directly. First of all, I was at first hesitant to read your book when I got to it with the question you asked... and yet I was dying to read it as I have a guilty-pleasure for stuff that I probably shouldn't read.
However, in reading your book I think the wording is very well done during the sex scenes. It's evocative, and intensely intimate, which I didn't know was possible in third person. This is particularly true toward the beginning of the book. Beyond that, I thought the wording was enough to convey what was going on, without being pornographic or anything like that. Perhaps your brother was referring to the the "strength" of the intimacy which I found so wonderfully done. *shrugs* that's my oppinion. I know that family can be pretty critical of sex scenes and the like- they are perhaps the most scrutinized part of a relatives writing. But I personally thought it added to the story and helped the reader get sucked into the story emotionally.
So... I hope that helps you some as far as what you wanted to know about the language. Below is my review, if for any reason you don't want me to post it, please let me know before Wednesday when I will post it on my site- barring any objections from you. Also, please reply with a brief about the Author that I can tag on at the end of the review.
One final note, if you are fine with the review and want the review posted anywhere in addition to on my site (goodreads, amazon, barnesandnoble, ect) please let me know that as well.
Sacred Sin by Virginia Llorca
Summary Provided by Amazon.com
After her first marriage fails, Jenny wants to concentrate on her education and her career, but "that guy" walks into her life when and where she least expects it and this guy means business. Will her new relationship survive when Jenny proves unable or unwilling to give up a life long relationship that is more than friendly?
What I Loved
The language of this book is so evocative. I'll say it here, before I go into much else that the reader of this book must be a mature adult. The wording itself isn't so graphic, as is the way the words work together. I usually have a hard time connecting with third-person narratives, and at first this was true in Sacred Sin as well, but there are different reasons that the third person viewpoint exists, and the intimacy conveyed in this particular instance is intensified by the third-person outlook.
What I Didn't Like
At some point or another, any reader reading a fictional book must be able to enter a suspension of belief- and that is very true with Sacred Sin. If you are hung up on morals and what is "right", this book may be hard to get into- it was for me at first and I usually do well with suspension of belief. At times the book seems to push the boundaries of a relationship- to where I just have to yell at the character's stupidity.
My Overall Review
(3 of 5 Stars) A Steamy and Evocative story of life.
I can't even think of a good 3-of-5 summary for this book. In fact, I would have to rate it objectively as a 3.75 if I did half-stars, which I don't. For me, this story was very evocative and intriguing... yet I'd still label it a 3. I can easily see someone else really enjoying it though. While steamy, sexy, intimate, evocative... I think you get the picture to an extremely high-degree, it does provide a story of a woman who truly loves two guys at once. Though life is not always glamorously wonderful for Jenny- it is a bit of fantasy for the reader. Who hasn't had to choose between two loves in their lives? Again, not for a younger audience, but for a steamy book that has an intricate story as well- very well done.
Thank you again for allowing me to read your book. I look forward to hearing back from you.
Sincerely,
Shayna Gier
Author of Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse
Book Reviewer for Shaynagier.com
Sample or purchase Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69040
Visit my Website:
http://www.shaynagier.com
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Maze
If you are looking for another "Mary Poppins" series, these would not be the books for you. If you occasionally enjoy an infuriating female protagonist, you will devour these stories.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Success
This seemed the most difficult of all. But THE MAZE is live on Kindle Select now. It looks great, but, once again, they left out my indents. What else can you do but follow their directions completely and thoroughly? Yeah, now I can go into the HTML, and maybe I will cuz I am a little more confident about it now. But, seriously? Don't they know these things are our pride and our joy?
It is about twice as long as the original, so if you bought the original, I don't know what you have to do to swap them, but Amazon customer service has been good to me so far. I AM SO EXCITED to try this new program.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC
Discovery
I rewrote The Maze and put it up on Kindle Select today. I was a nervous wreck. Then I was "speaking" to my spouse and I said I wondered why I got so nervous because what difference did it make if I did something wrong. I could go back and fix it. And he replied, "Now you're catching on." So I guess that means I am never going to get nervous about anything ever again. Sometimes I just wonder why he is not the ruler of the whole fucking world.
No. I know exactly why he is not. And so do you.
I wish we had a special font for sarcasm in case any of you aren't getting my point.
P.S. I don't want the Maze to be over. I want to write and write and write about these people.
No. I know exactly why he is not. And so do you.
I wish we had a special font for sarcasm in case any of you aren't getting my point.
P.S. I don't want the Maze to be over. I want to write and write and write about these people.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Carrots
I received four carrots. It brought to mind a memory. When I was a sophomore at college, A Catholic University in Chicago, everyone was sitting around the union one day talking about their summer jobs. I actually worked at the telephone company as an operator (Something that comes back to haunt me) and I babysat. (More haunting in the truest sense) but I told them I went out to Las Vegas and worked as an exotic dancer. I said the difference between an exotic dancer and a stripper was that an exotic dancer already had her clothes off and I wore a ruby in my navel. Mind you, most of these people were graduates of Trinity or Fenwick or Loyola Academy, and many of them stood there agape. Most of them knew I was just joshing. Anyway, I almost forgot the best part. I told them my stage name was Carrots LaRue and I had an album coming out in December.
So as a reward for my early and more recent attempts at story telling, I was awarded four carrots from the Bunnies and I will copy the review here for all of you, and for me, that feels really good about it.
Lawman by Virginia Llorca
I honestly do not know how or where I got this book but I read it. If the author sent this to me to review sorry I must of lost your email. This review is my personal opinion of the book. This is not a paid review. To form you own opinion about this book please support the author and invest in your own copy.
There are two main characters in this book Lily and Tim. All of the others characters are very minor and do not influence the book much.
Lilly is a prosecuting attorney and a young widow. Tim is the go-to-guy for anything the FBI (or the government) needs while also being a special agent.
Lily and Tim's paths cross while on a case. They each know there could be something more than just co-workers but do not allow anything to happen while on the same case. After the case is finished Tim takes leave from work and drives down to see Lily.
Lily and Tim have lot's of sex in this book. So if you do not like reading about sex scenes then this book is probably not for you. No this is not an erotic book. Just the average book with sex scenes.
Although Lily and Tim want things to work out and be a family it is a question of if they can overcome the problems in the relationship. While Tim does not think the problems are enough to stop the relationship from going forward, Lily thinks they should stop and talk, about the problems.
Can Lily and Tim overcome the problems and be a couple?
While I enjoyed this book I did not feel connected to the characters through out the whole book. Sometimes the connection was there and sometimes it was missing. To me this book is what a lot of couples go through when they have a high-profile job and are trying to find the one person that will make them whole. Yes, there are sex scenes and lots of arguing between the characters. That is what makes this book seem so real to life. Whether this book was 100% of the authors creativity or she used some parts of either her past or someone's past it is a good read.
The bunnies and I give this book 4 Carrots. (Buunysreview.blogspot.com through google search.
So as a reward for my early and more recent attempts at story telling, I was awarded four carrots from the Bunnies and I will copy the review here for all of you, and for me, that feels really good about it.
Lawman by Virginia Llorca
I honestly do not know how or where I got this book but I read it. If the author sent this to me to review sorry I must of lost your email. This review is my personal opinion of the book. This is not a paid review. To form you own opinion about this book please support the author and invest in your own copy.
There are two main characters in this book Lily and Tim. All of the others characters are very minor and do not influence the book much.
Lilly is a prosecuting attorney and a young widow. Tim is the go-to-guy for anything the FBI (or the government) needs while also being a special agent.
Lily and Tim's paths cross while on a case. They each know there could be something more than just co-workers but do not allow anything to happen while on the same case. After the case is finished Tim takes leave from work and drives down to see Lily.
Lily and Tim have lot's of sex in this book. So if you do not like reading about sex scenes then this book is probably not for you. No this is not an erotic book. Just the average book with sex scenes.
Although Lily and Tim want things to work out and be a family it is a question of if they can overcome the problems in the relationship. While Tim does not think the problems are enough to stop the relationship from going forward, Lily thinks they should stop and talk, about the problems.
Can Lily and Tim overcome the problems and be a couple?
While I enjoyed this book I did not feel connected to the characters through out the whole book. Sometimes the connection was there and sometimes it was missing. To me this book is what a lot of couples go through when they have a high-profile job and are trying to find the one person that will make them whole. Yes, there are sex scenes and lots of arguing between the characters. That is what makes this book seem so real to life. Whether this book was 100% of the authors creativity or she used some parts of either her past or someone's past it is a good read.
The bunnies and I give this book 4 Carrots. (Buunysreview.blogspot.com through google search.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Historical love
I wanted to repost this and I think this is the only place that has room. I got it from futility closet.
A Letter Home
Excerpt from a letter from U.S. Army major Sullivan Ballou to his wife, July 14, 1861:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night — amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours — always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.
He never sent it. It was found in his trunk after he was killed in the First Battle of Bull Run.
A Letter Home
Excerpt from a letter from U.S. Army major Sullivan Ballou to his wife, July 14, 1861:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night — amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours — always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.
He never sent it. It was found in his trunk after he was killed in the First Battle of Bull Run.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The Fledgling
I was going to write in the comments section of another blog about interlopers, but I erased it because I though it might hurt someone's feelings. If it hurts someone's feelings here, they can just leave.
Many years ago I sent a story to Redbook magazine. It was about my usual tagline topic, infidelity. (Gee! I wonder why!!) I received a real letter back from a female who said she liked it but didn't have a place for it in her magazine, but please send more. I never did. So this stuff festers under the surface and comes boiling out later.
I believe, and I have said, to my kids, grandkids, and even to other people's kids, that growing up is the hardest job you will ever have. I also told my daughter that there is really no such thing as a grown up. There is not a definable demarcation between 'grown-up' and 'not grown-up'. I told her that at a certain point in her life, of her own choosing, she will start to pretend to be a grown up and after a while she will convince herself she is grown up, and then every one around her will believe it.
I think it is like the baby birds. Maybe like other animals too. But I guess I relate more to the birds. Whatever. When they are hatched they look to the biggest one for all their food and lessons and safety. Then when they start to get bigger, they fight for the worm or the bug or the seed and it makes them stronger. Then they practice flying and go off and be their own personal care giver, a grown up bird. But some birds are pushed out of the nest by the bigger ones before they know how to fly, or they fall out of the nest too soon by accident, and they try to fly before they are ready. Some can do it and they are fine. Some flutter on the ground and a little girl picks them up and sets them on a branch and they practice and pretty soon they can fly on their own. Some fall out and flutter on the ground and draw the attention of the cat or the fox who eats them. Some, while they are still tiny and bald, get squashed down into the bottom of the nest and become a sort of nest mulch. No life for a bird. But each one of them, from the moment they came out of that egg, sat there fluttering those wings and pretending to be a big grown up bird.
When I started to put my work out in the public eye, I was asking everyone else that was doing it, how do they do it, what happens, what is the best way. Then, usually after a sales spike, or a wonderful review, I start to think what I do works for me and what works for them is their own business. Then after a while, I don't bother to read them. I am too busy and it really can't help me at this point. I am pretending to be a grown up.
Maybe I am fluttering on the ground and that little girl will pick me up and put me on a branch and I will be able to fly on my own some day. Maybe, I'll flutter desperately and the fox will destroy me. I've seen him sniffing around already. Maybe I will go flying off into that sunrise thinking the whole world is mine.
The thing is about the learning and the pretending, I think I am doing such a great job of flying, and I just have to explore places and learn better ways to do things, but I am convinced I can do it on my own now. That might be good. And I read (reed not red)something that is from someone else that is trying to soar and I think, "nest mulch." This is cocky and buys bad karma, but if that nest mulch flies, I am going to go looking for the fox.
Many years ago I sent a story to Redbook magazine. It was about my usual tagline topic, infidelity. (Gee! I wonder why!!) I received a real letter back from a female who said she liked it but didn't have a place for it in her magazine, but please send more. I never did. So this stuff festers under the surface and comes boiling out later.
I believe, and I have said, to my kids, grandkids, and even to other people's kids, that growing up is the hardest job you will ever have. I also told my daughter that there is really no such thing as a grown up. There is not a definable demarcation between 'grown-up' and 'not grown-up'. I told her that at a certain point in her life, of her own choosing, she will start to pretend to be a grown up and after a while she will convince herself she is grown up, and then every one around her will believe it.
I think it is like the baby birds. Maybe like other animals too. But I guess I relate more to the birds. Whatever. When they are hatched they look to the biggest one for all their food and lessons and safety. Then when they start to get bigger, they fight for the worm or the bug or the seed and it makes them stronger. Then they practice flying and go off and be their own personal care giver, a grown up bird. But some birds are pushed out of the nest by the bigger ones before they know how to fly, or they fall out of the nest too soon by accident, and they try to fly before they are ready. Some can do it and they are fine. Some flutter on the ground and a little girl picks them up and sets them on a branch and they practice and pretty soon they can fly on their own. Some fall out and flutter on the ground and draw the attention of the cat or the fox who eats them. Some, while they are still tiny and bald, get squashed down into the bottom of the nest and become a sort of nest mulch. No life for a bird. But each one of them, from the moment they came out of that egg, sat there fluttering those wings and pretending to be a big grown up bird.
When I started to put my work out in the public eye, I was asking everyone else that was doing it, how do they do it, what happens, what is the best way. Then, usually after a sales spike, or a wonderful review, I start to think what I do works for me and what works for them is their own business. Then after a while, I don't bother to read them. I am too busy and it really can't help me at this point. I am pretending to be a grown up.
Maybe I am fluttering on the ground and that little girl will pick me up and put me on a branch and I will be able to fly on my own some day. Maybe, I'll flutter desperately and the fox will destroy me. I've seen him sniffing around already. Maybe I will go flying off into that sunrise thinking the whole world is mine.
The thing is about the learning and the pretending, I think I am doing such a great job of flying, and I just have to explore places and learn better ways to do things, but I am convinced I can do it on my own now. That might be good. And I read (reed not red)something that is from someone else that is trying to soar and I think, "nest mulch." This is cocky and buys bad karma, but if that nest mulch flies, I am going to go looking for the fox.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The Blog Whore
I go all sad and feel all hopeless for full minutes at a time when I look at my blog stats and see the graph is level. Then I get all proactive and go post on a couple of blogs that I know will provide hits. These are blogs that have little or nothing to do with my personal life or my writerly ambitions. They are largely political, a minefield I like to lob large rocks into, but will not enter. But then a huge spike shows up in the graph before my second string even hits the traffic source list. Then, my sales take a leap. Because of what I did perhaps which would be good marketing if I knew what it was that caused the spike. The traffic sources show little of the true picture, nobody subscribing shows up there, but my political pals show up on time and I feel I have chosen the right career. Blog whore. Hopefully that will be considered a secondary career by me, who is the only person who gives a nickel about any of my careers. In the meanwhile, since you deigned to stop by, let me share with you one of my favorite most inspiring things. Creativity inspiring and awe inspiring. Enjoy.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Reality Check
First of all: I HATE f-ing HATE typing on this new laptop and I have yet to figure out why I am torturing myself by trying to do it.
Secondly: I took down book three because I decided to make something else happen. I need a special kind of psychotherapist who specializes in the "God Syndrome".
Someone commented in a review that they wanted stuff to work out for several of my characters whose/who's lives were sort of being lived at cross purposes to one another's. (I have a real problem with the possessive pronoun here. You would too.) Even one of my more severe critics mentioned having this dilemma. I felt this way too. That is kind of why I wrote it basically. It is an extension of certain parts of my personal experience. ("It happened like this, but wouldn't it be interesting if it happened like this?")
So I made this hunky dory type story in the third book that made everything sweetness and light, peaches and cream. The HEA that I HATE in Romance books. No such thing. Anyway. I decided these people were too complex and it couldn't be that simple so I have made the book like twice as long as it was and the development was fun, and I like it. But the thing is, I was kind of idealizing this one male character, did it in book one, mentioned it in book two, and I am crazy about him. But, this new section makes him do a really ass hole thing. And I just kind of think that no matter how great a guy is, this stuff happens because of the "Y" chromosome. Fortunately my audience is predominantly female or I would probably have my house burned to the ground by now and my body dismembered in the town square. (Please put my head on a rust proof pike.) And I make him all man up-ish and come clean-ish and acceptable to the amazing female protagonist who would never fall in love with an asshole. Yeah.
And, once again, I feel like a complete whore for doing it. It is so manipulative. Okay. Here is the deal. These are fictional people, Ditty. What the fuck difference could it possibly make?
No answer. Go the fuck to sleep.
Secondly: I took down book three because I decided to make something else happen. I need a special kind of psychotherapist who specializes in the "God Syndrome".
Someone commented in a review that they wanted stuff to work out for several of my characters whose/who's lives were sort of being lived at cross purposes to one another's. (I have a real problem with the possessive pronoun here. You would too.) Even one of my more severe critics mentioned having this dilemma. I felt this way too. That is kind of why I wrote it basically. It is an extension of certain parts of my personal experience. ("It happened like this, but wouldn't it be interesting if it happened like this?")
So I made this hunky dory type story in the third book that made everything sweetness and light, peaches and cream. The HEA that I HATE in Romance books. No such thing. Anyway. I decided these people were too complex and it couldn't be that simple so I have made the book like twice as long as it was and the development was fun, and I like it. But the thing is, I was kind of idealizing this one male character, did it in book one, mentioned it in book two, and I am crazy about him. But, this new section makes him do a really ass hole thing. And I just kind of think that no matter how great a guy is, this stuff happens because of the "Y" chromosome. Fortunately my audience is predominantly female or I would probably have my house burned to the ground by now and my body dismembered in the town square. (Please put my head on a rust proof pike.) And I make him all man up-ish and come clean-ish and acceptable to the amazing female protagonist who would never fall in love with an asshole. Yeah.
And, once again, I feel like a complete whore for doing it. It is so manipulative. Okay. Here is the deal. These are fictional people, Ditty. What the fuck difference could it possibly make?
No answer. Go the fuck to sleep.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Amazing Day
An amazing review for SACRED SIN. I am so grateful, and it is wonderful when it seems like someone "gets" me.
Thank you, Katherine.
"4.0 out of 5 stars A great read!, January 9, 2012
By Katherine C. Owen (Kirkland, WA United States) - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Sacred Sin (Kindle Edition)
"Sacred Sin" by Virginia Llorca is evocative, intimate, and sexy. The intriguing adult story contains flashes of brilliance about an amazing woman named Jenny who is mysterious, magical, and somewhat mad. A state she openly acknowledges as she seduces not only the men that she has magnetized to her in life, but the readers who get drawn into this story. Llorca weaves an intricate tale with her writing style that feels both autobiographical and intimate, even though "Sacred Sin" is told in third person.
This reader was somewhat bewitched by Jenny and had to throw out the semblance of a moral code, at times, in order to better understand this deeply drawn character that is Jenny Agnoli. Can you be in love with two men at the same time? And, be with them both? Apparently, you can. Llorca's novel takes us on a thirty-year journey from the time Jenny is a baby where readers get a glimpse of young Jenny and attempt to understand this amazing girl through the eyes of her first love, Barney. And then, the writer propels readers forward with the introduction of the magnetic Danny who becomes the love of Jenny's life and possibly her soul mate. But, alas, there are questions there that Llorca impels readers to consider. Can you love more than one person at the same time? Can you need them for different reasons?
I loved all the characters in this novel. Somehow, I wanted things to work out for all of them even though a certain amount of madness or a spell of some kind seem to come over all of them, at different times, in terms of the way they dealt with Jenny and her manic-depressive state(s).
"Sacred Sin" was a thought-provoking story by a very talented writer and one I will think about long after the last page I read. I look forward to reading more of Virginia Llorca's work."
Then I found out how to disable caps lock. From my perspective, yesterday was like I just heard my power ball numbers on the TV and then the doorbell rang and it was Publisher's Clearing House.
Thank you, Katherine.
"4.0 out of 5 stars A great read!, January 9, 2012
By Katherine C. Owen (Kirkland, WA United States) - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Sacred Sin (Kindle Edition)
"Sacred Sin" by Virginia Llorca is evocative, intimate, and sexy. The intriguing adult story contains flashes of brilliance about an amazing woman named Jenny who is mysterious, magical, and somewhat mad. A state she openly acknowledges as she seduces not only the men that she has magnetized to her in life, but the readers who get drawn into this story. Llorca weaves an intricate tale with her writing style that feels both autobiographical and intimate, even though "Sacred Sin" is told in third person.
This reader was somewhat bewitched by Jenny and had to throw out the semblance of a moral code, at times, in order to better understand this deeply drawn character that is Jenny Agnoli. Can you be in love with two men at the same time? And, be with them both? Apparently, you can. Llorca's novel takes us on a thirty-year journey from the time Jenny is a baby where readers get a glimpse of young Jenny and attempt to understand this amazing girl through the eyes of her first love, Barney. And then, the writer propels readers forward with the introduction of the magnetic Danny who becomes the love of Jenny's life and possibly her soul mate. But, alas, there are questions there that Llorca impels readers to consider. Can you love more than one person at the same time? Can you need them for different reasons?
I loved all the characters in this novel. Somehow, I wanted things to work out for all of them even though a certain amount of madness or a spell of some kind seem to come over all of them, at different times, in terms of the way they dealt with Jenny and her manic-depressive state(s).
"Sacred Sin" was a thought-provoking story by a very talented writer and one I will think about long after the last page I read. I look forward to reading more of Virginia Llorca's work."
Then I found out how to disable caps lock. From my perspective, yesterday was like I just heard my power ball numbers on the TV and then the doorbell rang and it was Publisher's Clearing House.
Monday, January 09, 2012
Versatile Blogger Award
I feel like I am piloting a ship into uncharted waters here. I am supposed to list seven formerly unknown things about me.
1. I wear my pjs inside out so the seams don't irritate me.
2. My husband really was on a Seal Support team in the Navy so I do know a little about it.
3. I never dyed my hair.
4. I would drink two milk shakes at lunch in high school to try and gain weight. Ha Ha on me.
5. I still get terrible crushes on people. Inappropriate at my age.
6. I smoked tons of dope when I was thirty-ish
7. The last few pages of LAWMAN is the best thing I ever wrote and maybe that anyone wrote. And too bad if you don't know that. You should.
Wow. That was fun. I wish you had to list ten cuz I was just getting warmed up.
Now, I am supposed to list five blogs for the Versatile Blogger Award. Not easy cuz I am kind of a blog whore.
1. Roy York at Grandpa York cuz he is too good to be true for a variety of reasons and he is a great cheerleader. Also very good with the written word.
2. Lyra at Lyrical Meanderings, because she has cute kids and works very hard.
3. pascal campion at pascal campion cuz I love his work and I am trying to butter him up.
4. Betsy Lerner at BetsyLerner.com because her blog is almost the same as dope to me. And I am not too sure about the real name of the actual blog.
5. Burton Book Reviews because it is lovely and my oeuvre.
If I am supposed to convert these into links, I am really sorry. I wept today because I found a tiny program to successfully disable caps lock, so I celebrate my non-techiness. Use Google, guys. That's what it's for.
1. I wear my pjs inside out so the seams don't irritate me.
2. My husband really was on a Seal Support team in the Navy so I do know a little about it.
3. I never dyed my hair.
4. I would drink two milk shakes at lunch in high school to try and gain weight. Ha Ha on me.
5. I still get terrible crushes on people. Inappropriate at my age.
6. I smoked tons of dope when I was thirty-ish
7. The last few pages of LAWMAN is the best thing I ever wrote and maybe that anyone wrote. And too bad if you don't know that. You should.
Wow. That was fun. I wish you had to list ten cuz I was just getting warmed up.
Now, I am supposed to list five blogs for the Versatile Blogger Award. Not easy cuz I am kind of a blog whore.
1. Roy York at Grandpa York cuz he is too good to be true for a variety of reasons and he is a great cheerleader. Also very good with the written word.
2. Lyra at Lyrical Meanderings, because she has cute kids and works very hard.
3. pascal campion at pascal campion cuz I love his work and I am trying to butter him up.
4. Betsy Lerner at BetsyLerner.com because her blog is almost the same as dope to me. And I am not too sure about the real name of the actual blog.
5. Burton Book Reviews because it is lovely and my oeuvre.
If I am supposed to convert these into links, I am really sorry. I wept today because I found a tiny program to successfully disable caps lock, so I celebrate my non-techiness. Use Google, guys. That's what it's for.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Spin
Some days I do not want to leave my bed. I love my bed. Very old, wrought iron "campaign" bed. (I do not know why they call it that, but I saw a picture of one like it in Arch. Digest and it had a bunch of weird chains on it and said it folded and was a civil war campaign bed. Strange, since it is very pretty.) Any way, all cotton blankets, sheets and quilts. Favorite stuff that I indulge myself in. Little enough of that going on, guys. But, as usual, I digress. (I will have to find a phrase to replace that. It is getting very old, even to me.)
Sometimes I can let the littlest thing get me down so bad, so far down, definitely inordinately so. Other days, like the second half of yesterday, and so far, all of today, I am kind of high. And the tiniest thing can get me so high, no, not ALWAYS a pill, guys. I am being a bit figurative here. I know it is my nature, and sometimes I hate it, but usually I enjoy it. It is like Chicago. Chicagoans are rabid in their love for their city, but it is never the same for very long. They say if you don't like the weather in Chicago, just wait a minute cuz it will change. Maybe that is why they love it. So I am at peace with the way I am. Good thing cuz it is way too late to alter it.
Anyway, one thing I notice is that, more and more, I am able to mentally adjust my take on things to feed a certain mood. I wonder if I have always done this and everyone else knows it, but I am just now noticing it. The first time someone said something negative about my writing I felt so weird, like a little bit sick with that hot forehead thing. You would not think at my age I would have a fragile ego, and it is a damn shame that I do. So, it took a while to see that the person was not criticizing my writing or even my choices. He was criticizing the lifestyle of the characters which means I created characters. It was the first time I realized that and it was a watershed moment. Now you couldn't stop me if you wanted to. I have had enough said at this point that I am totally able to be perfectly at ease with what I say and how I say it. So I poke around looking for reviews, but mostly looking for sales and perusing reviews if they are present. Barnes and Noble, for some reason, gets me the most readership. I have a strange feeling it is because of this interesting interaction I had with a gentleman that works at Barnes and Noble, but I may be wrong. It may just be part of the natural order of things and beyond my control. So I got a pretty nice review from someone on B&N and felt good and was glad someone "got" me. My only requirement. Steal the book out of the back of my car as long as you read it and "get" it.
Then, this morning, my daughter was taking a terribly long time in the Sprint store getting a replacement phone. In unexpected idle moments such as this I like to go up to any device in the store (Best Buy is fun.) that has browser access and look up my books and leave the picture of my cover on display. Sometimes I even say to whomever is nearby, "This is my book," but Francesca gets put off when I talk to strangers. (Loony mom syndrome.) I booted up B&N and there was a new review. One star. Very long. He was furious with Jenny. He offered all kinds of recommendations about how she could improve the moral quality of her life and how the gentlemen involved were nuts to put up with it and it could never happen (which I adamantly counter with "Oh, yes it can") and immediately I noticed that he said nothing about my style and was so invested in my characters it had strongly affected him He said he read it in six hours and wished he had the six hours back. Um. . . You could have put it down after twenty minutes or so. Why didn't you?
I found the whole one star review immensely flattering and gave it a five star rating. Still waiting for that "right" person to read it, though.
Today's CTA: what do you think about this whole cell phone, iPad, computer, TV morphing thing?
Sometimes I can let the littlest thing get me down so bad, so far down, definitely inordinately so. Other days, like the second half of yesterday, and so far, all of today, I am kind of high. And the tiniest thing can get me so high, no, not ALWAYS a pill, guys. I am being a bit figurative here. I know it is my nature, and sometimes I hate it, but usually I enjoy it. It is like Chicago. Chicagoans are rabid in their love for their city, but it is never the same for very long. They say if you don't like the weather in Chicago, just wait a minute cuz it will change. Maybe that is why they love it. So I am at peace with the way I am. Good thing cuz it is way too late to alter it.
Anyway, one thing I notice is that, more and more, I am able to mentally adjust my take on things to feed a certain mood. I wonder if I have always done this and everyone else knows it, but I am just now noticing it. The first time someone said something negative about my writing I felt so weird, like a little bit sick with that hot forehead thing. You would not think at my age I would have a fragile ego, and it is a damn shame that I do. So, it took a while to see that the person was not criticizing my writing or even my choices. He was criticizing the lifestyle of the characters which means I created characters. It was the first time I realized that and it was a watershed moment. Now you couldn't stop me if you wanted to. I have had enough said at this point that I am totally able to be perfectly at ease with what I say and how I say it. So I poke around looking for reviews, but mostly looking for sales and perusing reviews if they are present. Barnes and Noble, for some reason, gets me the most readership. I have a strange feeling it is because of this interesting interaction I had with a gentleman that works at Barnes and Noble, but I may be wrong. It may just be part of the natural order of things and beyond my control. So I got a pretty nice review from someone on B&N and felt good and was glad someone "got" me. My only requirement. Steal the book out of the back of my car as long as you read it and "get" it.
Then, this morning, my daughter was taking a terribly long time in the Sprint store getting a replacement phone. In unexpected idle moments such as this I like to go up to any device in the store (Best Buy is fun.) that has browser access and look up my books and leave the picture of my cover on display. Sometimes I even say to whomever is nearby, "This is my book," but Francesca gets put off when I talk to strangers. (Loony mom syndrome.) I booted up B&N and there was a new review. One star. Very long. He was furious with Jenny. He offered all kinds of recommendations about how she could improve the moral quality of her life and how the gentlemen involved were nuts to put up with it and it could never happen (which I adamantly counter with "Oh, yes it can") and immediately I noticed that he said nothing about my style and was so invested in my characters it had strongly affected him He said he read it in six hours and wished he had the six hours back. Um. . . You could have put it down after twenty minutes or so. Why didn't you?
I found the whole one star review immensely flattering and gave it a five star rating. Still waiting for that "right" person to read it, though.
Today's CTA: what do you think about this whole cell phone, iPad, computer, TV morphing thing?
Monday, January 02, 2012
Rings in the Water
If you throw a big enough rock into the pond, can you make it become a tsunami? I guess it would have to depend completely on the size of the pond and the size of the rock. Even a tiny pebble in a little puddle will make rings.
I'm afraid I am starting a personal trend in my life. I've got all my psychoactive meds regulated so I don't have to keep running to the shrink. My GP is fine with maintenance. So I don't think I can blame this on a change in medical protocol as it so obviously was last year. But I just dissolved another lifelong relationship. And this one is a family member. And I don't think it is repairable. I don't think I want it to be repairable. I am just wondering if it is because of my stage in life. (Y'all know I mean "age".) I am kind of relieved there is one less person in my life whose bullshit I have to put up with. Wow. I should personally diagram that sentence. I do know the 'with' hanging on the end there is totally wrong. But, I digress.
My two daughters are poles apart in age and attitude and life style. I think you would have to go with the most detailed kind of DNA test to find any similarities. And they are so lucky. My older daughter had mirror twin girls, and this is going to be a classic case of a family dynamic run completely amok. We see signs of it every day. Someone I worked with once said, "You can choose your friends, but you cannot choose your family. You are just stuck with them." (I worded that carefully, probably paraphrasing a bit so we wouldn't have to go into the you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose schtick.)
My mom died about six years ago and I still cannot forgive her for leaving my father behind. It is so painful to deal with, and it causes the most terrible friction in families. Today it boiled over big time. No, that is not a mixed metaphor if you understood the physics of heating water and the interaction of the molecules that produce the heat. But let me try to swing back to the rings in the water thing that I wanted to use as the thread to run through this rambling blog. Everything that has happened to us comes back into our lives in some way. I am pretty sure someone took this idea and ran with it and came up with the whole "Karma" thing. I am between two brothers and they have been pulling at my loyalties, perhaps not deliberately. In one case, perhaps deliberately. But the connection with one of them gave way tonight. I spoke at length with the other brother and we tried to analyze the cause of this rift. At one point I brought up the fact that my mother never made any bones about saying that the recently disconnected brother was a "surprise" and that they had only planned on two kids. I am sure that must have had an effect on so many things in his life. And there is a pretty big age gap. But through his childhood, and basically until he got married, we were such good friends. We had a hot car and we let him take it on dates and he never wrecked it. He would come and stay at our house just for a break. I thought it was very brotherly. Instead it seems that he feels he now is unfairly burdened with all these life changing decisions for everyone. In fact he has never been asked or designated to bear these burdens or make these decisions, and, geographically, in truth, I am the one that performs most of the actual physical involvement. And I have a spouse who is unusually kind about dealing with this situation which concerns my aging and alone father. It is perhaps a burden, and my father recently mentioned that he was sorry for all he put my husband and I through, and I replied that we did these things because we love him. (Tears. Irishmen.) I think maybe there is a distinction in doing something because you are burdened with it or doing something for love. Every family has its weird dynamics and undertows, but it seems that this time, every single pebble that was ever thrown into that pond chose today to send its rings out and deluge me with sadness and mistrust and complete confusion. What is done can sometimes not be undone. I do know that the path of action that I have been following is sturdy enough to not be washed out by this flood and I can keep on trucking along. I have that tee shirt.
Today's CTA: who's gonna push your wheelchair?
I'm afraid I am starting a personal trend in my life. I've got all my psychoactive meds regulated so I don't have to keep running to the shrink. My GP is fine with maintenance. So I don't think I can blame this on a change in medical protocol as it so obviously was last year. But I just dissolved another lifelong relationship. And this one is a family member. And I don't think it is repairable. I don't think I want it to be repairable. I am just wondering if it is because of my stage in life. (Y'all know I mean "age".) I am kind of relieved there is one less person in my life whose bullshit I have to put up with. Wow. I should personally diagram that sentence. I do know the 'with' hanging on the end there is totally wrong. But, I digress.
My two daughters are poles apart in age and attitude and life style. I think you would have to go with the most detailed kind of DNA test to find any similarities. And they are so lucky. My older daughter had mirror twin girls, and this is going to be a classic case of a family dynamic run completely amok. We see signs of it every day. Someone I worked with once said, "You can choose your friends, but you cannot choose your family. You are just stuck with them." (I worded that carefully, probably paraphrasing a bit so we wouldn't have to go into the you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose schtick.)
My mom died about six years ago and I still cannot forgive her for leaving my father behind. It is so painful to deal with, and it causes the most terrible friction in families. Today it boiled over big time. No, that is not a mixed metaphor if you understood the physics of heating water and the interaction of the molecules that produce the heat. But let me try to swing back to the rings in the water thing that I wanted to use as the thread to run through this rambling blog. Everything that has happened to us comes back into our lives in some way. I am pretty sure someone took this idea and ran with it and came up with the whole "Karma" thing. I am between two brothers and they have been pulling at my loyalties, perhaps not deliberately. In one case, perhaps deliberately. But the connection with one of them gave way tonight. I spoke at length with the other brother and we tried to analyze the cause of this rift. At one point I brought up the fact that my mother never made any bones about saying that the recently disconnected brother was a "surprise" and that they had only planned on two kids. I am sure that must have had an effect on so many things in his life. And there is a pretty big age gap. But through his childhood, and basically until he got married, we were such good friends. We had a hot car and we let him take it on dates and he never wrecked it. He would come and stay at our house just for a break. I thought it was very brotherly. Instead it seems that he feels he now is unfairly burdened with all these life changing decisions for everyone. In fact he has never been asked or designated to bear these burdens or make these decisions, and, geographically, in truth, I am the one that performs most of the actual physical involvement. And I have a spouse who is unusually kind about dealing with this situation which concerns my aging and alone father. It is perhaps a burden, and my father recently mentioned that he was sorry for all he put my husband and I through, and I replied that we did these things because we love him. (Tears. Irishmen.) I think maybe there is a distinction in doing something because you are burdened with it or doing something for love. Every family has its weird dynamics and undertows, but it seems that this time, every single pebble that was ever thrown into that pond chose today to send its rings out and deluge me with sadness and mistrust and complete confusion. What is done can sometimes not be undone. I do know that the path of action that I have been following is sturdy enough to not be washed out by this flood and I can keep on trucking along. I have that tee shirt.
Today's CTA: who's gonna push your wheelchair?
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Half a Beat
No matter what can be said about politics or the economy, I have to say 2011 was a year of learning for me. I know we are always learning, but never have I been so aware of learning such major life changing truths, life-changing at least for me. The most important thing to me, that has affected my life more than anything, is that you can never know another person. Your perception of that person is what you think is knowledge of that person, but it has nothing to do with who that person is. And that is fine if you are comfortable with your perception and comfortable with your own take on who that person is. I think the reason it was such a big deal for me is that it involved a long term relationship I had that went by the wayside. I felt not that I didn't know who that person really was, but that she had no clue what so ever of where I was coming from or why I thought the things I thought or said. Forty years of fakery as far as I am concerned. Then, when I was pretty much through rebounding from that, the knowledge helped me get through a huge emotional upset in my immediate family. So now, I will just take it all with a grain of salt and not let it affect the way I live my life. Partly, that is easier because of the point I am at in my life. I would be on the shrink couch every day had this happened when I was 22.
Then, we went to take holiday pics of the new baby and her brother and I sat there the whole time thinking, what does that guy do for a living, why would she marry him much less breed with him, he looks like he has a bad smell, that baby is funny looking, they should wait and take his picture when or if he gets cuter, why didn't the mom fix that girl's hair first, gee, that kid's voice is loud and high pitched, why would you put that same hideous sweater on all of your kids for a life long memory of a holiday, my grandson is so f-ing handsome, mom better hurry up and give him the facts of life talk cuz they are gonna be all over him in a year or two, my granddaughter is so cute, even when she glowers, oh, my god they must hate my daughter, she is so pretty and her kids are the only cute ones here, and Cassie looks so cute in those jeans. Is this perception or reality? I no longer know. Or perhaps I don't trust my judgment anymore having made such huge mistakes about people throughout my life. I am doing some work on my third book and I wanted to get these two people together and I was having a heck of a time figuring it out. But now I figured it out. If you love someone, you just love them. Even if it's your deluded perception. That's why God invented that special kind of pain that goes with love.
I like the show Bones. More than I like the books. I suspend belief. The relationship between Booth and Bones is so cute. No, it is totally bizarre and unrealistic actually, but I love them. I am so glad they are together. And right the head of the lab would wear THAT dress to work in a path lab. But it is one of my favorite shows. I rent the dvds at the library. I play catch up on On-Demand. I tried to watch a new show with a similar theme. Forensic medicine is huge lately. I don't recall the name but Dana Delaney is in it and I heard it was good. Every single meaningful glance, "How will she respond to this?" "How should I respond to that?" went on a beat too long. The characters could have been computer generated. I hated it. And, who knows, maybe it is great. Maybe it is my perception. There was this actress. She was the Charlie girl, and then they tried to make her an actress, (I won't say her name). They even gave her her own series. One of those algorithms telling them where the money comes from I guess. Every word out of her mouth was a half a beat off. It drove me up the wall. I saw her in a little bit part on some police procedural drama, and she had improved. Or my perception had changed.
I got a great review that was just the kind of language I understand. "Crazy good read." Which is exactly what I write, y'know? And then I am nosing around today and someone on Apple gave me one star cuz it jumped all over the place. Umm, no. It is totally linear,time-wise, age-wise, story wise. And who cares,their loss, they missed the nursing scene and that great blizzard and some other good stuff. But I clicked to see what else they had reviewed and they had given five stars to the app for ordering pizza from Pizza Hut. So it is always nice to have your pride and conceit taken down a peg or two and realize the company you are in, who you are sharing that bookshelf with. At least I have to be glad it wasn't a three star pizza ordering app.
I think the only way you are going to get read is if your work gets to the people that perceive life in a way similar to yours. So far they are few and far between, but, God, how I love them. Cuz they get "me". My ex-friend didn't. My husband doesn't. But someone did. So now I don't have to die with my song still in me. Someone heard this little bird.
Then, we went to take holiday pics of the new baby and her brother and I sat there the whole time thinking, what does that guy do for a living, why would she marry him much less breed with him, he looks like he has a bad smell, that baby is funny looking, they should wait and take his picture when or if he gets cuter, why didn't the mom fix that girl's hair first, gee, that kid's voice is loud and high pitched, why would you put that same hideous sweater on all of your kids for a life long memory of a holiday, my grandson is so f-ing handsome, mom better hurry up and give him the facts of life talk cuz they are gonna be all over him in a year or two, my granddaughter is so cute, even when she glowers, oh, my god they must hate my daughter, she is so pretty and her kids are the only cute ones here, and Cassie looks so cute in those jeans. Is this perception or reality? I no longer know. Or perhaps I don't trust my judgment anymore having made such huge mistakes about people throughout my life. I am doing some work on my third book and I wanted to get these two people together and I was having a heck of a time figuring it out. But now I figured it out. If you love someone, you just love them. Even if it's your deluded perception. That's why God invented that special kind of pain that goes with love.
I like the show Bones. More than I like the books. I suspend belief. The relationship between Booth and Bones is so cute. No, it is totally bizarre and unrealistic actually, but I love them. I am so glad they are together. And right the head of the lab would wear THAT dress to work in a path lab. But it is one of my favorite shows. I rent the dvds at the library. I play catch up on On-Demand. I tried to watch a new show with a similar theme. Forensic medicine is huge lately. I don't recall the name but Dana Delaney is in it and I heard it was good. Every single meaningful glance, "How will she respond to this?" "How should I respond to that?" went on a beat too long. The characters could have been computer generated. I hated it. And, who knows, maybe it is great. Maybe it is my perception. There was this actress. She was the Charlie girl, and then they tried to make her an actress, (I won't say her name). They even gave her her own series. One of those algorithms telling them where the money comes from I guess. Every word out of her mouth was a half a beat off. It drove me up the wall. I saw her in a little bit part on some police procedural drama, and she had improved. Or my perception had changed.
I got a great review that was just the kind of language I understand. "Crazy good read." Which is exactly what I write, y'know? And then I am nosing around today and someone on Apple gave me one star cuz it jumped all over the place. Umm, no. It is totally linear,time-wise, age-wise, story wise. And who cares,their loss, they missed the nursing scene and that great blizzard and some other good stuff. But I clicked to see what else they had reviewed and they had given five stars to the app for ordering pizza from Pizza Hut. So it is always nice to have your pride and conceit taken down a peg or two and realize the company you are in, who you are sharing that bookshelf with. At least I have to be glad it wasn't a three star pizza ordering app.
I think the only way you are going to get read is if your work gets to the people that perceive life in a way similar to yours. So far they are few and far between, but, God, how I love them. Cuz they get "me". My ex-friend didn't. My husband doesn't. But someone did. So now I don't have to die with my song still in me. Someone heard this little bird.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
BLOG USE
Do not try that new Blogger interface. It is AWFUL. Stats are unfindable. It took hours to get back to the original which I found by accident by clicking that little gear picture. Panic. . .
Blog Hop
The boxing day blog hop is going on yet. Just scroll down a few entries to the links. It won't hurt. I will go back and check the ending days.
Self Censorship
I didn't cave into a censor. I considered his remarks and decided he was right, that the Christmas cartoon might seem in bad taste to many, so it is gone. Still, folks, remember. I am really tired of hearing that Yes, Virginia joke.
Monday, December 26, 2011
RETURN to UPSY DOWNY LAND
Bad start to the day with emotional interchange about visiting my grandson. He's here and all is fine. Then:
Four star review from Barnes and Noble: "Crazy good read".
Four star review from Barnes and Noble: "Crazy good read".
Bipolar overload
Jenny is one bipolar crazy woman. She climbs into her best friend Barney's window as a young teen and begs for him to teach her about sex but it leads to a connection that neither of them can ever let go of even through marriages and children. While Jenny will always love Barney, she loves her actor husband Daniel too and they all have to learn to live with her actions and her condition. Crazy good read but after 600+ pages, the ending seemed kind of abrupt.
That's 600 Nook pages, guys, so don't worry. Sort of a series And everything works out for all my guys so better keep reading!!. I couldn't be happier with this person's choice of words.
BOXING DAY BLOG HOP
Here are the links for the BOXING DAY BLOGHOP. You should find the link to the next one at each site. There are puzzles and giveaways. My giveaway link is posted at the bottom of this list. I am a novice at this so I hope it works out well for all of you and I hope you had a wonderful Holiday. Thanks for stopping by.
1. www.karenlowe.co.uk
2. http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com
1. www.karenlowe.co.uk
2. http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com
4. www.hamgee.co.uk/blog
5. http://lexirevellian.blogspot.com/
6. http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com
7. www.mhairisimpson.com
8. http://rubybarnes.blogspot.com
9. http://murderimpossible.blogspot.com
10. http://jimthewriterb.wordpress.com
11. http://dittymac.blogspot.com
12. http://vernonjbaker.blogspot.com
13. www.renaspromise.com
14. http://bullprotettoremurdermysteries.blo...
I am giving away a free download of SACRED SIN. It is available until January 15, 2012.
Here is the link!
http://smashwords.com/books/view/85160
This is a modern love story with some explicit content.
5. http://lexirevellian.blogspot.com/
6. http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com
7. www.mhairisimpson.com
8. http://rubybarnes.blogspot.com
9. http://murderimpossible.blogspot.com
10. http://jimthewriterb.wordpress.com
11. http://dittymac.blogspot.com
12. http://vernonjbaker.blogspot.com
13. www.renaspromise.com
14. http://bullprotettoremurdermysteries.blo...
I am giving away a free download of SACRED SIN. It is available until January 15, 2012.
Here is the link!
http://smashwords.com/books/view/85160
This is a modern love story with some explicit content.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANUKKAH, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Indie Publishing--an Analogy
(Loudly blowing horn. . .)
I'm an "Indie Publisher". That covers a lot of ground: self-published, Kindle, Smashwords, Indie Press and others. It was a combination of impatience and snobbery that led me down that path. I don't even fit the amorphous indie model. I write street language, infidelity, God dropping in for an occasional remark or two. But it's good. It's light, fast, fun, irreverent, sexy and not dirty. I don't think a good BJ scene has to be dirty, with a lot of slobbering, romantic over-the-top description of the penis, submissive behavior, and a bossy guy to be realistic or good or sexy. I'm probably one of a very few that can write a sexy BJ scene that is nice. Lora Leigh's are f-ing scary. Rate 'em.
And then when the rejection letters came filled with poor grammar, misspellings, missing words, (fill in the blank in their form letters where they could not bother to fill in the blank) and obvious signs that they never looked at the work, well, I love you, Betsy, but fuck 'em.
So a new track ball on the desktop pc, a new laptop, and an illness have kept me away from my creative endeavors and I have been watching movies. Last night I fell asleep watching Teeth which was about vagina dentata and sucked, which I realize is an oxymoron. But, when I woke, I was wide awake and it was quite late so I surfed Starz On Demand, and started to watch The Cleaner. Did you ever hear of it? I haven't. Samuel L. Jackson, who has been in some turkeys, but was doing an excellent job of being Samuel L. Jackson, always his best role. That beautifully aging fox, Ed Harris. Complex plot. Little straggling octopus threads grabbing you right off. Good subplot with Jackson's daughter, not thrown in, important, interesting. You know how in Transporter Jason Statham goes up to the wrought iron gate of the manse and it's what's her name --Amber Valletta?-- and it rates him a huge cardboard statue in the theater lobby? Well, Jackson goes up to the wrought iron gate and it is Eva Mendez doing her usual wooden Barbie thing, but being very beautiful and just interesting to watch, but no cardboard statue for Jackson. Alicia Silverstone as Jackson's office manager looking better than she ever did, (needed a little more of her acerbic commentary here).
So here's my point. They have algorithms. And Alvin and the Chipmunks gets the play, the licensing, the press. Pirates of the Caribbean--you see how much those fucking Legos cost. Cleaner gets shit. Probably went straight to Video.
I write The Cleaner of love stories. Lora Leigh writes the Alvin and the Chipmunks or The Transporter of love stories. Harlequin Press has its algorithms, probably constructed by the same programmer that said Alvin and the Chipmunks would make millions. I walked the walk. Alvin didn't. We can't fit any agent's algorithm. Too bad for them. A couple of four star reviews by strangers that indicate they actually got what I was writing tell me I did good. Maybe not for the fans of The Tortured Love of the Troubled Duke or Alvin, but good enough to appeal to the same people that surf for a good movie to watch--and occasionally find one. Maybe not great, but good. And enjoyable. I got more than 900 downloads from Barnes and Noble for my Lawman freebie and 21 of those people bothered to rate it so far, and some were four stars. I can still walk the walk. Pay attention to my name.
I am feeling waaay better, and I told you you were gonna get it.
I'm an "Indie Publisher". That covers a lot of ground: self-published, Kindle, Smashwords, Indie Press and others. It was a combination of impatience and snobbery that led me down that path. I don't even fit the amorphous indie model. I write street language, infidelity, God dropping in for an occasional remark or two. But it's good. It's light, fast, fun, irreverent, sexy and not dirty. I don't think a good BJ scene has to be dirty, with a lot of slobbering, romantic over-the-top description of the penis, submissive behavior, and a bossy guy to be realistic or good or sexy. I'm probably one of a very few that can write a sexy BJ scene that is nice. Lora Leigh's are f-ing scary. Rate 'em.
And then when the rejection letters came filled with poor grammar, misspellings, missing words, (fill in the blank in their form letters where they could not bother to fill in the blank) and obvious signs that they never looked at the work, well, I love you, Betsy, but fuck 'em.
So a new track ball on the desktop pc, a new laptop, and an illness have kept me away from my creative endeavors and I have been watching movies. Last night I fell asleep watching Teeth which was about vagina dentata and sucked, which I realize is an oxymoron. But, when I woke, I was wide awake and it was quite late so I surfed Starz On Demand, and started to watch The Cleaner. Did you ever hear of it? I haven't. Samuel L. Jackson, who has been in some turkeys, but was doing an excellent job of being Samuel L. Jackson, always his best role. That beautifully aging fox, Ed Harris. Complex plot. Little straggling octopus threads grabbing you right off. Good subplot with Jackson's daughter, not thrown in, important, interesting. You know how in Transporter Jason Statham goes up to the wrought iron gate of the manse and it's what's her name --Amber Valletta?-- and it rates him a huge cardboard statue in the theater lobby? Well, Jackson goes up to the wrought iron gate and it is Eva Mendez doing her usual wooden Barbie thing, but being very beautiful and just interesting to watch, but no cardboard statue for Jackson. Alicia Silverstone as Jackson's office manager looking better than she ever did, (needed a little more of her acerbic commentary here).
So here's my point. They have algorithms. And Alvin and the Chipmunks gets the play, the licensing, the press. Pirates of the Caribbean--you see how much those fucking Legos cost. Cleaner gets shit. Probably went straight to Video.
I write The Cleaner of love stories. Lora Leigh writes the Alvin and the Chipmunks or The Transporter of love stories. Harlequin Press has its algorithms, probably constructed by the same programmer that said Alvin and the Chipmunks would make millions. I walked the walk. Alvin didn't. We can't fit any agent's algorithm. Too bad for them. A couple of four star reviews by strangers that indicate they actually got what I was writing tell me I did good. Maybe not for the fans of The Tortured Love of the Troubled Duke or Alvin, but good enough to appeal to the same people that surf for a good movie to watch--and occasionally find one. Maybe not great, but good. And enjoyable. I got more than 900 downloads from Barnes and Noble for my Lawman freebie and 21 of those people bothered to rate it so far, and some were four stars. I can still walk the walk. Pay attention to my name.
I am feeling waaay better, and I told you you were gonna get it.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Stuck in the Middle
Just don't forget, guys. Lawman doing well on Barnes & Noble and Sony. Inching along on Amazon, but still alive. SACRED SIN doing great with freebie at Smashwords. I wish I knew something about marketing trends.
The Maze is for sale at Amazon, but I am working on an edited edition. Can't put links as I am not home. Hang in there with me okay?
The Maze is for sale at Amazon, but I am working on an edited edition. Can't put links as I am not home. Hang in there with me okay?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Grrrrrr
Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas. Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas last year. We could not get on the internet or do any thing with it, so it was all "blamed" on the local wi-fi connections and the router we were using and it went back to the store. It was unusable. So THIS YEAR he bought me the exact same one Cassie bought because she took it out of the box and got everything up and working in about ten minutes. We were not home when she did that. That is, I was not home, and, more importantly, LOUIE was not at home. A zillion years ago Louie's profession was going into banks and putting all their operations on computer. Mind you, at that time, the computer took up a whole room and had to have a special humidity and temperature controlled environment. Sort of like back to the Jurassic period computer-wise. Therefore, he considers himself the know all end all of computer operation. This can be visualized as the guy in the phone kiosk at the mall explaining an Android app to Alexander Graham Bell. So, he has been sitting at the dining room table for one and a half hours and he just gave up, saying it had sent him into outer space and he didn't know what to do now. No. We will not PAY the geek squad to come and help us. It will go back to the store.
My only option will be to buy one on the QT and sneak it in the house when he is not home and have Cassie take it out of the box and set it up for me. Meanwhile, I am doing fine on this old HP. Just now he asked if the first part of our phone number was 265. Jesus save me.
Think I will rustle up my vintage housewife pic.
My only option will be to buy one on the QT and sneak it in the house when he is not home and have Cassie take it out of the box and set it up for me. Meanwhile, I am doing fine on this old HP. Just now he asked if the first part of our phone number was 265. Jesus save me.
Think I will rustle up my vintage housewife pic.
Friday, December 09, 2011
Free download.
Another Freebie
This can be downloaded to any device or to your PC.
The free download of LAWMAN is over now.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Thunder
I am thunderstruck. My world has tilted on its axis. This is partially due to the shit load of codeine that I am ingesting and partially due to the fact that I discovered something today called the affiliate sales site on Smashwords. God bless Barnes and Noble. Long may they prosper. I have a new outlook on life, on my work, on me.
I hope I still have it when the antibiotics and the codeine are gone.
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Giving In To the System
I gave in and went to the dr. and got antibiotics and some lovely, dreamy, special cough syrup. I know I was being stubborn but I have had enough lectures on "It's a virus. Antibiotics won't help it." Actually I set the galleys on that book for Contemporary Press. So I waited the whole twelve days. Viruses are supposed to go away in ten. So in a couple of days you are going to get it from me big time, and I'm not talking about my cold. The thing is, you slack off a few days and the attention just fades away. What is wrong with you? Where do your loyalties lie? When I am needing you the most, where are you? You know how bad this was? Louie folded my laundry for me. Forty seven years that took. Please. A cool cloth and a few There, there's is all I ask. I've been so good to you. Well, except for that little fire I started on Mises. That did distract me a bit. They know about loyalty at least.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Another Freebie
The free download of LAWMAN is over now.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Philosophical fun with the flu
I'm sick. I will be better before I get to read through ALL your messages of sympathy so don't send one. Buy my book instead. But I have never been so philosophical about illness and I wonder if it is age-related or what.
Last week I felt like every muscle in my body was complaining as though I'd gotten/I got out of a risen I rose from a wheelchair and ran a marathon. And, no, that is not politically incorrect cuz if I didn't have surgery eight years ago, I would be in a wheelchair. Then Thanksgiving was its usual depressing downer and I woke up Friday feeling sick. I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to know what the germ does in your body to make you feel this way and she offered me her Pathophysiology text. Okay, I am not that interested.
So I've just been sleeping and reading a lot and taking so much medicine. Benadryl and guiafenesin and aspirin or ibuprofen plus the usual daily six pack (not beer, for God's sake.) And I would have an English muffin (which I fork-split) just because I thought my stomach could not bear the chemical assault, but then I would feel like I was going to lose that, small wonder the chemical stew in there. And my mind feels fine, but is really racing, more than usual. I think the pressure from the sinuses causes this. I offer myself as test subject. And today Fran wanted to do secret shopping for the kiddos and I wanted so much to go along and look at toys and play with the Fisher-Price pianos and stuff. So we go Panera and Toys r us and she swings through the ATM lane which is half way back to my house and I said, maybe you should take me home cuz I don't feel so good. I get out of her car and I STAGGERED. You know how people always use that word and really what does it mean? I staggered over and leaned on a tree then staggered to the porch and leaned on the door and got the door open and leaned on the wall and slowly staggered up the six stairs. I am sure the neighbors think I had a three martini lunch.
What is being "sick"? It doesn't hurt. It's just like weirdness and a different feeling in every cell. I don't even have a fever. And they say 'that song is sick' and it could mean it is great or horrible. "You sick bastard!" is definitely negative but frequently said with a laugh. Well, it's a good reason to rest up and slack off and make people go buy you popsicles. And I am almost finished with a little mystery book that popped out of the bookcase at me that was published in 1968 and is actually pretty good. There's a right moment for everything. So, back to my book. I'll be fine tomorrow. Which is what I thought last night.
I was dabbling with the Kindle last night or afternoon, it is all a blur to me, and I was reading my own book, which I do all the time, and I noticed I use the word GOT an awful lot.
Today's CTA: what is your favorite flavor popsicle?
Last week I felt like every muscle in my body was complaining as though
So I've just been sleeping and reading a lot and taking so much medicine. Benadryl and guiafenesin and aspirin or ibuprofen plus the usual daily six pack (not beer, for God's sake.) And I would have an English muffin (which I fork-split) just because I thought my stomach could not bear the chemical assault, but then I would feel like I was going to lose that, small wonder the chemical stew in there. And my mind feels fine, but is really racing, more than usual. I think the pressure from the sinuses causes this. I offer myself as test subject. And today Fran wanted to do secret shopping for the kiddos and I wanted so much to go along and look at toys and play with the Fisher-Price pianos and stuff. So we go Panera and Toys r us and she swings through the ATM lane which is half way back to my house and I said, maybe you should take me home cuz I don't feel so good. I get out of her car and I STAGGERED. You know how people always use that word and really what does it mean? I staggered over and leaned on a tree then staggered to the porch and leaned on the door and got the door open and leaned on the wall and slowly staggered up the six stairs. I am sure the neighbors think I had a three martini lunch.
What is being "sick"? It doesn't hurt. It's just like weirdness and a different feeling in every cell. I don't even have a fever. And they say 'that song is sick' and it could mean it is great or horrible. "You sick bastard!" is definitely negative but frequently said with a laugh. Well, it's a good reason to rest up and slack off and make people go buy you popsicles. And I am almost finished with a little mystery book that popped out of the bookcase at me that was published in 1968 and is actually pretty good. There's a right moment for everything. So, back to my book. I'll be fine tomorrow. Which is what I thought last night.
I was dabbling with the Kindle last night or afternoon, it is all a blur to me, and I was reading my own book, which I do all the time, and I noticed I use the word GOT an awful lot.
Today's CTA: what is your favorite flavor popsicle?
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thanksgiving Oatmeal
WARNING!! This is a complete downer.
I have these pictures when Fran was about three and it is my dining room on Elmwood and this long dining table and this huge turkey and this beautiful tablecloth and Lou and Fran and me. My parents were in Florida having their Turkey dinner at the rec hall and enjoying the hell out of it and you didn't have to wash dishes unless your state was on the social committee that month which happened every 52 plus months because a lot of the people lived in Canada. And everyone else in my family and in Louie's family had something better do to. Actually, they don't like us.
So this year I took the leaf out of the table and the dining room is a little smaller on Hazelwood and it will be Lou and me and my dad, because after my mom died, my dad didn't have anyone to have Thanksgiving dinner with and Fran married into this huge close knit family and we are like the wrinkly old people that scare the little kids. I bought the smallest Turkey in the case and I was invited somewhere by someone nice, but I got this terrible haircut and kind of didn't know what to do with my dad, and Cassie doesn't know if she will be home in time to sit with us and I thought Louie had to work, but he doesn't, so at least he will be there, otherwise it would be me and my dad. How fucking pitiful is that?
But the one that sticks in my mind as the quintessential Thanksgiving day celebration was the year that I gave birth to a six pound stillborn baby boy on November eighteenth and was told I had to buck up and go to auntie's in Glenview for Thanksgiving dinner. And in those days no one acknowledged that you might be feeling grief or sadness and God forbid you should show it and it was cold and drizzly and we are driving out there, me bleeding and breasts aching, and we see this horrible seven car pile up on the Interstate and they are shoveling bodies into ambulances and we get to Auntie's and I get a big hug and "How are you?" Seriously, auntie, what the fuck do you think? I commented that I wasn't feeling too well yet (faux pas in those days) and we saw this horrible accident on the highway and she says, "Oh, today, you have to remember all that you are thankful for." No. I don't want to. And I really should get over it but that is the clincher, like the only parade you will ever remember is when the huge balloon broke free and killed that little boy.
So, you know Google Plus and how it is a huge pain in the neck? Well, I think it saved my life today. They had this riff from The Oatmeal about Thanksgiving and I laughed out loud about four times. Thank you Francesca for cluing me into The Oatmeal. And , everyone, have a happy Holiday. I love turkey and I make the best gravy in the whole fucking world. Your loss.
I have these pictures when Fran was about three and it is my dining room on Elmwood and this long dining table and this huge turkey and this beautiful tablecloth and Lou and Fran and me. My parents were in Florida having their Turkey dinner at the rec hall and enjoying the hell out of it and you didn't have to wash dishes unless your state was on the social committee that month which happened every 52 plus months because a lot of the people lived in Canada. And everyone else in my family and in Louie's family had something better do to. Actually, they don't like us.
So this year I took the leaf out of the table and the dining room is a little smaller on Hazelwood and it will be Lou and me and my dad, because after my mom died, my dad didn't have anyone to have Thanksgiving dinner with and Fran married into this huge close knit family and we are like the wrinkly old people that scare the little kids. I bought the smallest Turkey in the case and I was invited somewhere by someone nice, but I got this terrible haircut and kind of didn't know what to do with my dad, and Cassie doesn't know if she will be home in time to sit with us and I thought Louie had to work, but he doesn't, so at least he will be there, otherwise it would be me and my dad. How fucking pitiful is that?
But the one that sticks in my mind as the quintessential Thanksgiving day celebration was the year that I gave birth to a six pound stillborn baby boy on November eighteenth and was told I had to buck up and go to auntie's in Glenview for Thanksgiving dinner. And in those days no one acknowledged that you might be feeling grief or sadness and God forbid you should show it and it was cold and drizzly and we are driving out there, me bleeding and breasts aching, and we see this horrible seven car pile up on the Interstate and they are shoveling bodies into ambulances and we get to Auntie's and I get a big hug and "How are you?" Seriously, auntie, what the fuck do you think? I commented that I wasn't feeling too well yet (faux pas in those days) and we saw this horrible accident on the highway and she says, "Oh, today, you have to remember all that you are thankful for." No. I don't want to. And I really should get over it but that is the clincher, like the only parade you will ever remember is when the huge balloon broke free and killed that little boy.
So, you know Google Plus and how it is a huge pain in the neck? Well, I think it saved my life today. They had this riff from The Oatmeal about Thanksgiving and I laughed out loud about four times. Thank you Francesca for cluing me into The Oatmeal. And , everyone, have a happy Holiday. I love turkey and I make the best gravy in the whole fucking world. Your loss.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
Obviously
I have the Style Guide thing all worked out and I figured out how to load non Amazon stuff on my Kindle. No. I didn't figure it out. I figured out how to follow someones perfectly explicit and clear directions. So, obviously, I have no more barriers in the way of my getting on with publishing my book and a half, and, obviously, my head is spinning with thoughts that need to pour out. You can't stop me from pouring them out. Just don't read them if you don't like them. If it will make the inside of your head feel better, you can even delete them. But, I am warning you, that would be a mistake. Anyway, this whole rant is a stall and a waste of everyones time.
The theme of today's discussion is tattling. If you were ever a mom, you know the painful dichotomy of trying to teach your kids not to be a tattle tale and having the burden of knowing they are aware of something horrible going on that they are afraid of telling because they don't want to be a tattle tale. These bits of knowledge may run the gamut from Joey taking that dime that you left on the dryer after it fell out of someones jeans, or he let that horrible little boy down the street ride his bike and that is why it is broken, but after all, he will man up and take the blame because you already told him not to let that creature ride the brand new bike, and he cannot possibly tattle on the horrible creature. First of all it would be tattling, and foremost, the horrible child would maim him for life. Somewhere along the line, most children learn to determine that it is a necessity to tell your mommy that you saw Mr. Jorgenson burying his wife under the birdbath and you should just keep quiet about the fact that your sister puts lipstick on as soon as she is half way down the block.
But not everyone gets to this place in their life. I was standing at the service desk in WalMart, waiting to send the latest multi thousand dollar money order to my lover that lives on a small Greek Island when a woman came in and CUT in line, her mission was so important. She gave the description and license numbers of several cars in the parking lot that had ignored and/or disobeyed the handicap sign regulations and she demanded that the service desk commander, already stressed because she was alone and eight people were already waiting in line, call the local police immediately to come and cite these people for their malfeasance.
The service desk person began to look about for the telephone book, muttering how she didn't have the number at hand and couldn't this wait while she took care of the other people ahead of her, and the parking space troll said it had to be done immediately in case the people breaking this law left before they were properly chastised and made to give up a portion of their time and their personal fortune because of their sin and "the number is written right here on your desk blotter because I saw it there yesterday". This is the woman's hobby.
Before I got my new prosthetic knees and it still hurt to walk, I nudged a shopping cart up a little with my car so I could fit into a space closer to the store and the shopping cart rolled into the corral for carts that was directly in front of the space I had chosen. A woman saw this and circumnavigated the lot so she could drive all the way back to tell me she didn't think I should do that because the cart corral deserved that space also. By this time I had left the car and was walking toward the store and exaggerating my crippled hobble for her benefit. I said, "Call the police." and went into the store. She may have been the Wal Mart parking lot troll and I just caught her at shank's end of her daily forays.
My neighbor's children raised a few chickens, maybe five, for a 4-H project. They built a maze type structure for the chickens to play in which extended into my yard. One of our more observant neighbors reported us. The police showed up at my house. I blurted, "but they are Miller's chickens". The Millers, eleven years later, still refer to this as me reporting them to the police. At least they are being facetious. I hope.
I made a half joking remark on a thread that I didn't need to be on, one never does need to be on a thread actually, about how I had cheated on the NaNoWriMo contest (if you don't know what that is, leave well enough alone cuz it is stupid) by posting a novel I had finished writing months before. I was called out for my moral turpitude and lectured on how that would destroy my character and tarnish my legacy, if I was not already beyond hope, which they pointedly remarked, I must already be.
I was discussing the variety of resources one could access when making or buying cover art for their self-published works, and I mentioned that one image I used was gifted, three were purchased and one was stolen. I got the lecture about copyright law and how someone would come after me. What? Are they going to confiscate my royalties? Good luck with that.
Then there are the times when you (at least I) sit and mull about how you let so and so get away with such and such, and how one person you know sues anyone and everyone for anything and everything, and the only thing I can come up with is something my mom said. And I am not given to quoting bon mot from my mother because she was not too big on that, preferring the Martini as a coping mechanism; "Mend your own fences." Which, I will translate for you, my beloved readers, "Mend your own fucking fences, asshole."
Today's provocative, dialogue inducing question: Do you even have a fence?
The theme of today's discussion is tattling. If you were ever a mom, you know the painful dichotomy of trying to teach your kids not to be a tattle tale and having the burden of knowing they are aware of something horrible going on that they are afraid of telling because they don't want to be a tattle tale. These bits of knowledge may run the gamut from Joey taking that dime that you left on the dryer after it fell out of someones jeans, or he let that horrible little boy down the street ride his bike and that is why it is broken, but after all, he will man up and take the blame because you already told him not to let that creature ride the brand new bike, and he cannot possibly tattle on the horrible creature. First of all it would be tattling, and foremost, the horrible child would maim him for life. Somewhere along the line, most children learn to determine that it is a necessity to tell your mommy that you saw Mr. Jorgenson burying his wife under the birdbath and you should just keep quiet about the fact that your sister puts lipstick on as soon as she is half way down the block.
But not everyone gets to this place in their life. I was standing at the service desk in WalMart, waiting to send the latest multi thousand dollar money order to my lover that lives on a small Greek Island when a woman came in and CUT in line, her mission was so important. She gave the description and license numbers of several cars in the parking lot that had ignored and/or disobeyed the handicap sign regulations and she demanded that the service desk commander, already stressed because she was alone and eight people were already waiting in line, call the local police immediately to come and cite these people for their malfeasance.
The service desk person began to look about for the telephone book, muttering how she didn't have the number at hand and couldn't this wait while she took care of the other people ahead of her, and the parking space troll said it had to be done immediately in case the people breaking this law left before they were properly chastised and made to give up a portion of their time and their personal fortune because of their sin and "the number is written right here on your desk blotter because I saw it there yesterday". This is the woman's hobby.
Before I got my new prosthetic knees and it still hurt to walk, I nudged a shopping cart up a little with my car so I could fit into a space closer to the store and the shopping cart rolled into the corral for carts that was directly in front of the space I had chosen. A woman saw this and circumnavigated the lot so she could drive all the way back to tell me she didn't think I should do that because the cart corral deserved that space also. By this time I had left the car and was walking toward the store and exaggerating my crippled hobble for her benefit. I said, "Call the police." and went into the store. She may have been the Wal Mart parking lot troll and I just caught her at shank's end of her daily forays.
My neighbor's children raised a few chickens, maybe five, for a 4-H project. They built a maze type structure for the chickens to play in which extended into my yard. One of our more observant neighbors reported us. The police showed up at my house. I blurted, "but they are Miller's chickens". The Millers, eleven years later, still refer to this as me reporting them to the police. At least they are being facetious. I hope.
I made a half joking remark on a thread that I didn't need to be on, one never does need to be on a thread actually, about how I had cheated on the NaNoWriMo contest (if you don't know what that is, leave well enough alone cuz it is stupid) by posting a novel I had finished writing months before. I was called out for my moral turpitude and lectured on how that would destroy my character and tarnish my legacy, if I was not already beyond hope, which they pointedly remarked, I must already be.
I was discussing the variety of resources one could access when making or buying cover art for their self-published works, and I mentioned that one image I used was gifted, three were purchased and one was stolen. I got the lecture about copyright law and how someone would come after me. What? Are they going to confiscate my royalties? Good luck with that.
Then there are the times when you (at least I) sit and mull about how you let so and so get away with such and such, and how one person you know sues anyone and everyone for anything and everything, and the only thing I can come up with is something my mom said. And I am not given to quoting bon mot from my mother because she was not too big on that, preferring the Martini as a coping mechanism; "Mend your own fences." Which, I will translate for you, my beloved readers, "Mend your own fucking fences, asshole."
Today's provocative, dialogue inducing question: Do you even have a fence?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
It Happened Again
When you do this indie publishing thing, you(I) hear from so many people that are so opposed to it. I, personally, am all over the map about is this whoring? Is this frustration? Is this vanity? Is this a need to enlighten? Is this a waste of my time and other's time and space? When the gauge by which you judge yourself is so palpable and undeniable as actual dollars or actual printed words, it is so easy to let yourself be wracked by self doubt. I think this is normal. I don't think I am particularly more or less filled with self doubt than any other Joe Shmoe. And I already discussed being a Joe Shmoe and being accepting of that. And I totally feel that putting your words and thoughts out in the public eye indicates that there is a lot more going on than self doubt. And then you get a random review from a random stranger and you are jubilant. Not so much an ego thing, that they Like you, like Sally Field, but that the words they chose indicate they get what you are saying. This holds far more meaning for me than having someone say "Your style is so fun or amazing, or ridiculous, or convoluted, or strange, or stupid, or hideous."
But then you are kind of noticing a person, and identifying with their doubts and their struggles and you go so far as to compliment them and try to encourage them and buoy them up a bit and thank them for sharing with you, and then you read something, and it is like Holy Shit. This sucks. This makes no sense. I can't follow this. My sophomore English teacher gave me more props than this will ever get. This is fucking hopeless. What do you do? I know what I do, what I will do, what is the only comfortable path for me. I am going to fade out of the scenario. And I'm gonna wonder. Self doubt? Apparently I have none. Apparently there is just a certain blindness people have. Apparently people that love me want me to just stay in my cloud of self-delusionment for fear of hurting me (which never seemed to bother them before) or robbing me, in my final moments, of my last thread of hope.. . Or apparently I can write.
And, you know what? I will never have an answer for that.
But then you are kind of noticing a person, and identifying with their doubts and their struggles and you go so far as to compliment them and try to encourage them and buoy them up a bit and thank them for sharing with you, and then you read something, and it is like Holy Shit. This sucks. This makes no sense. I can't follow this. My sophomore English teacher gave me more props than this will ever get. This is fucking hopeless. What do you do? I know what I do, what I will do, what is the only comfortable path for me. I am going to fade out of the scenario. And I'm gonna wonder. Self doubt? Apparently I have none. Apparently there is just a certain blindness people have. Apparently people that love me want me to just stay in my cloud of self-delusionment for fear of hurting me (which never seemed to bother them before) or robbing me, in my final moments, of my last thread of hope.. . Or apparently I can write.
And, you know what? I will never have an answer for that.
The Pain of Knowledge
There was some cowboy sidekick guy that was always saying "You young whippersnappers". I am doing my doctoral dissertation on the origins and underlying meanings behind that phrase and its usage.
It was a chilly, drizzly, windy day in North Suburban Chicago, a place where everyone knows we have four nice days a year. The doorbell rang. An unusual occurrence causing the dog to freak. Spellcheck picked up three errors in that one sentence.
It was AT(&)T Uverse salesmen and we welcomed them into the foyer--a lovely warm room. They went on and on to my spouse. I kept interjecting. I finally introduced myself into the conversation, introduced in the sense of inserting, not in the sense of saying my name. I stated that it was my decision since it was my portion of the allowance and my name on the account and I was ready to say yes, BUT. . .
By now one of the youngsters was sitting on the staircase, as was I, and a third lovely young lady had joined us. She was carrying a Glock 27 with gold engraving on the butt and shot the dog. Just kidding.
I asked a few questions like would I still get STARZ (Are those peni on Spartacus prosthetic? This has yet to be answered.) (No. I didn't ask the salesman that. Really, now. . . Why would you even think that?) and how long was the promotional period and it soon became time to initial documents which I was prepared to do since they had assured me they were not contracts, but simply payment agreements. That's a new one, huh? At one point the young man answered a question I posed and I said, "Yeah. But you might be playing me. You kind of look like you are." He was classically dumbfounded. Or at least the expression on his face indicated that. Someone had to pick up the conversational ball that he dropped at that moment.
There was quite a bit of banter about our incredible age and their incredible youth and local dialect and what it was like to live in Riyadh, even for short periods of time. And I said, "Okay, but recently I was discussing things with a local resident and she mentioned that uVerse was supposed to be the best but we couldn't get it in our area." The young man had earlier reassured my husband that they had surreptitiously inserted fiber optic cable under our driveway, at which time, while the theme from The Twilight Zone played softly in the background, I bit my tongue so as not to embarrass my spouse who actually worked repairing engines in Nuclear submarines and actually installed fiber optic cable under the Chicago River. I was dismayed that he was buying that story, but I know men of his age frequently have minor neurological events that can impair their thinking processes.
As a sort of reply to my comment, the young whippersnapper sitting near me in the stairwell shook a bundle of papers at me and said, "Would we be out in this weather if we didn't already have that information?" in what can only be described as a snippy tone. And she showed me our address on one of her pieces of paper. Now my spouse was clearly biting his tongue--I knew this cuz blood was flowing down his chin--(just kidding again) because I frequently embarrass him with my outbursts of knowledge that he thinks I manufacture on the spot since he knows I wouldn't be married to him if I had a working brain cell. So off they went into the unpleasant weather, glowing and congratulating each other for another job well done, another sale they closed, another success story to last them the rest of their lives.
Three days later, my husband played back a few voice mails. We do this once a year. There was a message from AT(&)T stating that uVerse was not yet available in our area, but if we called them in a few months maybe they could help us. Once again, fuck me.
I have found that most bloggers end their blogs with a provocative question, probably to encourage commenting and continued social intercourse.
How do you slice an English Muffin?
It was a chilly, drizzly, windy day in North Suburban Chicago, a place where everyone knows we have four nice days a year. The doorbell rang. An unusual occurrence causing the dog to freak. Spellcheck picked up three errors in that one sentence.
It was AT(&)T Uverse salesmen and we welcomed them into the foyer--a lovely warm room. They went on and on to my spouse. I kept interjecting. I finally introduced myself into the conversation, introduced in the sense of inserting, not in the sense of saying my name. I stated that it was my decision since it was my portion of the allowance and my name on the account and I was ready to say yes, BUT. . .
By now one of the youngsters was sitting on the staircase, as was I, and a third lovely young lady had joined us. She was carrying a Glock 27 with gold engraving on the butt and shot the dog. Just kidding.
I asked a few questions like would I still get STARZ (Are those peni on Spartacus prosthetic? This has yet to be answered.) (No. I didn't ask the salesman that. Really, now. . . Why would you even think that?) and how long was the promotional period and it soon became time to initial documents which I was prepared to do since they had assured me they were not contracts, but simply payment agreements. That's a new one, huh? At one point the young man answered a question I posed and I said, "Yeah. But you might be playing me. You kind of look like you are." He was classically dumbfounded. Or at least the expression on his face indicated that. Someone had to pick up the conversational ball that he dropped at that moment.
There was quite a bit of banter about our incredible age and their incredible youth and local dialect and what it was like to live in Riyadh, even for short periods of time. And I said, "Okay, but recently I was discussing things with a local resident and she mentioned that uVerse was supposed to be the best but we couldn't get it in our area." The young man had earlier reassured my husband that they had surreptitiously inserted fiber optic cable under our driveway, at which time, while the theme from The Twilight Zone played softly in the background, I bit my tongue so as not to embarrass my spouse who actually worked repairing engines in Nuclear submarines and actually installed fiber optic cable under the Chicago River. I was dismayed that he was buying that story, but I know men of his age frequently have minor neurological events that can impair their thinking processes.
As a sort of reply to my comment, the young whippersnapper sitting near me in the stairwell shook a bundle of papers at me and said, "Would we be out in this weather if we didn't already have that information?" in what can only be described as a snippy tone. And she showed me our address on one of her pieces of paper. Now my spouse was clearly biting his tongue--I knew this cuz blood was flowing down his chin--(just kidding again) because I frequently embarrass him with my outbursts of knowledge that he thinks I manufacture on the spot since he knows I wouldn't be married to him if I had a working brain cell. So off they went into the unpleasant weather, glowing and congratulating each other for another job well done, another sale they closed, another success story to last them the rest of their lives.
Three days later, my husband played back a few voice mails. We do this once a year. There was a message from AT(&)T stating that uVerse was not yet available in our area, but if we called them in a few months maybe they could help us. Once again, fuck me.
I have found that most bloggers end their blogs with a provocative question, probably to encourage commenting and continued social intercourse.
How do you slice an English Muffin?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Postponement and Apologia
For those of you that have entered these hallowed halls eagerly anticipating the thrilling cable saga, I must apologize most humbly. I am unable to present it this evening. Please do not hold this against me and let me plead for you to continue your disproportionately appreciated patronage. I have a wonderful reason. It is valid and not to be mistaken for an excuse.
The part of my brain that exudes philosophical thought has swelled up. It hurts and I plan to take a shitload of drugs and ice it.
The part of my brain that exudes philosophical thought has swelled up. It hurts and I plan to take a shitload of drugs and ice it.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Big Reason Why
Concerning the madness that is the current state of the publishing industry:
I should not be bothering. People are BUYING, with apparent intellectual deliberation, apparently with actual money, books about whales that live in the center of the sun. Fuck me.
First of all, how would you get close enough to the actual sun to determine it had life forms within it, and then how would you be able to navigate through the corona of blazing hydrogen in order to communicate and interact with the creatures you there discovered. And, if any type of life form was able (were able?) to evolve under the conditions that exist within the center of the sun that must be rather horrendous considering that the end result is a corona of blazing hydrogen, why would that life form be a fucking whale. Seriously?
And B, why would anyone choose to interact with that life form if they did happen to be able to transnavigate the possible hazards of entering and hoping to exit a blazing hydrogen corona. Were they hoping to gather information that would be useful to them the next time they choose to discover whether or not it would be possible to enter the center of an object in space whose corona was perhaps blazing nitrogen?
And last and least, why would anyone want to write about such an unlikely combination of specific threads? I am thinking taking those little poetry magnets off the fridge door and shaking them about in a plastic jug and allowing seven of them to fall to the floor which would then become the title of your next literary masterpiece.
And then again, WHY would someone want to read about it? I am sure the person that entered the sun was the same person who owned the derelict salvage hauling space craft that contained the cargo of eggs which held embryonic, almost ready to hatch, male sex slaves with two peni. Fucking big eggs I imagine. Either that or really tiny male sex slaves with therefore tinier peni, explaining in a logical sort of way why he had to have two of them.
This is a BUSINESS that people sit around and form marketing plans for, and discuss, and go to school and pay a lot of tuition money to be accepted in the world of publishing. But then again, considering what is going on around me, tomorrow the cable tale, why would I expect anything other than complete insanity? And why do I worry about what is going on inside my head. It beats the hell out of what y'all are trying desperately to pass off as reality.
I should not be bothering. People are BUYING, with apparent intellectual deliberation, apparently with actual money, books about whales that live in the center of the sun. Fuck me.
First of all, how would you get close enough to the actual sun to determine it had life forms within it, and then how would you be able to navigate through the corona of blazing hydrogen in order to communicate and interact with the creatures you there discovered. And, if any type of life form was able (were able?) to evolve under the conditions that exist within the center of the sun that must be rather horrendous considering that the end result is a corona of blazing hydrogen, why would that life form be a fucking whale. Seriously?
And B, why would anyone choose to interact with that life form if they did happen to be able to transnavigate the possible hazards of entering and hoping to exit a blazing hydrogen corona. Were they hoping to gather information that would be useful to them the next time they choose to discover whether or not it would be possible to enter the center of an object in space whose corona was perhaps blazing nitrogen?
And last and least, why would anyone want to write about such an unlikely combination of specific threads? I am thinking taking those little poetry magnets off the fridge door and shaking them about in a plastic jug and allowing seven of them to fall to the floor which would then become the title of your next literary masterpiece.
And then again, WHY would someone want to read about it? I am sure the person that entered the sun was the same person who owned the derelict salvage hauling space craft that contained the cargo of eggs which held embryonic, almost ready to hatch, male sex slaves with two peni. Fucking big eggs I imagine. Either that or really tiny male sex slaves with therefore tinier peni, explaining in a logical sort of way why he had to have two of them.
This is a BUSINESS that people sit around and form marketing plans for, and discuss, and go to school and pay a lot of tuition money to be accepted in the world of publishing. But then again, considering what is going on around me, tomorrow the cable tale, why would I expect anything other than complete insanity? And why do I worry about what is going on inside my head. It beats the hell out of what y'all are trying desperately to pass off as reality.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Ennui
(No, seriously. What is with google? The whole frigging thing just disappears?)
I do not understand how universities and colleges can create Marketing curricula. It all seems entirely random to me. I post just to be posting what seems kind of a run on of blather, and it receives WAAY more hits than the one's I deliberately plan and promote. Why?
I am so sick of uploading or downloading pictures and manuscripts and style guides, I just want to never do it again and think I never should have started this because it is like dope. "Today I'll only take two of those and one of those. Whoops! They are all gone. Where did they go? I wish I never started with them" And looking at stats and comments is EXACTLY like counting how many xanax I have left. At least to me. Maybe you are healthy or something.
And checking to see if the late night or early morning flashes of literary brilliance have made it from the little orange Mickey Mouse notebook into the proper manuscript. The last MS I uploaded was so full of errors. Thank the powers that be that I am now a freaking expert on how to edit, search and replace and upload new versions in matters of minutes. (Put it on your Kindle and make the notes there.) And at least and at last, it is up, and actually sold already, but I haven't put it on Smashwords because for some ungodly reason the guide stored as individual little jpegs and it would take hours to find anything so I have to remember how I did that before so I could just keep it minimized on the desktop while I work. And I am absolutely thinking what a waste of these last few precious minutes I have on Earth and why am I not waxing floors or doing something someone might actually appreciate (what exactly would that be?) when I look and see there is a huge bump in sales. Why?
I am absolutely at the place where I am calling the characters by the wrong name. Or, honestly, forgetting what name I gave a character. I swore I would stop at four. I couldn't imagine getting any more ideas to run with since I don't know where the ideas ever came from in the first place, although I am pretty sure it is because of the change in meds. But, lo and behold, or not, as you choose, there I am at two in the morning doing three or four thousand words on Jenny's first marriage. Why?
Did you ever google yourself? Do you think that is a sick thing to do? There are 63,000 entries under Virginia Llorca. There is a twenty one year old girl in North Carolina named Virginia Llorca. How the fuck could that happen? I have stressed promoting that as my brand name cuz I thought it was so one of a kind-ish. She's probably getting all my royalty checks. Where else would they ALL be?
I swear to God and the gods, if I see one mention of the word ennui in anyone's blog this week, they are gonna get it.
I do not understand how universities and colleges can create Marketing curricula. It all seems entirely random to me. I post just to be posting what seems kind of a run on of blather, and it receives WAAY more hits than the one's I deliberately plan and promote. Why?
I am so sick of uploading or downloading pictures and manuscripts and style guides, I just want to never do it again and think I never should have started this because it is like dope. "Today I'll only take two of those and one of those. Whoops! They are all gone. Where did they go? I wish I never started with them" And looking at stats and comments is EXACTLY like counting how many xanax I have left. At least to me. Maybe you are healthy or something.
And checking to see if the late night or early morning flashes of literary brilliance have made it from the little orange Mickey Mouse notebook into the proper manuscript. The last MS I uploaded was so full of errors. Thank the powers that be that I am now a freaking expert on how to edit, search and replace and upload new versions in matters of minutes. (Put it on your Kindle and make the notes there.) And at least and at last, it is up, and actually sold already, but I haven't put it on Smashwords because for some ungodly reason the guide stored as individual little jpegs and it would take hours to find anything so I have to remember how I did that before so I could just keep it minimized on the desktop while I work. And I am absolutely thinking what a waste of these last few precious minutes I have on Earth and why am I not waxing floors or doing something someone might actually appreciate (what exactly would that be?) when I look and see there is a huge bump in sales. Why?
I am absolutely at the place where I am calling the characters by the wrong name. Or, honestly, forgetting what name I gave a character. I swore I would stop at four. I couldn't imagine getting any more ideas to run with since I don't know where the ideas ever came from in the first place, although I am pretty sure it is because of the change in meds. But, lo and behold, or not, as you choose, there I am at two in the morning doing three or four thousand words on Jenny's first marriage. Why?
Did you ever google yourself? Do you think that is a sick thing to do? There are 63,000 entries under Virginia Llorca. There is a twenty one year old girl in North Carolina named Virginia Llorca. How the fuck could that happen? I have stressed promoting that as my brand name cuz I thought it was so one of a kind-ish. She's probably getting all my royalty checks. Where else would they ALL be?
I swear to God and the gods, if I see one mention of the word ennui in anyone's blog this week, they are gonna get it.
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