Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Shalanna's LiveJournal:

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Friday, May 18th, 2012
4:02 pm	St. Jude Came Through With Flying Colors; or, Somebody Up There Likes Me, Pt. 2 Y'all! Y'all! Y'all! *said in Sheldon Cooper voice while knocking at doors* You'll never guess what. I just heard back from the OTHER editor at the OTHER small press. He writes that they have sent MARFA LIGHTS to an outside editor whose opinion they trust for another evaluation, and asks whether it is still available. Yes! Yes! (Pardon the exclamation points; I can't restrain myself.) It's available! Sending positive thoughts to whoever that other editor is. I really think MARFA LIGHTS has an audience, even though it's considerably darker than NICE WORK. It's the difference between the new movie version of DARK SHADOWS and the original with its atmosphere of real squickiness, I'd say. Some people will love the humor and the asides of the funny book, while others will be more serious about it all and the philosophical stuff will resonate with them while reading the darker book. "Your time has come, Miss Pisces. It's the positive influence of the planet Jupiter," advises my astrologer/cardreader friend Rain. "Jupiter is moving into Pisces. And since Jupiter was considered the Pisces planet until Neptune was discovered, it still has a great affinity for you little fishies." (Don't you hate being called "little fishies"? I'm definitely one of the big ones, not a neon tetra.) "It's going to stay for a year, so get ready for great things!" Oh, I am so ready. It's hard to believe that this is happening after struggling with this for nigh-onto twenty-five years (and that's only the SERIOUS stuff; before that, I was vending juvenilia and stuff that wasn't really ready for prime time, but by 1986 or so I had books that were seriously being considered at DAW, and six years after that I was said by Damon Knight to be "writing at a professional level; go forth and publish!" But fate was not inclined to speed things up then.) I'd better not keep on carrying on about this, for fear of jinxing it all, but seriously, folks, I'm feeling very optimistic. I do wish they'd put my contest win up on the Oak Tree site. The Webmaster is only there a couple of hours a week, and apparently they haven't gotten him to make a page for it. Yesterday I spoke to the lady who runs the "Richardson Reads One Book" program on the phone, and she told me to e-mail her boss about the possibility of having the entire town read my book next year as the designated book, but this morning I got a reply from that boss saying, "I'll pass along your recommendations, and good luck in the contest." Basically, blowing me off. Possibly because the book is not out just yet. Or maybe she misunderstood that I HAVE SIGNED THE CONTRACT and IT'S A DONE DEAL. Anyway, there's an entire year still left for me to work on their committee. It happens in April-May, and they're all busy wrapping up this year's bookfest. *whew* Now to go off and continue doing the good deeds to build up good karma for continued good fortune. "O Fortuna" and all that. Also, I already have the errands all lined up, so even though it is ORANGE POLLUTION LEVEL and Unhealthy for Sensitive Groups, we're committed. Or we soon WILL be. . . . (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 17th, 2012
2:25 am	NICE WORK by Denise Weeks wins Dark Oak mystery novel contest NOW it can be told! NICE WORK, my first novel in the Jacquidon and Chantal Carroll mystery series, has won the Dark Oak mystery contest and will be published by Oak Tree Press!! This morning I got my contract by e-mail and an agreement to sign. I've signed, and the process to publish the book is in motion. This is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream--publishing with a press that is not "tainted" in any way by being associated with self-publishing, fee-paying, or what-have-you. My book will be submitted to the various contests like the Lefty Award and the First Mystery Novel award from MWA and so forth, which could not have happened had I resorted to the CreateSpace answer. I'm glad I hung in there this time! This series is the "Snoop Sisters" humorous and non-gory, non-dark one. It doesn't have the angst of the MARFA LIGHTS/Ari series. What it does have, I hope, is a take on cozy/traditional mystery style that will appeal to fans of the Anne George "Southern Sisters" mysteries (much missed) and witty romps like the old Helen Hayes/Ruth Gordon "Snoop Sisters" television program. I know that it can take up to eighteen months to get a novel into print the traditional way, so I need to be patient. I've already asked about a tentative date and about the cover (because once I get a cover image, I can order promotional postcards and bookmarks and flyers and all that sort of thing for the various places I'll go to promote the book). I'm hoping that everything works out so that I get to attend Malice Domestic and Left Coast Crime the year the book comes out, too. One can dream. And sometimes one's dream can come true! The Book's Own Blog Oak Tree Press Home (They haven't announced the contest win yet, but I am told I can post about it now myself) (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 14th, 2012
3:50 am	Owl bea frank wif yew I really have to quit eating the Medifast Fruit Bar things before bed. Just woke up from a crazy dream involving a duckling who was inside our stove (!) and who un-froze (I never bought frozen duck(s), ever, and neither has anyone in the family) as I passed by; he jumped out of the stove quacking, having lost only a few feathers . . . I put him on a string and started walking him around as a pet and feeding him peanuts (!!), and then people asked if he might be slightly backward because of having been flash-frozen before I got him, and I began worrying because I wouldn't be able to teach him to fly (!!!). He started eating the decorative "sticks" that we had standing in jars around the house (I have never had those, but Mama used to have them). I'm glad something woke me up, even if it was probably the dog coughing or thunder rolling overhead. Did you know thunder is the angels bowling? ANYWAY. 1. I may have good news tomorrow or the next day. I hope what I have been told turns out to be the real deal, and that I didn't misconstrue or misunderstand! 2. Hubby's job is still a puzzler, but he has now been told that they want him to stay on and work from home!! They said they already have a software guy who works out of his home in Oklahoma (all right, no Oklahoma jokes--my cousin has already covered them all ) and that they'd be happy to arrange for hubby to bring home the computer(s) and stuff that he needs from the facility where his office is now (they're closing down operations in Plano). They would have him travel "infrequently" to Denver and possibly Chicago to present results and reports. This overrides what the Human Resources lady originally said, but it comes from a vice president dude, so it's probably good. They're working on the paperwork right now. He still does go to the office, although he is the only one in the building. He's doing research and working on various smaller project pieces until they give him the go-ahead to come home with this. Until I actually see the paperwork, I am skeptical. The facility closes down on June 12th, and he's the one who'll be closing it up by turning off the servers and watching the crew that they send in to pack it all up. On June 13th, we'll know the real skinny. Still, he believes. So we'll see. This would probably be the best of all worlds. Even though I'll have to completely clear out our sunroom so he can use it as an office. It's got an external entrance/exit and its own climate control, so it's perfect. Only problem is that we have several things of Mama's stored out there and a BUNCH of my books that have to be sorted through and taken out so that he might deduct the office space. I'm dubious about that last bit because it can get you audited in a New York nanosecond, but we'll see. Thinking about that, and about buying him a new desk and chair for out there, makes me tired already. 3. Hubby has a rash on his right shoulder and arm. I don't know what could have caused it. I changed the sheets and re-washed his T-shirts tonight so that we could eliminate the detergent as a cause of it (I had to change detergents AGAIN because as soon as I find one that I like, they change it. Used Fresh Start for YEARS, but when that went away I started using a Cheer Free and Gentle that they have now apparently had to stop making because they found out I was using it, and so I'm using a Tide Free and Clear that may not be entirely allergen-free. Hmph.) Now my feet are starting to itch. . . . 4. I may have lost some flab. The f%$%^& scale lies and says different numbers all the time. But the skirt I tried to wear today fell off several times (in the house, not at the mall), and my pants are much looser, and I got rid of several tees that were just too baggy. I think that scale is evil. 5. Mama's second pair of glasses has FINALLY come in at the EyeMasters. But she now says she can't see through this pair, and that the new pair will be the same, and she doesn't want them. She told the store manager that she wanted frames that are bigger so her bifocal thingie is in the proper place. It's true that the clerk told her when we bought these that she'd make it right if Mama could not use these or if there was any problem like this (the frames are too little, like every frame made today--where do you get old cat's eye glasses?? We need them.) I don't know how this is going to shake out. If only I could find this pair. Zenni Optical used to sell it, says the lady who posted this pic on another group, but they don't seem to have it any more. These would be perfect! 6. I want a flying car. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, May 4th, 2012
10:38 pm	A memory -- of something good? I decided to hold a yard sale. And clean off the bookshelves (take books to the used bookstore), which is always a trial for me. And sort out some more clothing to see whether another resale shop might take the stuff on consignment. So we have some clutter around. Mainly in the big rooms, but some of it in my mother's annex. (Not a Secret Annexe. It wouldn't stay secret for a second, what with her shouts of "My TV went crazy!" "I can't get my voice mail to play!" and "I need a Coke! And a sandwich! And a cookie! Yoo-hoo! Hello?") But the main irritating obstacle is a set of three plastic three-drawer stacking units that are about three feet wide and four feet tall. I brought them in from the garage last night because the afternoon before, when I had the garage door open so that I could run the dryer (idiots built the house to vent the dryer into the garage, in 1967, but still), some yahoo sprinted up while I wasn't watching and stole one of the four from where I'd stacked them near the garage door. A crime of opportunity, but still, shocking. This neighborhood used to be "lost," and we never locked our doors or bothered with tying stuff down and all that until a few years ago. But now people aren't taught right, and they steal. Something only worth $18 or whatever, but STILL. It's the thought that he or she DID that. But anyway, the REASON we got the units is so that Mama can have more drawer space. Things were stacking up around the walls in her room. These units will fit in the small hallway leading from her room off the kitchen to the half bath. (There's a closet on the other side, but she has that filled with all her good stuff.) They're now basically blocking the hall so that you must sort of shimmy down like a belly dancer traveling without her veils. I just had not had a chance to move all the stuff she has stacked against the walls . . . what with all the rollercoaster stuff and bringing people down from Rant City. (Today he did get a couple of phone calls that basically told him that he might not be laid off--that they have found jobs for all in Denver or Chicago--that something might be worked out for him to work from here and go up there once a month--so he's floating, but babbling with ideas as to how they might do this, seeing as how the facility is being closed down by June 12th and they'd have to either let him work from here or rent an office for him and the one other man they want to keep. BUT ANYWAY. She could get out through the kitchen to the breakfast nook and into the garage and out, or through her huge sliding window that ought to be a door. I haven't let her be hemmed in.) So this evening I was taking a WELL-DESERVED NAP and dreaming that my husband, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and others had gone to a mall in Fort Worth with me and had left without me, and now I was driving my own car to try to find my way home. I was excoriating them by cell phone while navigating roads right out of the thriller coasters at Six Flags when Hubby woke me to take my evening pills. Then the real phone rang, and it was my mother, from her lair. "Don't sleep any longer! We need to get up in the morning and clean this house so we could get out if it burns down!" A memory popped to mind. I told her I'd be there in a moment to move the boxes around, but then I turned to Hubby and the dog. "I know what to do if something happens. The first night I ever slept in this house was the day we'd moved here on July 4, 1967. I was seven years old, and my daddy tucked me in and I must have asked something, feeling insecure in a new room farther away from theirs. He said, 'If there's smoke or the house is burning down or intruders or anything like that, don't come to find me or start wandering the house. Just open this window'--the one over my bed, just higher than the top of the headboard--'and throw a pillow down and jump out. Then come around to the front door, and I'll be waiting there." "I'm going to throw my kitties down first." "That's fine. They'll land on their feet. But you just get out and come around. I'll be waiting." At the end of this telling, Hubby nodded and the dog looked very pensive. For some reason I burst into tears. He's in Heaven now and can't be waiting. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I'd awakened to some threat (in school they were always exhorting us to Duck and Cover if The Bomb went off or something) and I had grabbed my cats and run around to the front door and HE WASN'T THERE. Anyway. It's nice to know that back then, someone had a plan to take care of me. Now I'm the grown-up. I don't want to be the grown-up any more. ("Us, neither," comes the chorus. "Tough toenails," comes the echo from the Universe.) This house did burn down in July, 1986, by the way. My mother was living here by herself and working inhuman hours at the deli as a cook and shift manager, trying to make ends meet. The aluminum wiring in the walls caught fire and she woke up just as it was going good. She didn't know what had awakened her and went to that same half bath to "go." By the time she returned, the wall behind her daybed (where she slept) was in flames. Did she go out the window the way he said? No. She ran down the hall screaming and grabbed the telephone in the wet bar and dialed for help. The fire station is on the next corner. But her phone was already out. So she ran around opening all the doors so the three cats could get out. By this time she was coughing and she ran outside and all the way down the steet to the fire station in her crappy torn nightgown. (That must have been a sight. She was fifty-six.) The sirens started and she chased the engines back to see her roof engulged. Her favorite and youngest cat had a hiding place under an old 1960s sofa that sat on a foot-tall "shelf" (yes, it was a freakshow) and had a sort of "dungeon" underneath, a cage with wrought-iron scrolling, where the cat could get in and stare placidly out thinking "nyah-nyah" and no one could get to her. Well . . . when dawn broke and the fire was out, I asked the firemen to go look under the sofa, and they brought her out, but she'd gone to Heaven with Daddy. Also, everything in the house hadn't burned, because they put it out fairly quickly, but everything was coated with a special oil/soot layer that didn't come off. Not easily, anyway. That was a long hard road back. She should've just jumped out the window holding the cat. (The other two cats were actually mine and they knew to run outside as soon as she opened the doors. They'd always been adventurers.) But anyway, if something ever GOD FORBID happens to you, at home or visiting or in a hotel or wherever, get your cat/dog and your manuscript (I now keep mine on a memory stick in the nightstand, updated weekly, just for this very sort of thing--it also has the wedding pictures that I scanned in and a wave file of the music played at our wedding by my friend the flutist), and go out that window. Go around to the front. I'm sure someone will be waiting to help you. After all, we have to trust in something. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 3rd, 2012
4:29 am	Roller-coaster ride ending in layoff--or escape--or both Wow, what a roller-coaster ride the last few weeks have been. My husband's employer said, about a month ago, that he'd need to prepare for a trip to Denver that would last around two weeks. Since he has an ear canal deformity (I can't remember the acronym the doctor used in his letter, but it can't be LARP or LAPD, can it?) and can't fly, this meant he had to rent a minivan to haul the computer equipment (for the training he was to do) and presentation supplies and two weeks' worth of clothing and so forth. It's a two-day trip driving, even when you go through the Raton Pass. I've been hustling around to get his new clothes, paperwork, etc., ready, and we've all been stressed. (They had promised we'd go to Chicago, but because the programmers are mostly in Denver, they took away my visit to the Robie House and Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio and Navy Pier *sob* and were making me stay here at Casa el Dumpo to worry about everything.) Hubby, unlike his co-workers, had been working on the Part I design document for a new project that he'd be spending about three months doing by himself, and had been perfecting his presentation of the project papers. He'd been doing all this along with whatever they came up with for the guys here to do. He was told this was a Big Project and could get him seen by Higher-Ups. You know, the usual BS they feed to the mushrooms to make them enthusiastic. The "big boss" from New Jersey was coming down to Plano this past Monday to have a little meeting with everyone in his group. Even though he has been "on loan" to the Denver group, he still works in his original group. Yes, it's convoluted. He joked that maybe this guy wasn't coming to give them their new assignment, which was what he was supposedly doing, but to lay them all off. Well, that turned out to be it. Around lunchtime I got a call from Hubby. "Are you awake? Are you sitting down?" Uh-oh. "I got laid off." After I verified that he wasn't kidding, I asked, "Does this mean the trip is off?" "I'd assume so, but they told me they'd talk to me privately after lunch. They've cancelled the RDN project and are completely shutting down Mobility, so I won't be taking any equipment anywhere or doing any training. They are closing this Plano facility and everyone is gone." He always goes to lunch with a pal who's a fellow diabetic. He promised to call me after he had consulted with the boss. We exulted in his not having to go on a trip and in his getting away from the people who were always changing horses in midstream (he has been jerked around several times by their reversals of decisions.) In a couple of hours I got another call. "They say that I'm laid off, but that unlike the others, who are free as of today to go out and find jobs, I have to finish this new project and go to Denver." "Why, if you're laid off? Why not just ship your current work up to them?" "I have a one-hour meeting to present the new project and then a one-hour meeting the next day with one of the managers up there." But then the Human Resources lady called him to say that she was scheduling him for interviews with other people in the company to try to find him another position. "You are on the RIF list," she said. "But maybe not really, because you have to find out your employment status in Denver." Now, we can't move to Denver. For one thing, my mother couldn't breathe there because of her COPD and asthma. For another, we have this huge house and all this crap that we couldn't afford to move or store. (They said they DO NOT pay relocation for people doing internal transfers, which is weird to me.) So if they want him to move up there to finish this temporary project and then get laid off, that is not happening. He suggested bringing the computer equipment here and finishing the project from home, but the HR lady said he couldn't remove anything from the office, and that he had to be out of the facility quickly because they're closing it. She didn't have advice except to find out his employment status--which she still is treating as "laid off" because she is looking for other positions within the company. It was unclear what he was supposed to do, so he spent the day calling and e-mailing the three people he had been assigned to work for (yes, three masters--never works out). He got no responses except "we'll talk when you get up here on Tuesday." The original departure date had been Sunday morning, Mother's Day, at 6 AM. He didn't get any other replies, and they wouldn't pick up his cell calls. He now believes that the two managers in Denver are just playing him--they'll get him up there and either (A) offer him a job up there, which he would have to decline because we simply can't move and we can't afford for him to live separately up there--so they could say he turned down a job and then deny him his severance pay, or (B) have a short meeting in which they tell him he has been laid off--but he has already heard this down here and has been through it all, and doesn't need to drive for two days to hear that and then two days back. We don't know what their game is, but it's part of a power play that has been going on for over a year now. Their side won, as the Plano facility is being closed down, but he is their final pawn. "I can't make a decision," he said yesterday. "I gave my word that I'd do this arduous trip, but I believe they don't realize that this doesn't help anyone--they need to move on, and so do I." He went on to attack me because I "don't appreciate how wonderful it is to have a job and how a person keeps his word" (but they laid you off from the job, and what you promised isn't that important to them--it's silly!) and "how much I take everything for granted" (I really don't) and made my blood pressure skyrocket. I already feel bad enough about being a loser who can't even get one lousy break. I know that I am a burden on him and that my mother and our dog are also an extra burden on him, and there's very little I can do about it, because if I had a yard sale and sold EVERYTHING in the house, it wouldn't bring much. I mean . . . my computer is not new and even thieves turn their noses up at equipment this old, my books are not worth anything even to the library (the used bookstore told me it would recycle the textbooks that I finally deigned to take over there, and I brought them home in a huff because they are still great reference books even if they do take up physical space), my old baby grand is not in demand (it doesn't come up to concert pitch but must be tuned to itself, and no one wants pianos now--the piano stores have been closing for two years now and are giving Steinways away, and this is an old Schumann from the 1930s), my craft materials are nothing but trash and wouldn't sell for more than pennies on eBay, and my clothes . . . well, let's just say that the consignment store took the good ones that were a little too big for me a couple of weeks ago, but doesn't guarantee anything. I'm sorry that someone with the potential I used to have when I was a National Merit Scholar and a highly touted SMU grad didn't turn out to be a moneymaker, but I simply didn't. I'm happy just to have escaped death at least twice (with my brain surgery and radiation) and to be some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. I'm happy that I can publish my books through POD and that I have this bully pulpit on the Web where a few people comment and commisserate with me. But he really is hurt, and I can't fix this one. After arguing and wrangling for hours and hours yesterday with me AND my mom AND his brother by phone, he finally made a decision. We ALL convinced him that the best route is to e-mail the man who's running that meeting to say that he isn't coming up there and that they need to have a conference by telephone at the manager's earliest convenience to clarify his employment status. He has to hear from them in more than just a dismissive, evasive manner. They can't keep ignoring his calls and e-mails. He'll also talk to the HR lady to clarify to her that we can't relocate as long as they are not going to pay moving expenses, so she should look for positions in DFW. (It costs a few thousand dollars to move a household, and houses are not selling right now, so we'd have two houses to maintain for at least a while. We'd never be able to get a house like this one in another area. Mama doesn't want to leave her doctors, and Hubby has a cardiologist, a gastroenterologist, and a diabetes specialist--all of whom are really good. We are tied to this geographical area in many ways.) He finally got exhausted enough to fall asleep around 1 AM. I slept for a while, but now I'm up again, worried that he will have changed his mind by morning. He's so worried about "breaking his word" because he "gave his word that he'd come up there," but heck, that job is over, and any further talking to them can only result in a problem. I believe he has fulfilled his obligations and should just send them the materials and attend the meetings by speakerphone. (Funny that a telecom company doesn't think that a video conference is good?) We can't take any job they offer him in Chicago or Denver, because commuting or maintaining two households is not feasible. He can't telecommute because the data that his project will use is company proprietary and controlled, so he'd have to work on it inside their facility. I don't CARE if they'd like him to be there to co-present this new project, because he won't be DOING the new project--it will be the OTHER guys at the meeting who take it over, so let him be on speakerphone to answer any questions and then be done with it. He needs to interview around here and do what all the others from his office are now doing. He already has his resume out with two headhunters, one of whom knows all the people he has worked for in the past and is contacting them. We don't want him to insult the current company so that they have any reason to withhold his severance pay (in other words, fire him "for cause" for insubordination or whatever), but on the other hand I can't see him going up there for no good reason. Not going will save taht company a couple thousand dollars, to boot. Everyone else from the office is free, and he's still caught in their sticky web. I don't know where this bad karma came from. His last three jobs have ended with this sort of wrangling (and he has been ripped off of his severance in varying ways.) What is the lesson that the Universe wants him to learn? I want him to learn it this time so we don't have to go through this again. "This would be a good time for you to get a book deal," he finally said as he fell into bed tonight. But I heard back from the "other" small press today, and they said that although two of their editors have read my book and liked it, they're going with two established authors for their debut books, and that if I have not sold MARFA LIGHTS in six months, please contact them again. So my only hope at the moment is winning the contest with the small press. When the Fates get wind that I want to do something, that often torpedoes it. So I try not to think about these things. I did open a blog for the NICE WORK book series, though, the way that the contest judges advised. I think it should be fun to do a book-series-specific blog. As the old lady who tinkled in the ocean said, "Every little bit helps." Jacquidon's Jottings: the Jacquidon Carroll Mysteries (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 1st, 2012
6:54 pm	Everyone ELSE has posted about this, so. . . . The other finalists didn't keep this a secret, as I discovered by taking a look around the 'net just now, so I suppose I can announce this. My novel NICE WORK (IF YOU CAN GET IT), tentatively retitled MURDER AND THE SINGLE PERVERT (or PRANKSTER, if too many people object), is at the top of the short list of finalists for the Dark Oak Mystery Contest. They say it's sorted alphabetically, but the first on the list is the first, eh? [insert preferred smiley, as I've been criticized for all of them at one time or another] The mysteries, BTW, are being marketed under my middle name (Denise) and my married name (Weeks), even though there is now a soul singer with the same name who comes up when you search the Web for "Denise Weeks." The Shalanna Collins brand is YA fantasy/urban fantasy. Just so you know (my mother still can't figure out "branding" for a novelist, but it's what you do now.) Here's their page with the announcement. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
11:04 am	May day! May day! Happy May Day! Hope you found a basket on your doorknob this morning. (I didn't, but then I didn't make baskets this year) No Maypoles in the neighborhood this year, sigh. A blessed Beltane to those who celebrate. (Comment on this)
Monday, April 30th, 2012
3:11 am	A bit of advice for life If you want to continue to have the will to live, DO NOT go to Old Navy (or another store with dressing rooms) and stand in the three-way mirror after trying on a "magic $7 dress" or "skinny jeans." Or even before. Those things are brutal. (I assume that anyone who can read this already knows never to look in mirrors while trying on SWIMWEAR.) I saw exactly ONE woman who looked okay in those "magic $7 dresses" that were on sale Saturday only for that price. I wanted to tell her, "The yellow, not so much, but the blue is OK," but I didn't want anyone else to see my rear end in those jeans, so I scuttled back into the un-dressing room. Hubby did, however, pick up two great pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, and a hoodie pretending to be from 1972 California. Guys don't look bad no matter what they try on. It's not FAIR. (He was shopping for that business trip to Denver. It's going to be for TWO WEEKS. I don't know if I can bear it. Send positive thoughts that David gets to go with him so he won't have to drive alone and spend the weekends in the lonely hotel room. He isn't the carousing type and will just sit in the room watching TV unless a Denver native like David goes along to drag him out to the tourist attractions! Oh, man, I may just put the dog and the mother in my van and take off across Texas while he's there.) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 23rd, 2012
10:50 pm	International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day Contributions Oh, all right. Usually when I post something, there's not much said about it, so it'll probably be OK. How about an old poem that I wrote for a Mensa Gathering booklet? Makeover Now stop being difficult, dear; Of course we have to cut your hair just this way, Put on makeup exactly so, and wear these clothes, Yes, even the shoes. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to look like everybody else? There now. No, don’t talk that way. Because we don’t say those things. Well, sometimes we do have to lie to be polite. No, it has nothing to do with your integrity. Have I ever steered you wrong? I know what’s best for you. Don’t do that. Well, because it simply isn’t done. We’ve always done it this way. Stick with the tried And true. That’s just good business sense. No, it isn’t like cheating at all. It’s nothing. Do what I say, and you can be a success. And get rid of these worthless papers. You wrote this? Oh, please. Who reads any more? Honestly, what a waste of time. I’m ashamed of you. You’re just not trying. Don’t you want to be normal? Or maybe the opening of a new story would be better: * * * A witch crashed in our backyard last night. Joe and I dragged her inside. She wouldn't wake up, but I did the mirror test under her nose and I got steam, so we tucked her into the guest bed. She certainly looked authentic. Green complexion. Hooked nose. All the outward trappings of a real live cauldron-stirring spell-casting witch, if you believed the bad press. I didn't know which shade of green she was supposed to be, but I thought she was pale. "What now?" Joe shrugged. "I dunno. I wish Mama or Daddy were home." "Well . . . they wouldn't have let us bring her in." We digested this in silence. We'd told them we were plenty grown-up to stay alone all weekend, to go on and do their retreat. Maybe they shouldn't have been so quick to believe us. Time for some comic relief. I held up her broomstick. "Think this would go for me?" "Shut up. Let me try to think." He stuck his forefingers to his temples and screwed. I mocked him with the Stooges. "I'm tryin' to think, but nothin' happens." "Shut up." The witch's eyelids fluttered. . . . * * * That's all there is of it that's fit to be shown. Some might contend that even that snippet isn't fit to be shown. "Dear Life, I have a complete grasp on the fact that you are not fair . . . so please quit teaching me that lesson."--Sylvia Matthews (1 Comment |Comment on this)
3:22 am	Happy Birthday, Mama! Happy 82nd birthday today to my mother, Billye Jo (Jodie) Gerneth! We shall be going out somewhere. You get to decide where. This is Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day. Make of that what you will. Today is also the recorded birthday of Shakespeare, and both Shakespeare and Cervantes (the author of _Don Quixote_, who loved Dulcinea) died on this date way back when. A famous date. *confetti* (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 22nd, 2012
6:50 pm	Earth Day, Every Day No wonder I felt compelled to work out in the yard and do all that gardening! It's Earth Day! Honor the earth today and go out and get your feet dirty. That's the best way to stay in touch with nature. Just don't step on any SNAKES! Pretty stuff nearty: Roadside Queen Anne's Lace A blue heron in our creek?!?! My neighbor's larkspur and a pink flower as well Neighbor got tired of doggies "doing it" to her fence Lonely piano on the sidewalk. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
6:37 pm	The reason for the dieting I have a body image disorder. I imagine I look one way, while external evidence (photos) points to an error. In my head, I look like this: Or like this: But in actuality, it's more like this: *sigh* When did this happen? Taking care of everyone else and everything around here instead of trying to take care of myself. Well, that's over. I'm not going to say Me First from now on, but I'm going to stop obeying all the commands and take time out. Sheesh. *Let's see how long this new confidence lasts* Just don't expect to see THIS anytime soon: (1 Comment |Comment on this)
6:30 pm	Defying the Jinx and the Trickster! In spite of my superstition that mentioning something good generally torpedoes it, I have to tell SOMEBODY. (And you all know the family yawns and gives me further orders to houseclean, garden, cook, and whatnot, so they're no use here: they interrupt me when I try to tell them anything about writing, and the other night when Hubster was ranting about the high balance on one of my credit cards [yes, I know--it IS high, but there were necessities, not all luxuries like that Toot Sweet whistle maker off eBay, naughty me] I asked him if he didn't have any confidence that I might make money off my books and he yelled, "NO!! I don't believe any more!! It'll just cost me money!!" He was in fine fettle of rant, indeed.]) So! I am being considered for the prize in a mystery novel contest (not the St. Martin's Malice Domestic, but another one just as good, from a prestigious small press that hosts many award-winning authors). That's with NICE WORK, the Jacquidon and Chantal Sister Sleuths series. But MARFA LIGHTS (poor Ugly Betty that it is) is now being looked at--the full--by another prestigious small press! Yay! They asked for the full, and I sent it. I've also started two short stories that may turn into YA novels. *whew* If anyone has some spare Good Thoughts to send our way, we'd certainly appreciate them. In other news, gardening is VERY DIRTY and tiring. Our yard is larger than I realized. In fact, it IS as big as I used to think when I was eight years old and we had just moved here and I thought, WOW, I can make trails through this woods like they have at my beloved Rock City Gardens (atop Lookout Mountain, Tennessee) and draw pictures of gnomes the way they have! My gnomes mysteriously disappeared and my trails were eradicated when we got a tall wooden fence and Mama planted vegetables and so forth. But I tried. So anyway, now I've been out there planting a bunch of stuff, and it is tough. Hubby was tired from pulling a tangle of old hoses out from behind the foundation plantings and putting up my shepherd's hooks, so I was left to plant the shrubs and Seven Sisters rosebushes. Did you know that it's almost impossible to dig through big tree roots with a stupid trowel?? Well, it is. I don't know if anything I planted is going to make it, poor things. Should've waited for the guy who does our lawn--he might've been bribed to do this. He might be persuaded to fix it, given a sufficiently high stack of dead Presidents. I swear, if I ever woke up one day and didn't hear the noises of mowers, weed-eaters, chainsaws, and all that rot (from people working on their houses and remodeling, etc.), I would think I had gone deaf. This neighborhood has been SO rediscovered. I took Mama and the dog to walk in the park and saw a ton of new residents who've just bought in the newer section. I didn't get tired until I got home and got Mama and her stuff unloaded and inside, got the dog inside, got the walker brought inside, got all the groceries out of the van, started the wash, took the towels out of the dryer to fold, and cleaned up the inch of water off the bathroom floor (she left the water running just a trickle in the sink, and since she had her underwear in there "soaking" [TMI, I know], it ran over while we were away.) But then I GOT TIRED. I think the reason this all makes me so TIRED is that I'm (gasp) dieting. Yes, another opportunity to be jinxed by mentioning it! I don't care! I simply will not be jinxed this time. After getting the riot act from both of my doctors and being threatened with needles (daily) (twice daily), I began starving. My body thinks we are in the Irish famine and fights it. But it is changing, slowly. The scale numbers don't go down much, but my shape changes. I can wear things that I couldn't wear a couple of weeks ago. Back into the jeans that I wore last summer! And now to outgrow them--er, outshrink them! Everyone keeps apologizing when they get their big plates of food and eat in front of me, but I am not hungry for any of that. Hubby loves Mexican and Chinese, and Mama loves Southern cooking and desserts, but . . . no, REALLY . . . I just don't care that much for that stuff. I'll eat it, and I do like guacamole and some kinds of egg rolls, but for some reason I am not attracted to all of it any more. The only things that I ever want to eat in a craving sense are spaghetti or lasagna and pizza AND chocolate. Well, on this diet, the drinks and Medifast meals are often chocolate! They have brownies now (microwavable) and bars (very VERY chewy). And I've rediscovered Japanese tofu shirataki noodles, which are just like pasta to me, so it fulfills that bit of crave. I use a bit of salad dressing (allowed on diet) or a splash of petite diced tomatoes and oil and they're like a pasta dish. Lots of people combine the meal packets and make sophisticated stuff . . . I might do that eventually. Right now, I'm just trying to see some results. Here's to getting more energy and a couple of book contracts! *Yes, I dare to say it aloud!* (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 13th, 2012
2:56 am	I've been smart and I've been pleasant. I recommend pleasant. "In May 2012, Jim Parsons (who plays Sheldon Cooper on "The Big Bang Theory") is scheduled to appear on Broadway as Elwood P. Dowd in a revival of 'Harvey.'" WHAT?!?! I HAVE TO GO TO THIS! *suffering* I can't stand it. I can't possibly get up there to NYC to see this. But this would be SO GREAT. I played Veta Louise in our junior high production of "Harvey." My husband played the judge in his high school production. It has always been one of my favorite films. Jimmy Stewart once said that if he had it to do over, he'd play Elwood with a slightly more sinister aspect, the feel that there might be something going on under the surface. Of course Stewart's performance is unmatched. But I would LOVE to see this other actor's portrayal. "Big Bang" is one of the only newer TV shows that we keep up with because it's actually worth watching. Mostly because of the character of Sheldon. SO much like many of my friends when I was in high school and college. No, REALLY. Not my theater friends, but the mathy/sciency/AP crowd. Actual article on this event: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/jim-parsons-harvey-revival-broadway-267082 OH, well. Maybe we'll still get to go to Chicago. Hubby's corporation is still considering sending him, which would mean we'd all get to go (he would drive, and we'd pay for our share of the hotel and our food). Really, really wanna go now that I have someone I'd like to meet who is up there. She's a new acquaintance who has to do with publishing. I also have a new rolling suitcase to try out. But it won't be HARVEY!! (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 8th, 2012
1:39 pm	Raining on our bonnets! It's raining! The neighborhood egg hunt in Prairie Creek Park is at 3PM, and it's raining at 1:30. I know the organizers have already set up most of it. Hope it's just a spring shower. Wouldn't want to ruin everyone's Easter bonnets. (That was such a cute tradition. Did you get a hat? No one over three has done hats for a while. The children sometimes have really cute hats, but they seize them and hurl them into mud puddles, so you have to snap the shutter quickly.) It occurred to me that Passover and Easter have been coincident this year, much as they were that first Easter, and I forgot to wish those who celebrate a blessed Passover. I've just been so distracted by everything going on in real life, for some value of "real" or another. It also occurred to me that on the first Passover, the firstborn male child was taken from everyone who didn't have the mark on the door, and on the first Easter, the only begotten son of God is sacrificed . . . I'm sure others have noted this parallel, but it struck me this morning. We're having a VERY low-key dinner here today because of my diet and Mama's diet restrictions. Hubby should be following a more restricted diet than he is, but he seems to be able to get away with more. He was diagnosed with fatty liver disease last year, though, and they told us that the only treatment was to LOSE WEIGHT. He's held steady at a slightly lower weight. But I need to get him up out of the computer gaming chair and out walking or biking. Don't know how I'll ever do it. I'm starting to walk in the mornings before he goes to work, but he seems happy to just tell me he doesn't like to walk out in the pollen. He does have awful sinus problems. But, anyhow, today he's only getting ham, sweet potatoes, and crescent rolls. That should be awful enough!! I'm going to get the usual fare for my diet. Whatever my mother wants, we'll make. Probably some new potatoes and green beans or the like. Then it's back to the whippings. I need to finish up that marketing plan and get it sent off, too. Maybe this evening. (Comment on this)
5:09 am	Happy Easter! Christ is risen!! Those of us who observe Easter should remember to give thanks daily for His sacrifice. Here's hoping the Easter Bunny brought you whatever you needed, and that you get to watch an Easter egg hunt today for the tiny tykes. They're so funny. (The big kids are too good at understanding what's going on.) I boiled my eggs in various natural substances (onion peels, beets, and so on) to get different colors this year. Tired of the chemical bath we're soaking in. They turned out really pretty. I didn't get to make the cupcakes topped with Peeps, but maybe next year. The doctor read me the riot act last week, so I'm back on the rather strict "lose that blubber and get that blood sugar under control" diet. I have two months to get it under control. He threatened me with needles. Seeing as how Hubby and Mama are already submitting to the needles . . . I ain't gonna go there. I've seen a couple of inspirational posts lately about how people have lost weight and feel better, so we'll try that. I just don't know what I will substitute as a coping mechanism when I can't eat. If you see alarming headlines featuring me running nekkid down the street, that is why. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, April 2nd, 2012
9:52 pm	Opinionated, as usual--but don't do stuff just because someone says to [WARNING: semi-religious content. If that bugs you, page down past this post. Thanks.] The Dallas Snooze reports: "Asking his congregation to get permanent tattoos as a part of their Lenten observances may be one of the craziest things Ecclesia pastor Chris Seay has done at his artsy, pop-culture-savvy Montrose church in Houston, Texas." I'd say so. Also, he hasn't read the Bible, has he? Leviticus 19:28, NIV: "Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord." How much clearer can that be? Which word didn't you understand? This verse tells us that Jewish law prohibits tattooing, obviously. Now, you may ask me, "What about context? We don't keep kosher strictly as in Leviticus, so why should modern Christians follow this rule or ANY of the Old Testament laws?" In context, this rule was most probably aimed at preventing the children of Israel from slashing themselves to make scars or getting tattoos because the pagan religions of the time did these practices for pagan reasons, members marking themselves to show they were part of that particular pagan tradition. To hold themselves separate, they were told, don't get tattoos that could be construed as "gang markings." Perhaps. There could be other reasons that are unknowable (God knows them, and we don't, basically). Contrast this with the likelihood of the "draining blood from meat" and other Kosher rules (no pig and so forth) as far as keeping people healthy back then. Today trichinosis from pork is not as large a concern, and the other reasons for the dietary laws might be waved away, so most people who are Christians have dispensed with them. Whether this is right or wrong only you can know in your heart. Each individual Christian is accountable to Christ: "... each of us will give an account of himself to God." (Romans 14:12, NIV) You decide on these "iffy" questions that could be debatable. This is considered one of those disputable matters, like hair braiding/never cutting hair (like the original Nazarenes) or instrumental music in public worship. As a Christian, I conclude that tattoos are still Biblically unsound, and I woudn't want one anyway. The only tattoo I can think of that would make sense to me is for a Holocaust survivor's descendant--if a person wanted a tattoo to match the one that was put on his or her ancestor's arm when entering the concentration camps, as a matter of remembrance. But the tattoo itself would violate Jewish law, so this might not be a practice anyone would actually adopt. I just thought that might make a sort of poetic sense. Other tattoos don't make sense to me and don't appeal to me. Especially not the super-Goth ones that this guy suggests. Of course, you can get as many as YOU want. I'm talking about myself. However . . . this pastor has completely overshot the mark. He is asking them to get the tattoo(s) to indicate that they're part of this group, and in so doing he is having them do them in the exact spirit of those who did it in those long-ago pagan groups. So his reasoning puts the tattoo that they get in that spirit RIGHT on the firing line for this Bible verse. He needs to increase his reading comprehension, methinks. You can try to justify it all by talking about various verses in the book of Romans, but the Apostle Paul's point there actually is "don't do anything that could make your brother stumble." Romans 14:1-15:6 (chapter 14 verse 1 through chapter 15 verse 6) discusses matters of conscience and uses food as an example. Paul speaks of how it's not a sin to eat meat that has been sacrificed to idols--strictly--because it's not what goes into a person's mouth that defiles him/her but what comes out of it (hateful speech, lies, and the like). I tend to think he was punning there adn using a bit of literary license. Nevertheless, he uses this example to add that if your being seen eating the meat from the Temple of Diana's butcher shop makes your brother stumble because he says, "Well, Christians do this and that, and so I can, too," then don't do it. Set a good example, in other words. I do not think you can use that argument for a tattoo. This guy says, "Old Testament passages have something to say about (tattooing), but we don't think they have weight in this contemporary circumstance." Oh, well, then, that's all right--I don't think the stuff about not stealing and not committing adultery are convenient, considering what I want to do right now, so I'll say they don't have authority. *FACEPALM* *HEADDESK* Piffle. If you just want to do what you want to do, DO IT and don't twist things around to say the Bible says it's right or whatever. Just say that you come under only your own authority. Say that you get to make things up. Whatever. However, for those keeping score, Romans 14:23 states, "[...] everything that does not come from faith is sin." So their argument of ignoring the parts of the Bible that become inconvenient for them or that forbid things they feel like doing might not be all that devout. Not that I care--I'm just pointing this out. Pierced ears have been an issue in the past, but they're not "cutting," exactly. Still, when my best friend in high school and I turned sixteen, we went to her priest and ONLY after he said he thought it was all right and that we weren't doing the decorating in the wrong spirit did we get our ears pierced. We wanted to be extra-cautious. I don't see pierced ears (which can grow back together if you leave your earrings out--thus are "repairable" easily) to be on the same level as tattoos. So we got the pierced ears so that we could buy one another earrings as cheap presents from then on. And so that we could wear the Jezebel-inspired DROP EARRINGS that were all the rage at school dances. "I was sinking deep in sin--WHEEEEE!" The priest said it was OK. Um. Anyway. Look--asking me to give up chocolate for Lent is one thing. Asking me to get a tattoo when my interpretation is that it's verboten is stupid. I'm saying that you should read it for yourself and decide. (Assuming you even come under these rules. If you are not a Christian, this doesn't even apply to you.) Seriously, tattoos of the Stations of the Cross. *shudder* That seems WAY off the graph insofar as "getting" the whole point goes. But that's just me, as always. *bracing for backlash* (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 29th, 2012
2:50 pm	The loss of clarity and complexity is NOT always positive change Okay, I give. I give! I suppose all of you writers and readers have seen these two arguments: First, blogger Jeff Goins saying that the style and general content of the Hunger Games is the future of writing. That everyone is going to need to start writing like this because "the audience for those TV commercials you're seeing is your new audience" (paraphrasing, but close.) Then HuffPoster Lev Raphael arguing more sensibly that writing clones is NOT the answer. "You have to write what your passion is." (paraphrasing, again.) There's always a Greatest New Thing that is going to outlive the old masters, be better than anything EVER, ascend into Heaven to sit at the left hand of God, and so forth. We've seen that with the film "Titanic," the Harry Potter series (which was FAR better and more worthy than the new stuff, IMHO, even if it was indeed derivative--it was still written at a much higher level, IMHO), THE NAME OF THE ROSE, SHOGUN, etc. (Those last two are on my "lasting" list, BTW.) The Greatest New Thing is absolutely the ONLY game in town . . . for a few months or a couple of years. Eet ees ze One True Way. Can we agree that the content of the Latest New Thing is not new? It has been done (often much better, IMHO) by many other authors and screenwriters. ROLLERBALL comes to mind because a friend of ours at church was involved in the original production of the James Caan version. No one has mentioned _The Feelies_, a 1980s SF novel by Mick Farren (not the musician!) that describes a popular game show "to the death." Or "Battle Royale," a recent Japanese SF work. I am reminded of the Roman Gladiators, too. My mother scoffed when she heard the MS-NBC analysts talking so seriously about the Real Hidden Meaning behind the work. "Why, that's just the plot of _They Shoot Horses, Don't They?_" I had to laugh--because it sort of IS. I mean, this is a typical coming-of-age sort of thing that makes a teen into a hero for doing things that are not strictly heroic. Again, the author reportedly has long been a staff writer on teen and children's TV shows and knows how to tap into their vibe very well. And we all know that Shakespeare stole all HIS plots, and that there is nothing new under the sun, and that there are only seven/thirty/three basic plots. (It has been argued that the ONLY plot is "Stranger comes to town," which can be told from the stranger's POV as "Leaving on a journey.") So we can't fault anyone for taking a good idea and running with it, as long as the serial numbers are filed off and the worldbuilding/characters self-consistent. So none of that is my problem with this rabid craze (or with rabid crazes of the past). My problem is the exclusive worship of the One True Thing that is promulgated by all the sudden fans. It gets tiring to read crazy claims like "removing fluff from your writing because of how busy people's lives are MUST BE DONE. Being concise and using short sentences gets the job done just as well as long, overworked sentences with a lot of flowery detail that has nothing to do with the plot." Also, short choppy sentences are NOT "Hemingwayseque," and there's only ONE "m." Are there concepts that cannot be communicated with short sentences sans subordinate clauses? Yes. Are these books solely composed of short sentences? No. If readers can't stay engaged with sentences that are longer, they should increase their reading comprehension for their own good. There will be times they'll need to comprehend something more complicated. Their lives may depend on interpreting some technical or medical instructions, in fact, someday. No, REALLY. Dumbing us down is not the answer. An entire generation proud of its obsession with Short Attention Span Theater and confined to a sixth-grade reading level is not good. What does this bode for the future of written communications? Are we headed for a pictogram and sound-bite existence? I'm not convinced that this particular series is so dumbed-down as the articles would imply, but whether or not it is, that doesn't mean we should limit ourselves to reading only simplified stuff. I believe that the work is fine for its fans. But we should not say that complex, nuanced prose is not good. Whether you thought the book was weak and cliched (but obviously aimed at exactly the audience she had in mind--her sensibilities were honed by all that television writing for children and teens--this woman is around MY age, not one of the spring chickens, BTW) or whether you say in public that it is better than the Lord of the Rings and will live forever as the eternal example of a perfect set of novels, you shouldn't believe that the future of all fiction writing is short and actiony. Trends shift and the pendulum swings back. I only hope it CAN swing back this time, because it might be tough if everyone demands "only short sentences and lots of action, none o' this thinking or description." I'd bet there's thinkin' and describin' even in the books they tout. There IS one thing that I think is good here, one great thing that will come out of the widespread worship of this series and her worldbuilding: the younger generation(s) in this country have pretty much taken their freedom for granted and they think that it will last forever, and now they MIGHT be thinking, "Hey! Totalitarian states can happen here!" All it takes is saying, "Okay, I can tolerate this new law," and "Well, that new law by itself is not so bad," and then it goes on until suddenly you awaken one morning and find yourself in a totalitarian state. Since the Cold War ended, people have relaxed and haven't worried so much about that, even though our privacy is getting whittled away pretty thoroughly via that Patriot Act and the Homeland Security stuff. Now employers routinely run a credit check and a Google search/Facebook page search on all applicants so they can weed out those subversives who might subscribe to the Mother Earth News or 2600 Magazine or ZAP Comix. Your personal life is no longer your own, and may be scrutinized by those who have access to your 'net presences. Perhaps if we don't want our society to go any further down the road to "we vote on it and one person gets voted out" being the way EVERY contest is decided, we should wake up. Oh, and now "Collins" is a GREAT place to be shelved in stores again. It was getting lonesome there since Jackie and Joan Collins fell off the boat. *Is The Hunger Games Really The Future of Writing?* Judging from the agents and editors who speak on panels at conventions and do a lot of blogging, that style has been the status quo for a while. For years the Powers That Be have preached that people's reading comprehension has dropped and thus we should write at a sixth-grade level and limit our vocabularies and so forth. Perhaps this is fine for pleasure reading. But when the readers who have not challenged themselves get into a profession and need to be able to comprehend more complex information, they'll be in trouble. Doctors have a specific vocabulary--you wouldn't want your brain surgeon calling the sixth cranial nerve "that reddish bloody stringy thing there"--and need to be able to express complicated ideas. Often this means compound-complex sentences, sentences that are longer. If a student has been limiting his or her reading such that the reading comprehension has gone down, what'll happen to the next generation of doctors or lawyers? Lawyers in particular deal with the written word and not video or pictograms when reading cases to discover the precedents. Scientists need to have a higher reading level. I feel that there is more at stake than "just making it as easy to read and gripping and fast as possible," because there is some material that simply is NOT easy and can't be grasped quickly by skimming and skipping. I think there's definitely a place for more cadenced prose and more complex writing, and that includes a place in fiction. There'll always be an audience who wants more. A lot of the stuff that is being read into the Hunger Games, by the way, could be baggage that is being brought in by the readers--something they WANT to see in it that could be, or might not be. When something strikes a chord and "everyone's reading it!" there is usually an avalanche of fan stuff that gets all mixed up with what's actually there. It's amusing to listen to everyone going crazy over it, and I'm glad they're happy and entertained. However, I don't think that the style or subject matter is The Future. It's interesting that so many reader-reviewers say, "This doesn't have pages and pages of flowery description that has nothing to do with the plot like all the other books." I can't remember when I read a book that had such description, or at least not since Proust and his contemporaries. Generally I find that modern novels are cut to the bare minimum. Often, I would like to have a little more setting or description than I encounter in some works so that the Vivid, Continuous Dream can unfold in detail. But that's just the old fogey typing. I'm not saying that the Hunger Games and Twilight and the similar series aimed at young adults is like the old Channel Eleven (Dallas/Ft Worth) Slam Bang Theatre starring Bill Camfield as host Icky Twerp. It's not nearly as good!! (KIDDING) So don't come with the torches yelling that I "bashed" the genre. I'm saying there's room for so much more. Personally, I think that one _Flowers for Algernon_ is worth a hundred Hunger Games trilogies. And I haven't sold _To Kill a Mockingbird_ down the river, either. Or Proust, or Henry Miller, or Shakespeare, or Benchley, or Thurber. The only thing that'll tell us which books will last and go on to speak to future generations is TIME. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 28th, 2012
5:27 pm	That might explain the slow sales-- I discovered last night while fooling around with my Kindle that MY BOOKS DO NOT SHOW UP IN THE KINDLE STORE. At least not ALL of them. They do show up if you do a search for "Shalanna Collins" (fantasy/YA) or "Denise Weeks" (for the mysteries and mainstream work) with your Big Computer or the browser on the Nook Android Tablet, but if you have a Kindle and you press MENU and select "Shop in Kindle Store" and then search for "Denise Weeks," DE NADA. Nuthin'. Searching for Shalanna Collins in the Kindle store, _Camille's Travels_ does not show up. I don't know if this is just me, or if it's everyone. (Poor pitiful all-powerful me, getting unique results, eh?) If anyone out there has a Kindle and feels moved to search, please let me know if you get the same results. I've e-mailed Amazon Direct about this and also Customer Service for Amazon Kindle. One thing's for sure--this could explain the slow sales of those books that don't show up on the Amazon search with an actual Kindle. Not too many people use the big computer browser to get Kindle titles, at least not exclusively. If they were showing up, they'd at least have a chance. Still working on that marketing plan for the mystery contest. I do have a few platforms of sorts, but they probably aren't useful. "Ranked eighth in the nation among gift wrappers," which is what the plaque from the contest says, and "Spelling Bee Champion" probably don't make much hay with book buyers. "Passed Calc I/II/III sequence on first try" doesn't fly. There must be SOMETHING. *gronk* Ducks not allowed in actual doctor's waiting room and must hang out next to sign until pager goes off (Comment on this)
Thursday, March 22nd, 2012
2:54 pm	A Meme for Writers The Rules: Go to page 77 of your current MS. Go to line 7. Copy down the next 7 lines/sentences, and post them as they’re written. No cheating. (WHAT?! NO CHEATING?! That's cheating in itself!) From LOVE IS THE BRIDGE. It's the opening of a scene, fortuitously. Alan frowned down at the email that had just chimed to announce its arrival on his phone. It was from a colleague, a middle-aged man who should know better than to be wasting his time following the tweets of every caged bird around, but it read as though it had come from a fourteen-year-old sitting in a boring English class. HAY EVERY1! U SHD FOLLO 'HEADCASE-1' ON TWITTER! "You'd think a grown man wouldn't use tweetspeak or whatever it is for e-mail to colleagues." "Leetspeak," John corrected, plopping his menu on the edge of the booth seat. He always ordered the same thing here at Holy Frijoles, so he never read it. "Whatever." Alan flipped over to a new window and updated his Twitter feeds, adding HEADCASE-1. "I hate Twitter, but I feel I have to keep up with certain people. Let's see what this guy thinks is so grand." The current tweet on the feed looked garbled. "Why is this coming through as nonsense?" He checked his settings. "The other feeds look OK. 'I ate a taco.' 'Go Mean Green!' Properly inane, as always. But this one is all Greek." "Lemme see." John peered at the smartphone screen. "You're right--it's Greek." (Comment on this)