I keep hoping to get my foot in the door of the publishing world. To be quite frank, I want to be a published writer so bad I can taste it. ( In reality, I'm positive it tastes like chocolate!)
A couple of weeks ago, I responded to an ad I found- Publisher seeks new writers- all genres, reply to------. It turned out to be a company called Publish America. They sent me an e- letter from the " Acquisitions Department", offerring to look at my first three chapters and an outline, and showed me all their authors' names, and that some of their writers had won Pulitzer Prizes, and all kinds of things. They even offered a "small advance" if my work were accepted. A "small advance" is ONE DOLLAR. I find that insulting, and not a comfortable image of the company I almost worked with. One measly dollar does not show much faith in their abilities to sell my work, does it? Nor does it say very much for my work to accept a one dollar advance.
. Companies like these- subsidy publishers- sometimes get contracts to keep a published writer's book in print after the orginal contract has ended. They also offered me the privilege of keeping the copyright. What the hell is the point of keeping the copyright? I always believed that writers made money by SELLING the copyrights to a book, for so much money, and a percentage of royalties and residual rights, as well as keeping the byline on the book. Pay me. You can HAVE the copyrights.
Now, Publish America claims not to "charge authors for anything, ever", but I did see that they expect an awful lot of work, read, " money" to begin advertising in your local area. They have been sued by many authors, and lost almost every time. They published a book with the same sentence- just one- written a few thousand times. Wikipedia didn't even have anything nice to say. Hell, their own writers' forum had so many posts from disgruntled, disappointed and disillusioned authors, it was a shame. They really should be embarrassed to dream of the scamming they pull on authors. Publishing houses are in the business of buying manuscripts to PUBLISH, for us, the public, to BUY, for the COMPANY, and the AUTHOR to make money. They have so many manuscripts submitted each day, and so many authors in print, that they don't need to solicit new talent. As a matter of fact, most reputable houses do not accept email submissions, nor do they even consider a work not submitted by a literary agent.
Well. As I had told several freinds that I had been solicited by an " actual publishing house" for my novel, I now had to go back and tell them it was a false alarm. Embarrassed? Oh, yes. BUT- if the worst I got was a little embarrassment, then I'm doing pretty well. Now I know where to start. I have to find an agent. I have to start at square one. I'm o.k. with that. At least I didn't sign a contract that locked me into a vanity press for seven years, and knocked myself out of real money, and the opportunity to EVER be a member of the Author's Guild, or to be even glanced at by a real live publishing house.
What I did gain from this experience was to learn to Question EVERYTHING, and to save ( hopefully) someone from feeling like a moron when they trip over their own two feet. Everybody may have seen me fall on my butt, but everybody saw me get back up and try again, too. Its not too shabby...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Sunday, July 15, 2007
GO, FRED THOMPSON! AND JERI, TOO!
Former Senator-turned-actor Fred Thompson is a candidate for President of the United States. He is a member of the Republican Party. The biggest scandal of his campaign so far is that he is sixty-four years old, and his lovely wife is forty years old. Many women are up in arms over the fact that they have had two babies since they married in 2002. Why is this suddenly such a big deal? Younger women have been marrying older men for centuries. It has only been since the turn of the twentieth century that the notion of a couple being the same age or in the same demographic has been accepted in mainstream society.
Now it seems to have been made almost taboo by society for a woman to marry a much older man. Women are being raked over the coals for this by women in the same demographic as the older man. Why? Are these women now going to be raked over the coals, chastised, outcast and ostracised like the inter-racial couples of yesterday? It seems to me that some people are being petty and mean because they are jealous. Some men may be jealous that Fred Thompson "landed" a very nice second wife. Some women may be jealous that now they have competion for the eye of a man their age, and feel they cannot compete with a fresh-faced younger woman. Get a life, people.
Accept the fact that love really is where you find it. Fred and Jeri Thompson love each other and want to spend their lives together. They don't need each other- they want each other- just like any other couple in the world. They have had two babies since they married. Bully for them! Just because he happens to be twenty-some years older than his wife, does not make either of them perverts, nor does it say anything about his abilities or qualifications to be President. What happens in the Thompsons' bedroom is for the Thompsons'.
The Thompsons' are in the glare of the spotlight right now because he is a candidate for president. That is the only reason their marriage is in question by anyone right now. I have been married to a wonderful man for almost four years. He happens to be nineteen years my senior. We have a four-year-old daughter together, and he is the adoptive father of my oldest child. I am two years older than his oldest child. His children from his first marriage are grown, but they call me Mom. I had to earn that respect, and I would never want to lose that respect. I can well imagine that Jeri Thompson's start with her husband's grown children was not so easy. Whether she is freinds with them, I cannot say. I do not know them personally. But there is something to be said for living your life your own way, whether the nay-sayers like it or not, conventional or not, as long as it makes you happy, and it harms none, then who cares? Its no one's business but yours.
The biggest "scandal" of Mr. Thompson's campaign thus far is that Mrs. Thompson is much younger than he. Is that all you biddies can come up with? You don't like his wife because she's pretty, and because she is the mother of his two youngest children? Those children and that wife are happy, well-cared for, and they know who their father is, and where her husband is every night. Neither of them is flashing their body parts getting out of cars, or getting arrested for DUI, or busted for drugs at the airport, nor have they had to dodge statutory rape or molestation charges, like some other famous folks. In fact, they really seem to be pretty low-key, and family-oriented. So what's the problem? If Mr. Thompson's grown children take issue with the way he chooses to live his life, then that is their problem. They are grown, and he has no obligation to them. He and his wife have the right and the responsiblity to live their life together as they see fit, as long as they harm no one, nor infringe on any other person's rights. Just like anyone else. If anyone has a problem with the way Mr. and Mrs. Fred Thompson live, perhaps they need to look at themselves and see what the problem is inside of them, not with the Thompsons'.
Love is where you find it, but you have to be open to it to see where that love is to be found. I personally wish them many happy years together, and as many babies as they can stand. Oh, yes, and I know of at least one person who will be voting for Mr. Thompson. Sometimes us younger wives just have to stick together.
Now it seems to have been made almost taboo by society for a woman to marry a much older man. Women are being raked over the coals for this by women in the same demographic as the older man. Why? Are these women now going to be raked over the coals, chastised, outcast and ostracised like the inter-racial couples of yesterday? It seems to me that some people are being petty and mean because they are jealous. Some men may be jealous that Fred Thompson "landed" a very nice second wife. Some women may be jealous that now they have competion for the eye of a man their age, and feel they cannot compete with a fresh-faced younger woman. Get a life, people.
Accept the fact that love really is where you find it. Fred and Jeri Thompson love each other and want to spend their lives together. They don't need each other- they want each other- just like any other couple in the world. They have had two babies since they married. Bully for them! Just because he happens to be twenty-some years older than his wife, does not make either of them perverts, nor does it say anything about his abilities or qualifications to be President. What happens in the Thompsons' bedroom is for the Thompsons'.
The Thompsons' are in the glare of the spotlight right now because he is a candidate for president. That is the only reason their marriage is in question by anyone right now. I have been married to a wonderful man for almost four years. He happens to be nineteen years my senior. We have a four-year-old daughter together, and he is the adoptive father of my oldest child. I am two years older than his oldest child. His children from his first marriage are grown, but they call me Mom. I had to earn that respect, and I would never want to lose that respect. I can well imagine that Jeri Thompson's start with her husband's grown children was not so easy. Whether she is freinds with them, I cannot say. I do not know them personally. But there is something to be said for living your life your own way, whether the nay-sayers like it or not, conventional or not, as long as it makes you happy, and it harms none, then who cares? Its no one's business but yours.
The biggest "scandal" of Mr. Thompson's campaign thus far is that Mrs. Thompson is much younger than he. Is that all you biddies can come up with? You don't like his wife because she's pretty, and because she is the mother of his two youngest children? Those children and that wife are happy, well-cared for, and they know who their father is, and where her husband is every night. Neither of them is flashing their body parts getting out of cars, or getting arrested for DUI, or busted for drugs at the airport, nor have they had to dodge statutory rape or molestation charges, like some other famous folks. In fact, they really seem to be pretty low-key, and family-oriented. So what's the problem? If Mr. Thompson's grown children take issue with the way he chooses to live his life, then that is their problem. They are grown, and he has no obligation to them. He and his wife have the right and the responsiblity to live their life together as they see fit, as long as they harm no one, nor infringe on any other person's rights. Just like anyone else. If anyone has a problem with the way Mr. and Mrs. Fred Thompson live, perhaps they need to look at themselves and see what the problem is inside of them, not with the Thompsons'.
Love is where you find it, but you have to be open to it to see where that love is to be found. I personally wish them many happy years together, and as many babies as they can stand. Oh, yes, and I know of at least one person who will be voting for Mr. Thompson. Sometimes us younger wives just have to stick together.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Why I won't Give Up Guns
I am proud to be an American citizen of the United States. I love Mom, apple pie, little kids, fireworks- the whole thing. One of the things that makes it so unique and so wonderful to be an American is our Constitution. The Second Amendment gives me, as a free citizen of the United States of America, the right to keep and bear arms. Keep, meaning," to hold and/or store in readiness for future use as needed or desired", and bear, meaning, "to carry on one's person, or in one's personal effects". The Second Amendment is the single item that allows us to keep all other rights, responsibilities and freedoms for ourselves as people, and allows those with enough guts to do so to be allowed and able to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
That said, I will say that I enjoy hunting as well. I no longer go hunting- it is physically unsafe for me and for others out there who are hunters- but I love fresh meat. Fortunately for me, my husband does hunt, so I get all the good spoils. I get fresh meat, leather for shoes, belts, and anything else I can manage to put together. I get food for my table, and plenty of recreation for myself as well. That's a lot to recieve for a few hours work on his part, a few hours wait on mine, and one bullet. It is good to know that I can manage not to waste the animals he brings home to me. That knowledge makes me happy. Now comes the rest of the story. I discovered that simply hunting and not wasting the kill could be a crime deterrent.
About a month before Hurricane Isabel hit the coast of Virginia in 2004, my husband went deer hunting with a freind. They brought back a lovely doe- she stepped right in front of the bullet meant for a nice buck, who susequently ran off. She was field-dressed, and brought home, still warm (!). My husband and I hoisted her into the tree in our front yard ( which was actually a lot in a rather rough trailer park), where we skinned her out, and we butchered her and wrapped her up for the freezer. I saved the head- brain-tanned leather is the best- and decided to tan the hide. Unfortunately, I discovered that my frames and other equipment had been lost in a big move. I stretched the hide over the back of the front steps of my home. I tacked it right up, and went to work, scraping and cleaning. This process takes a few days. We had several young thugs in the neighborhood, and they all brought their freinds to watch me scrape this bloody hide. I had to take several breaks- a mother's work is never done. While taking one of these breaks, I noticed folks driving by and stomping the brakes when they came up to our house. No one ever said a word to me, though I knew I was being watched. I continued my work, and turned out two small pairs of moccasins- one for my son, who was four, and one for my daughter, who was almost a year old.
Fast-forward about a month. After Isabel hit, we were without electricity or clean water for several days. We had camp dishes,but no kitchen stove, and no grill. The hurricane had taken it all away. So I built a stove from a coffee can and some screen, and we ate fairly well, while our neighbors were fighting over the propane for their grills, and running out of gas, and eating cold ravioli out of a can.
One night, while the children were asleep, my husband and I stepped outside to sit on the steps and talk before we went to bed. There were no streetlights- it was pitch-dark. There were members of the local thuggery out looking for places where they could go in and steal and rob. Eventually, they stopped on the street in front of our house. There were a group of them- about 6 or seven. They stopped for a few minutes, and we were very quiet, waiting to see what came next. Then we heard one young male speak up.
" Oh, hell, no. I ain't going in there. Them people are crazy! He'll blow your ass up, and then she'll start making stuff out of you, like Silence of the Lambs! " They all walked away, never realising we were sitting right there. Every home on our street was broken into, except ours. Who knew my recreation would turn out to be a better crime- deterrent than a burglar alarm and a big dog? And that, folks, is why I refuse to give up my guns. I love fresh meat.
That said, I will say that I enjoy hunting as well. I no longer go hunting- it is physically unsafe for me and for others out there who are hunters- but I love fresh meat. Fortunately for me, my husband does hunt, so I get all the good spoils. I get fresh meat, leather for shoes, belts, and anything else I can manage to put together. I get food for my table, and plenty of recreation for myself as well. That's a lot to recieve for a few hours work on his part, a few hours wait on mine, and one bullet. It is good to know that I can manage not to waste the animals he brings home to me. That knowledge makes me happy. Now comes the rest of the story. I discovered that simply hunting and not wasting the kill could be a crime deterrent.
About a month before Hurricane Isabel hit the coast of Virginia in 2004, my husband went deer hunting with a freind. They brought back a lovely doe- she stepped right in front of the bullet meant for a nice buck, who susequently ran off. She was field-dressed, and brought home, still warm (!). My husband and I hoisted her into the tree in our front yard ( which was actually a lot in a rather rough trailer park), where we skinned her out, and we butchered her and wrapped her up for the freezer. I saved the head- brain-tanned leather is the best- and decided to tan the hide. Unfortunately, I discovered that my frames and other equipment had been lost in a big move. I stretched the hide over the back of the front steps of my home. I tacked it right up, and went to work, scraping and cleaning. This process takes a few days. We had several young thugs in the neighborhood, and they all brought their freinds to watch me scrape this bloody hide. I had to take several breaks- a mother's work is never done. While taking one of these breaks, I noticed folks driving by and stomping the brakes when they came up to our house. No one ever said a word to me, though I knew I was being watched. I continued my work, and turned out two small pairs of moccasins- one for my son, who was four, and one for my daughter, who was almost a year old.
Fast-forward about a month. After Isabel hit, we were without electricity or clean water for several days. We had camp dishes,but no kitchen stove, and no grill. The hurricane had taken it all away. So I built a stove from a coffee can and some screen, and we ate fairly well, while our neighbors were fighting over the propane for their grills, and running out of gas, and eating cold ravioli out of a can.
One night, while the children were asleep, my husband and I stepped outside to sit on the steps and talk before we went to bed. There were no streetlights- it was pitch-dark. There were members of the local thuggery out looking for places where they could go in and steal and rob. Eventually, they stopped on the street in front of our house. There were a group of them- about 6 or seven. They stopped for a few minutes, and we were very quiet, waiting to see what came next. Then we heard one young male speak up.
" Oh, hell, no. I ain't going in there. Them people are crazy! He'll blow your ass up, and then she'll start making stuff out of you, like Silence of the Lambs! " They all walked away, never realising we were sitting right there. Every home on our street was broken into, except ours. Who knew my recreation would turn out to be a better crime- deterrent than a burglar alarm and a big dog? And that, folks, is why I refuse to give up my guns. I love fresh meat.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Sickness vs. Disability
I am the mother of two young children. I am the wife of a good man. I am a Daughter, Sister, Freind, and Human Being. I am also disabled.
My appearance does not fit the stereotype of disability- I do not use a wheelchair, or crutches, nor do I need a guide dog, or other service animal. I speak well. Many people enjoy conversating with me. Yet when any person finds out ( as they always will) that I have various diagnoses, and varying abilities, I inevitably hear one of two things- " Well, you look healthy to me, you don't look SICK !", or, " Oh, I'm so sorry, and at your age, too. Tch". Please.
Sick people have the flu, or cancer, or meningitis or something. A germ or other contagion has entered the person's body, where it will be hosted until the immune system ( and possibly medication) drive it out of their body. That is a sick person.
I am disabled- which is a silly term. Let's explore this term, " disabled". The word disabled is a synonym of the word, "incapacitated". It means that the subject is worthless, not usable, broken, used up, ruined. I am not worthless. I am usable, just in slightly different ways than others. I am certainly not broken, and I do not need to be fixed or repaired, thank you.
Many people confuse the terms, "sick" and "disabled" . I don't refer to myself as being sick or being disabled. I am me- a human being with a different than normal set of obstacles that occassionally must be overcome. Actually, most folks never really overcome their specific set of obstacles. We all learn how to adapt and work around or through them. My natural state is for me, different than most people's natural state of being.
Many times, I have had to request to my family members to " Please stop calling me sick.", or " Stop calling me disabled." I am a person- a whole person- just like anyone else. I cannot and I will not be defined by my diagnoses. Medical diagnoses does not make a person, nor define their identity.
We all will meet different peoples of every type on our journey through life. They are all of the same species as us. Good, bad or indifferent,we cannot make snap judgements about the people we meet. If we do not know someone we can not assume anything about that person. Use the Golden Rule and treat everyone you meet with dignity and respect. Treat them as you would like to know your loved ones are being treated by the people they meet. Look past the tools we use to make our lives easier. A wheelchair and a wrench are both tools-but no one looks at you funny when you are using the wrench. It makes no sense to me to look askew at the wheelchair. Please remember that we are all different in our own way, but we are very much more similar. We are all Human Beings.
My appearance does not fit the stereotype of disability- I do not use a wheelchair, or crutches, nor do I need a guide dog, or other service animal. I speak well. Many people enjoy conversating with me. Yet when any person finds out ( as they always will) that I have various diagnoses, and varying abilities, I inevitably hear one of two things- " Well, you look healthy to me, you don't look SICK !", or, " Oh, I'm so sorry, and at your age, too. Tch". Please.
Sick people have the flu, or cancer, or meningitis or something. A germ or other contagion has entered the person's body, where it will be hosted until the immune system ( and possibly medication) drive it out of their body. That is a sick person.
I am disabled- which is a silly term. Let's explore this term, " disabled". The word disabled is a synonym of the word, "incapacitated". It means that the subject is worthless, not usable, broken, used up, ruined. I am not worthless. I am usable, just in slightly different ways than others. I am certainly not broken, and I do not need to be fixed or repaired, thank you.
Many people confuse the terms, "sick" and "disabled" . I don't refer to myself as being sick or being disabled. I am me- a human being with a different than normal set of obstacles that occassionally must be overcome. Actually, most folks never really overcome their specific set of obstacles. We all learn how to adapt and work around or through them. My natural state is for me, different than most people's natural state of being.
Many times, I have had to request to my family members to " Please stop calling me sick.", or " Stop calling me disabled." I am a person- a whole person- just like anyone else. I cannot and I will not be defined by my diagnoses. Medical diagnoses does not make a person, nor define their identity.
We all will meet different peoples of every type on our journey through life. They are all of the same species as us. Good, bad or indifferent,we cannot make snap judgements about the people we meet. If we do not know someone we can not assume anything about that person. Use the Golden Rule and treat everyone you meet with dignity and respect. Treat them as you would like to know your loved ones are being treated by the people they meet. Look past the tools we use to make our lives easier. A wheelchair and a wrench are both tools-but no one looks at you funny when you are using the wrench. It makes no sense to me to look askew at the wheelchair. Please remember that we are all different in our own way, but we are very much more similar. We are all Human Beings.
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