Yes, that’s right. Monday is the new Saturday, at least for me, and I have to say I like Monday dressed up in Saturday’s clothes a lot better than what it usually wears. Of course, having a day off is most unfamiliar these days, but so far I’m digging it.
The Big Project has gone well, although it has been extended for another two weeks. This means fiction is still on hiatus, since writing 70k words in 4 weeks on the same subject tends to wear out the brain cells. That being said, I’m working on a piece for #fridayflash just in time for Valentine’s Day. I wrote it a long time ago, but it needs a good overhaul and some serious editing. I hope I can have it done by Friday.
In other writing news, check out this post from author Peter V. Brett on the e-book wars. He nails it dead-on, I’m thinking.
The Super Bowl was amazing this year, and although I’m not a Saints fan (sorry, the Giants have had, and always will have, my football heart) it was nice to see them win. I will admit that sometimes the commercials outshine the game, but not this year. In spite of that, this was my favorite Super Bowl commercial and it just tickles me to no end:
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And finally, if you are at all interested in health care reform (and you should be!) check out this brilliant link from Kenny Wyland, who very effectively debunks the more persistent and stoopid of health care reform myths.
So, since it is a day off, I’m going to see what kind of trouble I can find. Heh.
Tags: ebooks, health care reform, monday, saints, saturday, war, writing
You may remember this post from a company I did business with this past summer. I have been remiss in updating the full story, and for that I apologize. Let’s catch up, shall we?
On October 14th, almost two months after the project was completed, I received a payment from an unknown (to me) source. Not knowing from whom the payment originated or what it was for, I was concerned I had received it in error, so I emailed the source with an inquiry, and an offer to return the money (less the fees involved in the transaction.) In return, I received a very nice email from a new PIC (Person In Charge) saying that it was payment for the services rendered to this company, and the former PIC was no longer a PIC, and a sincere apology was offered for my inconvenience. I politely replied that these things happen, and I appreciated the payment. I further stated that I hoped we could continue a working relationship, but in the future I would require a deposit upon my services.
The PIC thanked me for my patience and understanding, and said they totally understood my position.
The End. Oh, wait…not The End.
In December I received another message from my financial institution, saying that the payment had been disputed, but since it was over the dispute period, no action had been taken. Confused, I emailed the originator of the dispute, asking what the problem was and how could I fix it?
Now, as if this whole thing wasn’t weird enough, it got weirder.
The originator of the dispute told me to return the money. That’s it. No other information. Now, I’m just a wee bit irritated because I have no idea what’s going on.
We swap a few emails, and this person was claiming that the payment was made out of their account without their knowledge or permission, and they wanted the money back, like NOW, because it was close to Christmas and they had to buy gifts. Um…
I forwarded the information I had regarding the payment and wished him good luck with his mission. I have no idea who this person was, or how someone could make a payment to me out of their account without their knowledge, and the whole thing smelled fishier than a three-day-old octopus washed up on the beach. This person (are you confused yet? Because I sure am) said this whole thing was a scam, and “we’ll get them”. We? Scam? All I know is I finally got paid TWO MONTHS LATE for services I rendered, so I haven’t been scammed. I think. I’m so confused.
I emailed the PIC I spoke with in October, and they told me it was a mistake, the dispute had been withdrawn, we’re all cool. I never did get an explanation of what was really going on, and at this point, I’m over it.
The End…oh, wait. Not The End.
Today, I received an email from someone I’ve never heard of demanding I take this original post down. That’s all the message said — “Please take this post down immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.” Um….
So, I emailed back and said hello, who are you and why would I delete it? It’s the truth.
Response? One line… “You got paid, hence it’s not true.”
I still have no idea who this person is. So, I emailed back and asked again.
It’s the head of accounting.
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I just want to say, for the record, I did eventually get paid, although that part is wreathed in mystery, which is really not my problem and I don’t care. I am a reasonably nice person, and I try to conduct myself in a respectful and professional manner. What is really irritating me here is the total lack of professionalism and respect on this other end. I don’t think I’m out of line here. If you want to discuss a problem, I’m all ears. If you want to start demanding, like I’ve done something wrong, well, talk to the hand.
This is my blog. This is my experience. Period.
Beware. That’s all I’m saying.
His red hair flamed against the cobalt blue of the California sky, his white teeth flashing in a charm-filled smile. His cocoa brown eyes warm, and full of love.
Bristly cheeks, a hearty laugh. Big hands, gentle in his touch and deft with a painter’s brush. “Look, princess,” he’d say. “What do you see?”
A world of color, a maelstrom of emotion too mature for young eyes. The heart of an artist speaking the only way it knew how – with oils and strokes, palettes of hues and whorls of feeling.
He never came in rescue from the monsters of childhood nor the tears shed in the face of life’s bruising. Never chased away the unworthy boys; never walked down the aisle with his princess on his arm to give away. He never held his first grandchild, or even seen his face.
He was not there, or ever would be, yet he lingered in every curve of my heart. I thought I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I would turn, only to face my fear. He lived; he was dead. Dead to me, but alive to his second, and favored, family.
Thirty years later, all I have is an enameled box filled with the remnants of a life that should have been.
I opened the box and released my father’s ashes on the California hillside.
Tags: #fridayflash
Yes, I should be working; I have a tight deadline to meet this week. However, I am often seduced by the fiction part of my chosen profession (like I chose it, instead of the other way around, that’s so funny!) and so I have a few links to share with you I think you might find useful or amusing.
First of all, a good friend of mine passed along a new market for short fiction. Blue Crow is accepting new submissions, deadline March 15, 2010.
Second, I found an Evil Editor and I’m soooo happy our species is not extinct. Don’t let the sharp humor scare you — there is a lot of excellent information here to which more writers and editors should pay attention. Including myself.
Looking for an agent? This is the blog for you. I might not be ready yet, but I will be soon, and it never hurts to keep an ear to the ground.
And wrapping it up for today, are you writing an online serial novel? Have you thought about taking your writing to the next level? Check out Digital Novelists, an innovative and fabulous community of writers exploring the power of profitably writing fiction for the web. An absolutely stellar bunch of people, and they get my hearty recommendation.
It’s supposed to be Tuesday, but it just feels like Monday dressed up in Tuesday’s cast-offs. The pants are a little too tight, but I’ll just have to make it work. Speaking of work, stop distracting me with shiny things…heh.
Tags: links
I have been having technical difficulties with the website lately, and nothing but the run-around trying to get it resolved. This makes me cranky. Couple that with a Monday and a decreased caffeine intake, and what do you have? Ohhhh, it’s not pretty.
However, we shall persevere.
I have been neck-deep in non-fic work, and while I’m very happy that I can make some kind of progress at chipping away at the pile of bills which grow fangs in the night and try to eat me in the morning, it has severely curtailed fiction-type endeavors. This does not make me happy, but it is what it is. I will say that anyone who tries to tell you writing for a living is easy work is a damned liar and you should beat them with a shovel.
I’m halfway through the Big Project, applied for a couple more gigs that seem up my alley, and am hurling words at a rate of about 2500-3500 per day. Considering that’s on the same subject, I’m satisfied with that although my brain likes to tell me otherwise.
Speaking of which, no, I have not completed the last three chapters yet. Pallas yells at me almost every night. She just does not get the concept of earning a living. I tell her when she can pay the bills, she’ll have my undivided attention, but until then I’m the boss of this rodeo. She laughs at me.
I’ll be so glad when that wench is written out and over. At least, for this round.
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That’s the update. I’ll leave you with this comedic tidbit, which cracks me up:
And, it’s a cold one! Frigid, even. Holy moly, these single digits are killa. Makes it difficult for the brain cells to fire.
I realize I have taken a hiatus from blogging, tweeting, and general internet stuff, and most of that was not on purpose. Oh, you have your usual holiday issues, then some health issues, and of course, the ever-present real-life drama issues, and next thing you know, a whole month or more has passed by with nary a blog word written. Although only one out of the three have actually been resolved, it’s past time to dive back in to the blogosphere. I hope I haven’t lost all two of my readers (heh) but I’m willing to work hard to woo you back into the fold.
Let’s start with some Twitter-love, shall we? #Fridayflash is still going strong, and a “Best of” anthology is planned. For writers, I strongly urge you to participate in this weekly exercise, because…well, because it is so much fun! As a reader, I urge you with equal fervor to make the rounds and read…there is some astounding talent out there, and you won’t be sorry. As a matter of fact, I suspect you’ll thank me profusely and maybe even name your first born child after me. Yes, the stories are that good. Check it out.
The latest Twitter hashtag that’s come to my attention is #storystarters. How cool is this? Clifford Fryman had the brilliant idea (while in the shower, heh) to post 50 “story starters” to “kickstart creativity when your muse is a no show.” Each #storystarter is 125 characters, and he started posting them today in batches of five. I can see the potential for it to catch fire in the same way #fridayflash did. According to Cliff, who was kind enough to respond to my nosy questions, the idea is to provide a daily place to post or take advantage of a prompt. He posts three per day, usually. The 50 #storystarters were the result of a Twitter challenge Cliff posted, in order to raise awareness. It worked! He met the challenge, so today starts the posting marathon of the fruits of his labor. Anyone can participate and post a #storystarter by simply using the hashtag. He encourages people to first of all, write! And direct message him or Tweet the link to any story inspired by one of the story starters.
Cliff has tentative plans to release his personal story starters in a free e-book around NaNo time, but the future of #storystarters is still in the infant stage. The potential is shining and exciting. You can follow Cliff on Twitter here, and I highly recommend you do so… there could be more challenges to come, and you don’t want to miss them!
Cliff and I agree that Twitter has been a huge benefit, and he considers this his way of paying it forward. That’s the great thing about Twitter — many fine, talented people who are generous with their time and talents. I love Twitter.
I’ll be keeping a close eye on this, and have already scribbled a couple of #storystarters on my trusty notepad for future reference. Very cool, and the gods know that muse of mine needs a good poke now and then.
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This is my latest earworm by DJEarworm — a seriously talented young man. Dare you not to do some chair dancing when you see it 
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Well, this is a start on getting it on with the new year. I have expectations tempered by a realistic outlook. This ain’t my first new year, but hopefully it will be better than the last two have been, which in all honesty, have sucked the hairy nutz of Lucifer. One thing I can say about the last sixteen months in particular…I may have been bent, but I am not broken, and I still have hope. I’m gonna take that and run with it.
I have been a long-time fan of The Police. When Kellie approached me about posting this Q & A of hers with 
Stewart Copeland, I was thrilled and honored. Make sure you visit Kellie — she’s a Most Excellent writer, and she has a unique voice I quite admire.
Thanks, Kellie, for this. You totally rock, mygirl.
Stewart Copeland has been evacuated from Lebanon, locked up in Zaire, and inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. He has performed with Sting and Andy Summers in the Police, Les Claypool and Trey Anastasio in Oysterhead, and Gene Simmons and Stephen Stills in his youngest daughter’s grade school fundraiser. He has composed scores for opera, film, and ballet, acted, directed, danced with Pygmies, judged a reality TV talent show, and whupped Prince Charles on the polo field.
Copeland’s life has been anything but ordinary. It comes as no surprise that his life’s story isn’t either.
In September Copeland added book author to his already impressive, if haphazard, resume with the release of his memoir, Strange Things Happen: A Life with The Police, Polo, and Pygmies. Relayed as a series of anecdotes, the book’s loose narrative details select adventures and misadventures of his life, from his childhood in Beirut as the son of a CIA spy through the last notes of the Police’s thirtieth anniversary reunion tour last year. Written by a man who “instinctively say(s) yes to almost any creative endeavor,” this drummer’s memoir goes well beyond sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
Thanks to the Friday Project, the U.K. publisher of Strange Things Happen, I had the opportunity to submit a few questions to Copeland about his writing experience. Here he talks about his background as a writer, the stories that inspired the memoir, and the decision of which tales to tell-including what he says is the real reason why he glossed over the formative years of the band that made him famous.
1. In a conversation with Rachel Burden for BBC Radio 5, you mentioned that when you were younger, you didn’t expect to become a musician: you said you had gone to college, started a magazine, and thought you would end up either in the entertainment industry or as a publisher. Please tell us a little bit about your background as a writer. How did you get started? Did you write stories as a child? Did you have any formal training or plan to pursue writing as a career?
Just about the only thing I got good grades for in school was creative writing, but no, I never saw myself as a writer. I wrote copious stream of consciousness journals, but that was just to untangle my mind. Publishing the magazine (”College Event”) was fun, but the writing was all technical.
2. According to reports when your book was first announced, HarperStudio approached you about writing a memoir after reading a few of the “Dinner Tales” and tour diaries you had posted on your website. What, if anything, motivated you to write those stories down and post them online? Had the possibility of writing a book ever crossed your mind before?
Some of these adventures were so inspiring that they had to be witnessed on the spot. As one escapade followed another, I began to amass a growing folder of these stories. Even amateur writers need to be read, so I started posting them on my little website. It only took the slightest clamor to inspire the grand vision of a whole book. Just as I was getting started, the Police reunion tour happened, and the last chapters wrote themselves.
3. The structure of Strange Things Happen made it possible to be selective in which events of your life you chose to include or exclude. The early history of the Police, for example: you jump from the beginning of the band as narrated in the voiceover from your film Everyone Stares: The Police Inside-Out to the aftermath of recovering from the band in just the turn of a page. Later you dedicate some very funny pages to brief hours spent with Incubus, the Foo Fighters, and Rage Against the Machine, but you don’t talk at all about your two or so years with Animal Logic. How did you decide which stories or periods of time to represent and which to omit? Are there any you wish you had included but were unable?
When I hit the 80,000 word mark, the publisher started groaning, and I had to put down the pen. I’ve probably got a whole ‘nuther book with just the stories that have been suggested since I finished this one. Jamming with Alice Cooper, publishing that magazine, sky diving in Rio, Animal Logic, Ben Hur, and many more. I’ll get to it.
So what about The Police Round One? The official excuse is that the story has been told by all three of us already with two books [Sting’s Broken Music and Summers’ One Train Later] and a movie. But really the truth is that I did try to write some Police Tales from back in the day, but the pen just would not move across the page. I was grumpy for too much of that time, and the poisons began to re-circulate whenever I tried to conjure up the scenes. The reunion tour fixed all that, and I just didn’t want to go back to status quo ante. And there are those two books and a movie.
Kellie M. Walsh is writing a book about a flag that stalked Stewart Copeland around the world. Read her essay “My Love-Hate Relationship with River Phoenix” featured recently on PopMatters, and follow her on Twitter.
Yeah. Well, that wouldn’t be freelancing.
Although I love it and I can’t see me doing anything else at this point, if you think writing and/or editing full-time is a glamorous job, let me put it to you straight.
You are outside your mind.
It takes Ballz of Steel. Endurance and stamina. A twisted sense of humor helps, and so does Mad Organizational Skillz. You must have discipline, and an endless supply of coffee.
And, if you happen to write fiction as well as non-fiction, you must be able to juggle many objects in the air. For me, I find it impossible to do both at the same time. It’s like a switch from the left brain cell to the right brain cell, and if I try to run both at the same time, I flip the breaker or blow the fuse. I try not to do that. It’s such a mess to clean up brain goo.
Feast or famine in the Freelance Universe, that seems to be one of the universal laws. Therefore, since lately I have had demands for my writerly services of a non-fiction type, all fiction (to include the last three chapters of Athena’s Promise and Flash Fiction Friday *sob*) have come to a screeching halt. So has Twittering (double *sob*!) and Facebooking. Priorities, yanno.
So, as I sit here with a pile of articles to write (thank ya Jeezuz, for the work, I really need it) in my pajamas after being up all night with the pukkies, the word “glamorous” is not even in my vocabulary. Deadlines will be met No Matter What, money will exchange hands, bills will be paid and hopefully, at some point, I’ll be able to dive into my fiction world once again.
In the meantime, I’m rolling in words like a pig wallows in mud, and I’m just as happy. I never was the glamorous type.
Kel Spencer calls himself the “Warrior Poet” but that’s not what sets him apart from other artists.
Kel Spencer has worked with such big names as Will Smith, Wyclef John, Mary J. Blige, and MC Lyte – but that’s not what sets him apart from other artists, either. He’s been dubbed “The best rapper you’ve never heard of” by DJ Jazzy Jeff and “The Hip Hop Moses”. This definitely puts him head and shoulders above a lot of rappers, but it’s not the only thing.
There are several things that set Kel apart from other rap artists. Number one among them is that he listens. What he has heard has inspired him to create a novelty album, “Salon Stories”, due to drop October 20th. It’s a collection of music inspired by the stories he’s heard over the years as a sympathetic and empathetic friend to the women in his life who would come to him with questions about the nature of guys and why things haven’t always worked out. He knows what women want, he says, and he hopes to inspire women to make better choices for better relationships.
“I’ve always been the guy girls came to with questions,” he says. “They were asking the same questions, over and over, questions like why doesn’t he call me, or why is he acting the fool? I’m a dude, I see it from both sides, and I’d tell them the truth, try to bridge that gap.”
In Kel’s opinion, today’s crumbling society can be attributed to one thing – the demise of the family unit. He says the general message he means to get across to both men and women with “Salon Stories” is to foster success in a committed relationship, and it all boils down to one simple idea: pay more attention to each other. He freely shares his “Spencerisms” on Twitter, in which he dispenses nuggets of wisdom from his own experiences and asks provocative questions of his followers to make them think and respond.
“In my opinion,” he says, “Rap is a storytelling device that hasn’t been utilized to its greatest potential.”
Which brings us to another thing that sets Kel Spencer apart from other artists. He owns an indie record label (3rd Power Music Group), and he’s quite familiar with the challenges any indie artist faces, whether in print or in music, and namely, that’s marketing and reaching an audience. Not only is he on the radio on a regular basis, dispensing his wisdom, but he’s all over the social networking sites such as Twitter, MySpace, Facebook, iLike, and YouTube. Over half a million people are followers of Kel, due to a savvy marketing strategy and his ability to appeal to the “salon crowd”.
But that’s not all. While many artists have established a presence on the internet social scene, Kel actually interacts with his fans, keeps in touch, and handles much of the action himself. He does have a small staff to help him, but the majority of the work he takes on himself.
“Every blogger counts,” he says, “every fan, every person.” It’s that kind of personal philosophy and work ethic that makes Kel Spencer unique. He believes in practicing what you preach, and has a social conscience and a need to make a difference, make his world a better place through his extraordinary storytelling talent.
Kel Spencer may be the best rapper you’ve never heard of – but you’re going to hear a lot about this talented artist in the days to come.
Kel’s Free sampler!
Salon Stories Listening Party, Episode 1
Salon Stories Listening Party, Episode 2
Salon Stories Listening Party, Episode 3
Follow Kel on Twitter, MySpace, or Facebook.
This has been a crazy-insane work week. I’m not complaining, but it really has cut down on fiction time and I HATE that.
Sometimes, as we all know too well, it’s not the work that interferes but the muse. She has this annoying habit of sticking her nose in when you’re most involved in other things, then taking off for parts unknown when you need her most. Here is a conversation I had with my muse. It’s a love/hate thing we have going on. Heh. Yeah, her name is Al. Don’t ask.
Rotten bitch.
Say what?
You heard me. I didn’t stutter. Where the hell have you been?
Hey, I have a life. You think you’re the only one in this relationship? You don’t tell me where and when to go.
I have needs! Needs that you don’t seem to care about!
So what? I have needs too, and you’ve been totally ignorant of that fact.
Like what? You never say anything, how am I supposed to know what your needs are if you never say anything? You’re so frustrating.
Like, you never feed me anything but junk, and then complain because I’m out of shape. You don’t take me anywhere, we don’t do anything – I get no exercise. You expect me to do all the work then sit around and whine because you don’t think I’m living up to my end of the bargain. I’m sick of it.
That doesn’t tell me where the hell you’ve been. You’ve been gone for *weeks*, not even a phone call , an email, or even a damned postcard. People are starting to talk.
I couldn’t care less what other people say. You used to think that was part of my charm.
Again, you sidestep the issue! Where have you been?? Please tell me you haven’t been…
I don’t answer to you or anyone else. Where I’ve been is none of your business – I came back, didn’t I?
Yeah, but for how long? And for what? To bitch at me for my shortcomings, most of which I know only too well? What kind of help is that?
There you go again, whining, always whining.
Roll your eyes at me one more time….
And what? You need me. Aww, don’t cry. Come here, let me dry those tears. Maybe we can work something out.
I’ve missed you.
Well, I’ve missed you too. That’s why I’ve come back. No one executes my suggestions like you do. Now, come here and sit on my lap and let me whisper in your ear….
What You’re Saying