WOW, what a weekend.
Last week was a weird week and an angry one in my house. Friday was just flat strange. Not sure what that was all about.
Saturday I worked in the flower garden and planted some flowers that I hope will bloom before long. It was fun making mud pies :).
Sunday, hubby told me the Derby was coming on. About an hour before the race, I went to a page and looked at the names of the horses. Didn't look at the stats, nothing about the horse, just went by the name. Animal Kingdom was a good name and the horse I liked. Told hubby my choice, and didn't think anything else about it and went back to my writing.
Animal Kingdom was a 20-1 shot, and I'll be damned, that horse won the derby. I don't even know the gender of that horse, lol. How's that for off the wall luck of the pick?
Hope your weekend was a good one.
AE. Roud
Usama Bin Laden/Osama Bin Laden, a true modern Hydra.
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It's taken me a couple days to gather my thoughts about the situation and here is what I believe.
Usama Bin Laden/Osama Bin Laden, his hatred was and continues as a true modern Hydra.
THANK YOU NAVY SEALS. I thank the whole US Armed Services, everyone, who for years have and continue to put their lives on the line for their country and mine. Thank You to our allies in this war against this hatred that was spread the World over by this modern day Hydra.
We must remain vigilant. We are still under threat by the minions of that devil, and they will, some time strike again, in his name.
His hate permeated generations and the very soul of the planet we live on. Those that subscribe(d) to that devil’s dribble are mental deficient’s, unable to think for themselves. Do not feel sorry for them because they are strong, fortified by a hatred that continues to tell them to force their will and hatred on the World using murder as the means against millions of people, men, women and children.
Hatred like they spew, you cannot suppress because it is a hydra. This hatred, bred and preached in the darkness to a mind, and fed to a soul, is a problem no single solution will bring to an end. It has too many mouths speaking with a soft breathe urging minions forward to murder all and everything in sight.
This type of hatred is our modern day Hydra of Greek Lore. You cut off one head, and two more grow in the one’s place.
The best we can do against this type of hate is use a bulldozer to knock it back into the darkest pit of hell again and again, as it continually tries to climb out into the light of day. Be vigilant guardians, because that type of hate will continue to kill, if that bulldozer should ever fail.
Usama Bin Laden/Osama Bin Laden, his hatred was and continues as a true modern Hydra.
THANK YOU NAVY SEALS. I thank the whole US Armed Services, everyone, who for years have and continue to put their lives on the line for their country and mine. Thank You to our allies in this war against this hatred that was spread the World over by this modern day Hydra.
We must remain vigilant. We are still under threat by the minions of that devil, and they will, some time strike again, in his name.
His hate permeated generations and the very soul of the planet we live on. Those that subscribe(d) to that devil’s dribble are mental deficient’s, unable to think for themselves. Do not feel sorry for them because they are strong, fortified by a hatred that continues to tell them to force their will and hatred on the World using murder as the means against millions of people, men, women and children.
Hatred like they spew, you cannot suppress because it is a hydra. This hatred, bred and preached in the darkness to a mind, and fed to a soul, is a problem no single solution will bring to an end. It has too many mouths speaking with a soft breathe urging minions forward to murder all and everything in sight.
This type of hatred is our modern day Hydra of Greek Lore. You cut off one head, and two more grow in the one’s place.
The best we can do against this type of hate is use a bulldozer to knock it back into the darkest pit of hell again and again, as it continually tries to climb out into the light of day. Be vigilant guardians, because that type of hate will continue to kill, if that bulldozer should ever fail.
Who Are You?
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Who are you?
Yeah you, the one that thinks they can write a book, self publish and then contact a literary agent for representation of film rights. Who are you?
Are you Stephen King? No.
Are you Tom Clancy? No, you are not Tom.
Okay let me try again, hmmmm ... snap, you think you are Amanda Hocking, right? Not even, close.
Who are you to think you can be that needle in the gigantic publishing industry? I will tell who you are. You are the fool of fools.
People listen up, and I say this to keep many out of trouble. Amanda was one in a zillion that got lucky. You and I are not that lucky.
There is a sinkhole filled with rip off crocodiles standing between you and a real published work. If you cannot walk on croc snouts, you will become their fodder. Proven fact in the publishing industry, if you do not have patience, research and remain steadfast, eyes on that distant prize of publication, you will become angry and fail.
No, you do not need an agent. I do not have an agent. I found my publisher with the look for publisher, find publisher, query publisher, then chew my nails down to finger tips, and finger tips down fingers until I reached my knuckles, when I wasn't writing, method. I took the long hard road and I avoided the crocodile filled sinkhole, to become a published writer.
Say you take the long route. Phase One
Publisher responds, heart is in the throat, open the mail and read one of two scenarios.
"Please submit first three chapters."
OR
“Thank you but your work is not something we will publish.”
If the mail is in the first scenario, you passed a first inspection and kept the attention of the reader. You submit requested items per the publisher’s instructions and then chew nails and fingers more.
If the mail is the second scenario, back to square one and on to the next publisher.
Phase Two.
Your works has made it into the second round of scrutiny and you get mail from publisher that says either,
"Yes, we like your work, send us the whole manuscript.” You then proceed to bounce off the walls. You made it, congratulations.
OR
You start to cry when you read the words, "This work is not for us, thank you."
If it is the second response, a rejection slip, dry your eyes and move on to the next publisher on your list.
That people, is the way it works in the publishing industry. Expect more rejection for your work, than accolades. There are but a very rare few that get a gold ticket such as Amanda did. That gig is a needle in the huge publishing haystack and your magnet, like mine, is not big enough to find it.
You want to be a published writer, Okay.
First, WRITE YOUR BOOK. You cannot present unless you have a written work.
Yes, yes, yes, I know the guru’s say to query first about an idea, but here again, who are you? You are not Clancy, or King or any of those that have the ability to ASK. That EARNED step is for those that have made it and have the power to ASK a publisher if they would like such and such type of story. Who are you to think you have that power? The fool, once again.
When you finish writing your book, then you as the writer need to edit your work and make it as clean as a layperson can, punctuation, grammar, and all that other English writing stuff. Oh, you thought editors did that, right
Not until later after publisher accepts your manuscript for publication. Until then it is all on you as the writer, to show you know how to present PICTURES THROUGH WORDS. Once your manuscript is accepted, and goes to an editor, then EDITORS tell you Mr. or Ms. WRITER, where your writing is weak, and needs changes to make a better PRODUCT. Editing can be very harsh. Learn from it so the next book you write, will not be in editing for longer than the first manuscript.
You have a question. "How do editors know how to edit your work?" Real editors, learn by taking courses, working in the industry, knowing all that English gist stuff, and can edit a writers PICTURES CREATED WITH WORDS.
When your manuscript is as good as you, THE WRITER, can make it, prepare your manuscript per the WRITERS GUIDELINES of your chosen publisher. Once you have that completed, you send your manuscript off. Mark the date on your calendar that you sent the work, AND START WRITING AGAIN. It will be a while before you hear back.
Sorry but it is a fact, most manuscripts TAKE 6 TO 8 months, some take A YEAR OR MORE to make it through to become a published work. E-books or standard books, it is all the same.
In review of who are you, that wants to become a published writer,
LEARN THE ROPES OF THE INDUSTRY. Nothing happens overnight.
Take the long road. Research publishers before you submit and use that research to stay out of that sinkhole filled with greedy crocodiles. They are out there and they will eat your lunch.
Keep writing and using queries. Query only those publishers that publish your type of material. Publishers that say in their WRITER GUIDELINES that they only accept represented manuscripts put at the end of your query list and query them last. You might not even need to go that far down your list until you find a publisher that accepts your work.
Recognize a fraud. Publishers PAY you, YOU DO NOT PAY FOR PUBLICATION.
Do things the proper way, take the long road to get to your goal of becoming a published writer and it can happen, but that will not be tomorrow. Think more next year or beyond.
I hope this little Who Are You infomercial was not boring or harsh, but that it gives a hard look to those that want to be the next, Tom Clancy, Stephen King, or any of the other major writers. Neither they, nor you or I, are Amanda Hocking. Take off your rose-colored glasses and see the publishing industry as it is, a business to sell a product to the public.
AE. Roud
Yeah you, the one that thinks they can write a book, self publish and then contact a literary agent for representation of film rights. Who are you?
Are you Stephen King? No.
Are you Tom Clancy? No, you are not Tom.
Okay let me try again, hmmmm ... snap, you think you are Amanda Hocking, right? Not even, close.
Who are you to think you can be that needle in the gigantic publishing industry? I will tell who you are. You are the fool of fools.
People listen up, and I say this to keep many out of trouble. Amanda was one in a zillion that got lucky. You and I are not that lucky.
There is a sinkhole filled with rip off crocodiles standing between you and a real published work. If you cannot walk on croc snouts, you will become their fodder. Proven fact in the publishing industry, if you do not have patience, research and remain steadfast, eyes on that distant prize of publication, you will become angry and fail.
No, you do not need an agent. I do not have an agent. I found my publisher with the look for publisher, find publisher, query publisher, then chew my nails down to finger tips, and finger tips down fingers until I reached my knuckles, when I wasn't writing, method. I took the long hard road and I avoided the crocodile filled sinkhole, to become a published writer.
Say you take the long route. Phase One
Publisher responds, heart is in the throat, open the mail and read one of two scenarios.
"Please submit first three chapters."
OR
“Thank you but your work is not something we will publish.”
If the mail is in the first scenario, you passed a first inspection and kept the attention of the reader. You submit requested items per the publisher’s instructions and then chew nails and fingers more.
If the mail is the second scenario, back to square one and on to the next publisher.
Phase Two.
Your works has made it into the second round of scrutiny and you get mail from publisher that says either,
"Yes, we like your work, send us the whole manuscript.” You then proceed to bounce off the walls. You made it, congratulations.
OR
You start to cry when you read the words, "This work is not for us, thank you."
If it is the second response, a rejection slip, dry your eyes and move on to the next publisher on your list.
That people, is the way it works in the publishing industry. Expect more rejection for your work, than accolades. There are but a very rare few that get a gold ticket such as Amanda did. That gig is a needle in the huge publishing haystack and your magnet, like mine, is not big enough to find it.
You want to be a published writer, Okay.
First, WRITE YOUR BOOK. You cannot present unless you have a written work.
Yes, yes, yes, I know the guru’s say to query first about an idea, but here again, who are you? You are not Clancy, or King or any of those that have the ability to ASK. That EARNED step is for those that have made it and have the power to ASK a publisher if they would like such and such type of story. Who are you to think you have that power? The fool, once again.
When you finish writing your book, then you as the writer need to edit your work and make it as clean as a layperson can, punctuation, grammar, and all that other English writing stuff. Oh, you thought editors did that, right
Not until later after publisher accepts your manuscript for publication. Until then it is all on you as the writer, to show you know how to present PICTURES THROUGH WORDS. Once your manuscript is accepted, and goes to an editor, then EDITORS tell you Mr. or Ms. WRITER, where your writing is weak, and needs changes to make a better PRODUCT. Editing can be very harsh. Learn from it so the next book you write, will not be in editing for longer than the first manuscript.
You have a question. "How do editors know how to edit your work?" Real editors, learn by taking courses, working in the industry, knowing all that English gist stuff, and can edit a writers PICTURES CREATED WITH WORDS.
When your manuscript is as good as you, THE WRITER, can make it, prepare your manuscript per the WRITERS GUIDELINES of your chosen publisher. Once you have that completed, you send your manuscript off. Mark the date on your calendar that you sent the work, AND START WRITING AGAIN. It will be a while before you hear back.
Sorry but it is a fact, most manuscripts TAKE 6 TO 8 months, some take A YEAR OR MORE to make it through to become a published work. E-books or standard books, it is all the same.
In review of who are you, that wants to become a published writer,
LEARN THE ROPES OF THE INDUSTRY. Nothing happens overnight.
Take the long road. Research publishers before you submit and use that research to stay out of that sinkhole filled with greedy crocodiles. They are out there and they will eat your lunch.
Keep writing and using queries. Query only those publishers that publish your type of material. Publishers that say in their WRITER GUIDELINES that they only accept represented manuscripts put at the end of your query list and query them last. You might not even need to go that far down your list until you find a publisher that accepts your work.
Recognize a fraud. Publishers PAY you, YOU DO NOT PAY FOR PUBLICATION.
Do things the proper way, take the long road to get to your goal of becoming a published writer and it can happen, but that will not be tomorrow. Think more next year or beyond.
I hope this little Who Are You infomercial was not boring or harsh, but that it gives a hard look to those that want to be the next, Tom Clancy, Stephen King, or any of the other major writers. Neither they, nor you or I, are Amanda Hocking. Take off your rose-colored glasses and see the publishing industry as it is, a business to sell a product to the public.
AE. Roud
Death visits my house again.
|
One of Fuzzy's kittens will not survive the night. Saturday, the kitten seemed fine, then it was like someone turned off a switch. The kitten became lethargic, refused food, I tried to get it to suckle on mom, no good, I tried to bottle feed, no good. Now, the kitten is on my lap and I'm waiting for death. Out of nine kittens this Spring, this is the first and I hope the only one that dies this year. Between stray dogs killing my cats, coyotes, and the road, I lost many cats over the winter.
Hang on anyone East of where I am. We had 80 plus winds here today. Blew out my kitchen widow. That wind is going East. House is still in a mess, office is not done, can't finish until I can get more wood for the floor and paint.
The doctor added a week to hubby's recovery from surgery. He is not happy about that and now he is getting on my nerves.
Finished Jera, Rune of Change and sent it in for editing.
Got notice today that Lizette finished a new album and she's going to LA for a release party.
That's all for now folks.
AE. Roud
Hang on anyone East of where I am. We had 80 plus winds here today. Blew out my kitchen widow. That wind is going East. House is still in a mess, office is not done, can't finish until I can get more wood for the floor and paint.
The doctor added a week to hubby's recovery from surgery. He is not happy about that and now he is getting on my nerves.
Finished Jera, Rune of Change and sent it in for editing.
Got notice today that Lizette finished a new album and she's going to LA for a release party.
That's all for now folks.
AE. Roud
A Night That Changed My Life,
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I was talking with someone today, that knows me from my youth, and the discussion turned to how I went to Teen Acres, a girl’s home in Sterling Colorado. I need to clear some things up because what people think they know about my situation, is not right. This happened in the 1970’s.
John and Nancy Miller from Denver, a couple that were drunks Dad knew, moved them out to the Imhoff’s farm. When our place started to go South with the bank and such, he plopped me in with them so that I would have a "stable" family when he moved to Denver to go to work.
I did not know these people from Adam and Eve, and the more I began to know of them, the more I began to despise John. He was a drunk and sadistic pig. Nancy was blind in one eye. When John got drunk, he would start badgering Nancy and talking shit. I would go to my room and stay there. I was 13 or 14 at the time.
One afternoon, Nancy's cat had kittens. It was after dinner, and John was drinking. I finished dinner, helped with the dishes then went to my room and was looking up at the stars in the night sky when I heard Nancy screaming in the kitchen. I left my bedroom to see what was going on.
When I got to the kitchen, John, in his drunken idiot fool state of mind, was holding the momma cat by the throat and was choking her, really choking her. Her eyes were bugging out, and she was trying to claw his hands and losing the battle fast. Nancy was screaming, begging him to let the cat go. I saw the look on John's face and I will never forget that look.
I grabbed a skillet off the stove and smacked him in the middle of the back. He dropped the cat, and she scrambled into a hiding place. John turned and looked at me. I put both hands on that skillet handle and dared him to come closer. He did not come any closer, just opened the back door and left the house.
While he was gone, Nancy and I found the momma cat and once the cat came out of her hiding place and was in Nancy's arms, she then told me that John put the kittens in a box and said he was taking them to the pond on our property to drown them. It was too late for me to do anything about that. Our property was five miles away from the Imhoff’s.
When John came back a couple hours later with the kittens in the box and all were alive, Nancy took them and the momma cat to the front room. John sat down at the kitchen table across from me, said he was kidding about drowning the kittens and sorry for scaring me. I was not in a mood to hear his BS and the skillet was still on the table. I grabbed that skillet and knocked him out of his chair to the floor. I took the skillet with me to my room. That night changed me in ways that I cannot yet describe today.
It was very tense in that house for the rest of that weekend and the tension only decreased slightly for the rest of the time I was with them, about six months. After that weekend, it took me a couple weeks to get up the nerve to go to the counselors office. I did not have anyone else to go to, and Dad was in Denver. It was not long after, that social services became involved.
When I told Dad why social services became involved, he did not believe me. Someone, I do not know who, told him I said that John was making sexual advances toward me. That is not what I said to anyone but because of that statement, I found my way to Teen Acres.
John and Nancy Miller from Denver, a couple that were drunks Dad knew, moved them out to the Imhoff’s farm. When our place started to go South with the bank and such, he plopped me in with them so that I would have a "stable" family when he moved to Denver to go to work.
I did not know these people from Adam and Eve, and the more I began to know of them, the more I began to despise John. He was a drunk and sadistic pig. Nancy was blind in one eye. When John got drunk, he would start badgering Nancy and talking shit. I would go to my room and stay there. I was 13 or 14 at the time.
One afternoon, Nancy's cat had kittens. It was after dinner, and John was drinking. I finished dinner, helped with the dishes then went to my room and was looking up at the stars in the night sky when I heard Nancy screaming in the kitchen. I left my bedroom to see what was going on.
When I got to the kitchen, John, in his drunken idiot fool state of mind, was holding the momma cat by the throat and was choking her, really choking her. Her eyes were bugging out, and she was trying to claw his hands and losing the battle fast. Nancy was screaming, begging him to let the cat go. I saw the look on John's face and I will never forget that look.
I grabbed a skillet off the stove and smacked him in the middle of the back. He dropped the cat, and she scrambled into a hiding place. John turned and looked at me. I put both hands on that skillet handle and dared him to come closer. He did not come any closer, just opened the back door and left the house.
While he was gone, Nancy and I found the momma cat and once the cat came out of her hiding place and was in Nancy's arms, she then told me that John put the kittens in a box and said he was taking them to the pond on our property to drown them. It was too late for me to do anything about that. Our property was five miles away from the Imhoff’s.
When John came back a couple hours later with the kittens in the box and all were alive, Nancy took them and the momma cat to the front room. John sat down at the kitchen table across from me, said he was kidding about drowning the kittens and sorry for scaring me. I was not in a mood to hear his BS and the skillet was still on the table. I grabbed that skillet and knocked him out of his chair to the floor. I took the skillet with me to my room. That night changed me in ways that I cannot yet describe today.
It was very tense in that house for the rest of that weekend and the tension only decreased slightly for the rest of the time I was with them, about six months. After that weekend, it took me a couple weeks to get up the nerve to go to the counselors office. I did not have anyone else to go to, and Dad was in Denver. It was not long after, that social services became involved.
When I told Dad why social services became involved, he did not believe me. Someone, I do not know who, told him I said that John was making sexual advances toward me. That is not what I said to anyone but because of that statement, I found my way to Teen Acres.
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It's been nippy the past couple mornings, but this morning it is downright cold.
When you live in a desert area and step out on your porch and can see your own
breath in the air, it's cold.
I had the idea that I might put my plants out this past weekend. I am glad I did
not now. It's too cold still. Warmer weather cannot be that far off though. Oh don't worry, when the hot weather does get here, I'll be griping about that, I guarantee it.
Today is one of those days that I am not going to like. Visit to the
vampires at the local hospital 1145. Doctor at 1215, visit to the dentist at
130. Depending on what the dentist does, maybe bed after I get back home. Not a
good day to be me.
I doubt I will get the chance to play in the dirt today :( and I want to make
some mud pies.
AE
When you live in a desert area and step out on your porch and can see your own
breath in the air, it's cold.
I had the idea that I might put my plants out this past weekend. I am glad I did
not now. It's too cold still. Warmer weather cannot be that far off though. Oh don't worry, when the hot weather does get here, I'll be griping about that, I guarantee it.
Today is one of those days that I am not going to like. Visit to the
vampires at the local hospital 1145. Doctor at 1215, visit to the dentist at
130. Depending on what the dentist does, maybe bed after I get back home. Not a
good day to be me.
I doubt I will get the chance to play in the dirt today :( and I want to make
some mud pies.
AE
Well it is time to get started, I guess.
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I'm not a blogger, at least not a big time blogger. Sure, yes, I am a writer, and I am with eXtasy Books and Devine Destinies and both are reputable E-Book publishers. With that out of the way, it's on to the talk of Spring.
I got up this morning at around 330. I don't sleep much any more. It was nice calm, a bit chilly, but nice. I went outside and began working setting some of my bricks around my front yard flower garden. Doing fine until the wind came up and my arthritis kicked in and I had to call it quits for a bit. The temperature dropped big time right before sunrise at 630 or so.
I got flowers coming up already in my West side flower garden. My Iris' and 4-O'clocks and ever faithful marigolds are all breaking ground. This is only March, and I hope we do not get a hard freeze or I could be without that group of flowers this year.
I got tomato plants started in the house, and they have broken ground also.
After the sun was up and it warmed up a bit more, I went and got some more bricks for the flower garden in my front yard area. That wore me out so later I will go outside and unload the truck.
I think I want a nap.
Later all.
AE. Roud
I got up this morning at around 330. I don't sleep much any more. It was nice calm, a bit chilly, but nice. I went outside and began working setting some of my bricks around my front yard flower garden. Doing fine until the wind came up and my arthritis kicked in and I had to call it quits for a bit. The temperature dropped big time right before sunrise at 630 or so.
I got flowers coming up already in my West side flower garden. My Iris' and 4-O'clocks and ever faithful marigolds are all breaking ground. This is only March, and I hope we do not get a hard freeze or I could be without that group of flowers this year.
I got tomato plants started in the house, and they have broken ground also.
After the sun was up and it warmed up a bit more, I went and got some more bricks for the flower garden in my front yard area. That wore me out so later I will go outside and unload the truck.
I think I want a nap.
Later all.
AE. Roud
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