It is a totally realistic supposition that a lawyer will be commensurate in the English language if that happens to be their native language.It is also not outside the bounds of possibility to assume one’s lawyers are capable of constructing a document that clearly states its intent.

Silly me. I now have a did they, or didn’t they scenario. I am hopelessly incapable of judging if they did, or if they didn’t,based on the incompetent communication. I am now the lucky recipient of three communications that totally contradict themselves. I am also the recipient of a document designed to enlighten me. Of course, it would help if the aforesaid document hadn’t been truncated and sent on its side in adobe.. The wretched thing was sent in a format that I can’t change to actually read it.  Printing it out also doesn’t help as the missing part still isn’t there.

I will be so happy to finish with these morons forever. No love. Me. 

So happy!!! I need people to vote for the book if it is to stand a chance. Here is the site if you feel inclined. http://www.peoplesbookprize.com/book.php?id=1096

I read an end of care post on a national newspaper and it more or less said the poster was not happy about caring for her elderly parents. This hit a raw bone. 

While my mother was alive, this was never an issue. She was disabled from a stroke and my father cared for her. He made a point of turning people away who could have helped. Once she had gone, I erroneously concluded my father would like to come to live with us. We geared up, ready to receive him. I got put in my place at my mother’s funeral. He raised so many barriers and bear traps to his coming to live with us that it was obvious he wanted his independence. 

I was not happy at this decision, but it was his. I would not take that away from him and diminish his twilight years, although I disagreed. What I could and did do was set up a system of carers to accommodate his needs. Sneaky, but I had no choice as I lived so far away from him. My team reported back to me on an ongoing basis unbeknownst to him. He would have thrown a hissy fit if he had clued in to what I had done. 

Had I acted differently, I would have shamed a war vet. He lived and died on his own terms. My father was independent to his last breath, using it to insult his nurses. Go dad, go!

Dreams..

So a person buys a book on kindle, or one of the other ereaders and comes to the end and gets prompted to review. Ever wondered why this is important? 

Reviews are life-blood to authors. Amazon has a system in place that will promote books on a sliding scale according to how many reviews they have scored. A book can take 10 or so years to write in the worst case scenario. Ten years of graft, blood, sweat and tears. Yes, there have to be tears, as if we aren’t moved to tears in the sad moments, how can the reader be so affected? 

A five star review is ambrosia. A four star review is a good wine. Anything less is vinegar. We keep Roll-Aids handy. Seriously, there are three free chapters on Amazon to get to grips with a book and most poor star ratings happen when a book goes free. Check it out before you buy. Make sure this is something you think you like before you spend your money. And please leave us a review on our work. We love to hear what you think, even if we need the Roll-Aids.

So I went to buy a book today on Amazon.com slated at the kindle price of $3.99. When I get there, I find it is listed at $9.00. Using my special squidget, I find it is indeed $3.99 but I have to log on to get it and get busted for being Canadian. It isn’t anything to do with the exchange rate, this is all Amazon. I really wouldn’t mind if I thought for one moment that the extra would go to the poor author. I am therefore currently investigating a back door Barnes and Noble have themselves suggested on their own website. I may be jumping through hoops tomorrow, but I am determined not to increase Amazon’s profit margin. 

Note to self-pubbed authors. Please load the book to Smashwords. This is not a hassle and is very fair. In addition, you will not be loosing out on many International sales because of some sneaky surcharge on the transfer of a kindle file on the same Continent. 

On another note, I spoke to Spook Central about their miserable fail in the coffee department. Tim Horton’s affirmed that they have not changed their beans. Nice phone conversation and a resolution is underway. I can expect a decent Timmy’s by the weekend. 

I suppose I thought about this because I have an upset stomach.

My grandmother had a shared septic tank. In those days, it was a pit with a brick wall surround and it was in her backyard. Yes, I know. Shudders. Anyhow, the wretched thing would have to be pumped out every so often. Men would arrive and do the necessary. One such occurrence sticks in my mind and I really wish it wouldn’t. A crew arrived around lunchtime and one member of the crew dropped his sandwiches into the tank by accident. He then fished them out and proceeded to eat them. Yes, they were wrapped in waxed brown paper, but EEEEWWWWW.

According to my grandmother, the same team arrived the next week, including the guy with the sandwiches. Apparently, he had survived death by gross infection. That must be a first. 

First off, I have the most wonderful and talented editor ever for my stuff. However, there is this respect thing going on. I need to have my manuscripts in the most squeaky clean form I can accomplish. Anything else is disrespectful to my editor, who’s time is important and who shouldn’t have to wade through silliness in my opinion. 

No one, however good they might think they are, can disassociate themselves from their own manuscript so completely that it is going to be perfect for the reading public.There comes that blind moment from having read over the words so many times that a little aberration slips through. 

I note there is some discussion on the web about indy writers not using editors. All the self-published writers I know do employ professional editors. That is not to say some misguided souls don’t, but just that those who are my dear friends do. This is our language and as such, it must be kept clean from errors for the enjoyment of our readers. 

Now why has journalism dipped down into the toilet regions with rampant typos and illogical grammar? These guys take a degree to gain access to their trade, just like us. So why, oh why do I find howlers on the pages of respected newspapers? Where has proofreading gone?

Let me put it this way. Once an author has finished a work, that author will send it out to qualified friends to beta read. Those same qualified friends, usually authors in their own right, will go through the manuscript and pick out anything not in kilter for whatever reason. We do this to attain the best possible product before it goes to an editor. The editor will then catch anything missed and will also make great suggestions for enhancing the storyline. This ensures the product goes out to the reader in the very best shape ever. 

Journalists? Shakes head. I used to be the reporting editor for my local newspaper. I would snare people into beta reading to ensure my copy was good before it went to print. This is not difficult. Why isn’t it being done on a national level? Sighs.  

I don’t know where these things come from, but I really wish they would stay there. Round two of upset stomach, and as the cherry on the top, the dh has it too. We both retired to our respective lairs today to suffer in silence.

I think it must be stomach flu as we haven’t eaten stuff in common, not with my restrictive diet. All my intake is very simple, but his is nice stuff I cook for him. Oh and I have been so careful. My hands are dry with multiple washings and sanitizing. My fingernails are also very short as I cut them so before I saw my grandson on the weekend. I can’t be touching my darling boy with long nails that might harbor germs underneath. I didn’t have long nails with my own little daughters and I am sure as heck not going to alter that now.

Speaking of the darling boy, I just saw a video of him in the first stages of crawling and wearing a big grin. He is loving his newly found mobility. Another few days and he will be taking off like a rocket. I spare a few moments of sympathy for his parents, who are about to become very stressed as he begins to explore at a high velocity.

A new baby makes me think back to when ours were tiny. We always had cats and the cat we had when the first was born was very jealous. When we walked down the path, carrying our precious bundle home for the first time, the cat rushed up to greet me. The baby made a tiny sound. The cat froze in horror, turned about and we didn’t see him for the next three days. He was so jealous of the babies that he pretended they didn’t exist, not that he was deprived of attention ever, but that is how it went with him. Aware that babies and young children are not gentle with fluffies and that he was not a happy camper, we brought our kids up on the concept that kitty was ‘sharp’. This worked very well and they left him alone to ignore them in peace. They all adored him, but it meant nothing to him. Other cats joined the family, but these were not a problem, having come after the girls, who were now old enough to know a kitty needs to be stroked very gently.

Of course, there was one exception to the rule of peace. I got talked into taking in an adult female cat from a shelter. She was a lovely girl, but I think she had been mauled by previous kids as she hated my very well-trained ones. The crux came when she attacked kid 2 just for opening a door for her. My dear mother-in-law, also a hopeless cat slave, helped me find a home for the cat with a wonderful senior lady. Dorothy, although very spry and in good heath, had been denied a life companion by the rescue centre as they deemed her too old. How retarded! Dorothy had grown-up grandkids, which was my main concern for the well-being of the cat, and the cat didn’t scratch furniture, which was her concern as she had antique furniture. It was love at first sight for both of them.