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"Yesterday's Bitches, 41-50" Bitch #41, Bitch #42, Bitch #43, Bitch #44, Bitch #45, Bitch #46, Bitch #47, Bitch #48, Bitch #49, Bitch #50
Yet another three bitches in one! Why Vanity
Press is Like buying a Hooker Let me start by saying that
I’m in no way putting down writers who have succumbed to the lure of Vanity press
– in particular those vanity presses that costume themselves as
“legitimate” publishers. This business sucks, and
everyone’s always looking for a quick fix. New York has their head up their ass and
refuses to look at a demographic that isn’t a Northeastern, upper middle class, and
under thirty-five. Corporations have gobbled up the big houses and now demand a fifty
percent profit margin, which books have never made, so slowly there are fewer books
getting more push, and doors are closing everywhere. Small presses are closing faster than
new ones are opening, and magazines are dying all around us. To say it’s a bad time to
be a writer is a drastic understatement. However – in my opinion – vanity press
is not the answer. You’re better off doing the work and self publishing than you are
going to a vanity press – and, no. I don’t think vanity press is the same as
self publishing. At least when you’re self publishing you know you’re doing it.
It can be damn hard to figure out which presses are vanity presses anymore because
they’ll tell you that they aren’t. Here’s the rules again... I
don’t care if they give you a one dollar advance, if after that they make you buy
your copyright, then they are a vanity press. If it costs you one dime, it’s vanity
press. If you don’t get a substantial discount when you buy your books from them,
that’s vanity press. If the publishing house never sends you a check, that’s
vanity press. Vanity press has its place
– people who just want their book in print so that they can give it to friends or
family members or want to sell it themselves and not do the work of setting up the book.
There are several vanity presses that are what they say, and say what they are. Use them,
and don’t tell people you’re an actual published writer. Say the truth –
that you wrote a book. My problem is with the
publishers who say they’re legitimate, who tell you to demand space in libraries,
book stores, and on panels at conventions because you’re a real, honest-to-goodness
published writer. Now I know what some of you are
thinking. People should check places out, do the research, and in general just not be so
naive. But desperate people are willingly naive, they want to believe. There is nothing
quite as desperate as a writer who wants to get published and can’t. I should know,
I’ve been there before, and I don’t sell half as much as I’d like to sell
now. You’ll do damn near anything, and if someone sells you a bill of goods
you’ll buy it because you want to, and hey, it’s only going to cost me the price
of a copyright and my book will be everywhere, right? Wrong. Your book will be part of
an internet catalogue. If people know to go to the store and ask for it, then you might
sell one. Meanwhile being on the Barnes and Noble list has put you on the radar and when
your book slides across the table of a big publisher they’re going to check your
numbers. How do they do this? By getting on the computer and checking the chain
books stores – no other sales matter to them. Let’s say your book does well for
one of these publishing houses. That means it sells maybe 500 copies total, maybe 200
through B & N. Do you know what 200, even 500, copies means to the guy who works at
Tor? It means you’re unmarketable. It’s like snake oil
salesmen; they all get rich because they’re promising to cure things that can’t
be cured. People know a snake oil salesman is full of shit, but for a few dollars they can
buy a bottle of hope, and for most people you can’t pay too much for hope. Just like a guy who buys a
bottle of snake oil, a vanity press author thinks at first that they feel better and
things are working for them. It’s not till the bottle runs dry that they admit –
maybe only to themselves – that they got screwed. The worst part for those of us
who work in the field and aren’t yet famous is that it’s made it much harder for
us to be taken seriously by fans, book stores, and convention committees, who now get
hit buy hundreds of people who say they’re published authors who, when they check it
out, are vanity press authors. Even if the author isn’t aware he’s vanity
press the book stores and concoms know the difference. Used to I could walk into a
bookstore or get in touch with a concom, tell them I was published and I’d like to be
considered to do something with them, and they’d ask me what I’d done. I’d
tell them and that was it – a done deal. Now they look it all up, and often because
so many of my credits are in small press, they still think I’m scamming them. Also,
and maybe this is just me being bitchy, I don’t like having to share my time on a
panel dealing with actually unpublished writers who insist on telling the audience how
easy it is and start spouting a bunch of absolute trash about the business ‘cause
they gots them that one book published by Big Hiding Behind A Mask of Legitimacy Vanity
Publishing. A real publishing credit is one
you got paid for. I don’t care how much you got paid for it – though I think
membership in SFWA now calls for at least three short story sales to markets paying four
cents a word or more or one novel – but don’t try to pass yourself off as a
writer if you’ve never actually been paid for your work. When you sit on a panel with
published writers you make yourself an equal to them. On a panel they have to share their
time with you. Writers who’ve done it all the hard way and have legitimate
credits in the field don’t want to share air time with someone who paid to have their
book published, especially if they insist on talking about things they know nothing about.
It’s a good way to make enemies, and in this business that’s the last thing
you need. I was on a panel with one of
these guys, and he would not shut up. He was absolutely wrong on almost everything he
said, and the rest of the panel spent any chance we got to talk trying to make sure the
audience knew how things really worked without stomping on this guy’s toes. During
the question and answer part of the panel someone asked a question, and
this guy just started answering, at which point the guy asking the question said,
“Excuse me, but I was asking the real writers.” Now it was mean I’ll grant
you, but this guy did the one thing no professional writer can ever afford to do, which is
he came unglued and started screaming at the guy and went into a long diatribe about
the legitimacy of the publishing house he’d been published by – in spite of the
moderator trying to shut him up – and how dare he tell him he wasn’t a writer
when he hadn’t read his work. The audience member waited for the guy to stop
screaming and then said in a rather calm voice, “Well I never read books published by
– evil vanity publisher masquerading as a legitimate press here – because
everyone knows they publish anything they get, and all their books suck.” Here’s the problem, it
doesn’t matter if your book is the best book in the world. If you had to pay to
publish it, no one’s going to think it’s worth a shit. This whole business is
built on perceptions. Look at all the importance placed on cover art and
design. Now Yard Dog has published several of my titles, so I have self published,
but only after I had enough credits to join SFWA, and only when I had a large enough fan
base that publishing one of my books – which I don’t have to pay any royalties
on – brought instant cash into the house. And here’s another thing, several
people have the right to yea or nay my book, and it still gets both an edit and a copy
edit. All this aside, I speak from personal experience when I say self publishing is like
masturbation; it feels good while you’re doing it, but afterwards who really gives a
shit? Self publishing a book even through a press with other hands on board does not give
me the same feeling of accomplishment that selling one gives me. Paying someone else to publish
my work... Well it just ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime. See, for me it’s
important I make money writing. Maybe because I have four books published by a legitimate
press (that isn’t me), seeing the book in print isn’t nearly as important to me
as how many I sell and how much money I make. Look at it this way... If you go
to a bar with a friend and all night long the women are all over him and he leaves with
the best looking woman in the place, then you’re impressed – maybe even envious.
But... if you go to the bar with a friend and all night long the ladies basically ignore
him and he winds up picking up a hooker and paying her fifty bucks for a blow job in the
bathroom, you not only aren’t impressed, but you actually pity the guy. Also... I never heard a guy
defend paying for sex who hadn’t at least thought about doing it. #2 Making Your
Own Breaks Yep, every self-help guru worth
the eighteen bucks you paid for his book will tell you that you are the author of your own
destiny, that you in fact make your own breaks. This is a total crock of shit. Now it’s true that if you
don’t put yourself out there, trying to be in the right place, putting your work in
the right place to be seen, that you don’t have an ice-cream cone’s chance in
hell of ever being seen. But the colder, harsher truth is that you can do everything
right, you can go above and beyond what reasonable people will do to “make your own
break,” and ultimately your destiny is still in someone else’s hands. It’s the harsh truth of the
writing business, and in fact most things in life. Through the years I have done
things you would not believe – though those of you who know me probably would –
to try to get on the map so to speak. Here’s the saddest thing – I don’t
want to be rich and famous, I just want to make a decent living and have a little respect.
I’ve done literally hundreds of public appearances, spent years honing my craft, and
have become one of the best writers in the business – and, yes, I have a huge ego
when it comes to my work, because if you don’t have that in the book business
you’d better bail before you even start – I’ve had a modicum of success but
nothing to write home about, and don’t dare say it isn’t because I haven’t
tried. Don’t tell me I can make my
own breaks and make things happen for me, that’s just a huge bunch of crap.
No one’s more proactive than I am when it comes to their career. Among the totally insane things
I have done... I tried to get on Survivor.
I’ve gone to rock concerts and sent my books backstage to the artists. I’ve even
sent books and funny letters to half the talk shows on TV, just to name a few. Why is that insane? Isn’t
that exactly the sort of thing they tell you to do, to get through the elusive success
door? Just find that one thing that will make you stand out. It’s crazy to think that
someone who got their break and made it is going to help you. They get thousands of
letters from people. They don’t read them, a staff member does, and even if it does
get to them they’re not likely to think you deserve a break anymore than the fat girl
who wants a makeover. They’ll raise money for any number of causes, they’ll
make some lady who sells Moose stuff in the coldest spot in the country rich and send her
on cruises, but they won’t lift a finger to give you the same sort of break someone
gave them. I know what you’re
thinking. That I’ve just gone completely round the bend this time. Well you’re
right, I have, and why? Because I just got another year older and found out it’s
no longer cool to be gay. Now here’s the problem with
that. See, I never knew it was cool to be gay; it certainly didn’t change the way I
was treated or rocket me or my books to star status, and the other day I’m watching
TV and there’s this whole thing about how it’s no longer cool to be gay and
they’re going to start taking gay shows and characters off TV because it’s no
longer cool. So apparently
being gay was cool and I just completely missed that whole break to help launch me
into popularity. Expecting that a famous person
will help you out just because you both happen to be Black, Jewish or Gay is just short of insane. Now that
they’re famous they can’t be bothered with peons like us. They have to call
people at random and make them famous. That’s cool, helping the career of some
struggling writer somewhere that’s not cool. But I’m not bitter. That’s a lie; I’m
bitter as hell. I just turned 45, and my chances of becoming successful at this point in
the game are about as likely as a political candidate that I actually like making it onto the ballot. But I keep trying both the
normal stuff and the absolutely insane shit. A few months ago I sent about a hundred
dollars worth of my books to the Ellen Degeneres Show with a funny cover letter. Now I
can’t afford to throw a hundred dollars away, but I figure she holds any book up for
five seconds and I’ve got my break. I used to watch her show
religiously. I have supported her at every stage of her career, have all her tapes etc,
etc, etc. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I’ve given up, and
now I hardly watch the show at all. If I do it’s just the first few minutes to see if
maybe – just maybe – I’m finally going to get my break. Hope springs eternal, but
eventually I will stop watching even though I have always enjoyed her work and her show.
Why? Because it would have been so easy for her to change the course of my life, and yet
for whatever reason she or one of her staff decided I wasn’t worth a break. Selfish, immature, insane? Yes
of course, but it’s also exactly how I feel. You’re allowed to act like an idiot
when you’re perimenopausal and still have to rely on someone else for support. A while ago I stepped back and
took a good look at me, my life and my career. I’m not a bad person; in fact,
I’d go so far as to say I’m a pretty good person. I’ve done few things that
I’m actually ashamed of, and none of those things affected anyone but me in a long
term negative way. That left my “career.” If I had gone into anything
except writing I’d no doubt have gained a level of success I would have been proud
of. But I’m not anything else. I’m a writer. Every time I tried to think of what
else I might channel my energy into, I came up blank. It’s all I’ve ever done
and all I want to do. It’s the only thing I’m really good at. I have done every
crap job you can think of so that I can write. I’ve gone without money, sleep,
dignity, and happiness so that I could be a writer. If I give up now then I’ve gone
through all the shit for nothing. How do I know that success, “real success,”
isn’t right around the corner? I’m a
writer; it’s who I am. If I accept everything else about myself, I have to
accept this. So... Fact, you can’t make
your own breaks. Someone else is always going to be in the way of your destiny.
You’re going to have to get someone’s help along the way or you’re never
going to be in the right place at the right time. Most people that could help you
won’t for any of a million reasons, and no amount of begging or crying is going to
change their mind. Fact, if you quit trying, what
are you going to do? If you have any chance of making it you have to keep putting yourself
out there. Sending your work out, doing everything –even the insane – to try to
make it, because let’s face it, if you’re really a writer and not just someone
who thinks it would be cool to be a writer, it’s all you know how to do Reality sucks; it’s our
dreams that keep us going. As you get older it’s harder to keep our dreams alive, but
if we let them die without a fight then all we have is our bitterness, despair, and
failure. It’s hard, but you have to
learn to celebrate even the most minor of successes and keep hoping that your break is
just around the corner. I’ll let you know how that
goes.
#3 Keep
Bitching For If there is one thing I
absolutely despise, it’s when someone wrongs me and then doesn’t want to listen
to me complaining about it. Seems to me that if you treat
another person like shit, that you ought to at least let them bitch about it. If your good
fortune causes someone else’s pain, at the very least you ought to let us bitch. There is no longer a true middle
class, and the working class is quickly being forced into a position of servitude by the
rich. I’m 45 years old, and I
have to say that in my lifetime I have never seen such a gaping chasm between the haves
and the have-nots. They say Americans have the best of everything, and that used to be
true, but it’s not anymore. Rich Americans have the best of everything, and the rest
of us they “kindly” give all the shit they don’t want. Currently your tax money is
being given to the wealthy so that they can save money when they send their children to
private schools. The public schools that our children go to are losing that funding, and
the quality of their education is going down because of it. This will give rich kids yet
another edge into life, and it will make the gap wider. If you’re rich you can
afford the best medical care in the world right here in the good ole US of A. If you
happen to be working class and don’t have insurance – because your work
doesn’t give it to you and you can’t afford it – then be prepared for a
royal screwing. In the last four years health costs have risen by as much as a third. Free country? Try explaining
that to the millions of Gays in this country who have now had rights taken away that we
didn’t even have. Straight people, take a minute and imagine how you’d feel
right now if you knew that 75 percent of the people around you hated you enough to pass a
law making sure you’d never have the simple rights that they take for granted in your
lifetime. What have we lost? Basically all
our rights. You think I’m just being an alarmist? Check
out the Patriot Act. There isn’t anything patriotic about Americans with no civil
rights living in a police state, and don’t think for a minute that just because the
pogroms haven’t started yet that they can’t. And don’t think that it’s
just going to be “them”, because if history has taught us anything, it’s
taught us that when such laws are passed they are used against everyone who won’t
kiss the ass of the king. Freedom of Speech? Where the
hell is that? Apparently right-winged newscasters are quite all right, but anyone who
speaks out against the current regime gets black listed or loses their job. Anyone who
says anything against what’s happening in our country to the quality of our lives,
the loss of life and of freedoms is called “unpatriotic” and singled out in the
press for ridicule. Yet most of Because most of us are sheep. We believe what
it’s popular to believe in and vote for who it’s popular to vote for. The rich are in full control of
our country. They have lots of money to get their candidates elected, buy up our work
places, and put people who speak against them out of business. Corporations and the rich
fucks who thrive on them are the Mafia of the 21st century. Only they don’t use
muscle, they use money. And sadly this works on Joe Public who was created in a system
that keeps the working class down. If the corporations had a
conscience, maybe they’d stop trying to destroy the planet and our country, but the
problem is that there has never been a better time to be rich. They have everything, and
I’m getting tired of their song and dance about how we’re just bitching because
we’re jealous, and with a little hard work and perseverance we could be rich, too...
They know this is shit, because they work damn hard to make sure that they keep us down
and right now they’re working on making us into a slave labor force by threatening
and actually sending all the good jobs over seas. Can we stop them? I don’t know. All I do know
is that I’m going to keep right on bitching. That’s about all any of us can do,
and maybe if we bitch loud enough and long enough someone with some money and a conscience
will hear us and actually do something about it. In the meantime let’s let
all the government goon squads, the corporate oppressors, and all those rich screws –
who would like us to just take a screwing and keep quiet – know that we’re going
to keep right on bitching as long as they keep screwing us. Don’t piss on my leg and
tell me its raining. But if you insist on doing that, don’t expect me to smile like a
moron and say, “Damn, I forgot my umbrella,” and don’t be surprised of I
wait till you ain’t looking and kick your ass. Maybe it’s high time the
corporate raiders take a good look in the history books and see what has happened every
time the rich have tried to make slaves of the working class. Selina
OK, so you're getting spoiled with all these "bonus bitches." This month there are only two, though. Don't be too disappointed -- they're doozies! #1 Convention
Etiquette - or - What a fan
shouldn't do if they want to impress a pro, and a writer
should never do if they want to impress the fans
Now I know what you're thinking,
Selina and good manners, that's a friggin’ oxymoron. But here's the deal even I
– believe it or not – know where to draw the line.
Though I'm sure that bitch who screamed at me in I have never been, nor have I
ever been accused,
of being a tight ass. Most fans, writers, and artists are generally easy-going folks who,
like myself, like to have a good time. This being said, there should still be a
common decency when one is associating with other people. First on the list for both fans
and maybe especially pros is the matter of personal cleanliness. You should be
changing your clothes at least once a day. You should be brushing your teeth at least
twice a day, and showering at least once a day, and applying some sort of deodorant
two or three times a day. If you're a professional at a convention, then you're trying to
impress the fans and sell books or art. The
last thing you want to be doing is breathing death breath into the face of someone
who’s a potential customer or have BO so bad you make people's eyes burn. This isn't
the way you want to be remembered. Even if you don't normally engage in a rigid personal
hygiene routine at home, a convention is the time to brush the dust off your tooth
brush and purchase that can of deodorant. As a pro you want to leave a good impression,
not have the fans think some homeless guy has wondered in off the streets. As a fan,
if you want to get close to your favorite pro, you don't ever want them to be leaning
away from you, gulping like a fish in a dirty aquarium looking for a little air. Some new pros believe that the
best way to get the fans to think they are “someone” is to act as if they're
unapproachable. First off, if you do this you're a snot.
Second off, this doesn't sell books. The fans might think you must be really
cool, even important, if you never talk to anyone and are rude when they approach
you, but they aren't likely to buy your books or art. Be nice. Be approachable. Go to them; don't make them come to you. Go to the
room parties and mingle, don't sit in the bar and hold court – that's for the big
shots who've already made it, and their fans will hunt them out. Some pros just don't show up for
their panels if they don't like the topic or don't feel like it. A pro should act like a
professional. Take your schedule with you.
Make sure you're at every panel or event for which you’re listed. Even if the panel topic makes you cringe do your
best to add something – even just humor – to the panel. If you can't go
to a panel for any reason, then find someone who can fill in for you and make your
excuses. Pros – and I can't stress
this enough – don't bitch at the concom. These
people aren't making any money for the months of work that goes into
a convention. If you'd like more paneling, then ask if you can fill in. No, you might not
get everything you want that first – even second – year you attend that
convention, but if you're good to the concom they will be good to you and eventually if
you continue to make sales in the field you'll be treated well because they like working
with you. The flip side of this is that
concoms need to actually take the time to see who's on their guest list. See if the people who are asking for paneling and
membership actually have pro credits in the field. Are they being paid for their work? Do
they present themselves in a professional manner, i.e. being clean, pleasant to work with,
and showing up for panels? You can find all that out quite simply by surfing the web and
by asking the concoms of other conventions this guest has attended. Don't assume that
because you've never heard of someone before that they aren't anyone, anymore than you
would assume that because they say they're someone that they are. Of course everyone is
someone and no one is a nobody, but surely a distinction should be made between the people
who are being paid for their work and those who aren't – or worse are paying to be
printed. Just because someone is a pro
– even a very famous one – doesn't give them the right to treat the fans like
their own personal harem to do with sexually whatever they please. Likewise, having read
someone's book or enjoyed their art doesn't give the fan a right to familiarity with a
pro. Now me, I'm a pretty hands on kind of girl, and I don't mind a hug – or even a
lap dance actually – from someone who’s enjoyed reading my work. But as a general rule if you wouldn't do –
whatever it is – to a total stranger in the mall, you shouldn't be doing it to a pro
without at least asking their permission. You shouldn't be touching them at all unless you
have a very real relationship with them. Don't assume familiarity simply because someone
hasn't told you to get lost. Robert Aspirin isn't your best friend just because you drank
a beer together in the bar. I've known Robert for years, and I still have to tell him who
I am every I see him. As pros most of us generally
like the fans, but we also depend on them for our livelihood. As such, only an idiot
smug-assed jerk would be rude to the fans. Unfortunately,
some fans just don't have a clue, and the fact that they've followed you all over the con
and you haven't called con security makes them think you are best friends. Now it just so
happens that some of the nicest people I have ever met have been people who followed me
and or the Yard Dog Press clan all over a convention. They just hang out, talk, and have a
good time with you, and you're more than happy to have them go with you. Case in point,
the very nice young man with long hair – know his name but won't print it here
because I didn't ask his permission – who hung out with the YDP crew at Con DFW and
then put pages of pictures up of us on his rather well traveled web-site. That sort of fan involvement can only help writers.
He's an asset, and he's a really nice guy. Ah, but then you have the other
kind, the kind that becomes like a malignant tumor on your ass. The guy who follows you
around and says inappropriate things, he's like a dog turd you can't scrape off your foot.
He says things a human shouldn't say, and since he's everywhere you are, people think
he's part of your posse. This is the last thing a new writer needs, to be associated with
a huge lumbering jerk with no manners. But getting rid of this guy without making a scene
is damn near imposable, so the pro will convince themselves that the best thing to do is
ignore him and maybe he'll go away, but he doesn't. He's in all your chat groups saying
the same stupid shit and how you're best friends. He'll show up where you work, or
worse yet your house, and when you finally get the nerve to try to get rid of him...
that’s when you know you've got yourself a stalker problem because... "I didn't
do anything and why are you picking on me!" Now he starts to do fun things like
follow you from convention to convention gakking you out, interrupting your panels and
readings, and acting as if he's the injured party. He gets in the chat groups and posts
everywhere on line he can, and gakks you out while he looks for the next pro to attach
himself to, and all you ever wanted, all you ever asked for, was to be left alone. No one person has the right to
cause another person so much grief. Just
because a person is "in the public eye" doesn't mean they should have to put up
with any crap you can dish out to them. And being a writer isn't like being an actor, we
don't make enough money for it to be worth it to put up with any crap. Just because
you have hung out with a pro all day does not mean you are automatically invited out to
dinner. Ask if you can go with them. If you do
go out with them, don't expect them to pay. Basically don't assume you have any more
rights to them than you would any other person. Con ethics are easy. To use the words of our creed, “Don't be an
asshole.” Treat people with the same respect and dignity you’d like to be
treated with. If someone asks you or makes it clear that they want you to leave them
alone, then for God’s sake just leave them alone. Don't show up at their reading and
scream, "I brought my lawyer!" Don't make them get a restraining order. I don't understand
vindictiveness. Never have. If I don't like someone, I'll more likely than not tell them
so, and then I'll leave them alone, and I fully expect them to leave me alone.
If they don't... then watch out. Conventioning
should be fun for both pros and fans. It's a symbiotic relationship; without fans we have
no career, and without us there would be no fans. Convention season is starting up again,
so let's all grab some tactics, a bottle of deodorant, some clean clothes, and our
good sense, and head out. Shalom, Selina #2 Never answer
a rejection letter Why? Because at the best it
makes you look stupid. At worse –
depending on the tone of your message – your name will go on the shit list. A rejection letter means the
editor didn’t want your piece for whatever reason. I can’t speak for all
editors, but from my own personal experience – except for the assholes on my
shit list – I hate to have to write a rejection letter. Being a writer and getting them myself, I know that
I’m ruining someone’s day, and that never makes me feel good, but guilt
isn’t likely to make me take your story, not if I don’t think it fits, and
especially not if it sucked. I’m not going to change my
mind if you point out that I made three typos in my rejection letter or that you’re a
much better writer than I am. If you send me something when it
clearly says at the web-site – where you’d have to go to get my address –
that I’m not reading for ANYTHING!!! then how can you expect anything but a rejection
letter? Recently I got a submission from
a guy who obviously didn’t understand that “I’m not currently reading for
anything” meant just that. Now here’s the thing, when you send me something when
I’m not taking anything, then just reading your cover letter, just answering you, is
a waste of my time. Anyway, I write this guy a quick note and explain that all our slots
are full through 2006, and that we aren’t currently reading for anything. That should
have been it, but no, this dumb ass writes me back and tells me that I should take some
time to read his submission – if not at work then in my personal time. That if I do I will see that his book is important,
and my name is Selena and that says it all – please note that he spelled my name
wrong, and I still have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. He then implied that I had a duty to read
unsolicited manuscripts, and that I shouldn’t treat what I do as just a job. Now let me tell you everything
that’s wrong with that... First, never send a house anything when they aren’t
reading for anything. You’ll be lucky if
they even answer you. Second – as I said above – never answer a rejection
letter; it’s in bad form. Third, personal time! I run a fucking small press I have no
idea what personal time is. Maybe he means I should read his manuscript while I’m
bathing, eating, or having sex. Fourth, every writer thinks their book is the most
important thing in the world. That’s
fine, that’s as it should be. But
don’t for a minute think that any book that I didn’t write – much less one
that I didn’t solicit – is important to me. Fifth,
spell the editors name right, especially if you’re trying to make a point with it. Sixth, don’t pretend for a minute to know
what an editor’s duty is. You have no
idea the amount of shit we have to wade through to find the gems. At the time I got this letter I had just finished
six months of reading slush. If you ask me,
that’s above and beyond the call. Seventh,
if running this press was just a job for me I’d go into vanity press where all the
real money is. I wouldn’t screw with
trying to run a small, legitimate press at all. But here’s what is most
wrong about his letter. I told him all my
slots were full through 2006. This is a small
press, so I can’t just add a book. In
order to take his book I’d have to throw someone out of the queue. Not only would that be unethical and cruel beyond
belief, it would be breach of contract. I have
to wonder if this guy would be willing to call up the writer he’d be replacing and
explain that his book was more important than theirs was. Shalom, Selina
Another pair! One... Where Do You
Get Your Ideas?
Now
let’s see... In the last four weeks I did two
conventions, one in Texas one in Tennessee, broke up a fight between two lovers (which
caused the femor in my right leg to be dislocated), started working out at a new gym
because the old gym went bankrupt and sold our memberships, took a part in a local play,
built a wheel chair ramp, helped my son hang walls in his shop, sat in the hospital with
my partner, her sister, and her mother as the doctors operated on her ailing father,
comforted my partner when her father died while dealing with my own grief and being
overrun with out-of-town family, survived the longest church service I've ever been to,
and went to the grave-side service at Fort Smith National Cemetery where I saw my
partner’s father buried with full military honors – he was a retired Lieutenant
Colonel who had a whole chest full of medals.
We brought
out four new titles. I signed the contracts for a new novel in a new universe which will
come out in March of next year – Good Lord willin' and creek don' rise. I got my
copies of two of the books I'd sold stories to – the one from the small press I got
before the book was even officially released, the one from the big press was
three months late. I dealt with one of my relative’s meth addiction. I took my
nieces and nephews – four of them, oldest one seven, youngest one fifteen months
– to Terra studios for the day. I started training three young men –
two of whom are drag queens – to fence, broke the door down at my nephew's house
because his wife had locked herself out and she needed in because she had to get stuff out
of the house to take to the funeral parlor to deal with the death of her forty-two year
old mother (who had died as a result of addiction and alcoholism). Hung a new door at my
nephew’s house.
… and
these are just the things that come to mind without thinking. If I worked at it, I could
probably fill three pages. Then there are all the news
events, the Terry Shivo case, Michael Jackson's trial, Robert Blake's innocent verdict,
what they're trying to do to social security, and the fact that the death count in Iraq
just keeps going up, just to scratch the surface.
Then there
are the new and interesting people I've met. Like the fellow at the gym who has lived here
most of his life now but was born and raised in Brooklyn New York, is half Greek, and the
other half is three parts Italian and one part native Canadian, who used to be a
prize fighter in his youth. Brinke Stevens, the legendary B-movie Scream Queen who started
out as a marine biologist, but quit for horror movies because marine biology was too
scary. The grade school teacher who acts at the little theater and has to carefully
rewrite her dialogue because if she cusses on stage and one of her students hears it she
could lose her job. Again, this is just a drop in
the bucket.
For me the
question has never been where do I get an idea, but which one am I going to use, and how
am I going to use it?
I'm
forty-five, and I have yet to meet anyone who didn't have a story. I have never met the
"normal" person we always hear so much about. Maybe I just don't hang with that
crowd, but most of the people I know have had at least one extraordinary thing – good
or bad – happen to them, which affected them to the point of changing
them or at least the way they think forever.
The
difference between fiction writers and everyone else is the need – perhaps even
obsession – to tell these stories. The ability to take what has happened to us, the
news items, the people we've met, and somehow change them and turn them into an
interesting and entertaining story that other people can then read and enjoy, and maybe
even learn from – that’s what makes a writer.
It's not
that everyone else doesn't have stories, it’s just that they either lack the desire
or the ability to tell them. That being the case, the real question they should be asking
isn't "Where do you get your story ideas?" but "How do you put your ideas
down on paper and make them into a story?" Shalom, Selina
... and two make a pair. Sex and the
Middle-aged Overweight Lesbian
There are
some problems with lesbian relationships that most straight people have never
even considered. Before forty, someone is
always on someone's hair. After forty, someone
is always laying on someone's boob.
Now that's
a sexy mental picture.
You have
two periods to contend with instead of one, insuring that you will never go to any big
event, celebrate an anniversary, or take a trip that at least one of you won't be on the
rag. Then there is the extra dose of
bitchiness. We learned early on to keep a
close record of the damnable flow. We keep all
the necessary data on the same calendar, and when one of us feels excessively bitchy we
run and look at the calendar. If it's within a week of our period then we write it off as
hormones and go on; however, if we're nowhere near our period, we figure our bitch is
valid and let the other one have it.
We decided
it is not only fair but necessary that if we are being screamed at and we think it's over
something stupid that we go to the calendar and see if the other one is premenstrual. If they are, then it is then the duty of the
screamie to say in a calm voice, "I know you have a valid point about what shelf the
Jell-O goes on in the fridge; however, did you realize you are about ten minutes from
having your period?"
Think
about it... two women, two menstrual cycles, now that's sexy.
If there
is a male living in the house and both women have their period at the same time, then the
male has to leave for a week to ten days. My son calls our home "the house that
estrogen built."
When
straight men fantasize about two women together, there is always that moment when they ask
him to join them.
Yeah right!
Here's the thing, when two gay women are
having sex the last thing they want to see is a penis. If
you men want your fantasy to even come close to the truth, you're standing in the corner
– the whole room away and fully clothed – and when they get finished you hand
them a piss load of money.
That's
sexy, yeah!
Straight
folks seem to think that a gay person’s life is totally driven by sex, but we're just
like everyone else. When we're young we're
trying to see if we can wear it out, and just like everyone else as we get older we
realize that quality really does beat quantity every time. Sexual opportunity is no longer
governed by whether the closet door locks or not and how much time you have on your coffee
break, but by how much energy you both have at the end of the day.
Comedian
Suzanne Westenhoffer says choosing the CDs is lesbian foreplay. It's funny because it's true... in the beginning. I can remember picking out just the right CDs
to fit the mood and lighting the scented candles. Now
the only "tunes" playing are the sounds of the dog barking and the toilet
running, and the mood lighting is created by the light on the top of the vaporizer.
Hey,
menthol eucalyptus is a scent, right?
Now that's sexy. Shalom, Selina
Appropriate Noise Level
Another pair! Do You Want
To Read It Or Just Look At It? So I'm on this panel at this con
and we start talking about POD – print on demand – and how the definition has
shifted from meaning a type of printing method to publishers who use the method and
actually only print one book at a time. One of the guys on the panel goes
off about how it's like having a Xeroxed book, and it isn't as good as having a real,
honest to God printed book. I guess this is true if you care
more about having the book and looking at it than you do actually reading it. Because I
suppose there is a chance that a “real” printed book will last longer than a POD
processed book. Now I don't know this to be a fact because we print ours on non-acidic
paper with a UV protector in the cover gloss – something you never get in a
mass-market paperback – which guess what... was “really” printed and has
the life expectancy – depending on length – of one good read. Here's the skinny. Ten years ago
we started printing the comic book, by ourselves on an actual Xerox machine. Guess
what? We've still got some from the very first
printing, and they look brand new, so I'm thinking they'll most likely last at least
another ten to twenty years. I'm thinking our POD process books are going to be around
much longer than that, so... …do you want to read the books, or just have them to leave to your
grandkids who'll think they're all trash anyway and give them to the Salvation Army if
they don't toss them out all together? I realize all the so called
“literary” houses are into writing timeless classics that are – quote Bill
quoting some asshole – “A bitter-sweet tapestry of life.” They're
publishing books for future collage students to ponder over as they pontificate on what
the writer was feeling. Well screw that crap. We publish
books for people to read. Now. Yes, they should last long enough for the reader to enjoy
rereading them over the course of his lifetime if he so wishes, but I could give a
shit less if the reader can leave it as a cherished heirloom for some snot-nosed brat in
the distant future. I hate snobbery. The whole
“this is better than that is better thAn this is better than that” that goes on
all the time in this business anyway. To see people come all undone about such an
unbelievably petty thing… well, in the words of my pappy, “It makes my ass want
a dip of snuff.” I wondered if this guy who made
the statement about the POD process would like me to point out that his books cost three
times what mine do and are shorter. Or if he'd like me to lick my thumb and show the
audience that I can rub the print off his book as easily as I can one of mine. Or
that he has two titles while we have over 55. See, I could have had my books printed the
“real” way, but then I'd be like him – with two titles to try to push, and
if no one wants them... Well, then you're on a panel giving some lame-assed reason like
your printing technique is better as a reason someone should buy your book over this other
one. We're All
Gonna Die Sci Fi has always been about
exploring the future, usually by taking current views and trends skewing them – just
a bit – and taking it to some far-out conclusion. Maybe it would make the public see
a problem they were ignoring and they'd do their part to try to stop it and in doing so
stop the inevitable destruction of mankind, so... …what the hell is up with all
this Bible-thumping, moronic,
the-world’s-going-to-end-because-God-says-it's-going-to-because-mankind-is-evil-and-we're-all-going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket,
and
oh-by-the-way-there-is-nothing-you-can-do-to-stop-it-and-this-is-all-the-awful-stuff-that's-going-to-happen-while-you-foolishly-try…
crap? They can all take a couple of days
off work and bite my ass. Now I know we all have to make a
living, but surely they could find some better way than to use religious dogma to play on
the fears of ignorant Jesus-Jammers. These people are already of the mind that there's no
sense in reducing their use of the planet’s resources or taking care
of the planet, or defending our human rights, because... after all the world's going to
blow at any minute and all that really matters is that you're good with God. Before any of you start to burn me
in effigy, I have no problem with people of faith, my problem is with Bible-thumping
morons who blindly follow the most hateful doctrine their hypocritical preacher can spit
out. I won't watch that stupid-assed
Revelations TV show, you know the one that some Sci-Fi fans will defend by saying it's
really not about putting some people down and reinforcing religious zealots’
belief that we're in the last days, which of course makes holy wars not only necessary but
also desirable, that it's just a story, and... Yea right! And that's why its lead-in has been
things like, “Stories of real demon possession,” and such gems as that. I have always contended that
– while I will defend free speech with my last breath – we as writers have
a certain responsibility not to... play off the screaming fears of the religious morons
who already have all the political clout in our country and are hell bent on making
America into just exactly the sort of hopeless place that such stories depict it as
being… all to make a buck. I don't really understand wanting
the end of the world or believing with all your heart and soul that most of humankind is
evil. Statistically, the whole “Mankind Is Evil” thing just doesn't stand up.
There are billions of us on this spinning rock; how many serial killers are there? How
many rapists? Pedophiles? Murderers? Drug dealers? That's evil, true evil.
Everything else is just crap their religious dogma tells them is evil. How many people do
you suppose actually LIKE the idea of war, hate, poverty and despair? Not many. So why do
we have these things? Because, the rich own and run everything, and as I've said before,
the rich are inherently evil. Let me remind you why I say this... First – again – I'm not
talking about people who are comfortable. I'm talking about people who are filthy,
fucking, dripping rich – like all the leaders of the world. If you're filthy rich you
look around you, see the wars, the poverty, and the despair and say, “Gee, some of my
money could help. Think I'll buy a new Rolls.” World leaders go a step beyond even
this, they say things like, “Hey that war's making me money, let's keep it going. To
make everyone think it's good idea why don't we get some hungry writer to write a TV show
about some Bible thingy, get the people all worked up about infidels again, and then
they'll think the war's a good idea, too. Don't you own a network somewhere?” Selina
The
“Special” Writers I was blown away
that in this current culture of celebrating idiocy and mediocrity that anyone would have
the balls to point out the obvious... If no one loses, then no one ever wins. If
everyone’s special, then no one is. Everyone
shouldn’t be treated the same. Some people actually are better than others at least
at some things – not because of color or creed but because they use the genes and the
background they were given to the best of their ability. The race should
go to the swiftest, the fight to the strongest, and the better jobs to those most capable
of doing them. There ought to be some reward to be gained for being smarter. Excellence
should be celebrated, not repressed. This crap of giving awards to everyone so that no one
feels sad makes sure that no one ever feels really good, and it’s those times when we
push ourselves and win that gives us the strength to get through the times when we lose.
It’s losing that makes us try a little harder next time. We currently
have friends who have one “normal” child and one “special” child.
These people have carried the current tide of treating everyone exactly the same a step
beyond. They give all their attention to their “special” child and ignore their
“normal” child. In fact, they seem to go out of their way to make their
“normal” child take a back seat to their “special” child, thus
insuring that they will have two children who will never excel at anything. Calling retarded
people “special” annoys me on a huge level. There is nothing wrong with the word
retarded; it is short for retarded development – which they have. The problem is that
people drew negative connotations from it because of the people who were called retarded.
Kids used the word to tease other kids who weren’t actually
retarded. Here’s the problem with the line of thinking that has us change from
calling people “retarded” to “special.” Special was a perfectly good
word which had a wonderful meaning, and now people hardly use it because it now means
retarded. Oh, except that now kids tease other kids and call them “special.”
They haven’t changed the feeling that people have for retarded people. We still know
they are “developmentally challenged.” All they’ve really done is ruin the
word “special” for the rest of us. Special used to
mean gifted, exceptional. If someone was special to you that meant you cared deeply for
them. Now they think you want to get a spot for them in the Special Olympics. It has become
evil to be gifted, exceptional, to think that you might be better at something than most
other people. Everyone, even the most developmentally challenged person, is good at
something. Why has it become taboo to reward excellence? With current
technology and the dozens of thinly-veiled vanity press houses posing as legitimate
publishers, anyone can get published. In fact, they have flooded the market with pure and
utter crap to the point that if someone has never heard of you – and let’s face
it, in the writing business even the big shots aren’t necessarily household names
– they naturally assume you’ve published yourself. It’s made it very hard
for new names in the business to get any play at all with conventions and in the press. See... not
everyone who wants to be president should be – as I think we all know by now
it’s not good to have a retarded president – and not every person who wants to
be a writer should be published. It sucks to go
through the process of submission and rejection – and no I don’t mean in a
sexual way although that sucks too, or doesn’t now that I think about it – and
yes a lot of the big houses have their heads up their asses so far they wouldn’t know
real talent if it bit them on the ass, and yes it can be very hard to get into the small
houses because they only do a limited number of titles. The truth is we
can’t always get what we want. In this business more than any other hard work,
talent, and perseverance don’t always pay off. Yes, some really talented writers much
better than so many of the hacks in this business are going to just fall by the way.
It’s not fair by any long stretch of the imagination, but there have to be filters.
If you don’t reclaim sewerage you’ve got crap floating in your
drinking water and if everyone who wants to be a published writer is, then we’re going to turn off the few
readers who are left because almost no one – ‘cause I’m sure there are
websites for people who do – wants to sift the turd out of their water to get a
drink, and no one wants to read fifty bad books to read one good one. There isn’t
anything wrong with being an incredible writer and knowing it, and if you know it,
you’ll jump through the hoops to get legitimately published because if you’re
really that good then chances are that eventually someone besides you will notice it
– if you just keep trying.
Computer Upgrades Why can’t they ever just leave well enough alone? If my program works for me, that’s all I care about. A word processing program should be a word processing program. It should be so easy a monkey with a keyboard can work it, and it should never, ever, ever change. Not ever. Every single time I just about get my system figured out so that I don’t have to rely on other people–who act put out and who I sometimes think purposely screw up my work just to make me suicidal–to do things like back up files and such for me, it’s time to upgrade my system. Now I’m so stinking computer illiterate I don’t even know if these “upgrades” are necessary, but they tell me that they are so I allow them to screw with a tool that I use to work on every single freakin’ day of my life. Now when I made my living as a carpenter I wouldn’t let anyone even touch my hammer, but now I let someone–who can’t drive a nail–gut and reconstruct the most important tool in my shop. They upgrade it because it “simply must be done,” and I spend months losing pieces of my work and wasting hours trying to figure out the newer, “simpler” program that I’d need to be a rocket scientist to be able to figure out. My last “upgrade” has caused me nothing but problems and lost mountains of my work to the point that I often find other things to do besides work because I find the whole process to just be degrading and frustrating. In other words, the computer has finally beaten me. Today I figured it all out. It’s all a huge plot on my partner’s part to make her seem indispensable. She purposefully screws up my computer so that she can then walk over when I’m yanking my hair out by the handsfull and screaming like a banshee and say, “Oh,” and then punch one single button that will then fix everything. This of course makes me look and feel like a total idiot. Ah but sometimes she walks over and goes, “Oh,” pushes a button, and then she says, “Oops!” The last oops cost me two weeks work. This is of course my fault because I must have “Pushed the enter button while facing west and chanting the entire score of Cats.” All right, she doesn’t actually say that, but it’s something every bit as inane to the computer illiterate. I know what you’re thinking, why don’t I back my work up? Well, dumbass, I don’t know how because the last program I had did it for me and this fucker won’t do it unless you balance a seal on your forehead and jump through a burning ring of fire. Worse than that, if I ask my partner to back it up for me–because she knows how and I don’t–she lets out a sigh like just rising is going to be the last thing she does on this planet, and then because I made her get up and walk across the room there is a really good chance I’m going to get an “Oh,” quickly followed by an “Oops,” which of course will all be my fault because “I didn’t flitiperate the gradinckle before I hurled.” So as far as I can figure it out, here’s her plan… to make me totally dependant on her for my computer needs and then to act like she’s so put out that I won’t ask for her help. JUST LIKE SEX!!! Here’s a clue, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Don’t keep making us upgrade our freaking computers. I know that’s the only way the big computer companies make their ill gotten money, but just stop. Leave well enough alone. I’ll tell you what, you just want to screw me out of a bunch of money by forcing me to buy something to replace something that worked fine till you screwed with the whole system and made my computer obsolete write it into the freaking contract when I buy the computer that I understand that I will just be sending you a big check every few months. I’d rather send you money for no reason whatsoever than to have to buy a whole new system every year and lose hundreds of dollars worth of work trying to figure out your new mind fuck. Selina
Hurricanes, Dragon-Con and Riding the
Bus Now I'm a big proponent of writing about what you know and experiencing all that you can so that you have interesting things to write about. However, recent events have got me thinking that there are certain things that you should read up on or talk to others who've had the experience – or just plain guess at. See I took the bus to Dragon*Con, 18 hours each way. Why? Because it was cheaper, and I thought it would be easier than flying. Nope, I'm not smoking crack. I thought it would be a good experience to have under my belt, and I literally thought it wouldn't be that bad; however, I forgot the big rule – big corporations like to milk everything for as much as they can get out of it. My friend Audree decided to go with me on this little "adventure." Now, under normal circumstances it might not have been too bad, but we managed to time it just right so that on the way up we were riding with the Katrina evacuees, and on the way back we were riding with the Katrina refugees. I want to point something out because the news media is going out of their way to paint the victims of this storm as black hoodlums. Well, first off, not all the victims are black. I don't know why the news media – both liberal and conservative – want to put a face color on this disaster, but blacks certainly didn't cause the hurricane, and from the people we talked to it seems that – just like everyone got caught up in the disaster, people of all colors were doing the looting, too. Here's a little trick the news media might like to try – just report the facts. We got to see first hand what happened to these people. They were standing there with plastic bags holding everything they owned, talking about who they hadn't found yet. How the centers made them prove they had money for a bus ticket and someplace to live before they'd let them evacuate – even before the storm hit! How they'd been terrified by crooked cops and gang bangers allowed to go wild in the aftermath of the storm. Basically, it was just a magnification of what happens in every city every day. Ten percent of the people are running around, trying to terrify the other ninety percent. Disaster is what happens when you peel away the façade, and all that's left is the truth. Truth- The Rich drive out in their 60 thousand dollar SUV, catch a flight to their other home, then sit and cry about the property they lost. The middle class get in their economy cars with all they can save because it's all they have, and they drive to the nearest relative’s house and pray they have something to go back to. The working class poor really get stomped, because they'll lose their jobs and everything they've worked for while they sit there and fight for their lives because they have no car and no way out of the city. In the aftermath, they have to fight the weather and the damage and the hoods to stay alive – then what? Truth- A government owned by corporations and comprised of the spoiled pampered rich sits on its ass for three days and does nothing while people fight for their lives. Why? Because it isn't them. It isn't their people. Their people all made it safely to their other homes. Maybe they'll hold fancy dinner partys that cost five hundred dollars a plate later to raise the funds to replace the fancy china friends lost in the hurricane. The rich don't understand being in a position where they tell you to evacuate and you just flat can't do it. They think it's a matter of stupidity. Of course, rich fucks always think the only reason people are poor is because they're stupid. They don't want to admit the truth – that the only reason people are ever poor is because the rich keep them that way. And I'm not talking about welfare people. I'm talking about people who work every day of their lives. There are more and more of us every day in this country – hard-working people who just can't get ahead. People who have lost their place of business – maybe forever – who still have kids to feed, and bills to pay, and no home, and no prospects. Who's going to take care of them? While the government is going to pour millions into rebuilding oil refineries and corporate buildings, what's going to happen to the guy who's not on the dole who has nothing now? These people were depressed, but they weren't surly or nasty. They weren't pushing or shoving or cussing anyone... No, that would be the employees of the bus service. Never before have I seen paying customers treated exactly like convicts. We were herded like cattle, yelled at, and threatened at every turn with having our tickets revoked without refund. A burley security guard yelling at us to stand behind the invisible line he drew on the sidewalk. Bus drivers accusing a guy who wasn't smoking of smoking and threatening to stop the bus and throw him out even though 20 people were saying he hadn't been smoking. He wasn't – we were sitting next to him. The busses were filthy and ill maintained. At one point they were having people sit in the isles on the floor which was covered in filth. In one bus the bathroom was beyond using – as in it was so bad that the entire cab smelled of piss and shit to the point of nausea. The bus driver wouldn't let anyone off the bus for two stops, and when he finally let us off we were told that the 75 people on the bus had 10 minutes to use two bathrooms in a quick stop and be back on the bus or we would be left. When we were all there ten minutes later, ready to board, he then walked across the street to get a hamburger. He ate it on the bus with the shit smell, so he had a stronger stomach than I do.
Again... we were all paying customers. Why have the bus companies been allowed to
let everything fall completely apart? To drive these rattle-trap, broken-down filth
buckets – by the way, not to name names, but the It only made it worse that a lot of these people had lost everything and just lived through a nightmare, and then they were being treated like crap by the people many of them had given the last of their available cash to for a stinking bus ticket.
And there I was in amongst them having been at Dragon-Con for four days.
Dragon-Con, which is one of the biggest Sci Fi conventions in the country, boasting over
20 thousand screaming Sci-Fi fans. A normal convention is odd enough for a writer –
or for anyone for that matter – you go and you're on from early in the morning to
late at night, and then you sleep, get up the next day and do it all over again. World
events, even something as devastating as Katrina, just sort of exists in a space outside
the con realm. But Dragon-Con is huge. Like I said, We rode in with the evacuees. My
publisher picked us up at the bus terminal and they were just starting to cancel routes
there because of storm damage. The price gouging had driven gas prices to as high as five
dollars, and panic had emptied out half the stations in Well you know what? There are some things you just can't guess at. I guess all things considered it really was an experience I wouldn't trade. I still don't suggest you take the bus anytime soon. Selina Only Skin Deep My
dad is a beautician, and he's always said, "Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes
all the way through." Selina
Labels and Other People’s Dogs Now many people – my closest friends and family among them – have labeled me a pessimist. They say I’m negative and a defeatist. I say this absolutely is untrue. In fact, I’m not even going to counter and say I’m a realist. If I were ANY of these things, I’d just give up, roll over, and die. Let me explain... in the last 21 days I’ve had to deal with two separate dog attacks in which my four-month old puppy was run into the fish pond by the dogs where he apparently drowned, they eviscerated my favorite goat, killed my young billy – not even a year old yet, and of course he wasn’t quite dead when they were done with him so I had to finish him off. I bottle fed him, and then I shot and buried him. Ah the circle of life – and maimed my only two living goats so badly that at this point in time more than eleven days after the last attack* I’m still not sure whether one of them will make it or not. They’ve killed some of my chickens and one of my ducks, and when they came for the second attack they dug up my goat that they killed in the first attack so that I then had to bury her badly-decaying body again. I tried to shoot the dogs when I caught them during the second attack, but my rifle jammed. When I finally got it unjammed they were gone. Oh, and all my fish died because I had put strip pesticide on my puppy four days before he drowned in the pond. On top of the dog attacks, we had a book come in with the wrong title on the cover, a person I was counting on to blurb a book declined, and to put the foam on the head of this pustule of a month, I spent three days passing kidney stones. See... I’m thinking if I were a real pessimist – or even a realist – I just would have slung up my hands and given up, blown my brains out, and called it a day. But instead I started working on fence to deal with our dog problem, and even when they still got in after my first attempt on the fence I kept working on it – of course I did it to the point of obsession, but that’s beside the point. I figured out what to do with the books with the wrong title – I gave them a “can’t resist it” sale price and that seems to be working. I sent the book to someone else to blurb, and I’ve got my fingers crossed**. I called my herbalist, Audrey, and did exactly what she told me to do to help pass the stones even though it sounded crazy to me – and it worked! In fact, for the most part the last four years have just sort of sucked on ice. Now I’m not telling you any of this to get sympathy. What I DO want is for people to get off my back. If I maybe don’t want to deal with business for awhile, then you ought to understand that. Feel lucky if I occasionally answer a simple e-mail question. After all, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, I run out to the barn every hour from 8 in the morning to 9 at night to treat the goats, I sleep with a baby monitor – the other end of which is in the barn – and any time I hear a dog barking I jump up, grab my gun, and run out into the cold. Before you get to feeling sorry for these poor dogs, let me remind you that they have killed off or maimed animals that I loved. These are not strays killing for food; these are someone’s very well-fed dogs killing for the fun of killing – trying to kill these dogs so that I can finally get a good night’s sleep. I’m sick to death of being expected to understand everyone else’s problems and being there for them to the best of my ability and having everyone expect me to just buck up, pull up my bootstraps, and continue to do things for them when I feel like crap. Mostly I want to be able to tell people how bad I feel and how angry I am without being treated like I’m a whining crank. I want people to admit that I deserve to be in a bad mood and stay the hell away from me if you don’t want me to “be a downer.” I want people to quit saying that I’m negative. If I were negative, I wouldn’t do any of the things I do, because nothing I ever do really seems to go the way I’d like it to, and someone else’s crap is always raining on my fucking parade, but I just keep going, no matter how many times all the signs tell me to turn back, that I’m just going to get screwed anyway, I just keep plugging along. So you can call me a hardhead all you want, but don’t call me a pessimist because when someone else’s dogs turn my life upside down I just work on making better and better fences. Selina |