I'm ashamed I haven't updated my blog since May. Not really. I just knew I was supposed to say that. I've actually been living the good life at the cottage all summer, getting a bit of work done, both the written word and the hands dirty kind in the garden.
Got word that another entry of mine made the Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest list again. This makes three times in the last four years which means I'm either getting better or worse. I was a dishonorable mention again, or as my friend Karen put it, "Always bad but never quite bad enough!"
My entry this year:
"She clung to the memory of their love like those tiny bits of used tissues he always left in his pockets, which mostly ended up in the dryer lint basket although enough of them welded themselves to her favorite navy blue, polar fleece pullover rendering it as permanently flawed and unappealing as his name tattooed on her butt."
To read the winning entry and the rest of the putrid prose, visit:
http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Where "A Novel Woman" comes from
I wish I could say I came up with the name, but in fact, a friend of mine used to call me A Novel Woman in his emails.
So thank you, Big Colourful Man! I've put the novel on hold to work on other freelance projects, and I've just sold some greeting cards to a U.S. company, so I'm keeping busy. Who knows what the future holds...
So thank you, Big Colourful Man! I've put the novel on hold to work on other freelance projects, and I've just sold some greeting cards to a U.S. company, so I'm keeping busy. Who knows what the future holds...
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Town House
I had this novel on my TBR list for some time. I made a note of it in my "Inspiration" file after I read in Publishers Marketplace that the author, Tish Cohen, wrote the whole thing in 3 1/2 weeks. That's right. An entire, first novel in 3 1/2 weeks. Not only was the novel optioned for film before it was even published, the screenwriter adapting the book to film is Doug Wright (QUILLS, MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA,) a Pulitzer Prize winner. I had to see for myself if it would live up to all the advance hype, and to my great surprise, it does. It's a wonderfully funny tale of Jack Madigan, son of a dead rock star, who now lives in a crumbling Boston mansion with his teenage son Harlan. Jack has not paid his bills and the bank is foreclosing on his house. A bigger problem than the looming eviction is the fact that Jack is agoraphobic. Its cast of characters are endearing, the plot is engaging, and there are some real laugh-out-loud moments. Yay Tish!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Copyrights
Recently I did a vanity google on my name, and up popped a Toronto dentist's website. Hmmm...
Now this very nice dentist had called me two years ago after an essay of mine appeared in the Globe & Mail, and asked permission to hand it out to a few patients and maybe include it in an in-house newsletter. No problem, I told her, and no charge. I was flattered she liked it, and happy she was thoughtful enough to ask first.
Now, while I don't mind my work being passed around an office, I don't want it up on someone else's website without permission, and without payment. Not only that, the artwork appeared there as well, leaving the dentist open to a lawsuit by the artist who retains all rights once it has appeared in the Globe. A fellow freelance writer was sued successfully by Getty Images after she used an image on her website without permission. It was a scanned tearsheet of her article, and while the words were hers, the image was not. She was slapped with a bill of over $1,000 but they settled on $200 per year.
Something to think about.
Now this very nice dentist had called me two years ago after an essay of mine appeared in the Globe & Mail, and asked permission to hand it out to a few patients and maybe include it in an in-house newsletter. No problem, I told her, and no charge. I was flattered she liked it, and happy she was thoughtful enough to ask first.
Now, while I don't mind my work being passed around an office, I don't want it up on someone else's website without permission, and without payment. Not only that, the artwork appeared there as well, leaving the dentist open to a lawsuit by the artist who retains all rights once it has appeared in the Globe. A fellow freelance writer was sued successfully by Getty Images after she used an image on her website without permission. It was a scanned tearsheet of her article, and while the words were hers, the image was not. She was slapped with a bill of over $1,000 but they settled on $200 per year.
Something to think about.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Spam, spam, spam, spam...
I have an impregnable filter in place to protect my email account, but as any sex-ed teacher will tell you, nothing is 100% foolproof. Sometimes determined little Spam-atazoa breach the barrier and flood my inbox, giving new meaning to Hotmail. There is no apparent rhyme or reason as to why I am targeted for specific schemes and products. I get just as many entreaties to enlarge my manhood as I do to become more womanly. Over the years, I have collected the more unusual subject headings, just as some might collect sea shells, or mushrooms shaped like body parts. And, unlike a Million Little Other Things, these are all true.
I get wads of emails promising male growth. If by growth they mean committed, reliable, willing to take out the garbage on a regular basis without being asked, and note when we’re out of milk and butter, then sign me up. Ditto ‘Make her squeal.’
‘How to please your woman in bed.’ That one’s easy - no burritos before bedtime, don’t hog the covers, and you take the dog for its morning pee at the crack of dawn. I was disappointed to learn that ‘Guys show your thanks with a larger one’ did not refer to diamonds, and shocked that ‘Supersize me’ did not refer to fast food. ‘Gain 3 inches in the bedroom’ didn’t mean a king sized bed or big screen TV either. And while more ‘Zing for my Zinger’ was a tad vague, it will undoubtedly lead to more zippity for one’s doodah, unzippitied doodahs being the scourge of modern women everywhere.
A missive from the heavens arrived one day, proclaiming, ‘A message from God!!’ The exclamation points were there in case I didn’t fully appreciate what a huge deal it was to get an email directly from God as opposed to one of his minions at a call centre in Togo. Presumably, after replying to God, I could then ‘Eliminate my bills the Christian way’ as opposed to the way the heathens and infidels handle their finances. Am I supposed to turn the other cheek? Smite my creditors? Burn them at the stake? Feed them to the lions? Turn the other cheque? Be born again and start with a new identity and line of credit? Will them to Lucifer? Oh, I know. I must have to rob Peter to pay Paul.
‘Hey Pam! Millionaires want to coach you,’ read another. Because that’s the thing with millionaires - they all have so much spare time on their hands. They troll the internet looking for total strangers to coach so they don’t have to be millionaires alone. Or ‘Fast Loan. If I owned a home I would do this.’ So I’m supposed to take financial advice from someone who doesn’t have equity? ‘How to impres chicks.’ Well, you could learn how to spell, and stop calling women ‘chicks’ for a start.
There are other subject headings that tantalize me. ‘Size Really Does Matter. Women really like guys with big…’ What? Dogs? Portfolios? Feet? And the equally cryptic ‘You can attract women or…’ Or… you can continue to wear white socks with sandals and live with your mother. ‘My neighbour’s doing strange things with a…’ That one is easy. I just have to look out any window.
There are some interesting typos, intentional or not, like, ‘Average teenogres online.’ I’m not sure if that really was a typo, as I’m pretty confident teenager and teenogre are interchangeable. ‘Get a Santa Claus Bot here.’ I thought it said Santa Claus bod, and I have one of those already.
‘A message from one of your dirty friends’ arrived one day. Of course I opened that one. That could have been from any number of my friends. And anyway, who wants to hear from their clean friends?
‘Elder lovin’…very explicit.’ Now, if ever there was a subject heading guaranteed to make me NOT want to open an email, this would be the one. If I want to see Elder Lovin’, I can make the same mistake I made as a kid when I barged into my parents’ bedroom loudly demanding breakfast. That is not something I want to revisit any time soon. I suspect most elders don’t want to see any elder lovin’, given a choice.
‘Stay young. Have more energy, think clearer.’ I don’t have to buy a prescription for that. I just have to get the kids out of the house for the evening. ‘Buy adult toys online.’ My husband did that last time I went out of town and left him alone for three days. It’s called a boat. I was tempted to respond to the lure of how to ‘lose weight while watching TV’ though if that worked, I’d look like Calista Flockhart by now.
If it’s true that ‘Companies will pay for your opinions’ then listen up, spammers of the world. Here’s my opinion, and you can have it for free - Stop Sending Me Junk Mail. It’s annoying, time consuming and I don’t want it, now or ever. If you really believe that ‘Momma needs some lovin’ and you want to ‘Keep her happy’ then please keep your dirty little hands off my Inbox.
I get wads of emails promising male growth. If by growth they mean committed, reliable, willing to take out the garbage on a regular basis without being asked, and note when we’re out of milk and butter, then sign me up. Ditto ‘Make her squeal.’
‘How to please your woman in bed.’ That one’s easy - no burritos before bedtime, don’t hog the covers, and you take the dog for its morning pee at the crack of dawn. I was disappointed to learn that ‘Guys show your thanks with a larger one’ did not refer to diamonds, and shocked that ‘Supersize me’ did not refer to fast food. ‘Gain 3 inches in the bedroom’ didn’t mean a king sized bed or big screen TV either. And while more ‘Zing for my Zinger’ was a tad vague, it will undoubtedly lead to more zippity for one’s doodah, unzippitied doodahs being the scourge of modern women everywhere.
A missive from the heavens arrived one day, proclaiming, ‘A message from God!!’ The exclamation points were there in case I didn’t fully appreciate what a huge deal it was to get an email directly from God as opposed to one of his minions at a call centre in Togo. Presumably, after replying to God, I could then ‘Eliminate my bills the Christian way’ as opposed to the way the heathens and infidels handle their finances. Am I supposed to turn the other cheek? Smite my creditors? Burn them at the stake? Feed them to the lions? Turn the other cheque? Be born again and start with a new identity and line of credit? Will them to Lucifer? Oh, I know. I must have to rob Peter to pay Paul.
‘Hey Pam! Millionaires want to coach you,’ read another. Because that’s the thing with millionaires - they all have so much spare time on their hands. They troll the internet looking for total strangers to coach so they don’t have to be millionaires alone. Or ‘Fast Loan. If I owned a home I would do this.’ So I’m supposed to take financial advice from someone who doesn’t have equity? ‘How to impres chicks.’ Well, you could learn how to spell, and stop calling women ‘chicks’ for a start.
There are other subject headings that tantalize me. ‘Size Really Does Matter. Women really like guys with big…’ What? Dogs? Portfolios? Feet? And the equally cryptic ‘You can attract women or…’ Or… you can continue to wear white socks with sandals and live with your mother. ‘My neighbour’s doing strange things with a…’ That one is easy. I just have to look out any window.
There are some interesting typos, intentional or not, like, ‘Average teenogres online.’ I’m not sure if that really was a typo, as I’m pretty confident teenager and teenogre are interchangeable. ‘Get a Santa Claus Bot here.’ I thought it said Santa Claus bod, and I have one of those already.
‘A message from one of your dirty friends’ arrived one day. Of course I opened that one. That could have been from any number of my friends. And anyway, who wants to hear from their clean friends?
‘Elder lovin’…very explicit.’ Now, if ever there was a subject heading guaranteed to make me NOT want to open an email, this would be the one. If I want to see Elder Lovin’, I can make the same mistake I made as a kid when I barged into my parents’ bedroom loudly demanding breakfast. That is not something I want to revisit any time soon. I suspect most elders don’t want to see any elder lovin’, given a choice.
‘Stay young. Have more energy, think clearer.’ I don’t have to buy a prescription for that. I just have to get the kids out of the house for the evening. ‘Buy adult toys online.’ My husband did that last time I went out of town and left him alone for three days. It’s called a boat. I was tempted to respond to the lure of how to ‘lose weight while watching TV’ though if that worked, I’d look like Calista Flockhart by now.
If it’s true that ‘Companies will pay for your opinions’ then listen up, spammers of the world. Here’s my opinion, and you can have it for free - Stop Sending Me Junk Mail. It’s annoying, time consuming and I don’t want it, now or ever. If you really believe that ‘Momma needs some lovin’ and you want to ‘Keep her happy’ then please keep your dirty little hands off my Inbox.
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