S.M. Johnson's Blog, page 21

SM Johnson ~Thursday Morning Coffee~ Bad Author!

Oh, here we are again, more authors behaving badly because their widdle feewings are ouchie because of negative or critical reviews... I'm not going to name names or call anyone out, or post links to the threads that ATE UP MY DAY yesterday - which was my own drama-loving fault, mind you.

Nope. Not gonna do it. I discussed authors behaving badly fairly recently in a 3-part series: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

(Looking for those posts, I am once again not sure of the tile format of this blog. Sigh. The tiles don't show enough of the topic for at-a-glance navigation to interesting posts. Dang it. Even though it looks freaking cool.)

So be warned that the look and feel of SM Johnson Writes will probably change by the weekend.

Anyhoo.

My response to recent slew of authors behaving badly is that I am going to post here, for all the world and any of my most cherished readers, the bits and pieces of the reviews that bruised both my heart and my ego.

These are the words that make me cringe.

They are also the words that I consciously attempt to remember, because I value the feedback that I get from anyone who has taken the time to review my work.

Ready?

re: DeVante's Children

"There are some "why" moments in this book. A few storylines that were not really necessary and seemed to drag the book off course and left me scratching my head. Motivations are not clear at some points either."



"The books ends suddenly without any truly satisfactory resolution to the events that had just unfolded. I don't know if it is a cliffhanger or what but I couldn't believe the story just ended so abruptly."




"‘DeVante’s Children’ is a somewhat lukewarm vampire story... The story starts strong and interesting, and it kind of just …I don’t know…, …it has nothing much to offer..."




"Despite the fact that the book deals with one of my favorites genres, Vampires, and it is well written, I did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would. The bad part is I can't quite figure out why. I like the authors writing style and I liked the characters but the book failed to really capture and hold my attention."




"All that said, it's not a bad book and I'm sure many will read and enjoy it. I just wish I had."




"Overall the story was long, and a few times I found myself wondering where it was headed to. I never really found out. Overall the plot didn’t do it for me, I didn’t get where the story was headed really other than Daniel wanted to be a Vampire."
re: Above the Dungeon


"I would have liked more description of the setting, more character development through the story, a stronger sense that Dare really wanted and enjoyed what happened to him, and clearer indications when the narrator changed."

These next 3 quotes are from the same 1-star review. Yes, receiving a 1-star review made me feel sad, but wow! How amazing that a reviewer giving a 1-star review took the time to write such detailed explanations. This is what a review should be, even a "negative" or critical review - this person is telling READERS exactly what he/she didn't care for in this book. As the author, do I have something to complain about here? No way.


"First let me say I bought this book from the publisher not amazon. I was very dissapointed. I almost stopped reading this book. Usually I have no problems with threesomes or D/s but this whole story grated on me. It was a bit too extreme in a lot of ways."


"Jeff is a brat. He's also introduced out of nowhere and it was jarring. It totally broke the connection I was kind of feeling between Roman and Dare. Then Roman kind of shoved Jeff and Dare together and just lets Jeff be an ass. And man is he an ass."  


"I felt like the author had to force the whole D/s on Dare. He just did not strike me as a character who could ever be part of that world. It was unbelievable when the writer had him participating in D/s scenes. It felt rushed and unlikely. Hell half the time Roman had to force Dare to get an erection because he wasn't really into it. There isn't really much love in the story. Lust and control I guess. Cruelty. Oh sure there are maybe one or two "bonding" parts but it didn't really have that "I completely trust you" feel. More like "I'm just going to go along with this" kind of thing."




re: Out of the Dungeon




"Although I like her, I could have used a little less Vanessa & Suede."




"There was way too much Vanessa in this story. Her issues with Suede seemed to drag on way too long."




"Uff - m/f way more than I expected :( "



All right, that's pretty much what I've got. I'm sure if I had more reviews, I'd have more critical ones to share, but although I see sales daily, I don't see a bunch of reviews popping up. Which is too bad, because I enjoy reviews of my work, and I learn things. Like, if I'm going to throw F/F and F/M couplings in a M/M romance, my readers would appreciate a little more warning. That's a good thing to know. (grin). So for the most part, I guess I assume that the people reading my books have middle-of-the road feelings about them - i.e. don't hate them or love them enough to write reviews... so in my world, that's a 3-star review, right there. (smile).
I'm not sure where/when or even if I will be publishing my new impossible romance. It might actually fall into the realm of "too taboo to throw out into the world." And yet... the story is in me and demands to be written. Jonah is a 16 years old and basically homeless. Nick is the adult who takes him in, wanting to 'help.'
The age difference means this is automatically an abusive relationship, no matter which one of them is the instigator of sexual relationship.
Oops. Sometimes I just can't help myself.
Happy Thursday, darlings!

SM Johnson ~Bloody Monday~ Something Wicked...

...is coming to my mailbox, and I can hardly wait!

Read reviews on Amazon

I have been pining to read this baby for quite a long time, but the Kindle price has continued to scare me off.


So I made some decisions that will be changing the way that I buy books.


One of the good things about buying Amazon physical books is that if you're willing to spend $25 in one shot, and if you're willing to wait, the SuperSaver shipping option is free.


Now... it's not instant gratification - not the way having a book delivered to my Kindle is, but for most physical books, I'm really okay with that.


As I lamented a short time back in a Thursday Morning Coffee post, I feel very frustrated that when I buy from Amazon for Kindle, I don't really own anything real. I pay to read a story, and some stories I can lend to one of my friends, one time. But the Kindle file isn't really MINE, according to the copyright page, and I'm not supposed to borrow it to all my friends, even one at a time. 


I can archive the books and re-read them at a later date, but... meh. 


I don't do a whole lot of re-reading. Generally, once I read a book, I'm pretty much done with it. Unless it absolutely blows me away. 


And if something blows me away, I want the hardcover or paperback physically in my hands, because it's so much easier to skim pages, flip back and forth, and re-read passages. Besides that, when I really love a book, it's like a love affair, and I want to hold it and stroke it and cradle it and sigh with satisfaction.


Yeah, I'm a book geek, I admit it.


And because I'm a book geek, long ago (when my husband refused to build shelves on every wall of every room in the house) I had to make some rules about a)which books I buy, and b) which books I keep. These "rules" encourage me to check my library before making purchases. They also encourage me to purchase only books that I love.


My love of my Kindle kind of changed that policy - I purchase a lot more books these days. And I purchase quite a number of books that are, well, meh.


The Kindle price of Wicked As They Come is $7.99. The paperback price is $7.99.


Hence, my new policy on buying books:


Given the option of buying a story or a physical book, I'm going to buy the physical book.


If I love it, I will already own it.


If I merely like it, or even if I dislike it, I can donate it to my local library, and give many people the option of loving it, liking it, or disliking it.


With so many Kindle books the same price as paperback, and with the option of free shipping, it feels like win-win.


Personally - I KNOW that ebooks are much cheaper to produce than physical books, so charging the same price for an ebook as for a paperback really feels like I'm getting screwed, and not at all in a pleasurable way.


So fine. I'm pushing back, and that's that. Sell me a story at a discounted price. Otherwise, sell me an actual book.


Wicked As They Come has 30 5-star, 12 4-star, and 4 3-star reviews on Amazon. Here's the back-of-the-book teaser:


Have you ever heard of a Bludman? They’re rather like you and me—only more fabulous, immortal, and mostly indestructible. (They’re also very good kissers.)


Delilah S. Dawson’s darkly tempting debut drops her unsuspecting heroine into a strange faraway land for a romantic adventure that’s part paranormal, part steampunk . . . and completely irresistible.
When Tish Everett forces open the ruby locket she finds at an estate sale, she has no idea that a deliciously rakish Bludman has cast a spell just for her. She wakes up in a surreal world, where Criminy Stain, the dashing proprietor of a magical traveling circus, curiously awaits. At Criminy’s electric touch, Tish glimpses a tantalizing future, but she also foresees her ultimate doom. Before she can decide whether to risk her fate with the charming daredevil, the locket disappears, and with it, her only chance to return home. Tish and Criminy battle roaring sea monsters and thundering bludmares, vengeful ghosts and crooked Coppers in a treacherous race to recover the necklace from the evil Blud-hating Magistrate. But if they succeed, will Tish forsake her fanged suitor and return to her normal life, or will she take a chance on an unpredictable but dangerous destiny with the Bludman she’s coming to love?
And here's a guest blog by the author, Delilah Dawson on a blog called Dark Faerie Tales, with an excerpt and everything.


I'll let you know if it's love, meh, or dislike - maybe even by next Monday.


Have a great week, Darlings!

SM Johnson ~A Year of Sundays ~ ch 12 pt 5

Chapter 12 – Sunday, July 17th
Part 5



Part 5
 ~Melanie~
I want your cell phone number. I want to finish what we started. I want what you took away from me when you started screaming.
Melanie tried to be present when her siblings visited, but it was almost impossible. Her mind kept sliding to him – not in the shed this time, but in her own apartment.
He was smaller than she remembered, very plain, with short brown hair and fidgety fingers. Hardly frightening at all. The creepiest thing about him was that one of his eyes wandered away from whatever the other one was paying attention to, as if it were bored with the subject.
Melanie had been small for her age, and Caleb was large, and solid enough that Craig already daydreamed about football. Still, there were a lot of ways a man could hurt a child.
"… heard from Craig lately? How's Caleb?"
The sound of one of her sisters asking about Caleb made Melanie realize with a jolt of terror that she'd been unavailable for much too long.
Fourth of July week didn't actually count, because he'd told her she'd be off the hook, that he wouldn't contact her for that whole week. It seemed odd that he would give her such an assurance, but she could see the truth in his eyes. She'd almost teased him, asked if his mother was coming to visit, but the logic part of her brain stopped her, reminded her that he was not her friend, he was her tormentor, and making her feel grateful and sympathetic toward him was just another method of control.
Instead, she'd accepted his word, relaxed a little too much, and landed here in the hospital.
"She's sleeping," Josie said quietly, from her perch at the end of Melanie's bed.
Melanie jostled her foot against Josie's hip and struggled to open her eyes. She mumbled, "No, I'm awake. Sorry."
The combined force of Silas and Elizabeth had somehow scavenged three chairs, and the room was claustrophobic with Meyerhoffs. Melanie tried on a smile, but it was too much effort. "I'm not good company all of a sudden. Must've eaten too much fruit."
"Did they start your meds again?" Jessamine asked. "That would make you tired, wouldn't it?"
Melanie shook her head. "Two more ECTs. Maybe three. Then meds, waiting through another weekend, and a few more ECTs."
The panic came again and she forced herself wide awake. Too long. She'd been out of reach for far too long. He was going to flip. And he'd promised to hurt Caleb if Melanie didn't play his little game.
Elizabeth's mouth flattened into a tight line, and Melanie tried to explain before her sister could start a rant. "It's no big deal, Sissy, really. I've had a background headache and some lethargy from the anesthesia. Nothing out of the ordinary, according to the staff. And I think I might even feel better, mood-wise, though they warned me it will probably wear off by tomorrow."
"Fine," Liz said. "Have it your way. But I don't have to like it."
Melanie felt her teeth clench, but it was an admission of almost support, coming from Liz. "C'mon, you know you can't fix me. But maybe Dr. B can, if I give him a chance."
Silas had been staring at her the whole visit, and although he'd been silent, she was hyper-aware of his direct stare. She startled as his voice whipped across the room. "What's really going on, Mel?"
She met his eyes, and could feel her own guilt and anger – shame – and hoped like hell he couldn't read any of that. "Nothing. I'm having some anxiety. You all get it, right? That Craig's going to be hard-pressed to let me have Caleb at all after this."
It was a defense mechanism, a habit, even, to project her anger and helplessness onto Craig, the man who had his shit so well together that he controlled how much Melanie could see her own son.But Silas was shaking his head. "That's bullshit, and you know it. He only keeps you from Caleb when you're sick." He gestured at the hospital walls. "And obviously, you are. Even then, you know he'd bring Caleb to visit. All you have to do is ask."
Melanie's shame grew bigger then, because Silas was right, and they all knew it. Craig flat-out refused to bring Caleb to the other unit – and Melanie couldn't hold that against him. Most everyone on the extra-secure unit was psychotic and unpredictable. But this unit was a lot less crazy. Melanie and her fellow patients quietly had their ECTs, then hoped and prayed and waited for the depression to lift.
She shrugged, giving up the pretense. "Okay, you're right. What do you want me to say?"
Silas sighed and his fingers fiddled with his sunglasses, clicking the bows as he folded and unfolded them. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I just feel like there's an elephant in this room that you're hoping desperately we won't see. And I'd rather face it head on than have it sneak up from behind and strangle us."
"Leave her alone, Si," Josie said. "Jesus. She doesn't feel good."
"Mel said – " Jessamine started to say, then cut herself off, maybe remembering how angry Melanie had been, or maybe just wanting to hold on to more secrets. "Never mind."
Melanie grasped onto that drama with a huge sense of relief. Jessie had just provided an out.
"It's okay, Jess," Melanie said. "I know I was a total bitch to you. You can tell them about me and mom. But tell them later. Please?"
There was a knock on the door, and the gray-haired day charge nurse, who could be gruff and intimidating, poked her head into the room and said, "More visitors, Melanie. Someone named Craig. And I seriously can't let another body in for you unless someone is willing to leave."
Silas practically leapt to his feet, which brought Melanie the closest to a smile since Liz presented her with the bag of fruit. Of the group, it was hardest on Silas to sit still and hang out here, pretending they were somehow working on Melanie's issues.
He was the one most likely to puzzle out the "elephant," as he'd so aptly put it.
"Sunday is officially adjourned," Elizabeth said, leaning over the bed to give Melanie a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Enjoy the fruit. And call if you need anything."
One by one they said their goodbyes, and offered encouragement. Melanie was fighting tears as she walked them to the door and waited for the nurse to let them out and let Craig in.
She was thinking Craig probably had some awful custody amendment ready for her to sign, so it was a startled, happy surprise when Caleb came through the door.
Melanie wrapped her arms around her boy and the tears came for real.
"Mo-om," he groaned, pulling the word into the standard two syllables heard from tween boys everywhere. He eased away from her embrace. "This is so embarrassing."
She let him go with a ruffle of his soft dark hair, and chanced a look at Craig. "Thank you," she said. "So much."
Craig nodded, and squeezed her upper arm, an affectionate gesture that first happened when he was trying to offer comfort during Caleb's birth.
It was such a comfort now that Melanie almost flung herself into his arms – safe sturdy Craig, the man who was a rock of stability for Caleb. She stopped herself from making an inappropriate display of gratitude and instead led the way to her room, offering them an apology. "I'm sorry I got crazy again," she said, resting a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "It's okay to tell your dad if you think I'm getting sick. He's our safety net, you know."
Caleb nodded, looking uncomfortable. "That's what dad said. I just never want to believe you're getting sick, so I pretend."
"I know," Melanie said. "I do the same thing. It's just important that we all stay safe. You know."
Caleb nodded again, and Craig mouthed "thank you" to Mel over their son's head.
Silas was right to call Mel on her bullshit. Craig was not vindictive, never had been, and was not going to be now.
It occurred to Melanie to ask him something she'd always wanted to know. "How do you handle all of this so well? Me, I mean."
Craig shrugged, and weaved past the Meyerhoff chairs until he stood at the windows, seeming to gaze out at the passing traffic.
"Didn't I ever tell you about my older sister?"
Melanie was at a loss. "I don't think so. I know you have an older brother and a younger sister…"
She and Craig had never really hung out together, or even hardly been friends. But in fact, there was a time when Melanie flirted with him and tried to capture his interest.
For a while she thought he was just dense and missing her signals. But eventually figured out he was intentionally ignoring her flirtatious gestures.
When she asked him outright if maybe they should date, he'd been kind but firm. "We hardly know each other, and maybe it will be easier that way. I haven't had a lot of luck with relationships."
She hadn't had much luck, either, so it made a certain kind of sense. What she hadn't counted on was once Craig set the boundary, he would never let it be breached.
Melanie kept him updated during her pregnancy – fingers, toes, the news that they were having a boy. They'd discussed which hospital, what name, whether to circumcise.
Then post-partum depression hit Melanie hard and knocked her right on her ass.
And Craig filed for sole physical custody of Caleb, and won.
There had never been a question of any romance between them after that.
Their conversations were limited to Caleb. Schedules, visitation, and just generally learning how to work together to share a child.
Still, Melanie felt like somewhere in all of that they'd formed a real friendship. She had warm feelings for Craig, and if he was less than one hundred per cent patient or kind when she got crazy, well, who could blame him?
Anyway. She was almost positive he'd never once, in almost twelve years, mentioned having an older sister.

SM Johnson ~Thursday Morning Coffee~ Men in fiction

Afternoon coffee today.


Summer is weird and screws up my schedule. Or maybe it's just holidays are weird and that's what screws up my schedule. Either way - here I am, writing about morning coffee at noon. But that's okay - I have a fresh pot brewing.


I need to remind myself periodically that I write both books and blogs for fun and entertainment, and the world won't end if my real life becomes unmanageable and a blog posts a bit later than I like.


Chilling with family and friends is important, too - although I tend to be somewhat anti-social. I like to hope that it's a writer quirk, and that I'm not the only one who'd rather isolate in the air conditioning with the computer than hang out with real people and attempt to partake in socially acceptable conversations.


One must live a little real life sometimes, too.


I need a new summer coffee cup picture. I think I was going to take a new one for July, so maybe I'll get that done today. After I do some socially unacceptable writing. Ha. (Okay, yeah, that was random).


What I want to talk about is men in fiction. Perhaps not as exciting as Men in Black, but at least it's a topic.


Collision CourseWhat led me to think about this topic was a book that I spent as much of the day yesterday as possible reading before, after, and in between Fourth of July parties (and instead of writing today's TMC, ahem). The book was Collision Course by K.A. Mitchell (and it's free on Amazon right this minute, on July 5th - I have no idea how long it will remain free, though). 


The genre is M/M explicit romance.


I thought it was absolutely lovely.


The main characters are a grumpy paramedic named Aaron and a princess of a gay boy child protection worker named Joey.


Aaron refers to the Department of Families and Children as the (language alert!) Department of Fuckers and Cunts. 


So, you can see right off that this relationship might have some ups and downs.


I really enjoy K.A. Mitchell's writing, and I'm positive I've read something else by this author, but can't for the life of my sporadic brain remember what that was.


I read some excerpts of other works at the end of this novel and I'm pretty sure I will happily be spending a few dollars at Amazon myself later today.


But even as I read the excerpts, and enjoyed Collision Course, I was thinking how so often the men in gay romance and erotica stories always seems somewhat less manly than men in other stories. They just seem so... dare I say it out loud? Gay. Even the hard ones (pun intended) tend to be emotionally soft. 


This isn't even a criticism, just an observation.


Compared to... say... Jack Reacher (author Lee Chidl) or Lucas Davenport (author John Sandford), straight characters who care very deeply about justice, family, and the people they love. They still come across as strong, hard-boiled, straight men.


Of course, it may be that I'm comparing black coffee to vanilla bean ice cream, and there really can be no fair comparison.


Jack Reacher #1
Jack Reacher stars in rough and tumble action-packed revenge fantasies. He often has a black and white view of right and wrong. Refuse to serve him coffee at the only café in a small town with big secrets – well, that's all it takes for Reacher to figure out that there's something about the town worth figuring out.
 And once you tell him flat-out to get out of Dodge, well, now you're in for it. Last Reacher heard, America is a free country, and he has the right to order coffee in any small town café that he happens to point his shoes at.
Once you cross Reacher, there's nothing soft about him whatsoever.
And Lucas Davenport – ah, Lucas. Man of my home state, seeker of justice, solver of heinous crimes. Lucas stars in serial killer murder mysteries – he's a BCA (Bureau of Criminal Apprehension) investigator, tough as nails, known to kill a killer in cold blood if that's the only way justice will be served. Lucas Davenport #1
He loves his wife to distraction, and his children with a protective umbrella two cities wide. The bad guys have used Lucas's loves against him a time or two, and Lucas goes completely fucking berserk.
There's nothing soft about Lucas. Ever.
So back to my black coffee and vanilla bean ice cream comparison.
Maybe the deal is simply that the main characters of romance novels are softer and ruminate on their feelings more because that's the design of the genre.
Action/ adventure heroes chew on internalizations about weapons and strategy more than emotions – again, because that's the framework of the genre.
To fit into a genre, one has to write some variation of what the readers of that genre want.
Which is, you know, why I'll probably never make my fortune as a writer. I tend to write what *I* want, and hope for the best.
The only way to keep myself engaged in writing a story is to write the story that I want to read.
Now, say I was able to compare black coffee and light hazelnut coffee. That would come a little closer to the mark, and I could do that – compare the genres of gay romance and straight romance. Except then I'd have to actually read some kind of straight romance, and I rarely manage to finish them. Or even stick with them for more than a few pages. 
I'm sure I read a non-paranormal heterosexual romance at some point in the recent past, but damned if I can think of a single title.
I don't think Fifty Shades of Grey actually counts, because my fascination was with Christian's fifty shades of fucked-up, not all the romancey stuff going on between him and Ana.
But I will say that even Christian Grey, Dom extraordinaire, was a bit… dare I say it?
Soft.

So... what say you, my dear readers? The issue of gay/straight aside, who's your favorite strong, male manly-man character in fiction?

SM Johnson ~Bloody Monday~ Magic Mike

IMDbWe're going with pop culture today, rather than dark fiction.

The darkest thing about the film, Magic Mike, is the strip club when the lights are out.

The circles I run in (virtually and in the real world) are all talking about Magic Mike. The gay boys, the m/m erotica writers, the consumers of "mommy porn."

Kind of interesting how women enjoying their sexuality is suddenly okay.

E.L. James Fifty Shades books are hit best-sellers - women are reading them in public - not only secretly on their Kindles and Nooks, but reading the paperbacks on the bus, the subway, and even at work. Perhaps with a nick of embarrassment, but for the most part completely without shame.

Now wait a minute. This is all wrong.

Women who enjoy sex are sluts and whores and prostitutes. Trashy tramps out to steal the men who have been brow-beaten and stomped to the ground by their frigid good-girl wives. Sex is a weapon, a reward, a measure of control.We're supposed to tolerate sex, not enjoy it. 

What is the world coming to? First gay marriage, and now women holding up their sexuality, out and proud, drooling over hot men dancing and taking their clothes off.

Ooh-la-la. I kind of like it.

All right, so let me tell you about Magic Mike, the movie. I'm not much of a movie critic, so consider this more of an op/ed piece.

I watch very little TV, and very few movies, but it's hard to pass up a movie date with the girls when the temperature is upwards of 90 degrees. Or at least feels like 90 degrees to this northern WI girl. Darkness. Air conditioning. Butter-soaked popcorn. And almost-naked men.

The "scenery" in Magic Mike was stellar. No complaints.

The story itself, however, was pretty thin. 10% romance and 90% "bromance." Lots of hot straight boys touching and hugging and staring deeply into the eyes of other hot straight boys. I have absolutely no problem with this, BTW. I love it. I'm the original "OMG, I love Vin Diesel and Paul Walker in The Fast and the Furious" girl. Mmm, honey. I am good with the bromance. But it was a little much, even for me. Just on the scale of plausibility, really.

Actually, there were a lot of plausibility issues in this film for me. I guess, as a woman, I'm supposed to be rendered stupid, speechless, and thoughtless because of the man candy.

Yeah, okay.

The characters:

Image from Just JaredMagic Mike (Channing Tatum) is a man of many talents and a whole lot of energy, despite the fact that his 20s are behind him.

He has an auto-detailing business, although we never see him detailing any automobiles. He's a construction worker by day. He's a male stripper Thursday through Sunday nights.


And he makes cool furniture from objects he scavenges on the beach.


Magic Mike apparently rarely sleeps.


His dream is to make the furniture business his full-time gig. In fact, he's been saving his stripper dollars for 6 years in hopes of having a reasonable down payment on a business loan, which he can't get otherwise because his credit is crap. Actually, even with a $13,000 down payment, he can't seem to get a loan at all. One loan officer suggests that he spend a few years improving his credit score, but Magic Mike apparently hates credit. (I hear ya, dude. Our policy is that if we don't have the cash, we don't buy it).


Image from EW.comI have to say that again there's a believe-ability issue here. Mike lives in an awesome house right on the beach. He drives a beautiful, brand-new gas-guzzling black truck, with the factory plastic sheeting still covering the dashboard and instrument panel, so it "stays new." He also owns, as I mentioned, a truck or van for the auto detailing business. This is not a guy who's pinching his pennies (or dollar bills, in this case). 


And, um, well. When I was building credit, I bought a car with a loan from my credit union and made payments every month until it was paid off. Not a gas-guzzling truck, mind you, but a nice fuel-efficient little car. So why isn't Mike building credit with his shiny black truck? 


All right, so a little reality interfering with my fantasy. 


It's all right. I can get over it.


Image from The Film StageNext character, Adam "the Kid" (Alex Pettyfer). 


Adam is a 19 year old who lost his football scholarship because of drug and alcohol use. He's living with his sister, Brooke (Cody Horn), and looking for work, but not having much luck. 


Two things: A) he doesn't really look like a football player. But I don't watch football, so maybe it's just me. 


B) the thickness of his beard changed, sometimes noticeably, from scene to scene. I know, I was supposed to be staring at his pecs and imagining his pecker, not noticing his facial hair growth. My bad.


Mike and Adam's relationship (bromance) is totally baffling. They meet on the construction site, where Adam doesn't know anything about construction, including the importance of steel-toed boots. No way would any foreman allow a guy on a job site without the proper attire. Talk about liability. But anyway. The foreman lets Adam work anyway. Mike and Adam work together on a Spanish-style tiled roof for one day, until Adam gets fired for taking an extra Pepsi out of the cooler.


Mike obviously doesn't think much of Adam. But even so, when he runs into Adam later that night outside a club, Mike gets the Kid in, even though Adam again blows the dress code, wearing a hoodie and sneakers.


Sigh. I don't know. 


Mike tells Adam to warm up to a girl in the club celebrating her 21st birthday, and Adam manages to do this. Then Mike swoops in and invites the girl and her whole party to a hot Male Review strip show.


Honestly? It doesn't even seem like Mike likes Adam - he sort of has a huge disdain for the Kid - so the whole "Mike takes Adam under his wing and brings him into the male stripper business" doesn't even make sense. But somehow they become instant best friends.

Mike has no motivation to engage with Adam in this way. I mean, he hasn't even met Adam's sister (Mike's real love interest) yet.

Cleveland.comThe final character I'm going to talk about is Dallas (Matthew McConaughey). Not because the character was stellar, but because, let's face it, most of the women going to this movie are going to see Matthew's naked butt.

Dallas owns the male strip club in Tampa. He doesn't dance anymore, but he dresses like a male stripper, and he warms up the female patrons with charismatic patter and a sort of  carnival-game "Carnie" persona. He's high energy and looking good, but often he's actually somewhat smarmy.

His goal is to close the deal on some real estate and move the whole shit and sha-bang to Miami, and make some real money. The character is good, in kind of a hot-but-creepy Johnny Depp kind of way. Definitely he's a performer. And he  looks damn good when he's wearing "almost naked."

image from About.com


Dallas has some pretty specific goals. So again, my plausibility meter jacks itself up, wondering why Dallas, who seems pretty ambitious, would risk his club, his livelihood, and his dream... not just by employing a 19 year old (originally hired to to manage the dancers' props), but then allowing said 19 year old to dance, drink, and drug in the club.

C-c-c-crazy. There was a bunch of drug-dealing going on with the employees of the club. It wasn't altogether clear to me if Dallas was in on it, approved it, or even ran that operation, as a sideline - but Magic Mike knew about it, and the Kid got involved, and that part of things went bad, bad, bad. And actually, I thought that part of the plot-line was pretty decent.

Finally (finally!)... the Bromance:


I mentioned 90% bromance, right? Because you know that being the highly sexualized females that we are, we just can't get enough of boys touching boys.

image from BreitbartIt may sound like I'm being tongue-in-cheek, but in reference to myself, personally, this is an absolutely true statement. The part of my writer's brain that's intrigued with m/m erotica is whispering, "So the new guy joins the all-male practically naked dancing group, and, and, and...."

But I am liberal. And I am a GLBT ally, and in some respects I consider myself queer. I love being voyeur to a little male-on-male action. Anyway, my point is that, compared to a lot of other people, I am a little off.

So I found the touchy-feely stuff in this movie to be pretty great.

Whether on stage, in rehearsal, or just standing around bullshitting, these boys are so confident in their masculinity that they have no physical boundaries whatsoever.

When Dallas was showing the Kid how to dance, he got behind the kid, snugged up right against him, and held his hips to demonstrate the wiggle and thrust. It was hysterical. Would have been even hotter if Dallas hadn't been dressed like Richard Simmons.

The funny thing is, even if this were a gay movie, there's a lot of long serious looks, neck clasping, manly hugging, and pelvis thrusting.

The dancing is wonderful - hot choreography and fabulous male stripper costumes that disappear with a quick tug.

Notice the lack of personal space? Whenever these guys talk, they get all nice and cozy with one another - which, you know, might be normal in a club with loud music, but is not all that normal in general conversation under more regular circumstances. But these guys are really comfortable with one another, and extra-super affectionate.


All right - so, do I recommend this movie?

Sure, if you're looking for a some hot male eye-candy, awesome dance/strip routines (I wish there had been more of them, and longer ones!) and are willing to suspend common sense here and there.

It's a lovely way to have a great night out with the girls. And maybe even arrive home ready for a  bedroom rendezvous with the husband.

What's not to like about that?

SM Johnson ~A Year of Sundays~ ch 12 pt 4

Chapter 12, Sunday July 17

Part 4


~Jessamine~
It was Sunday, and Liz and I were standing in the back parking lot near the mental health entrance, waiting for Silas and Josie so we could all go in together. Mellie actually had a doctor's order for all of us to visit at the same time, so Liz wouldn't have to bully the nurses every week. I was beginning to think that maybe Dr. B could be all right – some of the time.
Elizabeth had brought chopped fruit to Melanie this morning, and reported that it was well-received. "Maybe Mellie is better," Liz said. "She smiled. The light came back into her face – just for a second, but it was there."
"She sounded way out of it on the phone," I said.
"Well, she looks better, Jessamine," Liz insisted. "I swear she does."
I would have to see for myself, but part of me suspected it was the sheer strength of Elizabeth's determination to see this family whole again that made her see Melanie that way. What I said was, "I hope so. Maybe this treatment will work better than others, and maybe for longer. At least it's something she's never tried before."
Even though I said all the right supportive words, I didn't really believe them.
If anyone had asked, I couldn't have explained what my trepidation was based on, but for some reason I had a strong feeling that ECT wasn't going to work. I mean, if Dr. B really thought it would help, why hadn't Melanie tried it already?
This had been a good year for Melanie, one of her better ones, right up until mom died. So good that I think we all started to believe that she was finally 'normal' again.
But now I knew from our mom's journals that Mellie would probably never be normal. Because, despite what Melanie had told me about mom burning some of her journals, there was still a lot in there about Mel. Including stuff I probably would wish I could un-read.
I hate seeing Melanie keep herself so painfully unkempt. Her whole apartment smelled sour and unwashed. She was lying on the couch, with five or six coke cans lined up on the floor, cigarette ash sprinkling the tops. Her hair was greasy and matted against her cheek, and even her skin was breaking out. I asked her when she'd last taken a shower, and she honestly couldn't remember.
The milk had been sitting on the counter for however-many days and was spoiled in its carton. The sink was full of dirty dishes that were at least partly he cause of the apartment's foul odor.
I threatened her with a ride to the hospital via ambulance if she didn't shower, so she sighed and disappeared into the bathroom. She stayed in there for a long time, while I picked up the apartment, gathered dirty laundry into a pile, and took out the garbage. I found clean sheets in the closet and changed her bed.
I went to the bathroom door and called to her, but she didn't answer.
When I opened the door, stream rolled out in a warm, moist cloud.
I called to her again, not wanting to startle her.
Still nothing.
I peered around the edge of the shower curtain. She was just standing there, eyes open, her face a blank document and her skin turning rosy from the hot water.
I reached beyond the curtain and washed her hair like when she was seven years old, and still scared to shower by herself.
I had to coax her out, help her get dressed, and brush her hair.
She sat on a kitchen chair watched me wash the dishes. I talked about how I hated to see her hide behind poor hygiene, how I've come to know it's a symptom of worse things to come.
She said, "I'm sorry, mom, I can't get leave the shed right now."
My heart broke.
She'd managed to live on her own for almost a year. But I knew this reprieve was about to end.
A monster ruined my daughter, and she might never fully wake from the nightmare, no matter how many years we put between then and now, no matter how hard we try to pretend that someday she'll be all right.
She was my most beautiful child, with her soft black hair and huge brown eyes, her skin that glowed peaches and cream, pert nose and pink cupid lips. She was the child that captivated complete strangers because she looked like a perfectly painted china doll.
So beautiful that a sick pervert tried to make her his own.
"Don't let him win, sweetheart, please."
I can't even write about what a mother goes through when her child is missing. Or even how a mother feels when that child is found, battered and bruised, hurt in ways that aren't easy to see.
The injury that is invisible is the one that's killing us both.
I didn't even note the date of that particular journal entry. It didn't matter. Sometimes Melanie was healthy for months. Heck, once she was healthy enough to flirt with Craig, get pregnant, and then actually kept her shit together long enough to carry and deliver a healthy son.
But the last few years … well, she'd been doing great for so long. 
Long enough that the hospital felt like a foreign place.
Josie and Silas arrived in Silas's jeep. They got out and came toward us, Silas shaking his key fob, making the keys jingle. The elevator would take us up to the mental health unit. It was like an emergency entrance, not connected to the main level of the rest of the hospital. For security, I supposed. Or maybe  to maintain the privacy of the people being brought in.
We turned toward the door en masse, and then from the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure come out the main lobby door, across the parking lot from us.
Jeremy.
He was with someone, his face turned toward that person, hands in motion as if he were explaining something intense.
It made me pause, and Josie followed my gaze and said, "Oh!"
Silas also looked. He waved us on and said, "I'll meet you upstairs."
Yeah, right.
We all stood, as if frozen, and watched Silas stalk across the parking lot.
"It's a boy from the Pride fundraiser," Josie said softly, her lips close to my ear. "He was fun. And very friendly."
That didn't sound good at all. If Jeremy went and did what Silas wanted – found someone his own age to go out with – Si would surely lose his mind.
"What is he doing?" Liz said, as Silas caught up to Jeremy and slung an arm around his neck and shoulder. "Is there going to be some kind of gay drama here? Because I don't need it. I really don't. Come on, let's go see Mel."
Neither Josie nor I moved an inch. I don't know about Jose, but I was transfixed by Silas's body language, his arm pulling Jeremy close, his smile as he offered a hand to the other boy to shake. The way he pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes and settled them on the top of his head. Tilted his head, listening to the stranger say something, then a slow smile, a tug on Jeremy, to pull him in our direction.
Jeremy seemed to melt against Silas, and peered past him to wave at us.
Josie and I waved back. Liz was gone, swallowed by the elevator, preferring to stick to one drama at a time.
Jeremy had his phone out, tapping keys, grinning.
When he allowed Silas to steer him toward us, I could see that Silas was scowling again.
"Jeremy!" Josie exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here."
He flushed a little. "Sorry. Very rude. I came to get a membership to the fitness center, and then stopped to see Melanie for a few minutes, since I was here. I wanted to tell her about my grandma." He shrugged. "I don't know why. I guess just because it helped her. My grandma, I mean."
"Aw, that's sweet," Josie said.
"So now you'll be at my gym, too," Silas said, his voice flat, and let his arm slip from Jeremy's shoulder. "Nice."
"Come on, Si, why do you think I asked where you work out?" Jeremy was laughing. Silas wasn't. "And it was so cool, because like the minute I walked out off the elevator and stepped into the lobby, I ran into Charlie. Josie and I met him at the fundraiser a couple weeks ago. It was so unexpected. I think he said he was a pharmacy tech, but I figured he worked at Walgreens or somewhere like that. But no, he works here. He works the inpatient pharmacy, which is a bummer because he doesn't get to interact with people much, and he's so friendly."
"He really is friendly," Josie added.
I started giggling out of nervousness, because that little spiel was probably going to upset Silas more, not calm him down.
Then again, maybe I was wrong.
Silas put his hand over Jeremy's mouth, effectively shutting him up, and said, "You want to see this Charlie? Then do it."
"I don't want to date him," Jeremy protested. "It's not like that."
Silas just looked at Jeremy, waiting for more.
"I just want to be involved. To know people. To have a community where I belong."
Silas seemed at a loss for words. He ran his hands through his hair, plucking his sunglasses off his head when his fingers ran into them, and setting them back over his eyes, effectively hiding most of his expression. "So do it," he said. "I never said you couldn't."
Jeremy wrapped an arm around Silas's waist and bumped him with a hip. "No, you never said I couldn’t. But I don't want you to be angry every time I go somewhere, or run into someone I've met. If I find community, I don't want you to hate it."
Silas sighed. "With Jessamine and Josie as my witnesses, I do solemnly swear I will try not to be hostile to your pansy community. Okay?"
Jeremy laughed and hip-bumped Silas again. "Even the dancing boys?"
Si finally smiled. "Yes, even them."
Jeremy slid around Silas and gave him a full-frontal hug and a sweet peck on the lips. "Good. I'll see you later."
Silas watched Jeremy go. Watched until Jeremy got into his car. 
I was half-surprised Si didn't yell across the parking lot for Jeremy to put on his seat belt.
"Charlie really is very friendly," Josie said, and it startled me.
Silas threw up his hands, lifted his face toward the sky, and laughed for real. "Yeah, Jo-Jo, I kind of heard something about that."
"It's not bad that he wants to be involved in Pride, is it?" Josie asked, with a smile at her lips but her eyes narrowed. Half curious, half challenging.
Silas shook his head. "Nah. He's young."
His eyes now followed Jeremy's car as it went past us and out of the parking lot, staring even after it was out of sight.
"You can't take your eyes off him," I observed, which made him turn his head toward me. His sunglasses still hid his face, but there was a wry smile on his lips. 
"I never could. That's the trouble."
~Silas~
Some months ago there was this song playing damn near every time Silas turned on the radio, about you and me and all of the people, and how I can't take my eyes off of you. It made Silas's teeth ache, either because it was so damn sappy, or because it just made him clench his jaw in disgust that obsession could be mistaken for romance.
But he was doomed from the first moment Jeremy came bouncing across the dance floor and into Silas's personal space, skin glistening with sweat, blonde hair darkened from his efforts on the dance floor. Blue eyes shining.
The boy was Josie's age – technically a man, not a boy – but Silas felt like a pervert just looking at him.
He was caught in Jeremy's web of charming boyishness in that one simple moment, and he'd never been able to take his eyes off the boy since.
The next time Silas heard the song, he laughed at himself because he could taste the obsession and because his chest grew tight with a kind of terrified longing.
He felt it, that hard knot of pain, as he watched Jeremy drive away, and wondered about Charlie's number, now stored safely in the boy's phone.
Silas was so aware of Jeremy in the vicinity that his skin tensed with anticipation, awareness, ownership. Every day he fought the primal urge to lock Jeremy in his room and never let him out.
It was utterly ridiculous.
The boy felt like comfort in Silas's arms, and sliding into him – the firm push, the soft gasp – felt like coming home safely. Every time.
Butch and his bullshit fell away, there was nothing shameful about this, nothing hurtful. Jeremy's soft eyes and loose limbs, his moans and cries of "god yes, like that, don't stop" were the opposite of Silas's clenched muscles, clenched jaw, and clenched fists.
Silas could hardly bear the sweetness of Jeremy, and was convinced he would die when the boy finally gave up on him and found someone else. Someone better at being gay.
And so a part of him waited for it with breath held and Lifehouse crooning... "I can't take my eyes off of you."

SM Johnson ~Thursday Morning Coffee~

This is what I've heard: Amazon is removing reviews by artists (in our case, this would ), publishers, manufacturers, etc. that they feel are in direct competition with the product being reviewed. Apparently that covers any writer reviewing other writers' works. But hey, it's still okay to get your 200 online friends to give your shitty book a 5-star review. Even if they haven't purchased it. Or read it.

Here's the letter Amazon sent to a writer who complained their reviews had been removed:

Dear (removed for anonymity),

I'm Jonathan Norberg of Amazon.com's Executive Customer Relations. Jeff Bezos received your email and asked me to respond on his behalf.

I'm sorry for any concerns regarding reviews of your books on our site. I realize we initially indicated the reviews disappeared as the result of a technical issue and, while we initially thought that was the issue, we've confirmed since that time the removals were intentional due to a violation of our policies. We do not allow reviews on behalf of a person or company with a financial interest in the product or a directly competing product. This includes authors, artists, publishers, manufacturers, family, or third-party merchants selling the product. 

We will not be able to go into further detail about our research but, rest assured, we're very careful to ensure we only remove reviews that don't follow our guidelines.

I regret any misunderstanding, and we do wish you the best of success with your books.


Regards,

Jonathan Norberg
Executive Customer Relations
Amazon.com

I am not a frequent reviewer, but still, I have 5 pages of reviews on Amazon, and it would really piss me off for them to disappear. Some of them I spent a lot of time writing. Some of them I just wanted to share a few short words to help other readers decide whether or not to purchase.

I have never trashed an author or a book with the intention of directing readers to my own books. I've only written one strongly negative review, and that was of a middle book in a series that I had high hopes for. And it wasn't the writer I was trashing, it was her Big 6 mass-market paperback editing team, who apparently didn't show up for work that day. Or any of the other days, either.

Whenever I hear some kind spiel that writers are in competition with one another, I call bullshit. We tend to be readers first. When I discover a book that blows me away, I'm not pissed off at the author for writing something amazing. No way. I'm half in love with that author for writing something amazing.

There's always room in my life and my heart for the next great story - why else do publishers, editors, and agents do what they do? Why else do readers keep buying books?

We all write different stuff. It's not like I'm producing a blue key chain and you're producing a red one, and I'm going to say the red one looks like blood and smells funny to get people to convince people to buy my blue one.

Come on. Comparing books is so often like comparing Folgers coffee to Coca-Cola soda.

I love Anne Rice. I love John Sandford. I love Lee Child. I love JC Andrejeski. I love Maggie Stiefvater. I love Elizabeth Berg. Sometimes I love Stephen King and Dean Koontz.

Just because I love Lee Child doesn't mean I can't buy Elizabeth Berg. Feeling that Anne Rice's werewolf, Reuben, is a fascinating creature doesn't stop me from also feeling that Maggie Stiefvater's Sam and Grace are the most tragically romantic werewolves ever.

I have room in my heart (and on my bookshelf) for all of them.

So shame on you, Amazon, to even attempt to promote the ludicrous idea that there is some kind of direct competition between writers. If that were true, publishing houses would only publish one book at a time.

Silly Amazon, reviews are for readers. And, doesn't the very act of writing a review make a person a writer?


I wrote an email to Amazon myself, about author groups manipulating Amazon stats by "liking," "tagging," and fluffing undeserving work with 5-star reviews. I suggested Amazon go the way of Smashwords, and only allow those who've PURCHASED the product through Amazon to post reviews.

Amazon didn't even bother to respond.

The Smashwords policy is somewhat frustrating - there are a lot of books I've purchased on Amazon or elsewhere that are also available on Smashwords, and as a means to help readers make book-buying decisions (and as a way to support writers whose work I find wonderful), I'd like to post my my reviews everywhere. But the policy makes a certain sort of sense, and it really does prevent someone from asking 500 people in a Yahoo group to quick click over to Smashwords and drop some 5-star reviews.

Meh.

I supposed I don't know what the real answer is, just that I wish people would always be honest.

FYI - I copied all my Amazon reviews to Goodreads. I didn't want them to unexpectedly get lost when Amazon realizes that I'm a writer/reviewer.

Now, for a totally different topic:

Click here to view groupI am a member of a Goodreads group very aptly called  M/M Romance. The group is 6700 strong, and growing, and about to celebrate its 3rd Anniversary. Pretty cool. It's a huge group comprised of readers and writers, and readers are always encouraged to try their hand at writing.

A request went out for prizes for the Anniversary Celebration (I'm not even quite sure myself when this will be) and I am donating 100 copies of each of my M/M erotica novels (ebooks), Above the Dungeon, and Out of the Dungeon.

The group organizers are really shiny and happy and thanking me and stuff, because it's such a generous offer.

I don't know - it's not really generosity on my part. I was sitting here thinking, hmm, how many copies should I give? Maybe 10 of each?

And then I thought about the size of the group - 6700 people. Maybe 7000 by the time the event rolls around. 7000 people who read the kind of stuff that I write, M/M romance and erotica. Will there ever be a better group to offer my books as contest prizes? Ever?

Now granted, my stories sometimes miss the "romance" mark by not being able to offer a completely Happily Ever After (HEA) ending. But mostly there's a Happy For Now (HFN) ending, and that's quite often close enough.

So if I give away 100 copies of each book, I can get my words read by 200 new people. Maybe some of them will check out my other works. Maybe some of them will be fans. Maybe I'll become an "auto-purchase" for 3 people, who will each mention my work the 3 other people and so on and so forth.

These books are MINE to give away. I have only to answer to myself, and myself says giving some away can't hurt me.

I hate marketing and self-promotion. I really do. Offering free books is my favorite way to catch the attention of new readers.

My goals are simple. I want to sell one paid novel per day.

One sale a day is I need to feel like the formatting and promotional crap is worthwhile.

The writing happens whether there's an audience or not - I'd be barely breathing if I weren't spinning stories.

Have a great Thursday, darlings - and remember - Thursday is ALMOST FRIDAY!

SM Johnson ~Bloody Monday~ Duluth Flood 2012

I have no topic. My brain is fried from working the last 6 days out of seven. The laundry is piled up. My house is a wreck. Oh, yeah, and we had a flood up here, like FEMA and a declared disaster area and all of that. Very exciting. And very expensive for a lot of folks who sure didn't need this. The day of the flood was my one day off this week, and I was very grateful that I didn't have to go anywhere.

(Right - the river post flood. Below - river foreground, swamp area mid-left, sandbags top right)

We live across the St. Louis Bay from Duluth, in Superior, WI, and we were lucky. Our house is close to the Nemadji River, but at a point where the actual river is kind of in a gully. A few blocks from my house is a highway bridge that crosses the river, and just past that is a low-land swampish area that takes on river overflow. THAT part flooded the highway a little bit (we watched the work crews sand-bag that spot) but the river itself pretty much behaved itself, at least in my neighborhood. We got 8-10 inches of water in our basement, briefly, but it drained in a matter of hours, and fortunately we don't store anything down there or have carpeting, and as far as we can tell, the furnace and hot water heater survived. Well, the hot water heater did. I haven't turned on the furnace.

Superior is pretty flat. Our neighborhood had very little standing water, except at the bottom of the winter sliding hill there was a pond where there's never been a pond before. There was some quirky and awesome flooding of our creeks, so a few neighborhoods suffered some damage.

Duluth has been saying for years that the sewer system needs maintenance and a full-out upgrade, and they weren't lying. Duluth is built on a hill, and 8.5 inches of rain falling on the top of the hill and then streaming down to Lake Superior wreaked havoc on the city.

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MN State Parks and Trails

These next three pictures are from MN State Parks and Trails facebook page. Talk about an astounding amount of damage. It is amazing what a powerful force water can be, isn't it?

These are from Jay Cooke Park, in Western Duluth. The St. Louis River is typically a pretty gently flowing river, and people fish from the shore or amble gently in boats.


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[image error] <----From my friend William's page:  William take amazing pictures, so when I'm hunting for Duluth pics, he's the one I steal from first. Because if he minds, he'll just yell at me. We've been friends for over 20 years now.

This is a picture of Chester Bowl (a park and ski hill) in Duluth last fall. You can see the chalet to the left, and the equipment sheds to the right. The foreground is the pond that's frozen all winter, but quite serene in the summer and fall. I saw a comment from William today that the floodwaters left behind so much gravel and dirt that the pond is well... not quite the same.

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These are opposite views - I just love the fall pic and wanted you guys to see how beautiful and serene it was. 


The picture with the bench is the pond in summer about a year ago. And right below that is the new (not improved) view of the pond filled with dirt. Aw, it is such a sad picture.


This last one shows the chalet again, and you can see how the pavement is broken off and all washed into Chester Creek. This is an absolutely lovely park, so to see it devastated is heartbreaking.


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One of the things to understand about Duluth (and Superior) is that (usually) our winters are long and harsh, and when we're not suffering below zero temperatures, we're getting dumped on by several feet of snow. Our world is bleak and grey typically from November until mid-June. The sun doesn't shine on us nearly enough - I read somewhere that we average 83 sunny days per year. So our parks with their lush green grasses, trees, and flowers and chattering creeks are absolutely precious to us.


And I'm not saying more precious to us than parks in other parts of the country, but truly every day the sun shines and the temp is higher than 65 F is a gift. It is cool to live on the shore of the Great Lake called Superior, but it can be dastardly, weather-wise.  


A shift in the wind can drop the temperature 20 degrees - one learns to never leave the house without a sweatshirt - even in July.


To tell you the truth, the winters are quite conducive to writing novels, but even then, cabin fever strikes, and summertime feels like a dream. We didn't get much snow this winter - and I know in my family we wondered if we were going to pay for it later.

Ummm, yep. That's affirmative.

There are some more amazing pictures - particularly an aerial view of the Duluth harbor and the Aerial Lift bridge -  that I am hoping to add to this post. The water, usually clear, cold, and blue, is brown and creepy!  I'll get them up here if I get permission from the photographer.




I'm going to leave you with something sweet - my friend Andy and his new puppy, Brewer. I think this might be Wisconsin Point, the WI side of the sand bar that makes up Minnesota Point. Usually the water is bluer than the sky, so color-wise this pictures is just bizarre.


But when I saw the photograph, I thought, oh wow, it tells me that you know what? We're all going to be okay.

And reminds me that no matter the devastation to parks, basements, belongings, streets... I do not believe there was a single reported death due to the flooding.

And so we find miracles, even in the face of tremendous obstacles.



*For more images, videos, and news, search Duluth Flood 2012 or Twin Ports Flood on Facebook, YouTube, or Google. I saw one video of a guy on a jet-ski in the Target parking lot, and lots of other cool pics showing people making the best of their situation.

A Year of Sundays hiatus

A Year of Sundays will not update this week due to my complete and utter inability to snare even one uninterrupted hour to write the next installment.

I do apologize. Life just gets in the way sometimes. I'll try to have something long and juicy ready for next Sunday.

~SM

SM Johnson ~Thursday Morning Coffee~

(Author note: This was a scheduled post - yes, the Duluth MN/Superior WI or  simply "Twin Ports" flood just happened here - we are fine, and so far all our people are fine, as well).

Happy Thursday, darlings! I am so please that I remembered what I wanted to talk about last week immediately after posting an excerpt as an alternative. Isn't that the way of it, though? And since the post was already skirting the edge of afternoon coffee (which I love and must have, by the way - right around 4 PM), I decided not to change the topic mid-Thursday.

Besides, ya'll got to celebrate the first draft completion of DeVante's Choice with me, so in the end, everything worked out.

In the meantime, one of my first readers has let me know which parts she loved and which parts probably need some work. A novel is so darn bulky that it's really hard to see from a reader stand-point what works, and what might not, so my early readers are an absolute godsend. The only other way I can tell how I've done is to let the manuscript age in a drawer for a few month, then pull it out and read it cold. And even then - my own opinion of my own work is not nearly as valuable to me - it certainly doesn't help me develop as a better writer.
So today's (mainly rhetorical) question is:
Where do you get books?
I was a library child all of my life - and oh, how beautiful was the day that I was finally old enough to walk or bike ALL BY MYSELF to the nearest neighborhood branch of the local library. I would stay there for hours, browsing here, sitting down on the floor to read there... just walking into a library and experiencing the distinct scent of old books transports me back, even now.
But these days my library jaunts go in spurts. I'm either always rushing to be somewhere, or loathe to leave my house at all. So for a few weeks I'm really good about reading and and returning, and then for some reason my interest wanes.
Once I bought myself a Kindle Touch, my interest in buying books from Amazon soared. For awhile I was really excited about cheap and free books, and I absolutely love the whispernet delivery system. Everything blurb that caught my attention went right on to my wish list, which is currently several pages long.
Every payday I'd reward myself for sticking with a day job by visiting my wish list and buying one or two more expensive books, and five or six books priced $2.99 or less.
But then a couple of things happened. 
One of them was that I found some reviewers who's taste seemed to match mine, which increased the length of my wish list.
At the beginning, I considered $5.99 "expensive." But I would pay that for a known author, a popular author, a book on the best seller list, or even an unknown author with great reviews (that seemed genuine). No problem.
But then suddenly my wish list contained a slew of books with price tags of $7.99, and (gulp) even $9.99.
I bucked up and bought a couple of these that really intrigued me.
And then the other thing happened:
The books actually weren't all that great.
So I started reconsidering these ebooks that were price-matched to paperbacks, and wondering about value.
I can pass a paperback on that I didn't love. I can even donate it to my local library. Or I can bring it to work and it will make the rounds among both staff and patients. Someone might love it and keep it on their home bookshelf forever. Or they might take it home and pass it on to a friend, donate it to Goodwill, or sell it at a rummage sale. 
Ultimately, spending $8 to $10 on a paperback is not a bad deal. I receive a product that I can hold in my hands, and give away to someone else when I'm done or if I don't care for it.
But what about the ebooks I buy from Amazon? The file goes from Amazon, to my Kindle, and then, if I archive it, back to Amazon. It doesn't seem like I actually OWN it. Can I reformat it and email it to my friend who reads on a Nook? Well, maybe, if it's a DRM-free file. 
But is that considered pirating? Or, in other words, stealing?
But if I'm paying the same amount of money for an ebook as a paperback, why is lending it to a friend STEALING? After all, it's not as if there is the expense of a printer/binder/distributor to recoup.
And can I donate an ebook that I feel confident I won't read again to my local library? It's a thought worth a little research, I guess.
All right, anyway. Let me explain where I'm going with this. I compared my Amazon wish list with my local library's online card catalog. And guess what I found? 
About a dozen titles on my list are available to borrow from my library. Some of them are ebooks. Some had to be requested through inter-library-loan (a simple "request this item" button right there on the page of search results).
In particular, most of them were books in the $8 to $10 dollar range, the ones I had not yet convinced myself to buy. 
In less than a week, 6 of them are in my hands. One I've already read and returned, another I'm almost done with.
I'm a happy camper.
Ultimately, as both an author and a reader, I'm going to say this: Shame on publishers for charging the same amount of money for a "virtual" book as for a book I can hold in my hands, borrow to my friends, or donate to my library. Your greed dishonors readers.
My publisher (of the DeVante trilogy) originally priced my ebooks at about 1/2 the cost of the 6x9 trade paperbacks. When I asked him to lower the ebook prices even more, he did so.
And I can't speak for my publisher, but I can speak for myself: I believe in the power of sharing books.
If you've purchased any of my self-published books (Dungeon series or non-DeVante short stories - which are mostly free anyway), please, share them with your friends. I would be honored.
~SM