Sue Copsey's Blog, page 4
February 5, 2014
The five types of Facebook animal
Recently I was thinking how lovely it’s been reconnecting with a bunch of old school friends, and was wondering who else from school might be on Facebook. “What about Amy*?” I thought. After a little bit of searching I discovered that actually, I was already friends with Amy – some time ago she’d sent a Friend request and a nice message, then disappeared.
Amy is a Facebook bat. Which Facebook animal are you?
FACEBOOK CAT
Has only a few friends, carefully selected. Usually watching, though not always visible. “Likes” occasionally, but possibly only if there’s something in it for them. Will not sign a petition just because they’re your Friend. Never shares, never joins groups.
FACEBOOK DOG
Everybody’s Friend. Likes everything, loves to join groups. Uses exclamation marks and smiley faces a lot. We all love them, though we may breathe a sigh of relief when they go into kennels for a couple of weeks.
FACEBOOK BAT
The Friend you forgot you had. Stealth Facebooker. Never posts or “likes”, only views. Probably goes online at night. You meet them face to face and start to tell them what you’ve been up to recently, and they say, “Yes, I saw the photo on Facebook”, and you think “Huh?”
FACEBOOK SPIDER
Uses Facebook to bring people into their web. Lurks in the shadows then lures you in with a funny cat video. At some stage they will try and sell you something, possibly their self-published book.
FACEBOOK MOUSE
Busy little hoarders, collecting snippets from around the web and sharing them with everybody. Quite loveable really, but if you are one of these, remember - some people will see you as a pest and try to exterminate you.
* not your real name – but you know who you are!
© Words and pics Sue Copsey
Amy is a Facebook bat. Which Facebook animal are you?
FACEBOOK CAT
Has only a few friends, carefully selected. Usually watching, though not always visible. “Likes” occasionally, but possibly only if there’s something in it for them. Will not sign a petition just because they’re your Friend. Never shares, never joins groups.
FACEBOOK DOG
Everybody’s Friend. Likes everything, loves to join groups. Uses exclamation marks and smiley faces a lot. We all love them, though we may breathe a sigh of relief when they go into kennels for a couple of weeks.
FACEBOOK BAT
The Friend you forgot you had. Stealth Facebooker. Never posts or “likes”, only views. Probably goes online at night. You meet them face to face and start to tell them what you’ve been up to recently, and they say, “Yes, I saw the photo on Facebook”, and you think “Huh?”
FACEBOOK SPIDER
Uses Facebook to bring people into their web. Lurks in the shadows then lures you in with a funny cat video. At some stage they will try and sell you something, possibly their self-published book.
FACEBOOK MOUSE
Busy little hoarders, collecting snippets from around the web and sharing them with everybody. Quite loveable really, but if you are one of these, remember - some people will see you as a pest and try to exterminate you.
* not your real name – but you know who you are!
© Words and pics Sue Copsey
January 10, 2014
Something slimy this way comes
Back in 1995, when one of my workmates learned that we were emigrating to New Zealand, he said, ‘That’s not emigrating, that’s retiring.’
He had a point. The reasons we were coming here had nothing to do with work. We were in our mid-30s, and our feet were itching to lead us away from the next British winter. A few years earlier we’d taken a year off to travel, and settling back into the old commute, work, commute, sag-onto-the-sofa-exhausted routine was never going to be easy once we’d had a taste of the alternatives out there.
Then there was the whole children thing. It was Time. But I just couldn’t see myself either: (1) going quietly mad at home, with only other going-mad-mums and a husband who wouldn’t be home until after 8 pm to talk to, or (2) remaining at work, which meant hardly seeing the kids. Pointless. And there was another little picture in my head: me, pushing a buggy around beneath a grey sky, nowhere to go but a sad little park where I would sit and shiver on a bench. Death by motherhood.
So we explored option (3): live somewhere where we could work close to home, where the air was clean, where you could jump into a river or sea without fear of death by gutrot or hypothermia, and where you could do things like skiing and sailing without first having to book a flight.
We’d spent a few months in Australia and New Zealand during our year off, and had interviewed both as possible future Copsey homes:
Q: How do you feel about the British?
A: (Australia) Arrogant tossers.
A: (New Zealand) Oh, my daughter’s having such a lovely time in London. Would you like to come and have some tea? Stay the night? Let me drive you to your next hostel. Here, have some lamingtons to take with you.
Our only concern with lovely New Zealand was that it was a bit, well, quiet. Our memories of Auckland included tumbleweed drifting down the main street after ten p.m., and half-day closing in the main shopping area – on Saturdays. “Like England in the 1950s”, we often heard people say. Not necessarily a good thing.
Well if we were going to do the baby thing it was down to Mr C to sort himself a job, so he flew off into the sunset, returning a few weeks later with lots of new friends and a comprehensive knowledge of Auckland’s bars and restaurants, the preferred interview venue of the advertising industry. He reported that Auckland had livened up a lot since 1989. The decision was made.
Things then moved with astonishing pace, and before Christmas, here we were in Ponsonby, with a nipper already on the way. The nipper thing meant I went freelance, which has worked out just fine (although while the ‘free’ initially described my ability to work when and where I wanted, it has more recently become a reflection of my fee scale, thanks to traditional publishers abandoning ship in New Zealand).
Well this is all very well, you say, but why are you telling us all this? Why should we care?
Because, dear friends, some recent trips northwards, southwards, anythingwards actually, have left me REALLY worried. We read in the NZ media about the exploding cow population (lovely image there) and the damage their waste is doing to the waterways, but to go out and see it is truly disturbing. Massive herds of the black and white things where forest used to be, and slimy green stuff in rivers and swimming holes. We met a man who owns a lake (as you do) – it has been so degraded by runoff that he’s considering putting a sculpture in the middle to make it look less unattractive.
The ‘green’ in ‘clean, green New Zealand’ now has a different meaning, it would seem. It refers to slime.
I don’t know any farmers, and if I did they would no doubt scoff at the above typical townie reaction. What do JAFAs know? (For non-Kiwis, this stands for ‘Just A F– Aucklander.) Well, I know that we came here to bring up a family in a pristine environment where people cared about the land. But it didn’t take us long to work out that the reason it was pristine was down to the low population, rather than good environmental practices. But we still had faith – Kiwis are good guys, no way would they not look after this jewel. My faith has all but disappeared.
There is so much to treasure here, and in 2014 I am going to up my green-ness. But no matter how carefully I compost, no matter how many times I use feet instead of wheels, this isn’t going to help clean up our lakes and rivers. What I think WILL help, is broadcasting the truth to the rest of the world. New Zealanders care very much what the rest of the world thinks of them. People come here for the beauty of the landscape – nothing else. Only when tourists start to comment on the big 100% Pure lie, and spread the word, will the government take serious action rather than tinkering round the edges.
So this is me spreading the word. New Zealand is still extraordinarily beautiful – but only in the parts where it hasn’t been got at. I don’t have any answers, but tourism, and therefore overseas perception of our country, must surely play a key part in reining in the dairy industry.
Rant over. I thank you.
He had a point. The reasons we were coming here had nothing to do with work. We were in our mid-30s, and our feet were itching to lead us away from the next British winter. A few years earlier we’d taken a year off to travel, and settling back into the old commute, work, commute, sag-onto-the-sofa-exhausted routine was never going to be easy once we’d had a taste of the alternatives out there.
Then there was the whole children thing. It was Time. But I just couldn’t see myself either: (1) going quietly mad at home, with only other going-mad-mums and a husband who wouldn’t be home until after 8 pm to talk to, or (2) remaining at work, which meant hardly seeing the kids. Pointless. And there was another little picture in my head: me, pushing a buggy around beneath a grey sky, nowhere to go but a sad little park where I would sit and shiver on a bench. Death by motherhood.
So we explored option (3): live somewhere where we could work close to home, where the air was clean, where you could jump into a river or sea without fear of death by gutrot or hypothermia, and where you could do things like skiing and sailing without first having to book a flight.
We’d spent a few months in Australia and New Zealand during our year off, and had interviewed both as possible future Copsey homes:
Q: How do you feel about the British?
A: (Australia) Arrogant tossers.
A: (New Zealand) Oh, my daughter’s having such a lovely time in London. Would you like to come and have some tea? Stay the night? Let me drive you to your next hostel. Here, have some lamingtons to take with you.
Our only concern with lovely New Zealand was that it was a bit, well, quiet. Our memories of Auckland included tumbleweed drifting down the main street after ten p.m., and half-day closing in the main shopping area – on Saturdays. “Like England in the 1950s”, we often heard people say. Not necessarily a good thing.
Well if we were going to do the baby thing it was down to Mr C to sort himself a job, so he flew off into the sunset, returning a few weeks later with lots of new friends and a comprehensive knowledge of Auckland’s bars and restaurants, the preferred interview venue of the advertising industry. He reported that Auckland had livened up a lot since 1989. The decision was made.
Things then moved with astonishing pace, and before Christmas, here we were in Ponsonby, with a nipper already on the way. The nipper thing meant I went freelance, which has worked out just fine (although while the ‘free’ initially described my ability to work when and where I wanted, it has more recently become a reflection of my fee scale, thanks to traditional publishers abandoning ship in New Zealand).
Well this is all very well, you say, but why are you telling us all this? Why should we care?
Because, dear friends, some recent trips northwards, southwards, anythingwards actually, have left me REALLY worried. We read in the NZ media about the exploding cow population (lovely image there) and the damage their waste is doing to the waterways, but to go out and see it is truly disturbing. Massive herds of the black and white things where forest used to be, and slimy green stuff in rivers and swimming holes. We met a man who owns a lake (as you do) – it has been so degraded by runoff that he’s considering putting a sculpture in the middle to make it look less unattractive.
The ‘green’ in ‘clean, green New Zealand’ now has a different meaning, it would seem. It refers to slime.
I don’t know any farmers, and if I did they would no doubt scoff at the above typical townie reaction. What do JAFAs know? (For non-Kiwis, this stands for ‘Just A F– Aucklander.) Well, I know that we came here to bring up a family in a pristine environment where people cared about the land. But it didn’t take us long to work out that the reason it was pristine was down to the low population, rather than good environmental practices. But we still had faith – Kiwis are good guys, no way would they not look after this jewel. My faith has all but disappeared.
There is so much to treasure here, and in 2014 I am going to up my green-ness. But no matter how carefully I compost, no matter how many times I use feet instead of wheels, this isn’t going to help clean up our lakes and rivers. What I think WILL help, is broadcasting the truth to the rest of the world. New Zealanders care very much what the rest of the world thinks of them. People come here for the beauty of the landscape – nothing else. Only when tourists start to comment on the big 100% Pure lie, and spread the word, will the government take serious action rather than tinkering round the edges.
So this is me spreading the word. New Zealand is still extraordinarily beautiful – but only in the parts where it hasn’t been got at. I don’t have any answers, but tourism, and therefore overseas perception of our country, must surely play a key part in reining in the dairy industry.
Rant over. I thank you.
December 4, 2013
Booktrack – great idea, or unnecessary distraction?
“I don’t know how you can work like that,” my mum used to shout, above the noise. It was revision time, and I’d lie on my bed with a big boxy speaker positioned a foot from each ear, angled for maximum effect. The speakers were made of wood, and their leads snaked back to, ahem, a turntable. It was as close as you could get to an iPod in them there days.
The music was always Genesis. To this day I cannot listen to “A Trick of the Tail” without the term “basket of eggs topography” popping into my head.
Of course, this is nothing compared to the multi-media revision strategies of today’s teens. Recently my son was, as far as I could tell, studying practice physics and maths papers while simultaneously holding conversations on Facebook, listening to the Arctic Monkeys, and watching back-to-back episodes of Dr Who and Supernatural.
So when Booktrack came up with the idea of adding soundtracks to books, it seemed like a natural progression for people who like a bit of noise along with their reading. Feedback I’ve seen suggests that some people find that music and sound effects enhance the reading experience, while others find it a total distraction, and need absolute peace and quiet to be able to read properly.
Recently, Booktrack asked me to write about the experience of adding a Booktrack to my children’s ghost story The Ghosts of Young Nick’s Head, for a US children’s literature blog. You can read the piece here.
If you want to try it out for yourself, you can read and listen for free on Booktrack.com, but only on your desktop or laptop using Google Chrome. Paid-for titles for your iPad or e-reader should be available soon.
The music was always Genesis. To this day I cannot listen to “A Trick of the Tail” without the term “basket of eggs topography” popping into my head.
Of course, this is nothing compared to the multi-media revision strategies of today’s teens. Recently my son was, as far as I could tell, studying practice physics and maths papers while simultaneously holding conversations on Facebook, listening to the Arctic Monkeys, and watching back-to-back episodes of Dr Who and Supernatural.
So when Booktrack came up with the idea of adding soundtracks to books, it seemed like a natural progression for people who like a bit of noise along with their reading. Feedback I’ve seen suggests that some people find that music and sound effects enhance the reading experience, while others find it a total distraction, and need absolute peace and quiet to be able to read properly.
Recently, Booktrack asked me to write about the experience of adding a Booktrack to my children’s ghost story The Ghosts of Young Nick’s Head, for a US children’s literature blog. You can read the piece here.
If you want to try it out for yourself, you can read and listen for free on Booktrack.com, but only on your desktop or laptop using Google Chrome. Paid-for titles for your iPad or e-reader should be available soon.
November 20, 2013
Self-promotion for the shy
So when we’re told that to succeed as a writer we need get on a metaphorical stage and shout ‘hey, look at me!’ it’s not surprising that many of us die a little inside. I was a bit like that, when publishing colleagues told me I needed an ‘online presence’. Recently I was interviewed for the local rag (no, I will not share the link here, it’s far too embarrassing) and the journalist simply switched on her tape recorder and said ‘tell me about your life and times’. Cue random nervous witterings that had little to do with the book I was trying to promote. It took me the rest of the week to recover.
It really is difficult to talk about yourself objectively, to find a balance between trumpeting your achievements and sounding humble and nice. (Well, sharply intelligent and witty would be even better, but that’s tricky when faced with a stranger with a tape recorder on a Monday morning.) And to think I spent several years on the dark side (PR), advising people how to handle media interviews! Luckily the journalist researched me online afterwards, and was able to find some actual useful information, so the piece wasn’t a total disaster. I convinced myself nobody had read it until the lady next to me at zumba said ‘lovely picture of you in the paper’ (which I interpreted as ‘bears little resemblance to this sweaty person bulging out of her lycra’).
But the non face-to-face stuff, the Facebooking, joining in discussions on Goodreads, blogging, building a website, has turned out to be a blast. Once I had got over the fear of clicking the ‘publish’ button, and wondering if people would hate me for offering an opinion in groups that had Famous Authors in them, I began to enjoy this alternative world, where I didn’t need to brush my hair, and had time to think about what to say rather than worry that the first words out of my mouth would be stupid. Virtual communities allow you to hide in the corner AND have a social life. Result!
Anyway, what I actually set out to do in this blog post (I’ve been wittering again) was give some of the people I’ve worked with as an editor this year, one or two of whom are on the shy side, a bit of help with the difficult business of promoting their books. Thanks to the mass exit of traditional publishers from New Zealand, I’ve been working more with indie/self-publishing authors. I enjoy this very much – it’s rewarding to help shape a book directly with its author (though I am having trouble getting the message across that it’s really not okay to make ‘just one or two small changes’ after the final proofread - you know who you are!) I’m also including in this list plugs for some great books written by author friends. All these books would make great Christmas presents and come highly recommended. Most are available as both print and ebooks. My book’s on the list too – please forgive, self-promotion, etc etc.
October 21, 2013
The truth about Hallowe’en
Looking forward to Hallowe’en? If you’re an adult whose home isn’t protected by security keypad, moat/portcullis/boiling tar, or a big scary dog, you’re probably wondering, ‘Do I stock up on sweets, or leave the lights off and pretend I’m not home?’
If you’re a child, you’re no doubt planning your dress-up and looking forward to the sugarfest that will turn you into a real-life horrible monster.
If you’re a child, you’re no doubt planning your dress-up and looking forward to the sugarfest that will turn you into a real-life horrible monster.
August 15, 2013
Five (or several hundred) steps to writing inspiration
You will no doubt have noticed the current obsession with calling blog posts ‘Ten Steps …’, ‘Five Secrets …’, and ‘Seven Ways To …’. Somewhere there will be a blog entitled ‘Five Ways to get People to Read Your Blog’, and top of the list will be ‘Call your blog “Five Ways to …”’
So in the spirit of all this, I would like to share with you my five – or several hundred – steps to banishing that writer’s block you might be grappling with today.
The house is silent. The kids have gone to school, the beds are made, the dishwasher’s unloaded, the washing’s on. You have a fresh cup of coffee and the dog/cat/rabbit is by your feet. You are ready to write.
But you’ll just check your emails first. Hm, better reply to that one otherwise it’ll distract you from writing. Done.
But you’ll just check and see what’s going on with your friends on Facebook. Oh, that cat one’s funny, you must share it. And think of a short witticism to go with it. Definitely not ‘This is hilarious!’ or ‘This is awesome!’ One is a Writer, one must be original. Done.
Hm, some activity in your groups. Oh, can you believe he said that about writing for children? Must add a comment. Done.
So in the spirit of all this, I would like to share with you my five – or several hundred – steps to banishing that writer’s block you might be grappling with today.
The house is silent. The kids have gone to school, the beds are made, the dishwasher’s unloaded, the washing’s on. You have a fresh cup of coffee and the dog/cat/rabbit is by your feet. You are ready to write.
But you’ll just check your emails first. Hm, better reply to that one otherwise it’ll distract you from writing. Done.
But you’ll just check and see what’s going on with your friends on Facebook. Oh, that cat one’s funny, you must share it. And think of a short witticism to go with it. Definitely not ‘This is hilarious!’ or ‘This is awesome!’ One is a Writer, one must be original. Done.
Hm, some activity in your groups. Oh, can you believe he said that about writing for children? Must add a comment. Done.
