Deborah Macgillivray's Blog, page 60
December 25, 2013
Hope your Christmas was full of joy and love
Hoping you have a wonderful Christmas, however you celebrate it. I think it's so wonderful to hear the different traditions we keep, carrying them over from our childhood, and passing them on.
Merry Christmas to everyone and blessings in these closing days of 2013
December 24, 2013
Kindle Christmas reads
A novella and a short story for your Christmas Kindle enjoyment
http://www.amazon.com/Want-Christmas-Hula-Hoop-And-Mother-ebook/dp/B004G5Z62M/ Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Finalist for Best Novella.
Only 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Christmas-Cat-Deborah-MacGillivray-ebook/dp/B004GEAM1I/
only $1.49
http://www.amazon.com/Want-Christmas-Hula-Hoop-And-Mother-ebook/dp/B004G5Z62M/ Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Finalist for Best Novella.
Only 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Christmas-Cat-Deborah-MacGillivray-ebook/dp/B004GEAM1I/
only $1.49
December 23, 2013
Merry Christmas Eve
Merry Christmas Eve to you and yours...
I am not sure why, but Christmas Eve always seems more precious to me in memories than actual Christmas. Perhaps it was the anticipation...decorating the tree, wrapping presents, waiting for the visit from St. Nic. The candies and nuts...the scent of tangerines in the air. There was baking to be done. So giddy waiting to hear the sleigh on the roof. Of course, there was the standard admonishes to get thee to bed else Santa might pass you by.
As you age, some of the magic o f the holiday is lost, and it's harder to find the spirit and meaning of 'Peace on Earth Goodwill toward man', when you see shoppers having a slugfest over a pair of tennis shoes.
I recall one Christmas when the whole family gathered for Christmas at my grandfathers. All the grand-kids where there. It snowed so heavy! We have over a foot of snow and the electric went out for days. We heated the house with fireplaces. My grandmother was always one to cling to old ways, so she had a wood burning stove she refused to get rid of. Of course, that suddenly was in demand again to feed a household. She never said a word, but "see, I told you' was in her flashing hazel eyes. I can recall them cooking eggs and biscuits on the stove, the smell of mince and pumpkin pies baking in the old oven. To keep the kids warm at night, they dragged the mattress downstairs and arranged us around the huge fireplace in the living room.
The tree was in the parlor, and we were just bedding down, when we heard a commotion on the front porch. One of my uncles dressed in a St. Nic robe!!
The family rarely gathers like that now, too scattered and lives of their own. What times we have gotten together lacks that child's magic.
Still, Christmas Eve is a special time. So this night I am watching old Christmas movies, and trying to touch magic again...even if that magic is a wee bit tarnished...lol.
Wishing you each a wee dram of that special magic from the bottom of my heart....
December 21, 2013
Yuletide breaks!
Winter arrived today just after noon, so the loss of daylight stops and we now begin to see the hours of light wax instead of wane. The days will grow longer with each passing, and the hint of Spring is on the horizon.
I know this is the first day of Winter, but somehow, this day always felt more in keeping with the old pagan ways of being the midpoint in Winter. So decorate your Yule tree (yes, it was a Yule trees centuries and centuries before it was a Christmas tree) and think of the promise is holds for a prosperous coming year.
Blessings to all on this Magical Day of hope.
http://www.jonathonart.com/
December 11, 2013
Sharing an letter from Authors Guild
https://www.authorsguild.net/tools/join.php
An Open Letter to My Fellow Authors
It’s all changing, right before our eyes. Not just publishing, but the writing life itself, our ability to make a living from authorship. Even in the best of times, which these are not, most writers have to supplement their writing incomes by teaching, or throwing up sheet-rock, or cage fighting. It wasn’t always so, but for the last two decades I’ve lived the life most writers dream of: I write novels and stories, as well as the occasional screenplay, and every now and then I hit the road for a week or two and give talks. In short, I’m one of the blessed, and not just in terms of my occupation. My health is good, my children grown, their educations paid for. I’m sixty-four, which sucks, but it also means that nothing that happens in publishing—for good or ill—is going to affect me nearly as much as it affects younger writers, especially those who haven’t made their names yet. Even if the e-price of my next novel is $1.99, I won’t have to go back to cage fighting.
Still, if it turns out that I’ve enjoyed the best the writing life has to offer, that those who follow, even the most brilliant, will have to settle for less, that won’t make me happy and I suspect it won’t cheer other writers who’ve been as fortunate as I. It’s these writers, in particular, that I’m addressing here. Not everyone believes, as I do, that the writing life is endangered by the downward pressure of e-book pricing, by the relentless, ongoing erosion of copyright protection, by the scorched-earth capitalism of companies like Google and Amazon, by spineless publishers who won’t stand up to them, by the “information wants to be free” crowd who believe that art should be cheap or free and treated as a commodity, by internet search engines who are all too happy to direct people to on-line sites that sell pirated (read “stolen”) books, and even by militant librarians who see no reason why they shouldn’t be able to “lend” our e-books without restriction. But those of us who arealarmed by these trends have a duty, I think, to defend and protect the writing life that’s been good to us, not just on behalf of younger writers who will not have our advantages if we don’t, but also on behalf of readers, whose imaginative lives will be diminished if authorship becomes untenable as a profession.
I know, I know. Some insist that there’s never been a better time to be an author. Self-publishing has democratized the process, they argue, and authors can now earn royalties of up to seventy percent, where once we had to settle for what traditional publishers told us was our share. Anecdotal evidence is marshaled in support of this view (statistical evidence to follow). Those of us who are alarmed, we’re told, are, well, alarmists. Time will tell who’s right, but surely it can’t be a good idea for writers to stand on the sidelines while our collective fate is decided by others. Especially when we consider who those others are. Entities like Google and Apple and Amazon are rich and powerful enough to influence governments, and every day they demonstrate their willingness to wield that enormous power. Books and authors are a tiny but not insignificant part of the larger battle being waged between these companies, a battleground that includes the movie, music, and newspaper industries. I think it’s fair to say that to a greater or lesser degree, those other industries have all gotten their asses kicked, just as we’re getting ours kicked now. And not just in the courts. Somehow, we’re even losing the war for hearts and minds. When we defend copyright, we’re seen as greedy. When we justly sue, we’re seen as litigious. When we attempt to defend the physical book and stores that sell them, we’re seen as Luddites. Our altruism, when we’re able to summon it, is too often seen as self-serving.
But here’s the thing. What the Apples and Googles and Amazons and Netflixes of the world all have in common (in addition to their quest for world domination), is that they’re all starved for content, and for that they need us. Which means we have a say in all this. Everything in the digital age may feel new and may seem to operate under new rules, but the conversation about the relationship between art and commerce is age-old, and artists must be part of it. To that end we’d do well to speak with one voice, though it’s here we demonstrate our greatest weakness. Writers are notoriously independent cusses, hard to wrangle. We spend our mostly solitary days filling up blank pieces of paper with words. We must like it that way, or we wouldn’t do it. But while it’s pretty to think that our odd way of life will endure, there’s no guarantee. The writing life is ours to defend. Protecting it also happens to be the mission of the Authors Guild, which I myself did not join until last year, when the light switch in my cave finally got tripped. Are you a member? If not, please consider becoming one. We’re badly outgunned and in need of reinforcements. If the writing life has done well by you, as it has by me, here’s your chance to return the favor. Do it now, because there’s such a thing as being too late.
Richard Russo
December 2013
Click here for the Guild application form.
Click for the PDF version of this letter.
An Open Letter to My Fellow Authors
It’s all changing, right before our eyes. Not just publishing, but the writing life itself, our ability to make a living from authorship. Even in the best of times, which these are not, most writers have to supplement their writing incomes by teaching, or throwing up sheet-rock, or cage fighting. It wasn’t always so, but for the last two decades I’ve lived the life most writers dream of: I write novels and stories, as well as the occasional screenplay, and every now and then I hit the road for a week or two and give talks. In short, I’m one of the blessed, and not just in terms of my occupation. My health is good, my children grown, their educations paid for. I’m sixty-four, which sucks, but it also means that nothing that happens in publishing—for good or ill—is going to affect me nearly as much as it affects younger writers, especially those who haven’t made their names yet. Even if the e-price of my next novel is $1.99, I won’t have to go back to cage fighting.
Still, if it turns out that I’ve enjoyed the best the writing life has to offer, that those who follow, even the most brilliant, will have to settle for less, that won’t make me happy and I suspect it won’t cheer other writers who’ve been as fortunate as I. It’s these writers, in particular, that I’m addressing here. Not everyone believes, as I do, that the writing life is endangered by the downward pressure of e-book pricing, by the relentless, ongoing erosion of copyright protection, by the scorched-earth capitalism of companies like Google and Amazon, by spineless publishers who won’t stand up to them, by the “information wants to be free” crowd who believe that art should be cheap or free and treated as a commodity, by internet search engines who are all too happy to direct people to on-line sites that sell pirated (read “stolen”) books, and even by militant librarians who see no reason why they shouldn’t be able to “lend” our e-books without restriction. But those of us who arealarmed by these trends have a duty, I think, to defend and protect the writing life that’s been good to us, not just on behalf of younger writers who will not have our advantages if we don’t, but also on behalf of readers, whose imaginative lives will be diminished if authorship becomes untenable as a profession.
I know, I know. Some insist that there’s never been a better time to be an author. Self-publishing has democratized the process, they argue, and authors can now earn royalties of up to seventy percent, where once we had to settle for what traditional publishers told us was our share. Anecdotal evidence is marshaled in support of this view (statistical evidence to follow). Those of us who are alarmed, we’re told, are, well, alarmists. Time will tell who’s right, but surely it can’t be a good idea for writers to stand on the sidelines while our collective fate is decided by others. Especially when we consider who those others are. Entities like Google and Apple and Amazon are rich and powerful enough to influence governments, and every day they demonstrate their willingness to wield that enormous power. Books and authors are a tiny but not insignificant part of the larger battle being waged between these companies, a battleground that includes the movie, music, and newspaper industries. I think it’s fair to say that to a greater or lesser degree, those other industries have all gotten their asses kicked, just as we’re getting ours kicked now. And not just in the courts. Somehow, we’re even losing the war for hearts and minds. When we defend copyright, we’re seen as greedy. When we justly sue, we’re seen as litigious. When we attempt to defend the physical book and stores that sell them, we’re seen as Luddites. Our altruism, when we’re able to summon it, is too often seen as self-serving.
But here’s the thing. What the Apples and Googles and Amazons and Netflixes of the world all have in common (in addition to their quest for world domination), is that they’re all starved for content, and for that they need us. Which means we have a say in all this. Everything in the digital age may feel new and may seem to operate under new rules, but the conversation about the relationship between art and commerce is age-old, and artists must be part of it. To that end we’d do well to speak with one voice, though it’s here we demonstrate our greatest weakness. Writers are notoriously independent cusses, hard to wrangle. We spend our mostly solitary days filling up blank pieces of paper with words. We must like it that way, or we wouldn’t do it. But while it’s pretty to think that our odd way of life will endure, there’s no guarantee. The writing life is ours to defend. Protecting it also happens to be the mission of the Authors Guild, which I myself did not join until last year, when the light switch in my cave finally got tripped. Are you a member? If not, please consider becoming one. We’re badly outgunned and in need of reinforcements. If the writing life has done well by you, as it has by me, here’s your chance to return the favor. Do it now, because there’s such a thing as being too late.
Richard Russo
December 2013
Click here for the Guild application form.
Click for the PDF version of this letter.
December 10, 2013
RIP Algie
My heart breaks today. My poor Algie died. I went out and found him, cuddled up in his bed. It looked like he just closed his eyes and went to sleep. I patted his head thinking he was still sleeping.
He so loved life and enjoyed running around. Everything was a big game to him and he loved it here.
December 8, 2013
Christmas shop at Amazon.com and give to charities at the same time
Even Grumpy Cat likes the idea!!!!
I just did some Christmas Shopping at Amazon.com and used the line
http://smile.amazon.com and my order created a donation for
Blind Cat Rescue & Sanctuary Inc. Merry ho ho ho
Amazon will make a donation to Blind Cat Rescue & Sanctuary Inc. To support this charitable organization, always shop at smile.amazon.com.
If you use the http://smile.amazon.com URL to buy you can, too, and give to your favourite charity!
December 7, 2013
A sad moment in remembrance of those gone
(image
USS Shaw
Exploding in Pearl Harbor - source: Wikipedia Commons)There are moments that tend to define a decade or a lifetime. That single instant when everything stood still and then changed forever, something so momentous occurs to where you can never go back to an innocence of the time before. In my childhood the 1960s was defined by the death of a young president that held so much promise. Oh, there were other similar tragedies to follow –– the death of his brother, the assassination of Martin Luther King, but my childhood naive beliefs in life was shattered with Kennedy’s death. I could never go back.
911 affected the nation. The Challenger explosion saw everyone glued to the television in hope, later in grief. To my mother’s generation that defining moment was Pearl Harbor. It was odd. She was a small child when it happened and she didn’t know anyone that was at Pearl Harbor, but the day stayed in her mind, and in some way defined her consciousness. Every year she would awaken me with the words “It’s December 7th ––Pearl Harbor Day.” She never spoke of how it changed her, rarely mentioned it other than to say she heard the news on the radio. Only, she never forgot how the whole nation held its breath and cried, and then how the sorrow and shock turned to anger.
My mum is no longer around to awaken me with that familiar phrase. She died on December 2, 1987, and was much much too young. When the anniversary of her death came around this year I was sad, but I chose to remember the good times with her. Oddly, this day hurts me a bit more, for it was so much a part of her. Thus, this day I will share a moment of silence in respect for the many who died on this day, and for my mother who never forgot.
December 6, 2013
It's snowing!!
My poor carousel horse is getting snowed!! It's coming down like crazy and we expect about 5 hours more of this at an inch an hour!! So 5-7 predicted this evening. Then we get hit tomorrow night again. Could be a couple more when that happens. Look how HUGE the flakes are.
