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Water Through the Gills

Someone emailed me about January’s giveaway (still ongoing), complaining that I was “only” giving away two copies of a book they weren’t “interested in”, and furthermore scolding me for making it clear I’d be sending the prizes media mail. Apparently, if this person had condescended to enter, nothing but a yet-unpublished book exactly suiting their personal taste and wafted to their doorstep immediately upon the wings of cherubim would suffice.

I blame Amazon training some consumers to think this is acceptable behavior. Still, the “I want it now, and cheap/free to boot” entitlement has been with us from the beginning, I suppose, and shall always be, yea until Saint Peter opens up the pearlescent gates at the end of time.

I refrained from sending a personal response, mostly because I suspect my sarcasm would leap from a screen and put an eye out. I wanted to point out that nobody’s putting a gun to this person’s head, forcing them to enter my giveaways, but I don’t think logic will make any dent in the entitlement.

It rarely does.

*sigh* Ah well. Yesterday’s holiday was quite pleasant, especially since I’m on some intermittent fasting for various health reasons. It was nice to have a day off my exercise schedule while I’m somewhat hungry. I began revisions on HOOD‘s Season Two, and am finally at the point where I’m pleasantly surprised by the book. Season Three is going to be a wild ride, and all the connective tissue in Two appears to be in place. Which is a vast relief; it’s always nice to look at work one did months ago and find out it isn’t completely unusable.

Today will also see a Haggard Feathers post on Word vs. Scrivener. You can sign up for Haggard Feathers posts here; come February one post per month will be free and the rest will be available to paid subscribers. That’s going to be my site for writing/publishing advice, or at least my own particular brand of it. After so long spent in publishing I do have a little experience to share, and that seems a good place. I’ll do the subscription thing for a year and see how it works out.

Always trying new things, that’s me. Keep smiling, don’t stop swimming, got to force water through the gills. The dogs need a walk, though both of them are currently achieving liquid status on the office floor, and damn it all, but I don’t want to do paperwork today. I want to bloody well write.

So I’d best get started instead of complaining, huh? Very well. There’s a break in the clouds, and if I hustle, I won’t have to drag a complaining Boxnoggin through the rain. (He’s from Texas, and considers our weather a great affront.) You’d think he’d be used to it by now.

Happy Tuesday! May you have enough leeway to do everything you want to today, my friends, and nothing you don’t.

4 thoughts on “Water Through the Gills”

  1. Please, please, please answer my question. Your title in Haggard Feathers is of great importance to me. I would like to be able to subscribe, but being retired and helping my 91 year old Mom with finances dollars are tight. I do get a monthly book allowance which may suffice. Anyway, talk about beating around the bush till you’ve beaten it to pieces, I would like to know the price for the Haggard Feathers and have looked for it. I am one to miss the obvious.

    Thank you very much! Your book Working For the Devil is my favorite book, and recommend it often. The first book to ever make me cry too! I loved Jace.

    Sincerely,

    Denise Fisher
    *redacted*

    • I think you might find your answer in my reply to your previous comment. As I said before, I have not turned on the subscription option YET, I probably will in February and I have some math yet to do to find an acceptable price per month for what I’m offering. When that happens, of course there will be a post and link here, and further information on the Substack itself. I hope that helps.

      I cried when Jace died, too. Empathy is often a double-edged blade.

  2. Vis-à-vis human entitlement and the eventual opening of the Pearly Gates, well… Owing to my somewhat peculiar religious background, I have few associations of Saint Peter — but a far, far stronger conviction that every time the angel Gabriel has to deal with humans he starts reaching for his horn, and one or another of the other angels has to rush in and keep him from sounding it prematurely. (I think they have a sort of informal watch on him for that sort of thing.) One of these days we’ll goad him too far and he’ll sound the thing and end the world before Raphael or Phanuel or somebody can talk him out of it…

    Anyway, it’s nothing to do with anything really, but I thought you’d enjoy the image.

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