Learning Lessons From Others' Mistakes

Wow, had a crazy wake-up call/lesson learned this afternoon.

Some poor, not all that bright blogger wrote a blog in May of this year about a news story and ended up using what he likely thought was a perfectly innocent, likely free photo off the internet.

What he had no idea of at the time (though should have researched) was that the man who both took and starred in the photo is now a writer and very well known actor for a comedy website that many people frequent (myself included). He is a beloved face on the website for his humor, charm and immodesty about his own good looks.

So when this paragon of comedy innocently did an image search on his own face (please, don't act like you've never done it) he was shocked to find this picture of himself just floating wilhe-nilhe about the internet. It was unlicensed and unaccredited everywhere it popped up portraying him as a dufus.

So he went on this comedy website and wrote an article linking back to most, if not all, of the places that had used his picture without permission (including this unsuspecting blogger) and said that, while he was not going to throw a fit or demand people take it down, couldn't they use this more flattering image that he would also provide for free? And thus he posted a similar but unarguably more flattering picture.

In this comedian's defense; it wasn't right for people to use his photo unlicensed and unaccredited and I too would be annoyed to find an unflattering photo of myself floating about the internet with hashtags of #dumbass and #assholes.

In the bloggers defense: When you run a small blog with few readers and less money, it is much easier to find photos via a google image search, than through a professional website that you must pay for and then credit the photographer.

Lessons to be learned: Don't take unflattering photos of yourself and post them on the internet. Don't use unaccredited photos unless you want it to possibly bite you hard in the butt someday.

Now, this poor blogger's previously quiet site has been blown up with comments (unwittingly?) directed there by the comedian...and they are not nice comments.

Why NOT To Piss Off A Writer

File this under the heading: Why Not To Piss Off A Writer

Okay?

Moving forward; yesterday's work night was a good night. Why? Well, certainly not because a certain coworker has been pushing me patience toward it's limit. Actually, it's because I was a smart little cookie (writer, rather) and brought my beloved Black n' Red with me.

Black n' Red(tm) Notebook,
my good friend

So, when aforementioned jerk started pushing me, I was able to simply take out my notebook and escape the inane stupidity that was trying to force itself upon me.

I wrote most of a scene from the next book, Shadows On TheWall, in which Anthony finally pushes David to the point of violence. And you must understand, David is much like me in the respect that, while he talks a good game, he is generally laid back and non-violent.

Anywho, so, Anthony got thrown through a window (about ten stories up in a hotel) and now Cameo is cowering in the corner. And I feel fine! It's nice to be able to express myself so eloquently.

So, kids, remember this the next time you are pissing off a writer. We may not react much outwardly, but you are on our kill-off list.

There are only two types of people who sit around thinking of ways to kill off people:

Psychopaths,

and writers.

 As Castle would say, I'm the one that pays better.

A Trip To The Levee

A stork lifted off the water, canting gracefully through the trees. Its snow white feathers flashed through the dead brown trees like a beacon. On the other side of the river another stork called to it and they met in the middle, diving toward the water and then lifting back into the sky, side by side.

The duck shook its head and then dipped its neck back down into the water in search of lunch.

Ripples in the water flowed with the cool breeze, while underneath the river flowed the opposite way with deceptive strength.

Across the river a hawk landed on one of the trees. Her wings stretched out to enjoy the breeze as she balanced precariously on the edge of a branch. She called out for her mate, and the sound echoed across the river, but he did not come. She called again and then took off, circling the trees and eyeing the water.

Mission Control: We have a break-through! (BGSP)

It has been 4 long, long days since I have read a new book. This knowledge/inspiration desert has been tough on me, I won't lie.
At first, I didn't know how the Ultimatum would resolve itself. I knew I wouldn't touch a book until I had written the prologue--I couldn't go against Damon's wishes like that-- but it was very tough going.
The first day, I wrote a few paragraphs.

The second day was little better, I could think of nothing, so I went to work after writing nothing and with little hope of ever knowing a new book. The meager brainstorming I did at work resulted in me adding paragraphs of scene description to what I already had.

As I tried to sleep on the second night I had a brief burst of inspiration which made me glad that I had a pad of paper and pen on my bedside table.

On the third day, I woke to rainy skies that mirrored the aching of my soul. (melodrama, anyone?) It was my day off, so I went off to run errands. When I arrived home I spent a few hours working on the marketing strategies for Only The Stars Know. Then I spent a few more hours creating a book trailer. Then I spent an hour watching TV.

By the time 1am rolled around I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. Really, self? This was the best I could do?

So, I pulled out the big guns. Sometimes the only way to get excited about a scene is to have lived it. Sometimes the only way to get all the details is to have lived it.

After going through my Big Gun Secret Process I started scribbling madly away at my journal. I literally could not write fast enough to get the scene onto paper. By 3:30am I had the gist of it down, and I couldn't stay awake any longer. I laid aside the journal and turned out the light. I fell asleep easily.

On day four I woke up late, a result of being up until 3:30, I'm sure, so I got ready for work and left soon after. Business was slow at work, and I was itching to work on the book, so I requested to go home early and ended up leaving around 8pm. I stopped for dinner and then hightailed it home. I brainstormed for about half an hour (painting my nails is a very good way to brainstorm, I have discovered) and then discovered I had left my journal in the car. I ran through the dripping cold rain to retrieve it and then finally sat down to finish the prologue.

Last night, around about 12:15am, I finished that prologue.

It is...indescribable. Damon asked me if I love it, and I had to reply honestly that I could not love it, because of the horrible pain he suffers through for it. But I am proud of it. I think my writing ability is becoming more and more finely honed with every story I write. And I think that you, the readers, will love and hate the story, which are not two different things, but facets of the same thing: passion. And I want this story to inspire passionate responses.

Of course, the best news is that as long as I type up the prologue today, Damon said I could start reading my new books immediately! Huzzah!

Journal Entry

I've been keeping a journal of things that inspire me and little ideas I get. Well, the other night was so beautiful that my journal entry almost captured the incredible feeling.


Day: …I’ve lost count

Last night I drove up to the dam. I walked out on it, feeling stupid. Why was I tempting the fates? It was somewhere between eleven and midnight, just tempting the fates. There were a few other cars up there, hardly a person to be seen.

Despite my valid fears of rape, abduction and/or death, as soon as I was in the wind I could no longer question my motives. My sanity, perhaps, but not my motives.

What is it about that place that calls to me? Sings to me…so deeply. Just standing there with the wind stinging my eyes, whipping my carefully styled hair into a frenzy. I have never felt so calm, so right with the world.

Only a little way below, the waters of the lake lapped at the dam, begging for release. The dam stood solid and firm though, no mere waters could bring it down. The pride that was evident in its tall, strong structure was echoed in the view from the other side. The valley stretched out. It’s night time magnificence outshone any beauty that could be found within during the day.

I stood still, yet wavering. How could I keep my eyes open when they were assaulted with such wicked perfection? But worse, how could I possibly close them?

The wind was speaking to me and I strained to understand the words. It tossed my hair in frustration when I did not understand immediately. I listened harder and when I felt that I understood, such peace flowed throughout me. I felt that I must collapse, so I leaned against a light pillar.

It was all that I could do to suck in deep breaths of the lake air. The stars were glorious overhead. Their peace was in the extravagant normalcy of their being. Yes, I could see them from my apartment if I chose. But who could appreciate them more from there, than I did from atop the dam?

It was long minutes before I could convince myself to leave. Already I am full of foolish ideas of returning, though hopefully at a slightly less dangerous hour.

~.~.~

It is was this night that I had an inkling for a new book. And in the days since it has blossomed.