Source - Saw this on Facebook unsourced. Lesser-Known Editing/Proofreading MarksLove the wishbone & the shovel!!! My latest novel: Less than Crime and Punishment but greater than Wuthering Heights....Coincidence? I think I could use a margarita!!! Happy Sunday all, TartanFrog
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Source: karencioffiwritingandmarketing.com ABOUT: PR Basics for Authors – Tip 1: Create A Digital Press Kit by BOOKBABY on FEBRUARY 1, 2012 Dear Writerlies, I read an informative article and thought I'd share the basics of Molly King's BOOKBABY's article: "The goal of an online press kit is provide a quick and simple way for media and other important influencers to find out everything they need to know about you and your book in one place." The article suggest you include these 10 Basics: 1. Book info – Succinct but detailed summary of your book (write it more like a news reporter, and less like a salesperson). 2. Image of the Book, eBook cover – Both a high resolution version and a low rez version for ease of use online. MORE. . . PS Wired Monks: This is writers' group week - See you all Thursday! Have a great (short) week, TartanFrog Let this serve as a reminder to myself that my holidays are over and it's time to renew my commitment to writing. Fortunately, according to one of my new profs, becoming a better copy editor & preparing to write the Editors' Association exams will make me a better writer of my own material... To the writerlies: Now that I'm officially in the copy editing course and have my final schedule, I'll be sending out a new schedule for our 2012 meetings this weekend. Cheers, TartanFrog Of course you can still make this month''s deadlines by the skin of your teeth - see last Wednesday's blog) Here's the line-up for the first week of August including those BIGGIES, the Giller and the Governor General's awards: 1. John Kenneth Garbraith Short Story Writing Competition Genre: See Title:) Deadline: August 1st Entry Fee: $10; Prizes: % of entry fee Please see here for more details. NOTE TO EVERYONE: There seems to be a problem loading the website, but I've sent a message to the organizers and will update asap. 2. The Malahat Review Creative Non-Fiction Prize Deadline: August 1st; Entry Fee: $35; Prizes: $500; Publication $40/printed page. Please see here for more details. 3. The Scotiabank Giller Prize Deadline: August 5th; Entry Fee: None; Prizes: $50,000; $5000 x 4 Please see here for more details. 4. Governor General's Literary Awards Deadline: August 7th; Entry Fee: None Please see here for more details. That's all for now writerlies - Good luck!!! TartanFrog Skip past my 'lost & found' musing for contest line-up . . . Have you ever lost anything that used to bring joy and laughter into your life? A Hobby? Or sadder, a person? Lost it, forgot it, missed it, then decided to find it - only come to discover you've lost something else. Grrrrrr! It's a juggling act, I know. I may not be a parent, but I still hold down two jobs, although one of them is considered by some to be 'my hobby'. Anyway, I think it's worth it every now and again to sit and think about what you've "Lost and Found" - Decide, like Serendipity, what needs fetching and what you're just as happy losing :-). So here's the writers' competition line-up to the end of July: 1. The Writers' Trust of Canada! Genre: Book Award; Deadline: July 15th. No entry fee; the prizes vary according to the category. See here for more details. 2. Finding the Right Words Flash Fiction Contest Genre: Short Fiction Deadline: July 16 Entry Fee: $2 per entry. Prize: $60; $30 + publication. Please see here for more details. 3. Clem Battye Legacy Award Genre: Poetry & Fiction Deadline: July 31st Entry Fee: $10 Prizes: $100 x 2 Please see here for more details. That's all for now writerlies, TartanFrog I chose Hurricane Juan, but any disaster will do! Below is the beginning of a short story I was rewriting yesterday. See where you go with it . . . On the night Hurricane Juan slammed Nova Scotia, I sat next to the window watching a tree shielded with tiny clinging birds. The wind screamed. Fat with leaves, the tree strained until one whole branch began cracking. The birds flew in all directions. The cracking grew louder and another branch severed from the tree. As the scene was repeated I couldn’t take my eyes off the destruction. At dawn only the tree trunk was left. Shadows disguised by camouflage arrived later to chop the rest of the trunk. In the end, a gaping hole in the ground disappeared, the earth filling itself up. It was as if the tree had never been there. One morning not that after that last tree was chopped I . . . Have a great week everyone, TartanFrog Artist: Nathan Bray It's quite possibly a mid-life crisis, but less than 24 hours ago I sent a message to my closest friends asking them: Could you simply send me an e-mail and let me know: If you HAD to choose an object that reminds you of me - What would that object be??? Well the answers came pouring into my in-box invigorating me with their warmth, and wisdom, and even a bit of psychic nature to some of them. One answer, however, made me pause: "This, darling Dina, is a difficult question because you are such an airy spirit that I remember you typically in the door with a bewildered expression and a dramatic gesture raising a question that will keep everybody's mind happily employed for at least until supper. With gestures and mimics like that and ideas popping up in lush multitude, this distracts a lot from what you might have been carrying in your bag at any particular day. I think there are few people that I have gotten to know in this life that love ideas so much and care for things so little as you. . . " Although the loving ideas part is no doubt true & paramount, the beginning of that answer surprised me because I am very attached to those things that are somehow connected to those I love. And very finicky about them: Ode to my Barcelona Teapot I used to have a beautiful large teapot (you guessed it, I bought it in Barcelona). It was wide on the bottom and very heavy, but it felt so right and reminded me of you, and also of my friend Heather and of Kathy Mac. Whenever I'd make a pot of tea in that teapot it felt as if I were summoning you all to my imaginary table. I broke that teapot about ten years ago and haven't been able to replace it. I keep hoping that the right teapot will find me. I poke around whenever I'm on a holiday - I know it's hiding, somewhere, waiting . . . Someone gave me a teapot, but it's not THE ONE - they didn't know me well enough. It may sound ungrateful, but it's true: A teapot may be an object, but once it's been shared with close friends it begins to emit mysterious past conversations as aroma shadows whenever another conversation begins. Without even being conscious of them, those past conversations encourage us to link and connect ideas from those previous conversations and build upon their wisdom. I believe this cross-pollination of ideas is a harvest made possible by the presence of the simple teapot. The teapot may be physical, but it creates a hospitable space that reminds me of kitchen table wisdom - very distinct from my usual conversations which center around coffee and command intellectual dexterity. And now, since neither THE teapot nor my wisest women goddess friends are here at the moment - I shall, a traitor, fall back on my trusted coffee. Have a great weekend all, TartanFrog This is your new blog post. 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The sun's out & I'm not recommending any Haligonian events for you! Instead, the following activity can be done anywhere: - bask in the freedom of a lazy Saturday or Sunday (if you can); - embark on long contemplations about those loved ones who have inspired you. I've been scrutinizing my motivations for writing novel # 2. It's about "an ordinary woman from Cape Breton, who, for a brief moment in time, believed she was meant for an extraordinary life". I believe we're all guilty, at one time or another, of wasting precious time on the ordinary when we could be living extraordinary, and that doesn't have to mean living an ECTOPLASM OF HYSTERIA... ...it can simply mean looking at what others may think is ordinary and seeing the absolute beauty and extraordinary in it. Every day, the extraordinary is all around us -- disguised as ordinary. When we take time to notice it, ordinary begins to shine, sprouts wings and launch into the air, radiating energy and joy with each flap. Miracles happen. This was the gift I received from my parents and one I offer freely to you. In honour of this gift from my parents I wrote to one of my extraordinary friends to remind her of that extraordinariness: Dear Beloved Friend, Of course next summer would be wonderful, but if we went twenty or thirty years without seeing one another, our bond of friendship would still not retire in my heart. And we will again sit together sipping wine on a lazy afternoon (where I promise there will be no flying monsters) wearing orange pants and solving the world's then unanswered philosophical questions. We will talk about your children's children and what wonderful and meaningful life paths they have chosen. How liberating those days of orange pants (and, in my case, the leapard tights) were for me. I will never forget those days... They may have been brief, but they were (don't mind the cliche) they were golden. These deep friendships are dear in this life. Thank you for your e-mail [name withheld]. I hope that besides the extra pounds (which, btw, I've also packed on since I quit smoking) you are well. Besides, in my heart, you are as radiant and as beautiful as ever!! As for me, it was a challenging winter - I felt overwhelmed much of the time and also missed my Mom who passed away last summer. I also found myself squaring off with that Scorpion rising in me which you so perceptively identified. Another dear friend who you met I think, Stephanie (a Sun Scorpio) sent me a newsletter that said everything we're repressing and refusing to express is seeping through the floor boards of consciousness and that we're bound to be more beastly than princely during these times. That's Scorpio for you! There's a quote by Goethe that I love and for some reason, I'm thinking of it today as I write to you, because it highlights the power of magic present in these times, across oceans, as providence moves to bring us together, simply because we both believe in the bold genius, power & magic of our dream to reunite: "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe I send you all my love. I hope you are feeling immense joy in the company of your beautiful family. Wishing you all the magic the other side can muster....Dina Why not let her inspire your next rant For this week's writers' critique meeting, I'll be 'workshopping' chapter # 4 and focusing on the character development of two aunts that figure prominently in the village of Papillion. One of them may have a little Cruella coursing through her veins . . . I've posted the short excerpt/draft (2.5 pages) here. Feel free to send me your feedback - I promise not to hunt down your pets!! P.S. Reminder to Writerlies: 7:30 p.m. my place this Wednesday Have a great week, TartanFrog Halifax Monk Writers Update: Next meeting at my house on Wednesday, April 20th - 7:30 p.m. Ah...weekends...finally got to Atlantic News to buy my favourite writing magazines - the ones that promise glorious Saturday mornings. They (along with the coffee) delivered. Here are a couple of great lines that you could use to get you going on that next bone-chilling tale: 1. "I plunged the claw of my hammer between my agent's startled eyes." [from Sanguineous, by Anna Kittrell - winner of contest # 29 in Writer's Digest**] 2. "Long before I first met Evan Hunter, he bought me a drink." [from The Murders in Memory Lane, by Lawrence Block] 3. "The Rhythm Bar was a brick barnacle clinging to the underbelly of Hell's Kitchen on Manhattan's West Side." [from Hell's Kitchen Homicide, by Charles Kipps] Can anyone explain why I love the word 'barnacle' so much? **Btw, the prompt for the first line was: "While remodeling a room of your house, you discover a door to another room you didn't know existed." Happy Scribing Writerlies, TartanFrog |
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