DINORAGE! A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

All is not well in Writerland, but I persevere. There are many files with half-stories in them. I do what I can to finish those tales.
   Not all is bad in Writerland. Ideas slip into files and they grow, slowly, into stories. I publish these tales.
   Or reorganise. Sometimes I run favours. And so. A recap of activity, visible and invisible...

*

I stripped blog posts from MIRA E. Reorganisation from hybrid product to standalone novel. Trickier than I thought it'd be, even though I thought it'd be trickier than I thought it'd be.
   And I bundled FICTION FACTORY tales into an OMNIBUS collection.
   For that, I changed notes at the end of five stories, revamped all blurb, and revised back matter in all my Kindle books.
   Details drifted a little inside the Amazon bookshelf, and I squelched things in the name of consistency. One isolated work lied to me, listed as a series. WTF?! If you accidentally mislead yourself, think of the women and children! Or, at least, the customers.
   This year I went from ten products on Amazon to eleven products on Amazon. I published once. And that was an omnibus. But I republished my bookshelf items 95 times, so the e-mail trail tells me.
   Amazon changes. And what wasn't a glitch before suddenly becomes a glitch now. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! Better fix that. Fix that, I did. Yoda, I am not.

*

I looked at JAPANESE MONSTERS, half-written and in sore need of finishing. And I looked at DOUG CHAMBERS: ZOMBIE! Also half-finished. Easier to finish, too.
   Invisible work? I decided to roast away all those blog posts about the zombie story. That tale goes to KDP Select when released, so it runs exclusively. No lengthy excerpts on the blog.
   It's all reorganisation. Invisible mending.
   As a favour, I finished editing the Kindle version of Lady Injury by Melissa C. Water. She sneaked into the top ten on a paid-for chart on this side of the Atlantic. Guess we did something right.

*

All of this stuff takes time, effort, energy, and coffee.
   I look at the Ghost of Blog Posts Past, and I see projects still unpublished. Now I'm in the business of busying myself over unfinished business.
   That meant scrapping things. The blogging-plus-novel format croaked. No regrets. MIRA E. survived the divorce. You try a mad experiment. It bites the dust. You stand up, dust down, and plod on.
   Major reorganisation of Neon Gods was a good thing. Other stories in that series are now easier to write up. Occasionally, writers manage to type stuff - but, hell, we don't make it easier on ourselves.
   I made it easier on myself.

*

What the hell is DINORAGE! when it's at home? Just another FICTION FACTORY story sitting on the shelf. Unfinished business. Time to dust that off. Soon. There'll be dinosaurs. And rage. In a toyshop. Toy Story, it ain't.

   
   

MELISSA C. WATER AND LADY INJURY VIDEO: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Okay. I am away from the blog. What does that mean? It means the weekly blog is a thing of the past. Lately, I've been on a blog holiday. No blogging.
   But wait a bit. I've been blogging.
   Calm down, calm down. It's not as if I am typing with a broken armchair.
   Blog break. Things didn't work out that way. I've still found something to blog about every month. Hell, I know for a fact that I'll be blogging tomorrow. This is my second blog post today.
   I have to arrange supper. Talk amongst yourselves while I brew up a coffee.

Had to use that archive shot. A picture of black coffee in a black mug on a black desk wouldn't really convey the subtle flavours at play.

Then again...

*

Non-emergency. I wondered why the kitchen was so effing hot. I left the oven on. Nothing inside it. Just invented an expensive method of heating the kitchen.
   I've really lost the thread of this post. You'd think needles would lose thread, and not posts. Now the coffee is behind me. I even detoured into a video on YouTube, all about the preparation of Turkish coffee.
   What did I learn? The Turkish word for breakfast means before coffee. I must cease the blog and leave for Turkey immediately.
   Ah, yes. YouTube. Which brings me back to...

*

Imagine leaving the 
   What the hell was that?! Some strange tiny white thing just pinged off my face. A weird fly or...I don't know. Spontaneous non-cold micro-hailstone.
   But I'm going with the idea of a tiny albino fly.
   Imagine leaving the oven on for GASP hours. What a toasty kitchen. Where the hell was I? Not in the kitchen, obviously, as I left it behind to swelter in its own inferno.

*

Back to YouTube. 

Here's Melissa C. Water, holding up a copy of her book. Click the photo for a link to her channel.
   I always duck to avoid bullets whenever people say nice things about me on the internet. Or, indeed, off the internet. I try to explain that I am a Silent Movie Villain of the worst kind.
   Can't pass a railway without the urge to foreclose on an old lady's mortgage and tie her daughter to the tracks. Is that just me?
   Just me, then.
   But no. People don't believe me. I stand accused of good deeds and right-doing and swearing a lot. Yes, okay, there's a lot of effing swearing. Just dredge through this blog or my stories.
   Hell, hang out in my kitchen as I discover the aberrant source of heat. Oven warms room in shocking plot-twist.
   I've been on a long road tonight. As I type, I am publishing a book. But that's for tomorrow's blog post, not today's.
   This blog is about discovering someone being nice to me by linking to my blog in a video on the YouTube. I deny it all. My top hat, cane, gladstone bag, twirly moustache, and cape all attest to my wicked fire-raising ways.
   Well, not fire-raising. I reached the oven in time.
   One thing I can deny. I had no part in Melissa's book - for that's the paperback version she waves about. Well, it is harder to show the Kindle version on a video. But I have seen that done.
   To me, it's strange to see all those pages. I hyperlinked her diary entries for some strange magical mystical electronic creature that has no pages.
   We worked on the Kindle version. Her memoir about self-harm, and her time in the psychiatric ward, is a thin volume the depth of a Kindle reading device.
   Whatever that device is. And the book went onto Kindle without much fanfare. Melissa has no advertising budget, but the e-book cracked the top ten in the medical memoir sub-category that her readers found her in.
   Again, it just feels strange to see her heft that mighty paperback in her video. The Kindle version has some advantages. Here's one. If you want to read about her struggle, but don't want people to know what you are reading, the Kindle is its own hiding-place.

*

You don't need a Kindle to read an e-book. The Kindle app is available for all sorts of electronic devices. And you can password-protect it, to stop prying eyes catching sight of your reading-list.
   So, yes, the Kindle version of Melissa's memoir comes with its own camouflage, if you, as a reader, want to talk to friends or family about your problems...but you don't feel ready yet.
   And also if you don't want people finding that paperback hidden, rather unoriginally, under your bed. Not just yet.
   Of course, yes, it's good to talk and to share. And you should. But explosive confrontation as a result of melodramatic discovery of a self-harm-themed memoir...well, that's avoidable.
   Leave explosive confrontation and melodramatic discovery to the Silent Movie Villains of the World. (We have a Secret Society. And, naturally, we let the world know that we have a secret society. Mwa-ha-ha.)

*

There are always going to be people out there who want a hefty paperback in their hands. (And rarer fiends like me, who must have shelves crammed with hardback doorstops.)

*

Melissa turned a corner with the fresh publication of her books. She's off to Montreal, planning a support group for people with Tourette's, and, it goes without saying but say it anyway, more videos to help people on the YouTube.
   Hmmm. The electronic dictionary doesn't like Tourette's. Now the dictionary is trying to get me to accept courgettes. I had ratatouille once. Preferred the movie.
   By that, I mean cartoon. And by that, I mean animated feature. Now I am going to have coffee. And by that, I mean perfection in a cup.
   You'll find Lady Injury on Amazon. I'll find coffee in the kitchen. And with that, adieu. By that, I mean my coffee is long over-adieu and a long long while before breakfast. And that's before coffee.
   No, I didn't get much sleep last night. I was up late working on a book. But that's a story about another story, for another time. Tomorrow, after coffee.

Images of Melissa used by kind persimmons. Copyright Melissa C. Water, 2015.

LADY INJURY: SECOND EDITION FOR AMAZON KINDLE, BY MELISSA C. WATER.

Though I am away from the blog, I try to fulfil commitments. What the hell does that mean? If there's something to announce, I'll announce it. And so...

*

Melissa C. Water and I walked a long and twisty road to the publication of her memoir's second edition. A decently-priced Lady Injury is now out for Amazon Kindle.

We ran over a few million things before publication. It's important to be sure. That stems from being unsure. And that's just the way things run in the world of the scribbler.
   Details, details.
   One Canadian-English dictionary came down firmly in favour of aluminium. Another fell against. Regular Canadians, it seems, have no truck with the word. Scientific Canadians, however, can't get enough of it.
   Advice? Both spellings are acceptable. We decided to pick one and stick with it.
   From escaping an evil publishing contract to venturing into self-publishing, with one long mighty leap, Melissa was free.
   Yes, the road was long. Sometimes I wasn't there, and occasionally Melissa couldn't be on that road to publication either. Recently, with the finishing-line in sight, we appeared out of the misty rain and made a mad dash for the tape.

*

Now that's done, Melissa's turned her attention to putting out the paperback. She hopes to have that up and running soon.

Cover image © Melissa C. Water 2015. Used by kind persimmons.

MELISSA C. WATER AND LADY INJURY UPDATE: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Last night I featured in a live news broadcast.
   Not really.
   But that's what it felt like. There was a broadcast. And it was live. News burst forth.

*

I'm editing Lady Injury by Melissa C. Water. Last night, she put up a link announcing a live streaming video event. I was waging war on supper, and spotted her announcement minutes before she was due to go out into the ether.
   So I battled a baguette.

*

At the same time, I navigated the murky waters of yet another social media site: YOUNOW. Where, now? All was not lost. I could sign in using the Twitter, AND fight a baguette.
   This is the concept of war on two fronts - the first front being the front of your jumper, down which a river of crumbs cascades.
   Twirl your Twitter password as a master-key, and enter other sites. Open, Sesame Street! (No one has misappropriated the contents of my fridge as a result of app authorisation.)

*

I was demolishing a baguette. Earlier. In the kitchen. The baguette fell apart. I took the opporchancity to create two baguette feasts out of the wreckage. There was a dash of egg mayonnaise left, and that went to the wreck of the bow section. The stern lifeboat was already filled by chicken.
   Which to eat first, the chicken or the egg mayonnaise?

*

Coffee served as the torpid wave carrying these two boats. The meal unfurled into a slow crumb-festooned affair.

*

This was no boating accident. I struggled, manfully, with baguettes and unfamiliar social networking sites. Finally, Melissa was announced by the YOUNOW digital butler.
   I tuned in.

*

Melissa spoke of many things, for many questions were asked of her. A live video question and answer session...didn't quite feel like that, to me.
   No. To me, this was a live news broadcast from our roving reporter in French Canada. Soon, Melissa dealt with questions concerning her book, Lady Injury, and the steps being taken to bring out a second edition.
   She announced the news. Melissa was working with a really great guy...
   Wait.
   What the fudge?!
   Rewind.
   Is she talking about me?!
   Damn it, I am grumpy and curmudgeonly and evil. I have my own Top Secret Volcano Base - it says so on my Twitter profile. No one believes any of that. But it's true, I tell you. It's true - I snarl at kittens and burst the balloons of small children.
   Except for that last part about the kittens and the children. But I genuinely have a large tank filled with rippy fish. It's on Pirate Google Maps.

*

This event of Melissa's was a news broadcast about publishing activity. Instead of going through the highways and byways of the process with her audience, Melissa gave out her character appraisal of me.
   Her broadcast was a show. Not quite TV, and not quite radio. Internetty. As in...interconnected and interactive. I sent a message saying she'd destroyed my grumpy reputation...
   Though, in fairness, she's not the first to have a go at dispelling my grumpy online persona.
   I told her audience that, yes, we were working on Melissa's memoir. She told the viewers that I was watching. Then she said I bore the brunt of the editing work we collaborated on.
   To me, it's a sound participatory process. Writer and editor are not adversaries, knocking chunks out of the surrounding landscape from the safety of our giant robot suits.
   No. We combine forces to lift a book into place. Well, she was very nice about it all in saying that I was very nice about it all.
   Her show gradually mutated into a wildlife documentary. Parrots featured. Melissa covered her usual topics: self-harm, eating-disorders, advice on therapy, medicine...
   She made the time in her hour-long chat to chat for longer than an hour, celebrating with the audience member who was free of self-harm, discussing musical tastes, and sharing knowing comments with her sister.
   I'll link to Melissa's YouTube channel below.

*

What is the news, concerning her book? After stopping and starting for assorted reasons, we are now near the end of primary editing. Once that is out of the way, there are technical considerations to deal with.
   We'll both go in and look at the book from some distance - that's one of the reasons for stopping and starting. You really need to sit a work aside and let it cool.
   Anyway. We are getting there. The second edition will be out this year. From our chats, I know Melissa would like to publish a paperback version at the same time, using CreateSpace, but I've been concentrating on the Kindle copy. I can't guarantee a simultaneous launch.

*

Now I must take my leave of ye, to feed the rippy fish and work on my evil laugh. My balloon-popping skills are growing rusty - which is for the best, if you are evil. Rust adds to the terror.

*

Image of Melissa C. Water is copyright to her, 2015, and is used by kind persimmons. Find her YouTube channel HERE.

NON-WRITING: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Is there an author in the house?
   Yes, and the author must do things that don't involve typing. Instead of typing, I was calling in the heating engineer to deal with the boiler. Summoning an electrician to check that faulty circuit.
   Industrial levels of shredding? I'm all over that action.
   Waiting in all day for the engineer isn't a problem if you are a writer. There'll be a knock at the door, so stay busy. Actually take time away from writing to, you know, tidy stuff.
   Now that is a writer problem. You let things stack up. Really stack up. I'll shred all this paper eventually. Hmm. That recycling bin is going to be lifted in a day or two.
   Decisions, decisions. Shred everything beforehand, and try to cram the confetti into your bin? Don't foolishly climb into your bin to squash the paper down.
   Never do that.
   I wouldn't recommend that. No. Not unless you have portable steps to assist you in your madness. And not even then. No. I can't advocate so insane a course of action.
   Okay, so I did that once...two or three times.
   The more digital our lives become, the more effing paper we seem to end up recycling.
   What was the alternative? Empty the bin and do the shredding later. Yes. Later. Writers know loads of words, and that is certainly one of them.
   Some gardening. I recommend all writers do some gardening. By this, I mean cover your garden in flagstones and spray the few persistent weeds with napalm every few weeks.
   Weeds pushed through the asphalt non-jungle, creating a jungle that pushed soil up across the concrete. More soil gave more space to more weeds.
   I had to take a shovel to the path. And further back, under the window, dirt blew in from elsewhere and gave roots a landing-ground.
   This once-in-a-blue-moon piece of soil maintenance was dealt with. My accumulated stock of earth grew a shovelful larger. The tenacity of the weed to perpetuate itself in a shallow environment is well-known.
   Life intrudes, and I stopped editing Melissa C. Water's book at the halfway-point to deal with other things. Just before I came here to write this blog post, I blitzed through a month of her diary.
   If you are reading this, Melissa, I'm sure you'll understand that I had to chop my way through plants just to reach the keyboard.
   

EDITING MELISSA C. WATER'S LADY INJURY: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

How goes the editing in METRO-LAND? And is there honey still for tea?

*

Files fall apart; the centre cannot hold.
   I really have to quit these poetic references. Betjeman strolled through METRO-LAND. Rupert Brooke asked after honey.
   Yeats is yer maaan, on questions of falconry. Though I've quoted loosely from his poem, and dropped my own word in for reasons of the plot.
   Cynically, I think of honey as fossilised bee-spit.
   On with what's left of the show...

*

Dealing with non-fiction is a bit like going through customs with a gold brick in your suitcase. You have to shift over to the other mode of thinking.
   Nothing to declare?
   Something to declare?
   Oh, shit, that's right. I have something to declare. This is fact-based stuff, and must be handled as such. No Zombie Apocalypse in this scene. Or in any of the scenes.

*

Talk of poets sprang up as I attempted this blog post, but that was no coincidental hijacking of thought's train.
   No derailment here.
   I built a system for dealing with editing non-fiction. Melissa C. Water's memoir, Lady Injury, is free and clear of the old contract. Time to edit what will become the second edition.
   What am I editing? Melissa's journal entries covering her time in hospital. Self-harm. Eating troubles. Strapped to a hospital bed for her own safety. Sexual abuse, the root-cause of so many problems in her life.
   Not pleasant reading.

*

How do we tackle that? With a sense of humour. The work is edited across far-flung time-zones, using the inconvenience of the internet.
   Files transfer with great ease. Occasionally, files fall apart. We resort to scribbling notes on toilet-paper. Wax crayons aren't great for a high-maintenance level of operational detail, but, hey, use what's handy.
   Melissa disappears off-grid with grim regularity. Spasms, convulsions, falling down, neurology visits and overnight hospital stays, all carry her away from our work.
   Even a transatlantic business-call, via Skype, to clear up some publishing matters, carries risk.
   Her panic alarm may be inaccessible. I discuss this with her. If we go over editing in a Skype call and she falls silent after a thump, I am meant to wait for the sound of rescuers stomping through the Canadian undergrowth.
   She doesn't live in the wilderness. If there's no rescue, I send in a team of superheroes. Something like that.

*

How did I start editing her tale? By formatting the work. Taking the text away from a vanity publisher, I was aware that the typesetting had to go. Legal issue. The company offered Melissa the use of the formatting for a fee, once she was free of their clutches.
   I seem to be having difficulty with the word contract.
   After formatting the text to new specifications, I looked over the whole book and arranged a skeleton file full of hyperlinks - this would evolve into the Kindle book.
   I created a Table of Contents for months of the year. Each month linked through to a sub-table listing all the daily entries. Two months had loads of diary segments, so I split those in two. One month had no entries at all.
   This I draw to your attention as the vanity publisher included one hyperlink in Melissa's first edition - can you guess where that link led?
   To the company, of course.

*

I took longer on this than was strictly required. Melissa wanted to add a poem, so I sorted that out for her. She was concerned. What was happening over there in Darkest Scotlandia?
   One e-mail later and she thanked me for the formatting on the poem. It was just formatting. Nothing great. But to her, obviously, it meant that the book was starting to come to life.

*

We proceeded with caution. Melissa's story involves self-harm. Lots of it, or thoughts of it. She chose to share details with me that would not go into the book.
   Why not? I had questions. Background information was important. We couldn't have unresolved matters hovering over the book. For that reason, she very generously shared...
   And because she did, I saw ways to edit around certain legal issues. We went back in and added one or two pieces of detail whenever I didn't understand the meaning behind a comment.
   It's important to kill off the cryptic, in non-fiction. This is no murder mystery.

*

Technology deserted us. Files wouldn't transfer. She resorted to sending a photo of herself dressed as a pirate, to see if I could receive files.
   Internet piracy? I suppose.
   Melissa asked many questions. Often my answers fell into the technical category, as I had the pleasure of explaining why Amazon doesn't do things this way, or that, way, or any old way.
   Those of you who self-publish will know the rule by heart. Everything is three times more difficult than need be.

*

Scraping indelible code from transferred data, I wondered why everything in self-publishing had to be three times more difficult than need be.
   Obviously, if that weren't the case, why, all would be four times more difficult. Glad I could clear that up for you.

*

Things are going well. Not rapidly. Melissa's fans, looking for a cheaper more accessible book, will have to wait. The diary entry is dropped in place...
   I work on it, checking for typos, formatting glitches, continuity errors, legal issues, and lint. Always check writing for lint. Don't let lint catch you unawares. Or aware, come to that.
   Don't let lint catch you. Catch lint first.
   This is not a tale of the Zombie Apocalypse. You can excuse fiction in ways that non-fiction can't abide. And I am not editing fiction. I am crawling across a minefield.
   For there is a duty of care here that extends beyond assisting Melissa. Her audience consists of self-harmers past and present, and the point of her book is to help readers.
   You don't really set out to do that for anyone interested in a Zombie Apocalypse. Fiction? Nothing to declare. Fact? I have the documents right here, officer.

Images of Melissa used by kind persimmons, copyright 2014. That is, if I can prevent the keyboard from typing 1994. Luckily, I edited that.
   

MELISSA C. WATER AND LADY INJURY: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.



Images courtesy Melissa C. Water, © 2014. Used by kind persimmons.

I vote for this snowy scene as Melissa's author photo on her Amazon page. Anyway, to business...
   Kacey Vanderkarr repeatedly tells people that I am some kind of good guy. How dare she?! I'm suing.
   Did I adopt the black cloak and Darth Sinister title for nothing? Dare I say...is evil just...not working out for me?
   Has Young Vanderkarr's meddling granted me redemptive end-of-trilogy powers of sweetness and light?
   Well. Bugger.

*

I wrote a blog post tied to a story, and went in search of a mental health activist for background info. HERE'S A BLOG POST ABOUT THAT.
   Melissa C. Water assisted in the development of the post. Then I did a follow-up piece, featuring Melissa. HERE'S A BLOG POST ABOUT THAT.
   I'll wait for you.

*

If you missed it, here's a link about THE VENUS FLYTRAP.
   Melissa signed a deal with a vanity/subsidy publisher, not knowing what she was getting into. She was getting into the publishing equivalent of the Venus Flytrap.
   Yes, she should have taken advice. But she didn't seek assistance.
   When she helped me out with my blog post, I knew I'd help her in return. How? I knew not. As usual, I found myself staring at a book on the mighty Amazon.
   Here's Melissa's story of her battle with assorted mental health issues, and the problem of undiagnosed Tourette's. And this book costs...
   HOW FUCKING MUCH?!
   And there's a disclaimer at the start, stating...
   What?!
   THE BOOK...HASN'T REALLY BEEN EDITED?
   (For legal reasons, I must amplify on that comment. I am forced to point out that the book hadn't really been edited. Glad to clear that up for you.)

*

Obviously, I've removed fifteen pages of swearing from this blog post. Sometimes, you must tone things down for the youngsters. And, by youngsters, I mean anyone under the age of 99.

*

I talked Melissa through her options. She simply had to escape her contract and publish her own book on Amazon. Hell, I'd edit the book for nothing.
   My good deed for the...
   (Shut it, Vanderkarr.)
   So how far along are we?
   Melissa is out of her contract, and free to pursue a second edition of Lady Injury. We're working on it. There are many choices to be made. We had a few laughs, and there were countless questions.

*

 



A few laughs? Vital. For Melissa's story is tough to take. Countless questions? The assistance on offer is free. She is free to ask anything and everything. It's her book, and she chooses how she wants things to be.
   Can we do it this way?
   Yes. There are other options. And here they are.
   Okay, well, I'd still like some of those features for the story.
   Well how about this, Melissa?
   No, I don't think so.
   That's fine.
   Wait. I've had some feedback, and maybe we could incorporate a few ideas along those lines.
   It's all good. Any questions, just ask. I'll tell you if anything is fixed. Immovable.
   What can't we do?
   Amazon Kindle books don't take well to tabs. No tabs. (Kacey Vanderkarr was AGHAST when I revealed that nugget. You'd think I'd killed Bambi's mother when I said it to her.)

*

I help authors. Authors, in turn, help me. We are on the same path. If I am ahead of you, I'll point the way so that you find the going easier. And if you are further back, thinking he's going the wrong way, you'll shout and I'll listen.
   Action? I'll stop and have a think. As authors, we are always learning, experimenting, failing, trying, pausing for coffee.
   Yes. Coffee.
   Help is not measured on scales. I was aided over a mere blog post and I offered assistance with an entire book. The act of helping is important, not the amount. Sometimes the amount is important, but we aren't here to maintain the balance.
   We are here to muck around.
   Besides, editing a memoir, non-fiction, would be a new experience for me - and, as authors, we crave experience. Except the experience of stagnation.
   Melissa needed help in escaping her contract. I set out the steps, and gave my opinion on what had to happen to reach the upper atmosphere on the way out.
   And I was more or less right. Ultimately, Melissa escaped her contract with a shade less difficulty than I expected. I thought she'd be hit with a non-disclosure no-badmouthing clause.
   That never materialised. We aren't in the business of giving the company any publicity. So why mention the name? The hell with that.
   (I think the company abandoned the gag as it proved unenforceable - Eclectic Ed. Unenforceable and silly.)

*

Well. There you go. A writer helps me, and I steer her into preparing a second edition of her book. Lady Injury. Never thought I'd be doing something like that.
   How do I edit the work? With carefree abandon, fizzing dynamite, a wild look in the eyes, and toffee-smeared fingers.
   (Hi, Melissa. That was a joke. You knew that. And you knew I had to say that you knew.)
   Preserve the author's voice. But not the formatting. It must change, for the Kindle. What should Melissa's readers expect of a second edition?
   The original Kindle book is still available to those who bought it. They retain access to that version. I'm writing this blog post more than a week ahead, as usual...
   Today I saw the unedited Kindle version was withdrawn from Amazon. Melissa's readers can expect a new edition to be edited.

*

The plan is to release the second edition as a Kindle book with month-long sections and daily sub-chapters - it is a diary, after all. There was some discussion over interactivity, with in-book hyperlinks to Melissa's YouTube videos.
   YouTube is where she spends her time as an internet presence. At this stage, Melissa is wary of taking readers out of the book to watch a pertinent YouTube movie.
   Just because a feature is available doesn't mean it has to be used. There are also several legal issues thrown up by some of the videos, so YouTube interactivity is likely to be low-key or non-existent.
   I guess I'll throw that one out to her audience. Thoughts?
   That's all I can say at the moment. Getting stuck in, I'll see what sort of editing job is called for.

*

By the time this blog post goes to press...
   Visions of grapes, for some reason.
   The basic framework should be set up, and arranged for Melissa's inspection. There'll be worldwide chat, ranging out of the depths of Quebec to Ancient Scotlandia. We'll work out a plan.

*

Is this a departure for me? Yes, no, maybe. Over the past few months, editing loomed larger and broader on the horizon. I wanted to change things around, and see where this adventure would steer me.
   If that meant onto the rocks, I'd gain the opporchancity to survive on seaweed and the cheese of goats.
   After blogging 200 entries, I almost shut the blog down. But I always feel I am about to shut the blog down. That seems to be a requirement of blogging. At least, in my case.
   Next week's blog? Too far ahead, for me. There'll be a mention of giraffes, I'm thinking. (Giraffes may be conspicuous by their absence - Eclectic Ed.)

*

I'm not suing Kacey Vanderkarr. Sometimes, evil just doesn't take. Well. Damn.