Aisle...Isle...I'll....

First up, let me say I really am enjoying the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K Hamilton. I’m a big fan of Jean Claude…not so much of the werewolves she mixes with but then I’m a vamp girl.

Anyway, I was reading another instalment in the series today and a typo in the paperback was doing my head in. Yes, yes, I know typos abound in books especially ebooks and not every editor and final editor is going to pick them all up. But, I expect a reputable publisher and not a fly-by-nighter e-pubber to pick up something simple like the fact that ‘isle’ does not mean the same as ‘aisle.’ I read it three times, in three different places, in a short space of time, and I had to put the book down. The two words have two different meanings and neither is the slightest bit similar nor can it be blamed the whole UK versus USA spelling.

Hmmm…at least they didn’t use “I’ll”….

       

Make a writer less whiny. Buy their book...

So, the TV set is focaccia’d and off being repaired, under warranty, at the repairer dude’s place. “Fixed at the end of the week, mate,” he said. I replied, “No worries.” We’re simple souls in Aussie-land. Anyway, I took my simple-soul-self home and went to turn on the TV to watch the news and – oh hey – no TV. I’m smart like that. A big empty space is dead giveaway something’s missing – and if not that, the fact there's no button to press is the second clue. Yep, intelligence plus R US. 

Well then, I decided there’s only one solution. Read a book. I’ve got dozens and fortunately, if not for a lot of plane travel this year, I would have not read any. So, I settled into book 10 of the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series. I don’t get her problem. If it was me I would pick Jean Claude, the dark, sexy vampire over the sensitive, soulful werewolf Richard. Seriously, get with the Vamp, Anita. Yeah, he’s technically dead but no one’s perfect.  

Reading. It sorts the Vampires from the Werewolves. Get into it today. Make a writer less whiny. Buy their book.       

Typecast...

Interesting thing, I’ve been reading my way through the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series. While I’m enjoying it, the thing the gets me is the amount of typos in these paperbacks. You know, people always pick at the typos in ebooks citing that the writing and editing is rushed and therefore substandard because anyone can bung together and sell an ebook. Yeah, that can be true. But I was surprised that so called reputable, print book publishers are putting haphazard printed books out with a hell of a lot of typos.

So, to the traditionalists who will only read hard copy, are you getting a higher quality product than an ebook? I think not. 

Multiple orgasms...

I’ve started reading the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K Hamilton. I’ve just finished book 4. What I find interesting about the series is the heroine, kick-arse, strong, in control, deadly Anita, isn’t into pre-marital sex – sex has to mean something – it’s a commitment.  I find her an intriguing character in a book where sex doesn’t sell the story. It made me think about heroines in ebooks. It’s no secret that sex sells ebooks and in many cases fills in for plot when the author can’t think of a plot other than the hero/heroes (depends what the current trend is and how hungry you are for a contract) protects the heroine while indulging in mutual shagging two minutes after meeting her and oh yeah, there’s something about a bad guy but back to the multiple orgasms. You don’t seem to get that in paperbacks, except for E.L's Shades of Monotonous Tedium but then that’s just a rip off of Nine and a Half Weeks and while kudos to the author for making a shite-load of money, it’s still just two tedious people having ho-hum-gosh-gee-blink-gasp-he wouldn’t-giggle-snore-stupid slapper-sex.

Is sex in ebooks easier and vitally necessary to write in because most writers don’t go past the 50k mark and sex adds to the word count? If you can write past this word count, does it mean you have the ability to write a plot and therefore while sex is important, the characters don’t have to fuck like bunnies – an ebook writer expression – to get a contract and therefore should consider writing for real publishers?  Am I being hard on ebook writers lacking wordage and plot? Yes. But I can be. I’m one of them. I have first hand experience of the industry. This Anita Blake series has me thinking about what women want, about writers and publishers and I’m thinking ebooks = cheap sex and paperbacks = plot. 

Your basic Houdini move…

So, it was suggested to us when we hit Green Island – 45 mins by catamaran from Cairns - to use a stinger suit. See picture. This covers your head to your toes. Why the suit? It’s stinger season in FNQ (Far North Queensland) and being in severe pain or dead isn’t a good look unless you’re a vampire – I say this as I’ve started reading the Anita Blake series on Vampires and I have a thing for Jean Claude at the moment…read the series – you’ll know what I mean…anyway back to not wanting to be dead….so I got the suit and put it on. It’s not flattering. It’s like wearing a big condom. Now, not having penis, I’ve not actually worn a condom but it looks to be as non comfortable as that. 

The thing was a stinger suit it’s an absolute bugger to get off from your shoulders. I kid you not. I could not get the damn thing off my shoulders. I have good set of girl shoulders on me. Peeling tight lycra off those?  Hard. Difficult. A total embuggerance. I unzipped down the front and for the life of me I could not get the same fabric off my shoulders. I pulled and wiggled and swore. No good. I swore some wore. I ripped at the fabric. I whirled around aimlessly in a circle swearing as I tried to pull it off my arms. I sweated a lot, red faced with my boobs sticking out from the unzipped front. Waaay too much information for onlookers. And then I remembered that Houdini movie with Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh where he dislocated his shoulders to free himself from a straight jacket. I composed myself. I crossed my arms in front of me and thought as Houdini would. I took a deep breath and pulled at the lycra. Nothing. Fucking Houdini. What did he know? After a lot more swearing and weird body contortions that I am sure will turn up on an episode of that Neanderthal show ‘Funniest Home Videos', I pulled the stinger suit off and threw it across the beach. I swore then, in my best Scarlett O’Hara voice “As god is my witness, I will never wear a stinger suit again.”

So, I snorkelled without one. Did I get stung? Nope. What bloody stinger in its right mind is going to latch on to me? The picture below is of lovely driftwood on Green Island. I really wanted to take it home with me...