I got an email from a writing acquaintance bemoaning the fact that no one comments on her blog and what could she do about it? These are my thoughts – if people want to comment they will, if they don’t then they won’t. Pretty simple. There is no rule that says that if you read a blog you must comment. Comments are great but I don’t expect people to write a note if they have no thoughts on what I have written. I don’t agonize if I get no responses one day and 12 the next. I tend to think if that’s all you have to worry about you are doing pretty well in life. But that’s just me.
And lets face it sometimes it is damn hard to make a comment on a blog. It quite fascinates me when I read the amount of personal details some people give on their blogs. I am a private person by nature. What I write about on a blog is silly inconsequential stuff that happens but it is only a very small part of my life. I know you lot are smart enough to realize that and I know you would not expect me to tell you personal details. That would be crazy right? But of late the stuff people write about on blogs is alarming to me and in some cases bores me to tears – but again - this is
all subjective. This is Amarinda opinion only. What bores me will fascinate someone else. To me a blog is like an online diary. It’s also a useful tool for a writer as it keeps readers aware of your books and other people’s books I put on the blog. But in saying it’s a diary – I personally don’t want to know everything you ate in a day or how many miles you drove to in order to have the cat/dog/guinea pig vaccinated or what TV shows you watched. That’s just me. I find blogs like that hard to comment on. Also, another Amarinda peeve, if you announce on a blog you’re going to give hard hitting opinion and you don’t, then why bother announcing the ‘opinion’ thing at all? What is the point of that? I love controversial blog sites – but will I always comment on them? No, because some blogs are best not to have your name attached to unless you personally feel strongly about an issue and you know the consequences of putting your two cents forward. Is that cowardly or sheer smarts? I tend to think the latter.
So – feel free to give your opinions on blogs or not…up to you. What topics on blogs drive you to the point of boredom? What interests you? Who would you just like to tell to shut up? Yes, you can tell me to shut up if you want – I have a thick skin.
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Dreaming….
I had this dream last night at 2am and I stumbled out of bed and wrote down some notes because at 2am it seemed like a fabulous idea for a book. Here are the main points I jotted down
– art deco
- auburn haired man
- rowing machine
- Prince Charles
- glass light shade
- dusty room
- flying bat
- oranges
- carpet
- Cigarettes
Yes – quite the novel in that. What does all that mean? Stuffed if I know. And Prince Charles for god sake? I am dead set anti royalist so I have no idea why he would come to my mind. The man is a drain on society. So I’m thinking my heroine will buy a glass light shade from an auburn haired man who sells art deco, in between eats oranges and smoking cigarettes. A bat will fly into the dusty store and its wing span will remind the heroine of the size of Prince Chicka’s ears and it will perch on the rowing machine in the store. Yes…I can see that as WIP. My editor is now smacking her head on her keyboard.
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“Teach Me (The Hierophant)” A Torrid Tarot Novel By Cindy Spencer Pape. It's available now at Ellora’s Cave – it’s another click on the cover and buy moment. I love the word Hierophant - I'd buy it for that word alone.
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Blurb:
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The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.
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Excerpt:
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“I’m not young enough to be your daughter you know. Not unless you’d started awfully early.”
He stared at the painting on the wall opposite the bed for a moment, swirling the wine in his glass before he answered. “Intellectually I’m aware of that. I guess I’ve just spent way too long laughing at middle-aged guys who go out trolling for younger women. And it isn’t just your age, you know. I’m—dealing with that. It’s everything about you, Lydia. You’re so beautiful, so dynamic, so full of life. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m not the most exciting guy in the world. Boring is usually one of the nicer things I get called—my ex-wife could have gone on about that one for hours. There’s a big part of me that still has no idea what someone like you sees in someone like me.”
Lydia laughed. “Galen, I can see a mirror right over there on the dresser. Learn to use it. You’re tall, you’re fit, you have gorgeous hair and the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Whereas I’m medium height, thirty pounds overweight and pretty much average by almost any standard. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Medium pale skin. If we’re talking about physical appearance, you’re way out of my league. But when you look at me—then I do feel beautiful. And do I need to point out the absurdity of the words boring and handcuffs coming out of your mouth in the same five minutes? Aside from being almost scarily smart, you’ve got a wicked sense of humor and you’re inventive as hell in bed. What on Earth makes you think you’re boring?”
“Well, not too many people know about the handcuffs,” he admitted with a chuckle. “It doesn’t really go with the scholarly image.”
She shrugged. “The combination works for me. How many guys I’ve dated do you think can put up with me getting lost in a manuscript or history book for hours on end? Or understand that being a bit submissive in the bedroom doesn’t mean I don’t have a mind of my own?”
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I had this dream where I was dressed in emerald green – I looked pretty damn good – and I was trying to get a taxi to take me home from a wedding. Anyway, I came across motorcycles being used as taxi transport. I get on one and there is nowhere to hang on to and the guy tries to rip me off for the fare. He didn’t succeed by the way. I’m a bitch even in my dreams. What does all this mean other than I probably will buy the next emerald green dress I see?
I got an email from a writing acquaintance bemoaning the fact that no one comments on her blog and what could she do about it? These are my thoughts – if people want to comment they will, if they don’t then they won’t. Pretty simple. There is no rule that says that if you read a blog you must comment. Comments are great but I don’t expect people to write a note if they have no thoughts on what I have written. I don’t agonize if I get no responses one day and 12 the next. I tend to think if that’s all you have to worry about you are doing pretty well in life. But that’s just me.
all subjective. This is Amarinda opinion only. What bores me will fascinate someone else. To me a blog is like an online diary. It’s also a useful tool for a writer as it keeps readers aware of your books and other people’s books I put on the blog. But in saying it’s a diary – I personally don’t want to know everything you ate in a day or how many miles you drove to in order to have the cat/dog/guinea pig vaccinated or what TV shows you watched. That’s just me. I find blogs like that hard to comment on. Also, another Amarinda peeve, if you announce on a blog you’re going to give hard hitting opinion and you don’t, then why bother announcing the ‘opinion’ thing at all? What is the point of that? I love controversial blog sites – but will I always comment on them? No, because some blogs are best not to have your name attached to unless you personally feel strongly about an issue and you know the consequences of putting your two cents forward. Is that cowardly or sheer smarts? I tend to think the latter.
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