I unsubscribed from 65 sites today. Later I checked my email, and I had 25 new ones!
BLAH!
Good thing I didn’t say it was okay to give out my information!
As a librarian who teaches what to do and what not to do on the Internet, I often have the following conversation with my class:
Me: So you should never do that.
Class: Have you ever done it?
Me: No, I haven’t.
Class: Then how do you really know you shouldn’t do it?
Yes, I know I can give them very good arguments explaining how you can be sure that something is bad without trying it. For example, I know it would be very bad to be hit by a car, and it is not necessary for me to walk out onto a busy street to be sure.
Still, whenever I can safely give something a try, I do. I’ve edited Wikipedia articles, blogged, built websites, etc. But even for the sake of the students I refuse to forward forwarded emails, click on possibly bogus links, break copyright laws, plagairize, hack into someone else’s account, or give out my passwords to anyone.
But I thought, I really thought, that signing up to do online surveys would be a harmless experiment.
Wow, was I wrong! Within an hour, my email inbox was innundated with junk mail, and not only from the survey group. I got email from:
• other survey groups, just in case the first company didn’t give me enough surveys to satisfy my opinion-giving craving
• grant sites that promised money for free I could use for anything I wanted
• online colleges telling me I can get a better job if I just got a higher degree
• work from home sites in case I didn’t want to leave my home to work
• coffee companies that wanted to jump start my day, whether I left my home or not
• insurance companies who wanted to assure me that if something happened to me they could make sure my family had all the money they needed
• debt relief sites that wanted to rescue me from all those nasty credit cards
• personal products like shoes, makeup, wrinkle-relief creams
• various things that make me blush, so I choose not to write about
Talk about an efficient group. They must have a very good system set up, to be able to share my personal email with such a diverse group so quickly. They have the skill of networking down pat.
I’ll be cleaning this mess up for a while. But at least now I can truthfully say that I have first-hand experience that tells me it is unwise to give out my email to any site that I’m not 100% sure about.
And that you should not believe them when they say they won’t share your information with anyone.
1. Buy the books for yourself (apparent, I know, but sometimes it really doesn’t hurt to state the obvious. You would not believe the number of people who have asked me for a free copies of the Behold the Eye trilogy, even though I have to pay for the books just like everyone else)
2. Buy the books to give as gifts.
3. If you have ever purchased anything on Amazon.com, you can write a review. So go ahead–write one! (You could start with Braumaru) You don’t have to use your real name, the author does not need to know that you are the reviewer. (I wouldn’t, I promise!) The more reviews posted, the more popular the books seem, the more popular the books become! (People love to read what is popular, no one wants to feel left out of the know)
4. Make a list on Amazon.com that includes the books, and include other already popular books of a similar nature. You know the old saying, birds of a feather flock together!
5. Talk about the books to friends,acquaintances, and random people you meet on the street. (you might get the right person interested, and suddenly, the books are to be made into a movie. I can see it now, everyone will be talking about my trilogy. The bright lights of Hollywood, the…oh, sorry, I got a little carried away)
6. Teachers often read novels to their class. If the books are appropriate for school, like my Behold the Eye trilogy (5th grade and up), ask a teacher if he/she would read it to his/her class. Or, be still my heart, use it as a classroom novel!
7. Request the books at your library. Most public libraries welcome purchase suggestons, there is usually even a form online. (You do all have library cards, don’t you?)
8. Ask bookstores if they carry the author…they probably don’t now, but you never know, they might start.
9. If you come across a site that allows comments about books, don’t be shy! Use every opportunity to get the word out about the books. There are a lot of people out there who would probably love the books (i.e. Behold the Eye trilogy) if they only knew about them. Spread the word! Spread the word! (You might even post a link to the author’s site, which will also help.)
10. Books like the Behold the Eye trilogy are not backed by a big New York publishing budget. As a matter of fact, the small publisher who published the trilogy has an exceeding slim budget, one of those typically called shoestring. Since I want the books to do well, I have to do the marketing work myself. Alas I, like everyone else in the world who works fulltime and has a family, am very busy. So any and all support counts for a lot. If you want to help my books, it would be a very friendly gesture if you just let people know about them. Maybe we can find out if word-of-mouth advertising really works! (I struggled to come up with a really good metaphor about how knowledge of the trilogy could spread, but I somehow kept mixing growing flowers with exploding stars. It didn’t work, so I’ll just spare everyone and leave it out.)
This mornings writings (draft):
The first thought I become aware of when I regained consciousness was that I must have bumped my head on something as I entered the janitor’s closet. No matter that I had no memory of doing so and no pain, nothing else could account for the fact that I was lying on a cold hard surface with visions of flying saucers and ice cream running through my head.
I decided to keep my eyes closed for a few more seconds. The light filtering through my eyelids was blindingly bright. Or, to be perfectly honest, I supposed it would be blinding if I were foolish enough to open my eyes and let it in full force.
Which I had no intention of doing quite yet, since chances were that bright lights plus a bumped head would equal a raging headache. I hated headaches.
Gingerly I reached up and carefully ran my hand over my head to assess the damage. Encouraged by the lack of wetness I conducted another search, this time for sore spots.
No bumps. No gashes. No bruises. No blood.
But loss of consciousness, how could that be?
I’d have to think about it later. For now it was time to pick myself up, dust myself off, and head for the comforts of home.
Home. Safety, comfort, family…a soft warm bed. The perfect place for glorious sleep that I desperately need.
All I have to do is gather enough energy to open my eyes, rise from the floor, and drag myself to my car. Once I get to my car I can rest a few minutes.
No, no more thoughts of resting. I refuse to sleep in my car, on the floor of the janitor’s closet, or curled up under a bush somewhere between Denny Hall and the parking lot.
The sound of voices, a lot of voices, interrupts my internal pep talk. Instantly, adrenalin laced fear banishes the lethargy.
Were the weirdoes returning to the closet? Now, while I’m laying here vulnerable, half-conscious on the floor. I’ve got to find a place to hide.
Headache or no headache, it is time for action. My eyes fly open and I scan the closet looking for the perfect place of quick concealment.
Only, it’s not the closet I see.
Everyone who writes has one. The little ritual that a writer will follow to get into the right frame of mind to write. Don’t get me wrong, writing can occur if the routine isn’t followed, but it won’t be as efficient or satisfying.
Somehow, I’ve created an awkward ritual for myself. One that I can only follow if I have the buy-in of my family.
For me to have optimal writing time, I need to wake up in the morning, make a cup of coffee, and begin writing. The trick is, no one can talk to me.
It all began years ago, when the only time I could write was early in the morning while everyone else slept. So I got into the habit of rising early and immediately throwing myself into my task, usually before I even became fully awake.
Lately, everyone’s schedules have changed and my former routine no longer works. I’ve resorted to other methods of carving out writing time.
Take this week for example. I’m lucky enough to have this week off of work, and lucky enough that other members of my household do too. So how to write?
Thursday night, a not-to-be-named person in my house really wanted a popsicle. So much so that this person agreed to make it easy for me to write this week, if I would go to the store and buy the desired treat. You had better believe I had the car keys in my hand and was out the door in a flash.
What is a short drive to the store compared to a blissful week of writing? There is no comparison, let me tell you!
I love to write. To me, it is like going on a long walk in the fresh Spring air, with birds singing, the wind gently blowing, and the glorious sun shining. A walk like that usually leaves me invigorated and refreshed.
I love my family. They are funny, intelligent, wonderful, witty people—every single one of them. I adore spending time with them, chatting, laughing, and exchanging stories. Time spent with my family leaves me feeling loved and safe, like all must be right with the world.
So life must be perfectly grand, right? I mean, here I have too different aspects of my life that I absolutely adore, so if one isn’t available, the other must be waiting on the sidelines.
If only it were that simple, but unfortunately family and writing clash horribly. It is my own fault really, because I can only write in a quiet environment with little or no distractions. Probably because the scenes I’m writing play out in my head like a movie.
So when a member of my family enters, the movie abruptly switches off. Ideas scurry away like a mouse from a cat. Thoughts disappear like smoke in a windstorm. My ability to write melts away like ice on a hot skillet.
Well, you get the drift.
Such is the life of a writer with a family, and frankly, I wouldn’t give up any part of it!
Oh, by the way:
Viridia is now published! Look how fabulous they all look together on the Amazon page.
I can’t believe it! I simply can’t believe it! If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes…well, even seeing it I have a hard time believing.
I’m sure you wonder what I’m talking about, so I’ll tell you. My dog has learned how to cook!
Don’t believe me? Frankly, I don’t blame you. I barely believe myself. But I’ve got proof, right here, right in front of me. An entire meal, hot and ready to eat, prepared while no one but Pepper was at home! (I’ve already called all my family and checked–no one has even attempted to take the credit.)
Even while in shock I can figure out what happened. I am guilty of underestimating Pepper’s intelligence. Whether good or bad, and we have a genius dog.
It’s funny. I had noticed the intense stares I received each time I entered the kitchen to prepare a meal. I simply thought that Pepper was just exhibiting the nosiness normal for Schnoodles. And, of course, that eternal hope that a little food would fall to the floor.
Little did I know that Pepper was watching me so that she could learn to cook. Amazing! I so misjudged her intense gaze.
But honestly, can you blame me? Has anyone else heard of a dog that could cook?
Hey, what is that noise? It sounds…I think it sounds…yes, it sounds just like the Jupiterians trying not to laugh too loud. Like when they play one of their jokes on someone and….
Wait a minute! Does that mean this was another of their jokes? Pepper hasn’t learned to cook?
Sometimes life with the Jupiterians is a little too, well, unusual!
Time moves so slowly. Especially when I’m waiting for my proof to arrive.
Viridia, Viridia…when will you arrive?
I love the way students are curious about details of a teacher’s life. And, given half an opportunity, how they will try to dig out a few extra details.
As I was teaching a class this week, the subject of a person’s age came up.
One student piped up, “Mrs. Tabares, are you 26 years old?”
“No,” I responded, “that would be pretty much impossible, since I have a 23 year old daughter!”
“Oh, you have a 23 year old daughter,” chimed in another student, “are you 50?”
“No, I’m not 50.”
“You’re 27!”
“No you’re 35.”
“I think you’re 65.”
“Are you 43?”
Immediately, the entire class erupted into a multitude of guesses–a wide range of guesses.
Only a few took the time to add in order to make an appropriate guess. Just like I could not be 26 and have a 23 year old daughter, I was not likely to be 27 or 35 either.
I told the class I was somewhere in between their guesses, and that we had to get back on subject.
But in a way, their inability to guess my age was very appropriate to the subject of study, which was the difficulty of figuring out if a person really was the age they stated on the Web. I was trying to teach the students that the Internet was a foggy place, where it is very hard to see the true identity of a person. People with ill intent often give false information about themselves to gain trust.
I have no ill intent, and I in no way am trying to change my identity. Which is a good thing, since these students are as yet unable to decipher truths about a person standing right in front of them!
No worries.
No, no, no, I’m not being insensitive or uncaring! This is all planned.
You are shocked I would be a part of this dastardly deed? What are you…oh…I understand now. You are confused about the fireworks. Maybe I should explain a little.
The Space Needle is not under attack. Every year, when a new year begins, people want to make a lot of noise and celebrate the new beginning. Kind of have the old year go out and the new year come in with a bang. To to this we….
No! We do not “sacrifice a building to the great one”. You’ve got it all wrong, we are not blowing up the Space Needle, we’re just making noise!
Well, I guess we just want to make a big show, you know, just because we can.
What? No! I do not want you to help out with the fireworks! That would be scary. I think the people in charge are doing a bang up job by themselves.
Yes, I know that you could easily bring down the building, but that’s not the point. We want the building to remain unharmed, all the buildings.
Yes, I know you think we are missing out in the fun. But trust me, it is better that you let us celebrate our own way, even if you don’t understand. We Earthlings are rather odd that way.
Well, why don’t you just yell “Happy New Year”!
And a Happy New Year to you.