General thoughts and rants about books or about the world.
Democratic Debate: I’m an Angry Donkey
I missed the debate and went searching for a recording to watch tonight. Interestingly, I ran across an article stating there was a big conflict between who the news media thought came out on top (Clinton) and public polls (Sanders). I just watched the first 2 minute spiel that each candidate gave and I can immediately see why Sanders is appealing to the citizens and why the media might not get it.
The Citizens of the United States are getting more and more angry and Bernie Sanders seems to be the only one who is angry with us.
It reminds me of a day I was in the hospital with my daughter. She was on chemotherapy and she had a clot in her brain that the doctors hadn’t found at that point. She was projectile vomiting, her eyes were bulging out of her head, and she hadn’t eaten in 10 days. I was yelling at the doctors to stop doing nothing and find out what was wrong with her. The social workers were trying to placate me and asked if they could send a massage therapist up to help me relax. I’m like, OMG, my daughter is DYYYYYIIINNGGG IN FRONT OF MY EYES!!!!!!!! AM I SUPPOSED TO BE RELAXED RIGHT NOW? HOW WOULD THAT BE NORMAL?????
No. I didn’t want a massage therapist. I didn’t want to be relaxed. I wanted my daughter fixed. And the Citizens of the United States don’t want to remain calm anymore either. We’re angry and we’re glad there is FINALLY someone who is angry with us and for us. Our middle class is losing the battle against the wealthy, our earth is threatened, our very Democracy has turned into an Oligarchy, and the time to remain calm has passed. We want our country fixed.
I, for one, thank you Bernie Sanders. Thank you for being angry with us.
I agree with the media that Hillary came across as intelligent, confident, and most articulate, but her savvy in front of the camera, her smooth polish if you will, perhaps makes people less comfortable with her. It also doesn’t help that she is, at times, condescending. She’s slick and we’re a little leery of slick.
Bernie’s emotional blustering feels more honest and trustworthy to me. Not to mention that beneath the blustering, he clearly has a keen economic mind and the strongest sense of ethics.
I write this as someone who has long looked forward to voting Hillary, our first female President, into the White House. But I’m pretty sure I just changed camps. I think I’m a Bernie girl now.
The clot was eventually found in my daughter’s brain, but it wasn’t found while I was busy getting a massage. I kept after the doctors. I stayed in their face. I kept dragging my daughter back to the emergency room. When they couldn’t find what was wrong I took her to different emergency rooms. I wouldn’t take no for an answer until someone found out what was killing my daughter. And finally they did. And after nine months of treatment for the massive clot in her brain and three years of treatment for the cancer, she is fine now, knock on wood.
My fellow Citizens of the United States, the mess of our country isn’t going to get fixed while we get our hair done, have massages, or rake our leaves until our lawn is immaculate perfection. We’ve got to be angry. We’ve got to stay on this. We can’t let it go. I hope in 8 years I can say my country is fixed as well.
Lilo
P.S. Donkey is the symbol for Democrat.
Liberal Rants
Normally I’m extremely calm. In fact, it’s almost impossible to ruffle my feathers, but occasionally something will really annoy me, like Kim Davis who clearly thinks that religious freedom means you get to force the world to act in accordance with your religious values.
Sometimes, before I can simmer down, words start spilling from my fingertips and you will find them here. These are not my proudest moments, but you might find them most entertaining.
Disparaging of Indie Authors is Dead Wrong
Author is a fancy word for storyteller and storytellers have been around since before the written word. In no time in our history as a species have we ever before claimed that storytellers can only be those of the most educated and perfect at their craft. In fact, quite the opposite is true. Stories have been carved into trees, painted on cave walls, printed on bone and bamboo, etched into clay tablets, inked onto skins, and finally written on paper. Even while all this was happening stories were still being told orally in the market, around campfires, around the dinner tables and the family hearths, and in small gatherings after church. In fact, storytellers have been so intrinsically woven into our culture we have developed a multitude of words to describe them; bards, gossips, teachers, historians, singers, preachers, writers, poets, wise men, and even liars.
It is true that until recent modern times, and even now in developing countries, only the most educated were able to write at all, let alone to write proficiently enough to produce novels. Even as publishing came into own in the early 21st century, most people in developed countries were only educated to an eighth grade level. Now almost all people in developed countries are skilled enough to write, or type as you will. Among those who are, there is an entire gambit of skill levels with both the weaving of tales and the elegant usage of grammar and punctuation.
At what point did someone decree that only those most proficient at both the weaving of a tale and the editing of their work should be allowed to tell stories in book form? Is there a new law written that I was unaware of in existence? Did the Angels come down from heaven and sing this truth into human hearts? Perhaps it is simply that some publishers and their contracted authors are upset that their bookstore and internet ranking is being cluttered by independent authors telling their own tales?
Storytellers have never been restricted to the most educated. Even my Great Grandmother with her broken English told stories worth hearing while she crocheted on her back porch. I assure you those stories were worth more than $4.99 and I would have paid that, had she asked. She wasn’t polished, but that doesn’t mean her stories didn’t have flavor and value. It doesn’t mean her stories didn’t entertain and enrich my life.
The only real problem I see with indie authors telling their stories is when a reader expects polish and doesn’t get it. They expect polish because in recent history published books have been screened, revised, and shined up to gleam like gold perfection. But if a reader is only paying 99 cents, should they really expect polish? Logic tells you that a person can’t spend thousands of dollars on editing and break even if they sell their book for only 99 cents. So, how are they to pay for editing? They can’t. So, the reader should beware of a full length novel at such a low price. However, it can be confusing for the reader, because often a well editing, full length novel is put on temporary sale for 99 cents and in that case you can expect good quality.
I see a way to solve this problem and I honestly believe it will happen. We need independent rating agencies that will rate an author’s work (Indies and Traditional Pub.) against a couple of different aspects; such as plot, character development, voice, grammar and punctuation, formatting, etc. The author would be required to submit their work to one of a number of different agencies prior to publishing and they would be responsible for the fee. If they don’t care for the rating, they could revise their work to improve it prior to publishing. The author could resubmit their book again for a new rating based on the new version. The most current rating would be displayed on the work when it is published.
In this way, the indie author would have the opportunity to share their story and the reader would understand exactly what they are getting for their money. This would also be an excellent way for the indie author to get an unbiased opinion of their work prior to the market place without being penalized, so they can decide if they are ready to publish or if another revision is necessary.
Just remember, we are all storytellers in our own way and there is room for all of us.
Lilo