So, this is just a random coagulation of thoughts about price (and cost). These thoughts are not from an expert. They are from my addlepated monkey's brain. They make no conclusions. I'm just as confused as the next chimp down the line. Here goes.
Now that I'm in a new place and we have no intention of moving anywhere any time soon, I can start buying books again. (Don't tell my wife.) Further awesome: the "sitting room" downstairs will officially be a "reading room." So, books! I am no longer bound to reading in bed, where sleep pulls at me after ten pages.
You and me, we’re having a conversation. We’re standing here in the digital space, jawing away about something or other. Maybe we’re talking about writing. That’s apropos, yeah? The avatars of cars whiz by. Other blogpeople — passersby in this unreal place — hurry past. Then, out of nowhere, some clown runs up, hikes his pants down, slaps his bepimpled cheeks, and screams: “NUH-UH!” And then he runs away. That is not a productive way of joining the conversation. You, my clowning friend, are only interrupting. You are disrupting. Your... Read The Rest →
It’s been a while since I’ve launched into a political post here at Ye Olde Terryblemyndes. It’s not because I’ve turned all yellabelly on you — it’s partly because, hey, I’ve just had my head buried under This Writer’s Life, but it’s mostly because… well, hell, I just don’t know what to say anymore. When I try to think about healthcare or jobs or any of that, I feel like I’m reaching out into a fog, and instead of pulling back reasonable answers, I pull back a rabid dingo. And... Read The Rest →
J.C. Hutchins. I have full confidence I don’t need to tell you who he is, but in case you don’t know, I already told you way back when. Yesterday, The Hutch took to the Interwebs and wrote what was a genuinely stirring, moving piece about how his publisher, St. Martins, has declined to publish the continuation of Hutchins’ 7th Son trilogy. You can read that post right here. I recommend it. If only because it’s homework for the things I’m about to discuss. [EDIT: You can also read Eloquent Eddy... Read The Rest →
Some weeks back, I mentioned transmedia, blah-blah-blah, and someone asked, “Hey, something-something transmedia?” And I was all like, “Shit yes I can talk about that!” Then I probably fell asleep. Likely with a beard of vomit atop my actual beard and a squalling baby — not my own — in the other room. You’d be amazed at how often that happens to me. Damn babies. Sneaking in here at night. Drinking all my liquor. Pooping on the ceiling fan so when I turn it on — well. You see where... Read The Rest →