Media editors often penalize writers who use illustrations or photos in fiction, except, of course, in children’s books. In novels, they consider graphics support “unprofessional.”In the case of indie writers, I believe they are wrong. Here’s why.I was an editor at the Reader’s Digest for many years. We loved pictures with our stories, which were either original or condensed from established magazines. But the editors upstairs, in the condensed book department, shunned them.... continue reading
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(first; sorry for my english ;))One of my Hobbys is playing LARP (Live Action Role Play)Many people don`t know this kind of game, others think, there is only Fantasy-LARP. But there is much more ;)I prefere science-fiction and sometimes Horror-LARPs.One of my favorite things is also creating the Clothes for the Character i have to play and decorating the locations.Sometimes i get inspired to do some 3D-Artwork with the Theme of the LARP.For example: NewYear 2012 i... continue reading
As a child school trips always made me buy a kodak film with 26 exposures to load into an instamatic camera and then plan each portrait well.Sometimes the exposures had been completely been used up before we had got on the bus.The power of friendships we shared as classmates made us want to capture the coolest people laughing or making silly faces or showing off their new jacket.Using a digital camera whilst walking through London the need to get a shot perfect, so as not to waste the film,... continue reading
The doctor examined my wound. He dug and probed, and I was glad when he stopped. One would think he was kneading dough. When he saw my ‘English Poetry from Chaucer to Rossetti’, he revealed a little of himself. Eyes alight, he quoted: ‘I remember, I remember, the house where I was borne’, then switched to the last couple of lines about being ‘further away from Heaven now that he is old enough to know the height of trees’. He is fond of Omar Khayyám and said that when he feels depressed... continue reading
I am pulp faction. Tomorrow, I will be discarded, pulped or worse. Today, I’m headed west, picked up for a few coins and carried with him, this hangover morning, tucked under his business-clad arm.Journeying, he rests me on my front and lingers on my back while his head bangs and pores ooze residual alcohol from Thursday’s lash. Riffling to page three, his gaze scorches the brazen, bare-breasted beauty as mizzle darkens the day. There’s no hint of a sunshine lunch and scant chance to raise... continue reading
He is oak, and I’m mistletoe, winding his trunk, I travel his limbs, curling the extent of him. I am the spur joined to his heel; we are a worthy pair, well matched in a renewal of magic. I creep along his frame in advance of his vanishing act, a final parting, blinding white, parting white. A last shirt shrugged and fastened, the fleeting whiff of pressed clothes, wafting his leaving, trailing tome on the vibrating, exposed atmosphere of departure. I am at the window clothed in a veil of lace,... continue reading
Red fox flees in a rush of brush. Dun filly thunders pursuit, flying white socks, almost airborne, as if they do not bear the burden of the sure-seated, scarlet-clad rider.‘Horses are at their best in paintings,’ he says, misting the early morning air.Pursed lips deliver a final blow and a single, long note trails the tailcoat of the last. Pocketing the horn, he ducks for cover. Silver birch engages skull, splintering crown and an exquisite agony spirals stars.He crumples. Leaden... continue reading
Dan’s sister is blonde, but her brows and lashes are genetically dark. The children are refreshingly normal. Not too goody-good, just right, like Goldilocks’s third taste from the trio of bowls. I relax a little, tackling traditional roast rib of beef, veg, Yorkshire pudding, horseradish sauce and all the trimmings.‘Chloe’s as thin as a pin,’ says Elizabeth, offering seconds.I want to decline, leave room for the dessert that cutlery informs is on the menu, but I take another bloody,... continue reading
I’m carried by dreams to the soft down of cliff top overlooking the rolling, blue sea, and the fisherman’s boat swelling and bobbing the waves, rolling in blue. My eyes flicker open, focus on the ceiling. Music reaches me from somewhere and a cluster of pebbles patter the panes as if someone is trying to alert me. I rise, pull on my robe and walk downstairs to where the lilies grow. Their heady, seductive pollen overwhelms me. You’re standing just shy of the threshold, arms open. I yield. I... continue reading
What is your favorite book? A simply question, but it isn´t easy for me to answer it. I love reading, since childhood. I have read so many wonderful books that it is hard for me to chose one book.I have read many fiction books, however in the last two-three years I pick up non-fiction books with more interest and pleasure. I´ve been reading several splendid books about photographing, astrology, angels, nature, legends of old nations etc.Reading is wonderful and relaxing, but... continue reading
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