Derek Haines's blog

Cabbie! Taxi Please!

My special guest today is Colette Caddle. Apart from being a well known Irish author, her other talents include drinking excessive amounts of tea and being a professional colour-coder of her larder. She also has a rather odd obsession with taxis. So read on and enjoy.

Cabbie! Taxi Please!

Taxi drivers are the same the world over; I say this from experience. There have been times when I’ve climbed into a cab in good mood to be met with frosty sullenness and, as a result, got out the other end feeling dejected. I have met pessimists with a dark and cynical opinion on almost every topic and tried, in vain, to paint the brighter side of the picture. And on the occasions I don’t want to talk because I’m down or sad or preoccupied, I have usually met the garrulous, cheerful type. I try to discourage conversation by staring out of the window or pretending to read, but the driver carries on regardless. Sometimes they manage to draw me out and I get out of the car feeling better than I did getting in.

Taxi drivers have frequently annoyed me, sometimes made me feel sad and on occasion, even scared. But many times they make laugh and they almost always made me think.

I’ll never forget the Dubliner who told me how he and his girlfriend had got ‘caught out’ at just seventeen and he’d struggled with the whole concept of becoming a father and been tempted to run. Now, twenty-three years later, his son is his best friend and, in his opinion, his children are his greatest achievement.
I met one big and very intimidating guy that boasted about how he’d dealt with difficult clients in the past. I commiserated, smiled nervously and gave him an extra-large tip.
Then there was the quiet but determined Londoner who had decided to change his life and worked gruelling hours so that he could afford to train as a pilot in the US.
The middle-aged cab driver in New York who excitedly told me about the property he was buying in Thailand, planning to relocate as soon as his pocket allowed; he made me smile.
And I still shiver at the memory of the skeletal, vacant-eyed boy who drove in a fast and reckless manner while telling me how his in-laws were trying to press him into the family business of drug-dealing. He ran out of petrol when we were still a mile from home. I helped him push his car off the road, pressed money into his hand and tottered off along the dark country lane feeling lucky to be alive.

I have met drivers who have chosen their occupation because the flexible hours allowed them to care of a child, a sick spouse or an elderly parent. I have met people who have abandoned careers in search of a more independent or less pressured lifestyle. I have met readers and writers, artists and intellects and, most of all I have met a plethora of comedians who study life and then recount their observations with style and humour.

My most recent experience of taxi drivers was on a family holiday in Spain. It hadn’t been our best day as we had gone exploring, hadn’t found what we were looking for and ended up a long way from home, feeling grumpy, hot and tired. When the taxi pulled over and I gave him our address he looked at me with incredulous delight. We had our seat belts on and he was pulling into traffic before I realised there was no air-conditioning. Could our day possibly get worse? Well, yes, as seconds later his hands-free phone rang and despite my limited pigeon Spanish, it was clear from his tone that our driver was telling someone of his good fortune in meeting some lost tourists who were either very rich, very dumb and possibly, both. But when he hung up he turned to us with a disarming smile and filled us in on the conversation. It turned out that his wife was furious as he was late for some important family occasion. When he told her, however, where he was going and how much he would earn, she was delighted and assured him that business came first and they would wait for him. His candour was refreshing and his obvious happiness, infectious. Soon the tension started to ease from my family as he told us about his home, his family, his brother’s taxi firm and his beloved wife. All the while he smiled, occasionally teasing the children and making them laugh - a feat that, given their mood when they got into the car, was nothing short of a miracle. As we neared home I asked this charismatic man if he was a full-time taxi driver.
‘No, no,’ he told us, ‘during the day I work as a clown, visiting children in hospitals and hospices.’

Taxi drivers are the same the world over; I say this from experience. Some are happy, some are sad; some are interesting and some boring; some are angry and pessimistic while others are determined to look on the brighter side of life. And, happily there are those who, like my Spanish friend, make the world a brighter and better place.


Find out more about Colette:

Colette’s Website
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The Endless War

My very special guest blogger today is Jack Eason. Author of Onet’s Tale. As fellow antipodeans lost in Europe, we share a special out of place experience. So sit back, read and enjoy a little taste of Jack’s wonderful writing.



The Endless War

No one knew the reason why the ritualistic war had begun. Or indeed, who started it, and even more to the point, why it continued. The endless winter months were spent in brutal and bloody battles between the people of Farren and the Tribes of the River in the wide plains of the valley. During the spring, and summer, right through until the harvest was gathered in the late autumn, peace reigned across the land, and then the completely crazy cycle of destruction began once more.
***
Idrell stood on the smooth ice covered rock, protected from the icy winter winds by his warm bearskin cloak, shielding his eyes with his hand from the reflected sunlight coming from the blanket of virgin snow that covered the wide plain. In the distance, he could see the Tribes of the River as they formed up in their straggling ranks, their weapons glinting in the sunlight. He turned to his companion.
“Gar, why do we do this, what purpose does it serve except to keep our numbers down?” he wondered. Gar looked at Idrell with a puzzled expression on his face, “because the Tribes of the River are our enemy,” Gar replied, “what other reason do you need Idrell?”
Idrell shook his head in disbelief at Gar’s reply as he climbed down from the icy rock and mounted his horse. As the two friends rode back to the head of the Farren army, Idrell’s mind filled with endless questions.
***
Idrell and Gar were lifetime friends. Idrell’s father Briam was the king of Farren, and Gar’s father Drevi was his lieutenant. Both men were now too old to participate in the ritualistic war, so their sons acted as leader and lieutenant in the endless bloody winter battles, while the two old friends remained in the old castle keeping warm by the roaring fire in the great stone hall.
***
Idrell drew his sword from its sheath beneath the warm folds of his cloak and reluctantly signalled the advance, leading the way with his horse slowly trudging through the knee-deep snow. Gar rode along and through the ranks of old and young men and boys, eagerly stirring them forward with the flat of his sword. Idrell wasn’t the only one who often wondered about the war, half of his army felt the same way!
As both sides closed the distance between them, they broke ranks to form smaller fighting units. Soon the sounds of sword, battleaxe, and war hammer striking their deadly blows filled the air. Injured men on both sides were trampled by their comrades as the battle reached its bloody climax.
Both the Farren army and the Tribes of the River were locked in the deadly ritualistic battle, neither side giving an inch in the struggle to dominate the blood soaked snow covered battlefield.
***
Idrell looked across the heads of his troops to where his opposite number, Riana, Queen of the Tribes of the River, sat on her horse. They looked at each other for a moment and then both bowed their heads and saluted each other with their swords. Battle horns blasted the air and both sides withdrew to their own lines to lick their wounds.
Hundreds of men and boys lay mortally wounded or dead in a tangled bloody heap. Their warm breath, mixed with the warmth given off by their sweat-covered bodies formed a low misty cloud that gently spiralled into the crisp air of the cloudless sunny winter’s day.
***
Briam looked up and stared at his old friend Drevi. The cold winter winds howled and made the old stone building creak and groan. Both men nodded in agreement.
“Idrell, Gar, wake up boys, it’s time for bed,” Briam said, as the two men looked at their young sons lying at their feet on the warm bearskin rug in front of the roaring fire.
“Who won father?” Idrell asked, as he yawned.
“Neither of you son, it was a draw,” he said, as he picked up the chessboard and put away the pieces...

You can contact Jack by Email
Jack Eason’s Blog
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A Time of Pain

My guest blogger today is Valerie Brooks. Better know to some as Valiant Val. Her writing style has impressed me ever since we crossed each other’s path by some weird but fortunate flash of fate for me. So please read on and ‘feel’ the wonderful hard edge in Valerie’s words.

A Time of Pain

“I am here,” I whisper breathlessly, yearning for you to appear to me. Our secret place, where we used to always meet, where I find myself alone again. The night is still, the air cool against my skin. I shiver, naked and cold. If only I could feel your warmth again, to feel your arms encompass me, pulling me into the safest place I know. Where have you gone, my love? My soul is empty without you, my life a void of bleak existence. Are you punishing me? Oh, what have I done for you to leave me alone and afraid.

I fall to my knees, feeling the rocky surface breaking the flesh on my knees. Yet the only pain I feel is the absence of you. I beg of you, my love, return to me! A gust of wind beats against me, bringing with it a steady chilling rain. My tears mingle with the falling drops, falling over my cheeks, icy freezing slivers left as tracks. “I’m so sorry,” I barely manage as my grief consumes me and I fall on the rocks beneath me. I lie frozen, staring into the dark chasm in front of me, I am empty, I am dead without you. I am frozen. My eyes close against the pain, I am consumed by darkness.

“I am here.”

Could it be?

“I am here, my love.” Your mimicked words pierce my mind as I feel myself being lifted from my frozen sorrow. I surrender to your warmth, your arms holding me against your chest. I press my ear against you, needing to hear your heartbeat. I am calmed. The warmth of you begins to melt away the icy cold. I surrender. I am yours. Please take me with you, I plead in my mind.

Your lips press against mine as you hold me closer. I reach up to your face, I need to feel you. “Look at me,” you demand, but I cannot. I cannot open my eyes. I shake my head no, and feel the darkness reaching out to me from my heart. I want to stay here with you, my love, forever.

You walk, carrying me for what seems like forever. I will not complain, forever, with you is where I want to be. Feeling you next to me, near me, in me. I sleep, comforted by you. Upon waking I feel I am on a soft pile of pillows, I sense you are in the room with me, but I will not open my eyes. You come to me, pressing your body against mine, I am consumed. I can see the emerald blaze of your eyes in my mind as I feel you press your face into my neck, your hands exploring my body. It’s ecstasy, you against me. I wonder if you feel it too? The weight of you pressing down on me arouses my very essence, the stubble of growth on your chin raking across my skin only serves as an aphrodisiac, rocking me to my core. “I love you,” I moan, feeling the heat of your breath against the side of my face.

You pin my arms above me with one of yours, asserting the control you have over me. I will always surrender to you. My love, the man I trust. “Look..at..me,” you command in a whisper against my ear. I slowly open my eyes, tears begin falling, I am unable to stop them. Again, you are gone. Again, the emptiness consumes me as I roll over in bed staring out the window as the sun begins its trudging journey across the sky. Another day I have to survive without you, my love. Come back to me tonight, oh please return to me.


Find more of Valerie’s writing on her blog or follower her on Twitter


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Taking Submissions - If You Dare

As some of you may know, I am currently writing a new book, February the Fifth. This means that I have less time to devote to some of my other favourite projects, as my head is currently elsewhere, out there and possibly lost in space.

In particular, I would like to keep the quality of posts on my Vandal Blog up to its very uniquely high standard. This standard of course is defined as being grammatically pedantic, lexically inventive, prolifically punctuated and focusing solely and precisely on the topics of those famous words of Douglas Adams, ‘The life, universe and everything’.

So I am throwing my blog doors open to writers who may like a little extra exposure or would like to masochistically suffer some vandalistic embarrassment, to feature as guest bloggers. If you think you fit the bill, I would love to hear from you, so go ahead and hit the ‘Contact Derek Button’ on the right and let’s see what happens.

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Too Many Writers On Twitter

It is quite clear that the 140 character social networking site Twitter has been swamped with squatting writers. Paranormal, vampire, romance, erotica, scifi, detective, aspiring and of course self-help and auto-biographical, just to name a few of the genres of delinquent lay about scribblers taking up valuable Twitter space at the expense of people with more productive pursuits.

In trying to expand my mind, and of course my reading demographic, I tried with little success to weed out more constructive people to follow such as butchers, motor mechanics and insurance agents. I did come across a few crocheters and knitters, but fell short on dry cleaners and cabinet makers.

While doctors of all types of self proclaimed fame were in abundance, nurses, theatre assistants and orderlies came up as a blank. Bankers seem to be totally avoiding Twitter as well as dentists and plumbers. A few fast food outlets but very few chefs.

Perhaps it is time Twitter started putting limits on certain types of habitually creative and arty Twitter users and promoting its valuable service to the more industrious and useful professions. Maybe advertising on Linkedin might attract more energetic and industrious types who could bring their acumen to the service.

Some real world tweets about real things that are happening in their daily lives. The number of insurance policies sold in a day, tales of unblocked kitchen sinks, successful varicose vein operations and how to rotate the tyres on you car for maximum mileage. Useful stuff.

As any of you familiar with the Douglas Adams will know, Twitter is in danger of resembling the famous expedition to Earth 2 where progress was very slow after their arrival due the indecision about what colour fire should be before it was introduced to the market.

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The Sequel Temptation

I am in the middle of a dilemma at present. It is this. Do I write a Milo Moon sequel or not?

On one hand I know that I myself enjoy books that are in a series or a sequel or two. Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus, the Straun family saga from James Clavell and of course Douglas Adam’s famous five part trilogy of Hitchhiker stories are great enjoyable examples.

But then again I have a sense that some stories are best left to stand by themselves. 1984, Brave New World and Atlas Shrugged screamed out to be left alone and not regurgitated in a new form.

There are also the over exploited themes such as Rocky movies which became only worse and worse as each sequel was released. Even one of my favourite movies, Star Wars, lost its shine with each new movie as did The Blues Brothers sequel.

Maybe I am on the wrong track. Perhaps it is just movie sequels that have the potential to be stinkers where books have a seemingly better chance of maintaining the quality in sequels.

Or perhaps deep down I have had my fill of Milo Moon and would love to have an excuse to write a cooking book with delicious pictures.

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The Indie Hypocrites

We all know that the book publishing industry is in turmoil at present. Major publishers are confronted with serious challenges to their market dominance and it is clear they are still undecided as how to handle the growing e-book market.

At the same time, the rapid growth in self-publishing or ‘indie’ authoring has meant that a book buyer is now not guaranteed a quality product just because a book is ‘published’ per se. Thank goodness for the advent of preview reading in this respect. In the end though, is it that a good book in either form will always sell? Far from it. As with any product, it is marketing that sells, not talent.

As far as marketing goes, there is still a dominant advantage for major publishers as they dominate physical street front book stores. Very, very few book stores stock POD (print on demand) books. They can order books for customers, but who wants to wait? So ‘indies’ have had to go it alone promoting their books via online book stores. If you are an author, or involved in publishing you know all this.

The question I would like to pose is this. What books do ‘indie’ authors buy?

While my anecdotal evidence is just that, anecdotal, I have been looking at what ‘indie’ authors say about the books they buy and read, and how they go about marketing their own books. Social media is a great resource for this. In the last few months, I have come to some unpleasant conclusions.

(1) ‘Indie’ authors always think their own book is just fantastic. Naturally. And want people to buy it. Of course. But at the same time have no instinct to support fellow authors by buying another author’s ‘indie’ book. Dan Brown, Stephen King and MacMillan publishing are still their preferred book purchases.

(2) As far as marketing goes, ‘Check out my book on Bookbuzzr’, or ‘My book preview was read 2 times yesterday‘ sent by spam like automated tweets is about as far as many go in promoting their hard work.

This is in no way a negative reflection on Bookbuzzr, Smashwords and like sites as they provide excellent free tools for authors to promote themselves. It is simply that authors seem to be generally quite hopeless at using these tools or reading the instructions. (I would however like these book promotion sites to change their default tweeting services to eliminate this spam like material as it has a very negative impact.)

If you need proof, go to http://search.twitter.com/ and type in the phrase ‘Check out my book’. You will see what I mean about hopeless and repetitive spam like marketing.

(3) Any stigma associated with POD books is for others and hypocritically not associated with an ‘indie’ author’s own book. This is an odd point, because I don’t see that readers see a stigma attached to a book on Amazon or Barnes & Noble that has the publisher listed as CresteSpace or Lulu. The stigma is perhaps perpetuated by authors with a lack of self belief in self-publishing.

(4) Self publishing could become a self fulfilling prophecy of doom if self interest, hypocrisy, and spam like marketing stay as the norm. The real question is this.

Do ‘indie’ authors yet believe in their own market, and will they take a positive and responsible attitude to marketing and promoting the self-publishing industry as a whole?



As an addendum to this post, I asked Bookbuzzr for their reaction to my comments above. They were kind enough to make the following comments:


Thank you so much for giving us a heads-up about your upcoming article.

While it mildly criticizes the book-tweeting service built into BookBuzzr, overall, it does provide positive coverage for BookBuzzr. Thank you for this.

I do want to clarify just two points:

1. The Book Tweeting service is intended to provide an additional layer of promotion for authors on twitter that are already providing significant value to their followers. In other words, if you are an author on Twitter and are already engaging in a conversation with others on Twitter, and if the Book Tweeting service sends a tweet once every few days, then it's likely to not be considered spam. However, if an author does nothing else but set up their book-tweeting service to send out tweets, then that author will be having a serious problem and will lose followers.

2. Also, the book tweeting service is something that can be turned on or off by authors. In fact there are three separate settings inside the Book Tweeting service of BookBuzzr from which the author can choose. Most technology (such as email auto-responders, mass SMS sending services, fax, cellphones, Facebook etc.) can be used for good or can be misused. Many of our authors appear to be using the service correctly (in effect, the vast majority of them send out a number of informative or entertaining tweets interspersed with automated tweets from BookBuzzr.) A few others need to be educated about how to use twitter in general and the BookBuzzr Book Tweeting service in particular. We will spend some time in creating guidelines to educate authors and also think about how we can spam-proof the technology.

Again, we appreciate you involving us in this article.

Ranga
Author Success Manager
www.BookBuzzr.com
World's # 1 Free, Online Book-Marketing Technology for Authors




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An Independent Handicap

While much has been written about independent book publishing and online retailing, one factor remains as an enormous handicap for self-publishing authors. It is cost of postage and shipping of books.

As with all things internet, an author’s potential market is international. Online retailers are useful in this regard, but what of an author’s own marketing and delivery? As an individual author it is not possible to obtain the competitive shipping rates of volume suppliers such as the major publishers. So authors spend a lot of time at the post office. Shelling out a lot of money.

No matter where you live, self-publishing services are based in the US predominantly. Therefore the first cost for an author is the shipment of new books for his or her own distribution. I live in Switzerland and in my case the shipping cost per book is DOUBLE my wholesale price for a book. (And yes, this is for a bulk order of books.) Then, if I want to send on a copy myself, I have another postage fee of at least DOUBLE the original book price. (Totally forget about hard cover in this example as the postage rates for heavier items are astronomical.)

As books transit the world eating fossil fuels in the process just maybe there is a valid reason for adopting e-books as an alternative. Even if they don't feel and smell the same.


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Why Self Publish

The book publishing industry has been turned on its head in recent years with the advent of easily accessible and economical choices which enables authors to self publish their works. Added to this has been the rapid increase in the popularity of e-books.

This is not to say that self publishing is the easy path to fame and fortune, as there are many hurdles, obstacles and traps that await the inexperienced. However, as an author it does open up an avenue that was unavailable a few years ago. For me, I knew I had three choices when I wanted to publish my first book.

I could submit my pitch and manuscript to any number of literary agents and publishers and hope that one may just possibly be interested enough to contact me. As any writer knows, this route needs a thick skin as rejections are frequent, and being totally ignored is even more frequent. Then, if you are successful in finding a publisher, your works are then fully controlled by them.

The second route available was vanity publishing. This is where you as an author pay for the publishing of your work, and of course accept the financial risks involved. All marketing and distribution is your responsibility as well, so it requires a substantial financial outlay.

Then lastly was self publishing. Commonly called POD (Print on demand) now. I was hesitant at first as I have many years experience in the printing industry and POD always had a quality downside. But in recent years technology has improved to the point where it is almost impossible to tell the difference between an offset printed or POD produced book.

In the end I chose self publishing because firstly it offered a quality product at a very reasonable per unit cost and did not require a large financial outlay up front. Secondly because of the distribution channels available, including e-book delivery. And thirdly because I retain my independence and control over my work. The down side is that I am responsible for all editing, proofing, design and marketing of my books.

Every author will make different choices, but at least now there are choices and this can only be good writers.

The one issue of concern on the horizon though is one of price. Are we going to see a repetition of what happened to the music industry? Free e-books are making their way into the mainstream market now via large publishers wishing to gain a foothold in the e-book market. While this is legitimate, I worry about copying and sharing of e-books, which we all know affected the music industry very badly.

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