Jina with her Thanksgiving turkey

On this cool autumn day before Thanksgiving, I can’t help but think about how giving thanks for all the wonderful blessings in our lives is universal.

It became so real to me when the heroine in my upcoming novel, The Blonde Samurai, is in 1874 Japan celebrating Thanksgiving with her samurai family.

Check out my blog at NAUGHTY AUTHOR CHICKS and see what my heroine, Katie O’Roarke, wrote in her memoir.

Best,
Jina  

http://www.sophiebernard.book.fr/

I have had a busy few weekends with the East Austin Studio Tour.   Thanks to everyone who came out and checked out our studio!

You know what is great about the end of November…GREAT DEALS.  I’ve got a free shipping sale going on at my etsy shop for all greeting cards.  Stock up on greeting cards and shipping is on me!

Here are a few of my favorite finds today:

Let the Sun Shine In Print from slide sideways

Ship in a Bottle Wallet by Pretty Little Things

Kitsch Owl Needlepoint Belt Buckle by Needle You

Bird Notebook from Darling Clementine

Now my friends and I went to go see new moon the second part of the twilight saga and you’ll never guess…. IT’S LIKE THE BOOK! I have seen and read a few new moon reviews and that’s just weird. If you have read the book you basically read a really long review that tells you everything.

But I’ll still give it a review anyways. The book and movie are about the same but the movie has a lot more fight scene in it so you can take your boyfriend to it. I was not a fan of the book it was so boring at the beginning but man oh man did the movie kick it up a notch! This was the best movie I have seen this year and is worth checking out. Now if you have not read the first book or seen the movie that’s ok, you’ll pick up on what has happened from the movie. For the boyfriends and other guys who are going to it new moon is about romance and a vampire vegetarian but it has killer fighting scenes so check it out.

I really liked this movie so I’m giving it 4 out of 5!

Have any questions or comments leave a comment.

With my Thanksgiving holiday starting tomorrow, I am looking forward to some quality time with family.  At the same time, there resides an anxiousness inside of me because I know I will have  lot of “down-time” to work on the second half of my book.

My current book is about balancing your spirituality and has two parts.  Part I is a parable.  I have pretty much completed the basic story and it’s currently sitting around 33 pages and approximately 11,500 words.  There will be some editing that will happen once I finish the book in its entirety, but the structure of the parable is there and is solid.  The second half is commentary utilizing the parable as it’s foundation.

My hope for the holiday break is to have a significant amount of time to devote to completing (or near completing) the second half of the book.  There is a lot of work to be done, but since it’s mainly non-fiction, I believe it will go much quicker than the first half which was entirely fiction.  Either way, I am eager to get back to pounding on the keyboard for this project again.  I was just going to leave it as a parable in short story/novelette format, but the book keeps pulling me back in and telling me there is more to say.  So, I guess I have to listen.

How about other writers out there? Are you able to find time to write over the holidays? Anyone planning on utilizing this year’s holiday break to make some significant progress on your writing?

This video was produced by the talented folks at NewLeftMedia. They catch up with Sarah Palin fans standing outside of Borders Books & Music in Columbus, OH. The reporters asks them why they like Sarah Palin, how they feel about her policies, and what they think about the country under President Obama. Lets just say the interviews are very interesting….and that these fans have the Fox News soundbites down cold.

A six-year-old schoolgirl from Merseyside is celebrating the publication of her first book…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: school uniforms. The blog is also related to: school districts.

The phone in her hand buzzed. She shook out of her girl’s night, lesson learned, mentality. Paul’s name appeared under the yellow envelope on her cell phone screen – she clicked open to read what her love had to say.

I luv u. So hard. I need u babe, I wish u could just cum ovr 2nite. But tmrw will be fun, guess what ?!

Kourt felt the blood drop from face. She felt it slide down, out of her skin, onto the bed, reddening the perfect comforter, and sheets, and pillow top, and mattress. She shook it off. Quickly, with blood back in her fingers, she typed out the general reply, though she assumed what Paul’s little surprise was.

What? What!?

Within seconds, he must have typed the answer just awaiting her question – since he already set the trapped he waited for her to fall in and knew his exact move executing it with stealthy grace.

My parents r out tmrw, so its just u n me. :]

Kourt’s assumption proved correct, she snapped her phone shut after reading the text. While her mind fought with current and old feelings, not knowing what was correct. She had done it once, doing it again couldn’t hurt (especially not anymore then it did before). Plus, Paul was a lovely and even more so stunningly masculine man, and her man. She began to feel obligated to fill his need. The other half of her still attempted to fight though it lost. It felt wrong. He hurt her. She didn’t want this. Did she? Kourt shook her head not understanding anything that was going on in her own life she tossed her hands up and in doing so realized she typed out, and sent, a reply to her lovely hunk of a boyfriend.

Sounds hot. I cnt wait. I luv u. shwr time, wish u were here.

A bystander in her own life Kourt no longer knew what to feel and this fight got harder and harder as the days passed. She threw her phone onto the bed, and stood up. She shook her head, the blond hair flowing back and forth, beautiful really, if it weren’t for the pulsating headache she held, or the mask she wore. In aim for honesty, and hopefully to rid herself of the headache she felt through her whole body, Kourt made her way into the bathroom for yet another shower. She never learned, she assumed the heat and steam and water would burn or overwhelm, or drown her self doubt and grant her the will to continue, but it never did. She refused to face herself. She flushed the masked down the drain in the shower, and never looked back. Falling onto her bed into a deadly sleep – she would have preferred to not wake up.

The morning came too soon. Kourt woke up groggy, with gravity defying hair since she fell asleep while it was still wet. Luckily, she, nor anyone else, saw her while in such a state. She quickly primped herself up, making herself presentable while undergoing all of her normal morning activities except this morning at a much slower pace because it was a weekend and she felt enjoyed the more zen like nature of her actions. Plus, she had no where to be until mid afternoon.

While Kourt got ready, Tom snored loudly in his bedroom. Their parents were both downstairs, in a blend of cliché and abnormality Jeff read the paper while the maid prepared breakfast which left Andrea free to lay on the sofa in the entertainment room reading a juicy romance novel. Actually, it was the popular romance teen melodrama, though this one involved werewolves so no one noticed its poor writing or common-place themes. Andrea held little responsibility, with the maid cooking and sweeping and dusting all weekend, so other then waking the kids and helping her husband with his work she usually just sat around and read. Since breakfast was almost ready Andrea put her book down and hopped off the couch. She made her way upstairs to wake up Tom and Kourtney, getting them downstairs for breakfast. Her pace was slow and peaceful, she seemed to enjoy the free time she had. The walk up stairs didn’t take her too long though, and once she stepped of the landing, she yelled,

“Tom, Kourtney, time for breakfast!” she smiled and felt accomplished getting her lovely children ready and awake for the first day of their beautiful weekend. Once the last words left her mouth, she walked back down the stairs, relishing in the glory of her job well done.

“Gah,” Tom groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His mother’s lovely wake up call ripped Tom from his deep sleep. It wasn’t too early, and breakfast sounded appealing, but much like a dog going for a walk – theoretically the walk is the most exciting thing in the world, but putting the collar around its neck is a hellish nightmare. Tom struggled against himself as he swung his legs off his beg, stumbled into clothes, and made his way toward the stairs. On his way past Kourtney’s room he knocked on her just barely closed door. He knew she already finished her shower, was probably already dressed, and more then likely dismissed her mom. Just like his sister Tom knew a lot of the time either of their parents spoke he simply turned off his hearing and nodded along, assuming his sister did the same, but also figuring she would like breakfast.

“I’ll be out in a second, thanks Tom.” Kourtney replied from just beyond her door. She figured it was her brother since she had already heard her mom, and knew enough time had passed. She assumed her mom was back downstairs, lying on the sofa, book in hand – done with her duty for the mid-morning. Kourt pulled her skinny jeans up over her hips, pulled her Mikey Mouse screen tee on, and quickly fussed with her hair before she headed out, downstairs, for breakfast. By the time she opened her door, her brother sat at the table, resisting the urge to fall asleep so Kourt made her way down with haste.

Kourt walked into the kitchen as the maid put the plates of food on the table. Tom already sat, slowly, sleepily, sipping on his cup of orange juice, and both of her parents made their way into the room and took their places at the table. Jeff folded up the paper he held and tossed it to the floor next to him and Andrea picked up her cup of coffee and began to drink. Kourt took her seat across from her brother at the large kitchen table. The plate in front of her overflowed with scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and two perfect pieces of light-brown toast. Also, a glass of orange juice and mug of coffee sat in front of her. She reached for the sugar and creamer the maid placed on the table while setting it and Kourt drowned the poor cup of coffee in front of her. She drop scoop after scoop of sugar into the dark liquid, then, once the aftershock from the bomb dropping subsided, she filled the mug with cream. The black coffee turned white, then off white, moving into an off white gray haze no longer resembling coffee or cream but a horrible love child of the two. After stirring the cup she brought it up to her lips and took a sip – not satisfied with her attack she put the cup down – scooping more sugar into it.

“So,” Tom broke the silence of eating that blanketed the table, “Hey Kourt, do you mind taking me to Aiden’s house today?”

Kourt placed her mug back on the table, finally satisfied with the terror she created, “Uh, like, sure. I mean I am going to Paul’s this afternoon anyway so I’ll just drop you off on the way.”

Neither Kourtney nor Tom asked their parents if the plans they made were okay, but neither cared. They assumed it was their weekend and they never asked for permission – the family barely spoke, let alone act like a cohesive unit. “Um, you too seem the have quite the day ahead of you!” Andrea said between bites, inviting herself into the conversation. “Have you both finished you homework for the weekend?” Playing the part of concerned parent, Andrea took changed and asked the question she felt obligated to.

“I finished most of mine,” Tom said while his sister enjoyed a bit of her eggs.

“Oh, ya, and I am pretty much like all done too.”

“Okay, well, Jeff, do you think it’s okay if they go out?” Andrea asked her loving husband who had been to busy eating to listen to the conversation at hand. When he heard his name he looked up and grabbed his cup of juice for a drink before his debut for the morning conversation. Almost an act of building suspense he slowly gulped the juice in his mouth, seemingly pondering his response.

After swallowing Jeff said, “What?” Completely lost in his own world he required even more time to think. “Oh, going out! Well, they both said they did their work, I don’t see why not. Works for me.” Jeff replied after fully digesting the question posed to him.

“Okay kids, you heard your dad, you can go out. Make sure you are home before too long.” Andrea said, fulfilling the role of perfect parent, while also giving her husband (no matter how distracted he seemed) the same high clout she held.

“Hurray!” Both Kourtney and Tom said as they rolled their eyes, both knowing they would have gone out permission or not. Though, neither doubted they would be denied the right to flee from their lovely home.

Breakfast was finished with little more chatter between the family members. They all finished their eggs, and bacon, and toast, stood up, and left their places at the table. Once the coast was clear, and the family went their separate ways, the maid came back in and cleaned up behind everyone. She didn’t seem to mind. Well, she didn’t seem to enjoy it either, but the expression on her face – always the same static express, was a plastered smile. And she never complied, as a matter of fact, she barely made noise – let alone open her mouth to speak. The family never talked to her, and she never talked to them – though, it is hard to say who actually got the better end of that bargain.

Kourt made her way up to her bedroom, finishing the last bits of her morning ordeal so she looked presentable for Paul. Back in the bathroom, her favorite place, she fixed up her hair and put on, more, make up. Of course, after she got out of her shower she but on the first coat of make up, but she required a touch up after eating since she smeared some and the base layer needed time to set anyway. Or that’s what Kourt convinced herself. She made her self look beautiful and fancy and once she was done she sat on her bed. Her phone lay on the end table by the head of her bed, and she grabbed it to check the time, to her surprise it was already around noon. With this in mind, and not wanting to make Paul or Tom wait, she stood up from her bed and walked over to his room.

“Hey, Tommy boy, you like ready?” Kourt asked, patronizing her brother due to his age, a normal action taken between a normal girl and her abnormal younger brother.

“Ya, I have been. I am not the one who spend the last thirty minutes getting ready. I mean really, come on Kourt, I swear there are clowns that take less time getting ready for work then you take before you leave.” Tom remarked while he spun around his computer chair and walked toward the doorway where is sister stood. The pair walked out and down their stairs toward the front door. Kourt grabbed the nub, spun, and pulled the door in toward herself and her younger brother. Tom took the door, from the top corner, gripping the cold oak. and held it open for his sister while she stepped out and thanked her tiny little gentleman. He followed his sister out of the house and pulled the door shut behind him. The wind whipped by chilling Kourtney while Tom walked to her car snuggly in his large brown hoodie. “Where’s your jacket sis?” Tom asked as he made his way to the passenger side door.

When they got in, Tom saw the answer to his question. Tom took his seat while Kourtney grabbed her pink jacket from the back seat. She zipped it on before buckling her beat and nodded to her brother. “All seat, like, totally dumb of me to leave it in here. It really is getting cold out.” Tom shook his head in response and his sister pulled out of the driveway. “You have like everything right?” Again Tom shook his head in response.

“Ya, Ya thanks mom.” Tom joked with his sister. He looked around her car, running his finger across the ebony wood interior lining and the leather seats. “So, why in hell’s name are you going to Paul’s again. I still think he is a dick. Not to be blunt.” Tom peered out the window midway through his statement, “Oh wait, no, blunt is fine.”

“Eh, shut it Tommy. Like, Paul is a nice guy really, you need to give him another change, I know I am. It’s like, not that bad.” Kourt attempted to answer her younger brother’s question while she pulled onto the main road, not only fighting with other drivers but also with herself. She agreed. But still, dismissed it. Even, maybe especially, since her younger brother (with a disorder nevertheless) thought Paul was a bad guy.

“I didn’t want to bring it up with mom and dad around, since I am sure you haven’t said anything to them, and they are totally oblivious, but this seems to be an issue. I don’t know sis it just seems like he is changing you.” Still gazing out the window Tom eyed the scenery rushing by. He clasped his hands within the front pocket of his hoodie.

“We will be to Aiden’s soon, I think you should like, drop this topic Tommy.” Kourt said bobbing in and out of traffic. “Did you take your medicine this morning?” Kourt asked, at face value showing concern for her brother but in reality taking advantage of his well known weakness. Again, she just wanted to pull the strings of the conversation. Controlling the emotions and events that occurred, even for mere more, she loved the control.

“Nope.” With one word he dismissed her question and her power vanished. Tom felt anger well up inside of him, but he fought it. He knew playing into his sister’s little game was just want she wanted. He didn’t want to give her that so he controlled himself. Not to his surprise, he succeeded in such control, medicine or not. He knew his mind quite well. Sometimes, to his disadvantage.

The trees outside flew by. The bushes and shrubs followed suit and when Kourt rounded the corner into Aiden’s neighborhood the few kids that were playing outside didn’t stay in view too long. Aiden lived in a middle class family, their house looked nice: enough bedrooms, bathrooms, and some what of a yard, but nothing in comparison to the mansion Kourtney and Tom called home. Tom enjoyed Aiden’s house. To him the size acted as a benefit more then anything, the family communicated, they saw one another throughout the day, the house felt warm and “homey.” Kourtney, on the contrary, grew used to her home. The size, the massive rooms and acre large yard – too her it felt peaceful and private. She enjoyed the alone time, not seeing or dealing with any of her family members – putting up with any of their nonsense, or being told what to do.

Luckily, Kourt was not getting out at Aiden’s so she didn’t have to deal with his tiny house. Tom jumped out of the car and said goodbye to his sister. Before making his way up to Aiden’s door he walked over to Kourtney’s window. She rolled it down and Tom said “Hey sis, I’ll call you when I need a ride home, or call me when you leave Paul’s. If you need me just call Kourt.” Tom finished taking and his last comment seemed both sarcastic and caring. Talking as if he were her parent, Tom just showed his sister he cared – she understood but returned the favor in a cliché older sibling way.

She grabbed his head through the open window and ran her knuckles across his skull. “Thanks little bro.”

Film for NZ Book Council

Produced by Colenso BBDO
Animated by Andersen M Studio

in addition to writing more
i want to start reading more
in high school, i read pretty frequently
now i only do it for school
i want to get my read on so that i have a better vocabulary
and can formulate thoughts into words easier
today i picked up Hey Whipple, Squeeze This. by Luke Sullivan
it’s supposedly a really really great book to read if you’re going into creative in advertising
i’m going to start reading it today
let the reading begin!

I’ve always been a “writer”.  Not in the strict money-making sense of the word, obviously.  But I do like to write alot.  That’s why I picked up on blogging again.  And, if I look at my visitor stats for the past two months, it seems like I’ve found the subject that I can write about while getting at least some feedback.  Joomla, Open Source in general and other computer-related items seem to be doing well.

I’ve decided to use that knowledge to start on a new project. (Or, technically an old one I never got around to).    When I started working with Joomla, about two years ago, I knew literally nothing about it.  My only source of information was a book on Joomla 1.0.x.  Looking back, that book was pretty much… crap.  I ignored mostly everything in that book, and started to experiment on my own; and started to read stuff here and there on the internet.  Today, I know my way in Joomla (still far from a Joomla expert, I still look for the easiest way to do anything) , and I believe that it’s my turn to give something back to the community.

That’s why I’m planning on writing a Joomla Guide (or a series of guides, it depends on the inspiration).  It’ll be a long process, and I’m not quite certain on how I want to do things.  One part of me screams “POST IT ON YOUR BLOG”, which would make perfect sense.  The other part of me tells me to create some sort of book; which I then distribute trough my website.   I’m not sure on the payment system, either.  Making it free would be the “open source” way of working.  But I’ve got to put my time and knowledge in that book – and I’ll probably do some writing on the job.  So, a financial compensation of sorts would come in handy.  But I don’t know if my work is “money-worthy”.

So, nothing is set in stone yet.  For now, remember that I’m working on a Joomla book.  Oh, and I finished the first page.  For now.

Following the announcement that Sarah’s book: Going Rogue, An American Life, sold 300,000 copies in the first day, the Associate Press is reporting sales of the book are going quite well:

NEW YORK — Sarah Palin appears well on her way to becoming a million-selling author.

“Going Rogue” sold 700,000 copies — a number that includes pre-orders — in its first week of release, according to a publishing official close to the former Alaska governor. The official was not authorized to release the sales figure and asked not to be identified.

Palin’s memoir came out Nov. 17 with a first printing of 1.5 million copies. On Friday, publisher HarperCollins announced that the printing would be increased to 2.5 million.

Having read this incredible book, it’s easy to see why they are flying off the shelves too!

Can someone send a copy of this to our studio in Italy….please…..

Warren Berger's gave his new book Glimmer the rather lofty subtitle “How design can transform your life, and maybe even the world.” We at Core77 are certainly biased, but there's no doubt that we're occasionally guilty of the same hyperbole. What the “design will change the world” camp often ignores is that major social problems they try to solve with design are just that, social problems; issues that involve a diverse range of constituencies, largely amoral economic forces and self-interested politics. Idealistic designers can't simply push “good” design into the marketplace, but often presume that transformative design can be done at the drafting table instead of understanding that manufacturing product is only the beginning (or maybe even that a manufactured product is the problem). Consequently , after reading a multitude of “Business = Design” books, this reviewer was thrilled to read the term “wicked problem” about halfway through. In the glossary, Berger defines wicked problems as “multifaceted and complex problems whose incomplete or contradictory nature is such that each attempted solution often seems to create a new problem.” Unlike many design books, Glimmer goes out of it's way to focus not only on designing objects for human interaction, but also to designing systems and structures for human behavior.

via Book Review: Glimmer, by Warren Berger – Core77.

Vegan Ice-Cream...Yum!

Everyone’s talking about veganism—from my college roommate to talk show host Ellen DeGeneres. Alicia Silverstone even wrote a new book about her experiences as a vegan.

That’s Why We Don’t Eat Animals couldn’t have come at a better time. Author and illustrator Ruby Roth explains vegan- and vegetarianism to kids using simple text and striking artwork. Praised by Booklist as “A unique effort that is to be applauded,” this book has been discussed all over the web. If you haven’t had a chance to read That’s Why We Don’t Eat Animals, or if you’ve read it and want more, bring your children by Café Gratitude in Berkeley on December 12 for a vegan ice-cream social, reading, and book signing! Admission is FREE!

December 12, 2009, 1-3pm
Café Gratitude
www.CafeGratitude.com
1730 Shattuck Ave @ Virginia
Berkeley, CA 94709
510-725-4418

To learn more about Ruby Roth, That’s Why We Don’t Eat Animals, and the upcoming vegan ice-cream social, please visit www.WeDontEatAnimals.com.

I never thought i would get tired from sleeping late, but this is late .. so late that its almost impossible to wake up. Annie was right i am gonna be sleep deprived and at this rate pretty sooon. I was in bed 3:30 am and up again at 7:00 am, only 4 hours of sleep but i was still late . you see i wouldn’t have been up anyways at 7 if it wasnt for my dads alarm clock which woke me up but not him!. today was school day and i was already nervous. I got dressed in a blink of an eye and we were as usual waiting for my mum when i noticed that my passport wasnt with me, shit shit shit ! this always happens to me and to tell you the truth for the past couple of weeks I have been loosing things faster than the water intake rate for a plant that is transpiring in a hot summer day. Anyways turns out that muy mum had it in her bag yeah she thought it was hers, now tell me why would anyone grab somthing without making sure its his ???? my mum will probably tell you the answer.

My dad left to work and my school day was no longer a school day ( so much for all the nervousness) but my mum decided it would be better if we spoke to the school, now the thing about phones is that you never hear whats going on, on the other side, so i had to wait anxiously by her side listening to her response and praying the questions being asked were good ones. from all of what i made out it looks like the school was still worried about me missing 3 months of my semester and after along speech of why they shouldn’t worry we might just might have found our way into this, but the needed paper work and they needed it fast. We went to a net cafe where we could print scan and send an email to the school with the papers they needed and every second i spent in that net cafe  I felt even worst, the only thing that popped in  my mind was what am i doing here, yeah sure i was sending papers but what i was doing there in egypt.

I always believed that every country has its own unique smell and that once you re out of the airport you can smell it and notice the difference between it and the other country you came from. what surprised me the most was that when i got here i couldn’t smell it, the smell i always loved, the welcoming scent that would assure me that  everything will be alright was absent. you see its very important that i get to smell it because its something that runs in my blood it reminds me that this is my country and in a way I belong here, it shows me that I care to the limit that i can distinguish my country’s smell from any other but it still wasn’t there  it wasn’t until the afternoon when i finally smelled it and believe me when i say that it was the best thing that happened to me in this country so far. Because for that second i started to notice the people not like before when i used to walk and look but not watch it was like i wasn’t forming a part of this life, like i was some kind of an audience watching the scene as it develops into a play and then into a novel. I was one of those spectators that could only look but not take part of what was happening on stage. Now i am grateful because although i still hate the cars and the traffic and the noise now i cant take and form part of it, now i know i am someone who might not fit in but that will belong here because its simply where I come from… maybe today brings a new start that would help me adapting faster you never know Miss Annie Scipioni I allways right. Speaking of which, guess who is online ??????

Its weird when you think certain things would happen and you start getting attached to them hoping that they will provide you with a certain amount of happiness when your all alone. But nothing is the same, i am not the same. I think i closed the door…. talking with people who i used to dream talking to, now sounds like an insignificant  action. I don’t know what is happening and i don’t want to know. I want my friends, I want my life back unfortunately  they are all the things that i cant have. Its already my third day and I am alOne. it looks like I aM going to be like this for a long time. sentenced to lock myself in a little room and dream about a world i wished i lived in, but one I cant reach.

I DID IT!

I WROTE A NOVEL! IN 24 days and 50,000 words and, C. S. was my guardian angel this morning!

I DID IT!

That’s right, he actually came in a dream as I am at the finish of this book!  I woke up from a nap yesterday and this dream about C. S. Lewis — it had something to do with libraries and librarians and also the book F. 451! Dunno.

Writing this book released dreams about 7 times…

Seriously!

I’m sad to let the characters go, a bit, but the end of the novel has written itself — in a half dream state.

It occurs to me that there are many different messages in the book and I’m very happy about that — at the core though is love.

all right ————————- onwards to the last words to sum up the whole…

I thought I’d look at C. S. during the crafting, for luck!

back later and xxoo!

exhausted!

Heart of Clouds!

November 18, 2009
Reject me, please

By Chris Rodell, a freelance writer and author who blogs at www.EightDaysToAmish.com

I’m nostalgic for the days when I used to gauge my how hard I was working by the frequency of my rejection letters. I knew I wasn’t working hard enough unless I was getting at least one rejection a day. This made sense because if the rejections were coming with regularity it meant that my stuff was being considered elsewhere and would by the law of averages produce a positive result. These days I rarely count on getting either the rejection or the positive result. It’s a Twilight Zone existence where I spend my days yelling down a long canyon and hearing no echoes. After a fun and fruitful decade as a freelance magazine writer, I’m using the godforsaken downturn in that field to sharpen and pitch four book proposals (an upmarket satirical novel, a downmarket non-fiction humor book, a memoir and a fantasy tale about how the world would be better a place if Dick Cheney was a kindly undercover superhero). The general reaction has me thinking maybe it’s time to come up with a fifth book proposal. I spend about half my time sending out fastidious query letters to agents and publishers and the other half wondering why no one bothers to respond. The obvious answer is, of course, I’m a unqualified hack and that my ideas suck.

But there is evidence to the contrary. I’ve worked with some of the snazziest magazines in the country — and I’m talking about ones that still exist and actually lived up to their commitment to pay me. My ideas have earned flattering interest from top ranked industry people who tell me my offbeat stuff’s great, but just not quite right for them. “Just keep pitching,” they say, “You’re bound to find the right person. Good luck!” So pitch I do. I pitch the way the sweaty guys in the locomotive coal pits did when they wanted the train to make it up a really steep grade. I just keep on shoveling. But despite all the evident energy, the wheels on my locomotive just keep spinning. There is no progress. No advancement. I get a real surge of satisfaction after I’ve spent a couple of hours pouring through the top dealmakers at Publishers Marketplace until I’ve found 10 worthy targets and tailored my lively query letters to their specific interests. How can it miss? I never do it like this, but I wake up those mornings feeling like I ought to shave and put on a really nice shirt.

I’m sure two or three of the recipients will respond with hosannas about my proposals, ask to see more or — hallelujah — offer me a contract on the spot. But no one responds. Never. They don’t say yes. They don’t say no. I don’t know whether they got them and are considering them, if they rejected them outright or if they didn’t get them and are sitting there banging their heads on their desks and beseeching, “Why on earth won’t somebody send me a proposal about Dick Cheney in cape!” It’s worse than even prom time in high school when at least I knew by the hysterical laughter that I’d earned yet another rejection. Then there are one’s like this that came last month from a top editor: “Thanks for sending this! I’m going to read it tonight and get back to you tomorrow.” I still haven’t heard back. Has she been abducted? Should I call? Send flowers? Form a search party? If she has been abducted and I succeed in saving her from lost time space ship experimentation you’d think she might look favorably on my proposal — or at least respond to my query with a crisp, “No thanks.” I guess maybe I was raised differently. If someone asks me a question, I answer. I respond to all my e-mails, even ones from students or fellow freelancers who are struggling and seeking veteran advice. I tell them what I can but always include the Bob Dylan line from the 1997 song “High Water” to add necessary perspective: “Don’t reach out for me, can’t ya see I’m drowning, too?” Pity my poor wife. She sees no result and certainly no income. In weaker moments, she counsels that maybe it’s time for me to find what she calls “crap jobs,” as if my professional existence could possibly become any crappier. Bless her heart, she just doesn’t have a clue.

There are no crap jobs and it’s too late for me to pack a lunch pail and head to plumber school. I’m in it up to my neck. The only thing left for me to do is to continue to fail at a more spectacular level. I can’t quit. I have to believe I have good ideas and one of them is soon bound to bear fruit. And on that happy day there will be a grand party. There will be extravagant booze, cigars, succulent seafood and dances of mutual joy until the sun comes up and the band slams the trunks on their battered instruments and heads for home. It’ll be one of the world’s greatest parties. And, by God, you’re all invited. Just be sure to R.S.V.P. It’s only proper.

Obama signs a guest book in the Forbidden City.