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Using various free help available on the Internet, I’ve been teaching myself ‘Flash 8′. A far cry from merely a cartoonist’s tool to poke fun at political figures, thousands of companies and individuals use this program as part of a greater advertising plan. Among other things, I’ve seen–over the last two years–that Flash is being used more and more for making mini promotional videos to announce independently published books & film, or previously unknown products. You Tube is being utilized by said artists, writers and entrepreneurs verses hiring expensive advertising firms… and it’s working.
In the same school of thought, our little company put together a promotional video for our bestseller, ‘Draw Me a Picture’; it’s a 45-second ’short’, set to part of Mendelssohn’s Symphony #4. As fun as the program can be, using Flash presented a few difficulties: not only do the various facets of instruction require one to ’slog through’ the minute, repetitive steps, but one must possess the mind of a film director as well. i found my self asking “What do I really want to say?” to myself several times; invariably this questions would result in erasing frames and starting over. Around eleven at night I showed the finished product to the Editor, my husband and got a thumbs-up. He indicated that I’d hit my audience and that it resembled one of those movie previews for a “chick-flick”. I was elated. It’s not professional at all,but for complete amateurs the short seemed pretty good.
We put it up on You Tube this morning. A rather exciting surprise awaited us as we did so; You Tube has now connected with Twitter and Facebook to immediately let your entire list of friends/contacts know that you’ve uploaded a new video, without having to log in to those programs and update them.
Feel free to take a look at the video and let me know what you think, for I appreciate the views posted, not only on a literary plateau but a world-wide one as well:
Click Here To See The Video on You Tube
Thank you,
MG
(A grown-up book review… call it a literature moment for brevity, thought and a bit of relaxation in the day. Enjoy.)
A great book… written by born storyteller Robert Louis Stevenson. It acquaints readers even in modern times of a few facets of the human condition… of once-good hearts swayed by greed and power, eventually trying to outwit nobler folks of higher character to no avail.
The book was originally titled: “The Sea Cook: A Story for Boys”; it is regarded one of the finer examples of a young man’s ‘coming of age’ story, representing the virtues of noble-minded morality and an frank appreciation for justice. Unlike some books of this era of writing, this tome contains not only a pit of tragedy, but avoids the trap of the slowly worsening march to destruction… instead providing a realistic way for the characters to climb out, and so as better people. The beginning of the book was written in the frigid Scottish highlands, and once can almost feel the crisp, cutting wind and hear the banging shutters, the waves of the tide and the call of sea birds. It is all so simply told, in easily spoken prose… as if Stevenson is right there, sitting opposite you by the fire, smoking and regaling all within earshot of the tale in full.
The story begins with a fatherless boy, Jim Hawkins, a brave and hard-working young lad whose only concern is to care for his mother; he dreams of going to sea to ‘make his fortune’ when he comes of age. His mother, still mourning the loss of her husband, tries valiantly to keep her small family afloat by running the Inn, the Admiral Benbow, and does so fairly well despite her dwindling finances. They’ve taken in a boarder, a sea-faring wanderer of sorts ostentatiously named ‘Billy Bones’; he’s a drunkard with numerous pirate tales, a bad temper and ailing health. Between pints he roars and laughs, spins yarns and fills young Jim’s ears with tales of his former captain, the notoriously cruel ‘Cap’n Flint’. Despite the outward bravado, Bones harbors a secret fear and pays Jim to keep an eye out for a blind beggar asking too many questions. Jim goes about his chores, not suspecting the man’s fears have any credence… but they do. *ominous music*
Bones is in actually telling the truth in his sea-tales, well partially… he was indeed a mate on Flint’s crew, When Flint ‘expired’ the crew divvied up the unburied treasure and went their separate ways; the first mate a one-legged shifty-minded scalawag named Long John Silver took his share and opened up an Inn in Bristol. Old Pew, a once formidable pirate that had his eyes put out by Flint squandered his money and was forced to beg. Unbeknownst to them, Flint had made treasure map that led the way to the larger portion of the treasure, which Flint had buried years before his death; after it was buried far inland on an uninhabited island, Flint then killed the men six men who’d carried it there, returning to his ship alone. (This treacherous action sealed Flint’s fate as being both feared and loathed by his men for bringing a curse on them.) Ben Gunn, another member of the crew, tried to find the fabled buried treasure after Flint’s death but failed, and was subsequently marooned on the island in question by the rest of the crew.
Billy Bones found and stole the map, before his crewmates could, and high-tailed-it to the cold shores of his native land, coming at last to roost at the out-of-the-way Benbow. Flint’s old crew figured out whodunit and tracked Bones to England. They are lead by Old Pew, a once formidable pirate trusted by Flint; he (not surprisingly) wants the treasure for himself and is a bit irked at Bones for taking the map. The whole ‘no honor among thieves’ bit comes to mind several times as one reads on. Bones flings about Flint’s name a bit too much during his drunken tale-spinning bouts and soon word reached Old pew and the other crewmates. Pew appears before Jim and holds his arm in a vice-like grip, demanding to be taken before Billy Bones. The tough old salt in question pales with fear before the spindly blind beggar and even more so as Pew hurls a bit of paper at Bones, marked with one large spot of black ink. After making a hasty exit the beggar lurches off to plan the nights ‘bit o justice’ on Billy Bones and the Inn.
Bones collapses in a fit of terror (and perhaps bourbon) and is shuffled into bed by the innkeeper and her son. Being a bright lad, Jim Hawkins senses something is amiss and enlists the help of the good doctor Livesey and Squire John Trelawny. These are ideal allies, for not only medical help but also being experienced marksmen, not to mention fine, upstanding citizens. The Doctor examines Bones to a point, and a slight comedic moment ensues with the good doctor lightly berating the salty old pirate for not living a more healthy existence. Ironic inferences are one of the perks of the medical profession, methinks.
In the dead of night Jim takes his mother to safety to the squire’s home, though not before checking on Billy Bones; the man is in the last stages of a heart attack brought on by (take a wild guess) heavy drinking and the nasty shock of earlier. In between gasps he informs the concerned Jim what the near-invaders are after, Flint’s map; he tells the boy to take it before fading away into oblivion, his pistols by his side. A few minutes later what’s left of Flint’s crew descends upon the Benbow, at last finding the expired Bones. After clucking a bit disappointedly for being cheated of giving the death-blow, they search around for the map. Not finding it, Pew shrilly alerts them that it must have been ‘the boy whut tookit’. By this time the Squire and Doctor have rounded up a sizable posse of concerned citizens (thank goodness for gun-toting militia men) and descend upon the Inn in whipped up carriages; in the melee that follows Old Pew is run over in front of the Inn and most (but not all) of the pirates are either shot or arrested; in all fairness, they were shooting at the newcomers and most had warrants on their heads.
From there things roll along at a breakneck pace: Jim Hawkins shows the map to the squire an doctor whom live up to all expectations and decide to give him an equal share and that he should come along on the trip of a lifetime. They hire a boat, a captain and unfortunately the good planning ends there… the for crew hiring is done rather sloppily for such a high-stakes mission, where Long John Silver gets wind of the mission and managed to get hired on as the ships cook, inveigling in as many of his own pirate buddies on the crew as possible. As one can foresee a mutiny eventually happened, though not until the island has been found.
Silver is the quintessential pirate leader, though with a few quirks that seem out of place; he skulks and swaggers, is quiet and brazen… and being a half-educated man he spouts poetry and literature quotes from time to time, swinging from cruel dictator to benevolent peacemaker. In one scene kills several men, while in the next pales at the thought of tearing a page from the Bible. The forgotten
Ben Gunn comes back into play, the man marooned on the island all those yeas ago… he is delightfully insane in a mild way and did in fact eventually locate the treasure; he dug it up and moved it, uncannily knowing that his mates would one day run out of money and come back looking for it. He gleefully toys with his former mates as they scour the island looking for the fabled gold, all the while playing on their superstitious fears of ghosts and curses. Jim befriends the straggly Gunn and with his help the remainder of the good, loyal crew retakes the ship, stows the treasure and sails off with most of the pirates marooned on the island themselves. I do love an ironic ending. For some reason they feel it is necessary to bring Silver with them, despite the fact that most readers agree he should have been left on the island. He gets loose somehow from the brig and makes off in the long boat with a box of treasure, but even that does not work out as the man planned.
Every writer in any genre should read this book as it is filled with all the nuances of the simple, effective artistry of the pen. Stevenson not only proved himself an able storyteller here, but in all his other books as well; to his credit, he made each of them unique a varied despite their similar themes and lessons. And, which of us has not wanted as youngsters to find a buried treasure?
What a fantastic tool for new authors.
PDF is fast becoming last year’s news; our customer have hinted heavily that they want a better formatted system for their PDAs as PDF is just too wide and cumbersome for viewing. Since most folks are switching from average cell phone to PDA, we decided to go hunting for an eBook service/software that could format our books into PDA compatible files.
We found MobiPocket… a French-based company that had the foresight to be new/unpublished author friendly not only in categorization but in their software. Its free to download, fairly straight-forward to use and they provide their customers with free reader software that is highly customizable.
As a result, they have thousands of quality, single-format eBooks on their site (mobipocket.com); I was so impressed with the quality of the cover graphics presented that I re-did a few of our just to put them up alongside and not look too shabby. They do take a percentage of the book’s sale revenue, so figure that into your price when you are configuring your upload.
How it works: if you use Word it will be easier. You download their publisher free software and upload your Word file. It converts your book into a Word html file which you can edit a little in Word as well (to space out your chapters. It tends to lump them together a little.) The wizard then walks you through uploading your cover, tweaking the settings, compression and encryption. You also get the option of putting in a synopsis or free chapter, along with any reviews you want to include. Then you set up a publishers account with user name (still free), upload and activate your books individually. Your books show up on their site within seconds.
Here are some of our book listings: (We’ll have all seven up by Sunday.)
http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=125156
http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=125165
http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=125162
http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=125182
All in all we give this site two thumbs up, considering the small percentage taken, the broad category ability, the fairly equal advertising and that it connects to your PayPal account, for free. Good luck writers. May you reach all available PDAs worldwide.
Meredith Greene
Our house is quiet this evening; though it is often so, it has been unusually still at night this whole week. My oldest daughter, having found that Pride and Prejudice was a far better story in book form than any film version could possibly be, is sitting on the futon with her nose inside the final pages, her eyes moving with great rapidity. Faced with the rather unexpected discovery that reading can be fun, my son is on the rug with his school readers in a pile before him; every once in awhile he nods to himself, his little eyebrows in a knot of concentration. Behind him my husband is seated on his large chair, a newspaper open to the business section; the two littlest girls are asleep in their respective corners, one with her face plastered on a picture book page. I sit on my writing couch, with a stack of C. S. Forrester’s tomes by my elbow, looking up every once in awhile to admire the serenity; it floats about the room like drifts of autumn leaves on a perfumed zephyr.
From the moment I began writing it has been my firm belief that in order to write a good book, one must read a wide selection of books before, during and after any particular project. The Editor and I are currently halfway through the second novel in the ‘America’ series, weaving a story about 1900s immigrant families using our own ancestors’ tales as an example.
Besides Forrester, on the table by my couch Shakespeare’s ‘Henry the Fifth’ is in the stack… to add a pinch of drama, political villainy and poetic speech. Jane Austen’s ‘Persuasion ‘also sits nearby for not only romance-tinges notions but speech sparkly with wit. Burroughs leans against Dumas on the table to hopefully impart some fine storytelling with edgy throes of action intermixed. The War of the Worlds sits in the back, silently reminding me with each glance that a writer cannot ignore tragedy, whether real or imagined.
How good it is to have a collection of authors at hand, readily available for reach and reading, for perusal and the occasional gleaning of ideas, along with slightly nagging criticisms flowing as a perpetual undercurrent; these remind me quietly, persistently, that the words a writer threads together can always be improved. As I read the famous passages I find myself admitting how inferior my novels are in comparison. Being humbled is healthy, however; it makes me want to click open the laptop and type furiously away, re-working my old material until it reaches another, higher level.
In an age of talking heads constantly speaking phrases like ‘self-assurance’ and ‘self-confidence’, it feels almost refreshing to read silent admonitions from authors long gone, to compare one’s work to theirs and find it wanting more attentions than previously supposed. In the back of my mind, I cannot help but wonder if these same writers did as I am doing, comparing themselves to the ancient masters of the pen, to poets and saga speakers whom could wind the word about the ear and feed the soul, all seemingly without effort. Did their admiration for aulde accomplishments spur them onward towards greatness? Indubitably, for here I am enjoying the fruit of their fevered, dedicated labors. Once again the book immersion has performed that which I hoped it would, for inspiration flows in like a tide… slow, steady and almost blissfully overwhelming.
Meredith Greene
In the first few weeks of 2007, I had an epiphany; to give credit where it is due, my husband started it, but it blossomed into a full-blown realization some weeks later.
We were surfing the Web and my husband commented on the amount of romance novels present on the popular book-selling websites. I have never read a novel (of the type we saw splattered everywhere on the screen ) and we spent a good deal of time laughing at the similar covers: some lady in an amazingly revealing dress/shirt/robe/what-have-you with the first button at her navel, apparently fainting away into the arms of a burly rouge/misunderstood hero with breeze-blown hair; the hero on the cover always appears to be crestfallen that his interest has been rendered dysfunctional.
After our amusement had worn off, my husband turned to me and said:
“I bet you could write a good romance novel… you know, without all that fantasy crap in it.”
That night I had an incredible urge to read Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorite books. About halfway through those hallowed pages, I realized what I was reading. Of course it is a romance novel, I knew that. However, Jane Austen showed the world that one can write an excellent romance novel but one with class, taste and intelligence.
I have never read a romantic story better than her works. Once, as a punishment, my teacher brought in a romance novel from the store and read the first chapter aloud. We were studying great literature fo England at the time and it was truly an awful, yet humorous experience. I simply could not believe writing could be so shallow and hold nothing rooted in reality: female pirates running about with complete freedom, demanding modern-type respect and rights from almost animal-like barbarians, woman swordsmen winning sword fights and going to battle, all the while their hair perfect and Chanel-scented. I merely point out how it appeared to me; then again, I was one of those girls whom in high school sat in the library ensconced in C. S. Forrester or E. R. Burroughs while my more ‘modern’ classmates were grouped around the well-worn Sweet ’landmark’ High display.
Inspired by Jane Austen and with the never-fading encouragement of my husband and content editor, I leaped into the fray, writing furiously; however I bore in mind that one golden rule of writing: write what you know.
No pirates, nor swordsmen, nor buxom women cavorted over my pages; just a simple love story with a reality check: a man and woman meeting as if designed to, going through funny life-situations and some mild arguments and getting married. In the sentences I so slaved over were woven my own treasured memories, moments of laughter and the witty banter of long loved conversations. I would read the chapters aloud to my husband and he would comment on what sounded good, or if it seemed too far-fetched. He even introduced a beloved character into my story and wrote along with me most of the time. Not only did the book soar past my expectations of merely producing a more ’shallow’ novel to sell but I had a great time writing it. It was not a solitary nor lonely endeavor in the least.
After getting some independent reviews, we put part of the book online on a fiction ‘forum’ of sorts, just to get some unbiased opinions. I for one did not expect many people to like it. 384 positive, adoring reviews later, I was thinking along different lines. They demanded to read the whole thing and also demanded a sequel. Dazed by the response we sent the book off to the US Copyright office and began to send out queries to various literary agents and publishers, like most authors do; the responses were typically elitist and almost macabre in nature. One lady even went so far as to suggest putting more ’sex’ into it. I responded ‘as if there isn’t a glut of that around’. Really…
Undaunted, we made a website and put the book online with a few others, with the first three chapters free hooking ti up with PayPal (a wonderful invention) and waited to see what happened. Within the first week (on an unknown site), twelve people bought the book and sent back rave reviews. On the fifth days afer launch, Capital One sent the website a credit card; we laughed over it before ripping up the invite. Online books are a great business, being the overhead is so low.
My book and my husband’s book are selling still; though it is a fledgling site, hundreds fo people visit it every day. That’s up from 55 the first day. I did not pay for advertising, and several people whom bought my book the first week recommended it to their friends and family, etc.
So, chin up, all you writers of tasteful, elegant books. There is yet a market for your pieces and an appreciation hidden among the surfers of the net. As one of my readers put it: “So many of the novels I read today (and I read a lot of them) are so focused on including as many explicit sex encounters as possible, that more often than not, the romance gets lost. Usually, at the end of those, I am left yearning for a missing something and feeling like there should be more…”
Incredible. The sentiments of this discerning individual were to be repeated many many time among those whom bought my book. I am completing my sequel and have many more such books in me to write. I shall write them with gladness, knowing there is a tasteful, classy and elegant audience waiting to read them.
Cheers,
Meredith GreeneBelator Books
