Phew! Good things are happening with my publisher way faster than I can keep up with. I just sent off a letter to them asking for a slow down, easier to read information synopsis. Joe's Story has always been available in an easy to read, hard paper back version for $29.95. Huge amounts of copies have been sold over the past three years. Personal library quality, collector, hardcover copies have been surprisingly popular too. Now the publisher has made available a soft cover version for only $14.95 and also a paperback for only $9.95. I can't keep up with it all.
I have very much enjoyed working with my publisher. They have allowed me the flexibility I need in my busy, busy life. However, the part I find disconcerting right now during this exciting time of growth is that currently all the correspondence is carried out via email. My inbox has become saturated with emails from them. Through their policy of informative disclosure they have been sending emails at the rate of sometimes three or four times a day. Some are repetitive and some almost totally confusing. I. being the author must authorize their changes to our original agreement. I just sent off a request for clarification on what I have or have not authorized up to this point. The emails from them are computer generated, all encompassing and mass distributed to all the authors they represent, which numbers in the tens of thousands. I humbly requested a personal response. This is a very exciting time. My publisher is making some really innovative and progressive changes in order to keep up with demand and maintain availability. They don't take a hind seat to anyone it that category. But, every once in a while I believe an author needs a pat on the back and some inclusive interaction from those publishers.
There have been some pretty extenuating circumstances occurring over the past few years that were quite out of my control but requiring my help and demanding much of my attention. The promotion of Joe's Story and it's hard won lesson concerning CO poisoning was conducted in a lesser enthusiastic way than I would have otherwise preferred. That may be about to change. I feel it is important that my publisher and I go into that long anticipated and exciting phase in the same frame of thought.
I wish you a safe and wonderful day.........................Joe
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Blogging comments in other languages
I have been participating in an intensive study program to improve some of my skills. It's been time consuming and exhausting but is winding down now so I can return to my usual writing regimen.
I am the first to admit that I am not the most educated person there ever was. But, I was not exposed to foreign language study to any great degree while in organized schooling either. Latin was interesting and is a foundation for many modern Romance languages today. I signed up for Latin in 9th grade because of along standing desire to become a priest and Latin was the language of the church at the time. As it turned out there are two distinctly different forms of Latin. Also, as it turned out, as a budding teenage boy my eyes turned from the priesthood to the perky cheerleaders. Be that as it may and a story for another day I am confused about an interesting turn of events lately. Many comments on my blog are in some form of Asian language. I have absolutely no background in this type of language other than I think I was cussed out in one once when a little old man bumped into me with a grocery cart. I've been told the Internet has sights where translations are instant. That's great! But by now most of you know that I am not in the least bit proficient in the intricacies of Internet use either. Although I appreciate any meaningful comments and find the perspective of other cultures often brings much color to otherwise bland subjects sometimes, it doesn't mean much when I can't read it now does it?
The indecipherable, to me anyway, comments are useless to me. I have no idea if they are nonsense or filled with wisdom, advertisements, snide, rude or humorous. I say this just in case anyone needs to know. I read and write in pretty much conventional English. I am always interested in meaningful comments but please make them in the language I can understand or send me to a site I can readily translate so we may communicate in a reasonable fashion. Thanks........................Joe
I am the first to admit that I am not the most educated person there ever was. But, I was not exposed to foreign language study to any great degree while in organized schooling either. Latin was interesting and is a foundation for many modern Romance languages today. I signed up for Latin in 9th grade because of along standing desire to become a priest and Latin was the language of the church at the time. As it turned out there are two distinctly different forms of Latin. Also, as it turned out, as a budding teenage boy my eyes turned from the priesthood to the perky cheerleaders. Be that as it may and a story for another day I am confused about an interesting turn of events lately. Many comments on my blog are in some form of Asian language. I have absolutely no background in this type of language other than I think I was cussed out in one once when a little old man bumped into me with a grocery cart. I've been told the Internet has sights where translations are instant. That's great! But by now most of you know that I am not in the least bit proficient in the intricacies of Internet use either. Although I appreciate any meaningful comments and find the perspective of other cultures often brings much color to otherwise bland subjects sometimes, it doesn't mean much when I can't read it now does it?
The indecipherable, to me anyway, comments are useless to me. I have no idea if they are nonsense or filled with wisdom, advertisements, snide, rude or humorous. I say this just in case anyone needs to know. I read and write in pretty much conventional English. I am always interested in meaningful comments but please make them in the language I can understand or send me to a site I can readily translate so we may communicate in a reasonable fashion. Thanks........................Joe
Monday, June 28, 2010
Finding the gold
We overheard the counter guy at the surplus store quietly talking to another customer about a long protected secret concerning the Pikric Acid plant. Our ears perked up to listen. The counter guy looked both ways to make sure no one was listening, I guess he didn't see us, and then he told the other guy about how some gold bars had been buried by the United States government to protect it just in case the country was invaded. Now it seems that the government forgot about the gold somehow they said. Some other guy had just discovered a drawing of some hidden caves in between the smoke stacks and the small river just South of them. Those guys were going to there in a couple days to find and dig out the gold and they'd be rich forever. Jim and I were dumbfounded, we had actually been in the entrance to those caves! We didn't go too far in because they were pretty dark and stunk awful. We suddenly thought dark and stinky weren't so bad after all. We made plans for the next morning.
So around 8:00 am we were on our bikes riding across the hills and knolls on our way to the caves. I had a hatchet and Jim had a small army shovel his dad had left from being in a soldier. Each of us carried a flashlight and extra batteries too. The sun was already burning down hot on our backs, the grass was still wet from the dew of the night, causing us to slip and slide as we raced towards the cave opening. We stopped just down a hill behind a small grove of bushy trees that hid the cave entrance. No one else was around that we could see. We certainly didn't want to share our gold with anyone. We made sure our bikes were covered under low hanging branches and walked to the side of the hill where the opening was. We hesitated for a minute and just looked at each other. Wow! All we had to do was go inside and pick up that gold.
We bent down and entered the cave entrance, shining our flashlights ahead of us, water trickled down the side walls and settled in small pools in between the rocks, spider webs hung along every surface and across the opening, getting into our faces and feeling kind of creepy. Noises came from inside but they weren't scary though, we thought it was just the wind. The wind is always in caves, we knew that from movies and stories. The cave opening was small, only about two or three feet high but as we crawled further in the ceiling got higher and wider. The ceiling was pock marked with deep holes and cracks. We penetrated deeper and deeper, excited as we were the darkness was all encompassing except for the steady beams of our flashlights. We stopped and shone our lights around, checking out every square inch of the inside to make sure we didn't overlook any gold.
Over our right, about ten feet away the wall had broken away slightly and we could see the corner of what we thought was a steel box. The edge was shiny but the side was rusty. We had to climb over some large, slippery rocks to get to it. Halfway there an bright light filled the cave to almost daylight, blinding our eyes. A loud voice yelled out, "What are you kids doing in here?" "You gotta get out right now!" We started to say the we just wanted to get that steel box but the guy yelled even louder and said we had to leave right then. We couldn't play in there any more. He helped us get up, back through and out the entrance to the outside. He was nice enough but wouldn't listen to anything we had to say. We just had to leave. We got on or bikes and left. When we got to the edge of the trees we saw a huge tractor with a front loader on it with a another small caterpillar with a plow on the front. A bunch of guys were standing around, some had shovels. We went home, all those grown up guys would have made arguing useless. Later that day we rode our bikes about 20 miles to Green Lake and went swimming. No sense in wasting a good summer day without school.
The next morning,right after peddling papers and doing chores, without breakfast we headed out to the caves. They had been plowed over and covered with dirt! We figured those guys with the tractor and front loader must have dug up the caves and found the gold and got rich. We had been that close...................................Joe
So around 8:00 am we were on our bikes riding across the hills and knolls on our way to the caves. I had a hatchet and Jim had a small army shovel his dad had left from being in a soldier. Each of us carried a flashlight and extra batteries too. The sun was already burning down hot on our backs, the grass was still wet from the dew of the night, causing us to slip and slide as we raced towards the cave opening. We stopped just down a hill behind a small grove of bushy trees that hid the cave entrance. No one else was around that we could see. We certainly didn't want to share our gold with anyone. We made sure our bikes were covered under low hanging branches and walked to the side of the hill where the opening was. We hesitated for a minute and just looked at each other. Wow! All we had to do was go inside and pick up that gold.
We bent down and entered the cave entrance, shining our flashlights ahead of us, water trickled down the side walls and settled in small pools in between the rocks, spider webs hung along every surface and across the opening, getting into our faces and feeling kind of creepy. Noises came from inside but they weren't scary though, we thought it was just the wind. The wind is always in caves, we knew that from movies and stories. The cave opening was small, only about two or three feet high but as we crawled further in the ceiling got higher and wider. The ceiling was pock marked with deep holes and cracks. We penetrated deeper and deeper, excited as we were the darkness was all encompassing except for the steady beams of our flashlights. We stopped and shone our lights around, checking out every square inch of the inside to make sure we didn't overlook any gold.
Over our right, about ten feet away the wall had broken away slightly and we could see the corner of what we thought was a steel box. The edge was shiny but the side was rusty. We had to climb over some large, slippery rocks to get to it. Halfway there an bright light filled the cave to almost daylight, blinding our eyes. A loud voice yelled out, "What are you kids doing in here?" "You gotta get out right now!" We started to say the we just wanted to get that steel box but the guy yelled even louder and said we had to leave right then. We couldn't play in there any more. He helped us get up, back through and out the entrance to the outside. He was nice enough but wouldn't listen to anything we had to say. We just had to leave. We got on or bikes and left. When we got to the edge of the trees we saw a huge tractor with a front loader on it with a another small caterpillar with a plow on the front. A bunch of guys were standing around, some had shovels. We went home, all those grown up guys would have made arguing useless. Later that day we rode our bikes about 20 miles to Green Lake and went swimming. No sense in wasting a good summer day without school.
The next morning,right after peddling papers and doing chores, without breakfast we headed out to the caves. They had been plowed over and covered with dirt! We figured those guys with the tractor and front loader must have dug up the caves and found the gold and got rich. We had been that close...................................Joe
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Finding gold
I was almost rich once. I was as close as you are to the computer screen right now. Yeah, that close. It was enough gold to support me and my descendants in the lap of luxury for a decade of lifetimes to come. I missed it by just that much.
Being 12 years old was a wonderful time, especially during the summer when the world is more accessible because you don't have to go to school. Waking up at 4:00am, washing up, grabbing my bicycle, picking up and folding the morning papers and then delivering them to my customers took two and a half hours. Fixing a bowl of cereal or a couple slices of toast and eating them only ten more minutes, my chores another half hour and the rest of the day was all mine to do with what I wanted. One particularly bright and shiny Monday morning in June I met my buddy Jim down by the local neighborhood grocery store, Ben and Goldies to purchase supplies for the day's adventure: Lunch meat, a loaf of bread, worms, fishing line, bobbers and hooks took care of our basic needs. Jim bought a compass for a nickle. We knew every inch of where we were going but compasses are interesting anyways. We took off on our bikes going like sixty, we were on a mission, a mission to become rich beyond our wildest dreams.
About two and a half miles from where we lived was a wilderness area, (to us anyway) filled with the unknown. We had been there often but there was never enough time to explore it properly up to that point. It was the hills and fields surrounding the old Pikric acid plant that had been built to provide explosive chemicals for bombs during world war two. The legend had it that when the war ended they tore everything down except the two huge, towering, red brick smoke stacks for the smelting ovens. Bricks, cement, tiles and steel from the old building were bulldozed into the surrounding landscape. Jim and I along with several other friends had scoured the area many times before and found a lot of really cool stuff: An old army helmet, a bent up knife, some old pot, pans, bottles, wire, broken glass and what looked to be a rusty old pistol. All of which helped us to believe there was other great and valuable treasure to be found. This day, Jim and I were sure we were going to find it. The guy at the Army surplus store had let it slip about the gold when we were there buying rabbit traps.
I actually have to go right now. I'll finish this as soon as I can..............Joe
Being 12 years old was a wonderful time, especially during the summer when the world is more accessible because you don't have to go to school. Waking up at 4:00am, washing up, grabbing my bicycle, picking up and folding the morning papers and then delivering them to my customers took two and a half hours. Fixing a bowl of cereal or a couple slices of toast and eating them only ten more minutes, my chores another half hour and the rest of the day was all mine to do with what I wanted. One particularly bright and shiny Monday morning in June I met my buddy Jim down by the local neighborhood grocery store, Ben and Goldies to purchase supplies for the day's adventure: Lunch meat, a loaf of bread, worms, fishing line, bobbers and hooks took care of our basic needs. Jim bought a compass for a nickle. We knew every inch of where we were going but compasses are interesting anyways. We took off on our bikes going like sixty, we were on a mission, a mission to become rich beyond our wildest dreams.
About two and a half miles from where we lived was a wilderness area, (to us anyway) filled with the unknown. We had been there often but there was never enough time to explore it properly up to that point. It was the hills and fields surrounding the old Pikric acid plant that had been built to provide explosive chemicals for bombs during world war two. The legend had it that when the war ended they tore everything down except the two huge, towering, red brick smoke stacks for the smelting ovens. Bricks, cement, tiles and steel from the old building were bulldozed into the surrounding landscape. Jim and I along with several other friends had scoured the area many times before and found a lot of really cool stuff: An old army helmet, a bent up knife, some old pot, pans, bottles, wire, broken glass and what looked to be a rusty old pistol. All of which helped us to believe there was other great and valuable treasure to be found. This day, Jim and I were sure we were going to find it. The guy at the Army surplus store had let it slip about the gold when we were there buying rabbit traps.
I actually have to go right now. I'll finish this as soon as I can..............Joe
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Book publishing, expect the unexpected
Joe's Story:The Book of a Lifetime has been in publication for almost 3 years now. It has been sold, shipped and read in every state and several other countries around the world. It's been quite a learning experience for me. I had no idea what to expect when, after 13 years of writing I held the first copy in my hands. Of course there were visions of huge royalty checks but that was only a dream for the most part. The primary purpose of writing Joe's Story in the first place was a hope of saving other people from the devastation that was brought upon my family and I as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning and the amnesia that followed. Being a published author opened up several venues for me and I had the opportunity to speak of carbon monoxide and it's ever present dangers in front of thousands of people. What an honor that has been. I learned another thing on Monday this week. Once a book is published and in print, expect the unexpected.
Monday morning, as I performed my usual ritual of formulating a plan of action for the week and determining my priorities the front door of my office opened and a pleasant looking couple came in. After a few words of greeting from me the man introduced himself and his wife, explained they were in Michigan from their home state of Tennessee and asked for a few minutes of my time. The story went like this: They had happened across the book, "Joe's Story" while they had been visiting in Florida on vacation. Their neighbor at the campground was an avid reader as is his wife and they struck up a conversation about exciting new books. "Joe's Story" was mentioned and when they got back home they ordered a copy from Amazon.com. After reading it and recognizing some health problems they were experiencing they decided to get a blood test for CO poisoning. The test showed elevated levels of CO, they had their furnace and hot water heater checked and found the water heater defective, the doctor said it may have saved their lives. They had come to say thanks and have me sign their copy of "Joe's Story." I was humbled and thankful to hear that they were going to be alright.
So, that's what I mean by, expect the unexpected. Once a book is in print it's always there.........Joe
Monday morning, as I performed my usual ritual of formulating a plan of action for the week and determining my priorities the front door of my office opened and a pleasant looking couple came in. After a few words of greeting from me the man introduced himself and his wife, explained they were in Michigan from their home state of Tennessee and asked for a few minutes of my time. The story went like this: They had happened across the book, "Joe's Story" while they had been visiting in Florida on vacation. Their neighbor at the campground was an avid reader as is his wife and they struck up a conversation about exciting new books. "Joe's Story" was mentioned and when they got back home they ordered a copy from Amazon.com. After reading it and recognizing some health problems they were experiencing they decided to get a blood test for CO poisoning. The test showed elevated levels of CO, they had their furnace and hot water heater checked and found the water heater defective, the doctor said it may have saved their lives. They had come to say thanks and have me sign their copy of "Joe's Story." I was humbled and thankful to hear that they were going to be alright.
So, that's what I mean by, expect the unexpected. Once a book is in print it's always there.........Joe
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Fremont Nebraska and illegal immigration
Fremont Nebraska has a new law regarding illegal immigrants. Big news! Arizona has a new law regarding illegal immigrants. It's getting to be a little less of a big story. Everyone is getting used to hearing it aren't they? Most of the news stories center on the hardships those laws are causing to immigrants in general. But, the root cause of these laws is being dismissed as inconsequential and trivial. I wonder why that is? Laws are designed to protect us from eminent danger of something aren't they? Robbery, reckless driving, injury or murder, property rights, stuff like that. I think we all agree that we need to be protected from danger by our laws. It sounds like the protesters against these stiff illegal immigration laws don't see any danger in illegal immigration. I guess their question is: Does illegal immigration actually pose a danger to our safety and way of life? Let's see.
In the black and white words of the law: Anyone, if not regulated good or bad can sneak across the border. Anyone, if not regulated can sneak across the border with illegal drugs. Anyone sneaking across the border into this country unregulated is breaking the law. Therefore they are a criminal. The federal law is very explicit in that. There are just so many people our country and it's already strained welfare and health system can support. If someone uses any of our social benefits illegally they are taking them away from our legal citizens. In other words, our citizens are having their way of life altered and deteriorated by 11 million illegal immigrants. Our benefits are being stolen from us illegally. Our lives and safety are being jeopardized by drugs and gangs and criminals who are here illegally.
Are all illegal immigrants bad people, criminals, robbers, murderers, or drug dealers? No, some of them are very likable! However, they are all illegal. If they got here by breaking a huge federal law with no consequences what is there to encourage them to honor any other law, big or small? We are a nation of laws. Take them away and we cease being a nation at all. I wonder if Will Smith will star in a movie that shows us how to solve the problem?........Joe
In the black and white words of the law: Anyone, if not regulated good or bad can sneak across the border. Anyone, if not regulated can sneak across the border with illegal drugs. Anyone sneaking across the border into this country unregulated is breaking the law. Therefore they are a criminal. The federal law is very explicit in that. There are just so many people our country and it's already strained welfare and health system can support. If someone uses any of our social benefits illegally they are taking them away from our legal citizens. In other words, our citizens are having their way of life altered and deteriorated by 11 million illegal immigrants. Our benefits are being stolen from us illegally. Our lives and safety are being jeopardized by drugs and gangs and criminals who are here illegally.
Are all illegal immigrants bad people, criminals, robbers, murderers, or drug dealers? No, some of them are very likable! However, they are all illegal. If they got here by breaking a huge federal law with no consequences what is there to encourage them to honor any other law, big or small? We are a nation of laws. Take them away and we cease being a nation at all. I wonder if Will Smith will star in a movie that shows us how to solve the problem?........Joe
Monday, June 21, 2010
World Cup and the Vuvuzela
The vuvuzela is an instrument of God. That agonizingly noisy horn that is constantly being blown at the World Cup soccer matches is a reminder of the sacrifices, trials and tribulations of the African people over the centuries. According to Tinyko Maluleke speaking at an international ecumenical meeting. I'm glad I found out about that. The constant bleating has certainly lowered my enjoyment of the games as well as my ability to understand what is being said by the moderators. To the point of interfering with the game itself. Actually the disturbing noise has caused me to totally withdraw from watching the soccer matches whatsoever. I mean no disrespect to the horn blowers and the statement they need to make to the rest of the world. If that's what they need to do then I respect their right to do that in their country. However, I as a visitor in hopes of true enjoyment of competition between the best of the best choose to not submit myself to the never ending barrage of annoyance and take advantage of my channel changing expertise and move on to some other type of entertainment. Baseball, Nascar, Dragracing, and the food channel come to mind.
Bearing in mind that I completely respect a person's right to demonstrate against oppression, I fail to see the oppressive nature of being allowed to host an international event of such far reaching proportions. That's not my idea of a welcoming attitude. If I invite someone to my house I bend over backwards to show them that I appreciate their company. If they would be spending money for which I would receive a benefit I would darn well put my best foot forward in order to reap the harvest and expect them to return again wouldn't you? I particularly would avoid annoying my visitors every moment of the day and night.
I am not a world traveler. I will not, in this life be visiting South Africa in person. It matters not to me when, how, or where they blow their own horns. It's no skin off my nose. But, thanks to the miracle of television I am put in the position of learning more about that country. Thanks to the vuvuzela I will not be learning as much as I'd hoped to and I'll be turning my TV back to the good old reliable golf channel. Thank you very much. I guess this will be one more world cup I'll be reading about instead of watching............................Joe
Bearing in mind that I completely respect a person's right to demonstrate against oppression, I fail to see the oppressive nature of being allowed to host an international event of such far reaching proportions. That's not my idea of a welcoming attitude. If I invite someone to my house I bend over backwards to show them that I appreciate their company. If they would be spending money for which I would receive a benefit I would darn well put my best foot forward in order to reap the harvest and expect them to return again wouldn't you? I particularly would avoid annoying my visitors every moment of the day and night.
I am not a world traveler. I will not, in this life be visiting South Africa in person. It matters not to me when, how, or where they blow their own horns. It's no skin off my nose. But, thanks to the miracle of television I am put in the position of learning more about that country. Thanks to the vuvuzela I will not be learning as much as I'd hoped to and I'll be turning my TV back to the good old reliable golf channel. Thank you very much. I guess this will be one more world cup I'll be reading about instead of watching............................Joe
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