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FANDANGO MOVING ON UP! I-net BLOG/ Consider RE-OPEN 12 DAYS OF BLOGGING/ WINTER 2014 |
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Due space ... cyber space, sillies @ a thing they call BLOG BOARD, am considering re-booting FICTION FANDANGO. Also, did find former arena for viewing latest blog creations from community members. Who blog along @ the train we may dub http://www.writing.com. At that spot one may still find latest blogs by date & hour. This random thing that swept the site like a cow catcher, never cut it with moi. Writing seriously comes @ a price. Not costly in the least, instead a crux quite easy on the eye and mentally relaxing fer sure. That's the craft for you --- when folks dedicate their works to a degree of ultimate impression for their audience. 'Random' applied like salvage for lackluster pieces clocks in as unfunny, uncanny sameness, tech gear only, buy-this-buy-that, keep up with the Jonses, be a married couple only, paint the white picket fence of online persona clone-ship is history. It always was for a talented ken of authorship. So, if boredom turns you on, personally can't even grasp the concept. Okay? Previously FANDANGO underwent a major wash & dry, hung out to air since ... summer 2013, when blogs crumbled along with golden rod, last Autumn. A year before --- 2012 @ Teffom Estates came with discoveries which eventually tuned into major news events due revelations from Edward "Scissors hands" Snowden. International press hounded the guy all the way to Moscow. What he revealed to the American Public, due a closed and corporate owned media in the States ... went entirely unrelated to domestic spying. A blight on these shores, to be sure. Suffice, IF TEFF rants, don't think she dislikes EVERYONE. I don't. I do run the EVERYONE contests and oh my --- have nerve to dub myself Prez @
Also, currently searching my own bonafide noggin for a way to kick start another truly laid back group @
Regionally we can only do our best. Of course, thru our writing. Most folks are not active protesters, another thing like even a hint of news (shunned onsite) remains in disfavor nationwide. Oh, yes, my pretties, tis in fact out there like a ground cover of wild geranium. Why, lucky we color ourselves when finding real news, these days. Hoaxes come, entrapment stories build but common sense lives on in a place you may dub: -------- FICTION ------ FANDANGO ------- A ----- WRITER'S ----- BLOGGEROO. HAPPY NEW YEAR. Deadline Jan 30 ... @
Christmas past submissions, encased in the only Christmas Genre Anthology onsite & online open See:
Perplexed while wondering about the CLUBs Silent Ones @
FANDANGO LIVE spells no pressure stats for moi. (I) might blog a bit, but short story time is more important, you see. Plans to make, resolutions to keep and sure ... the beat goes on. Public thanks to all who entered 2013s Everyone Contests which proves most successful. Yipee! Completion toward judging winners cicle while R&R (reading & rev) stories soon. Oh boy! Promoting same, holding in hand like Magi-ware then gifting ala Secret Santa. DONATIONS WILDLY NEEDED FOR CONTESTS. Please E-mail TEFF. Comments open @ FANDANGO. Sept 1/TWENTY-FOURTEEN! Officially open @
Tap the above if you like Ghostbuster mid. Also, accepting submissions all year long, from EVERYONE! MAY RE-OPEN in JAN @ un-revamped {bitem: Recenty Anthology created @
PUBLISHERS, CALL ME! Ditto @
Oh, the giraffe on the cover spells sticking FANDANGOs neck out there into that offsite view world aka an I-net EYE! |
| E-mail message Date: Fri, Feb 18, 2011, 8:06am To: FICTION FANDANGO ... sez HELLO WEBBERS!!! Well hey, readers, this blog reveals a flashlight, a contest --- llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll Good Morning, Dear Readers, How nice of you to drop by FANDANGO. So couple of tings this morning. Yesterday, researched online writing contests,*** stopped dead in the water at one very popular contest where via that site's forum --- critics slammed two winning stories. Yuppers, agree both 'em cheap shot wins produced victims. Namely: the readers. Almost choking perusing a winner, spewing began for me on page one. You would think those winners who kept big bucks from that writing travesty contest, could at least palliate toward audience appeal. So what can we learn from this actual happenstance? 1. That very popular publication obviously raked in mucho via monetary gain due collective $15. entrance fees. 2. Judges did not chose two great short stories, Instead went with inferior as far as stellar short stories go. However, nobody can safely jump out of a moving Lamborghini and assume by jumping to conclusions that contest was fixed. Au Contraire, mon amis. Those two winners took the gaff later from the forum. Whether they were live bodies or those falling into fakir stats remains an unknown known to moi at this point, and of course not close in or involved by any means. Nor busting a gut to move forward, send cash and enter anything over there anytime soon. As in never. Safe to conclude by this small sampling, LIT suffers at the hands this time of a well known professional publication. What's happening is a subject for WRITERS WAR. WHILE outlining a few notes to the wise for future pens per that topic via this blog. TRUE or FALSE? The world of electronic writing became big business as the realm of the I-net continues to rake in big bucks. Here's what you didn't know. Here's your known unknown. New to FANDANGO as well, my pretties. Namely: glance at associates for The Boston Review. Do you see a popular connection to good old Gotham School of writing there? Maybe yes, maybe no? Let's wind this up, okay? Not in the mood for whining on today. Since, we've some high temps going on outside this tropical wallpapered,sunroom and not partial to missing our FEB heatwave. In fact sang aloud a few days this week: "We're having a heat wave" while recalling one of my favorite winter movies featuring the late Walter Matthau and co-star Jack Lemmon. Yes, GRUMPY OLD MEN. Yeah, the ice fishing was stellar. Oh, how I miss them. Okay, let's really wind this down. Whenever one encounters ultra tuitions they are either in college (at an unknown location from sea to shining sea --- here in the states --- or elsewhere) OR: about to buckle down and genuflect to an amazingly expensive digital class. When I read yesterday: We can teach writers how to write ... I closed myself into a rather large cedar hope chest, lent to me from Greensleeves the Vampire. I stayed that way for about three minutes reading W --- Volume 20, of one of my favorite desk ref encyclopedias. The new meaning for war is an argumentative state. Although not a bit pretty, WAR is a fascinating subject, after all. Yeah, I had a flashlight. Hearing a loud diesel motor, V-8, with a cracked muffler, I popped out when the oil man pulled up out front, scared the guy silly. Don't you know he calls the law and I'm still trying to let these telephone tag folks know I just needed a quiet moment, away from the actual nuance, tie-ins related to let's just call this one --- THE DEATH OF LITERATURE. Awarding lousy short stories fits the criteria. Yup, yet another major setback for LIT. Shame, guys, fer shame. With WRITERS WAR 'tis always ... Writer Beware. Perhaps, best to elaborate now ... WRITERS WAR is a nonfiction account of a new age, non security, firewall less, middle man, online war on writers, copyrighted 2010, by TEFF. MEANWHILE ... IF ANY online 'writing' workshops do float your boat, and you've money to burn, since they desire enticing & enlisting so-called, wannabe w-r-i-t-e-r-s .... Â ??? Then, and only then ... DO make sure you are comfortable stepping into a quagmire. IF you are ever contemplating being thus ensnared ... and your aims are purely non commercial, bereft an advertising gift of gab enabling even more profit for a few ... well you walk a thin line, amigos. Honey chile, the best of your creative, entertaining writing probably (if you are potentially talented) comes from within. You can purchase it at a bookstore, book fair, flea market, used boos sales, most public libraries. One place to learn how to write is grade school thru college senior years. OR: You tell me whenever you've just cause to linger one mere hour over your favorite English Grammar hardcover. Besides which the singular crap defining aspects of "writing" ME: either the craft or LIT of the finest kind ... sprang onto FANDANGO earlier in the Coffee Series. Repeat syndrome, of no interest to moi currently. FANDANGO open, so catching up is in the equation. Try this entry @ COFFEE PRICES R ... Arrivederci, adding vanilla extract and cinnamon to this batch of Cowboy Coffee, TO-DAY! WELL, until next time .. meanwhile thinking of picking a contest to enter ... Ahah! Always back into cash as incentive. Needless, here at Teffom Estates MY writing to do list grows like first purple crocus poking skyward beneath melting snow. WORD!! Update on research tie below -- 50 million hungry American Citizens reported in 2009 for year 2008. |
TESTING .. well looky here web's working out perfect --- finest kind ... Hello Maine. Drove up Sunday in my Lamborghini De Ville, black, dual quads, overdrive precast chassis, driver's plush bucket seat reclined full throttle while in motion at a 90% angle. Just so you know, cracked window on the passenger side; we hit a walnut south of Boston. We're okay. Whitey seems a bit winded. On the road trip up, his hair stood straight back rendering my favorite fluffer-nutter the look of a sly winter fox. He's here at the end of the web box now, prancing about, mumbling about catfood eats. To me as a writer if its one word on the label, icecream stands. However, in cookbook lingo 'tis indeed ICE CREAM by chapter. Plenty of that in Maine! Ah, entering final phases of Maine Land, Lamborghiniville, USA ... call me crazy but I  New England in winter.Now ... about that coffee. Okay, thing is, sent a NL out with an entry ID# below. This has two views. So when they SUNDAY read the letter, two clicked on. Blues probably along with crayola violet may not show in stats. Should I re-send it? Or keep it and shut up. Who cares for an informative side of what haps to moi. Generally shared --- experience, I find stimulating if noteworthy, true, feasile or funny by those writing on writing. If floozy boring types bore me, I run. So, moving Fandango along via a frosty FEB theme. Thus for your reading discretion --- a thing self sufficiently dubbing: semi subconsciousness/ directional plans pivoting for this writer to tie MY WORK (1999-2011) and bind into a payable lifestyle? Maybe yes, maybe no known no from any reader who hasn't read my fiction lately. Phooey, right? This is flip-flopping of the finest kind. llllllllllllll SIDEBAR lllllll llllllllllll BACKGROUND --- Word to the wise --- WHEN TEFF WENT ONLINE in 2001, SHE BEGAN to create & use (especially in JUNEBUGS & ELDERBERRY WINE, HER first blog ---) a personality ... as in the manner of an entertaining character. Several serials hit airways online. Now her quest is payment primarily. Game plans subject to news & USA History ala journalism commentary, etc surfaces whenever. THAT FIRST BLOG IS FOR SALE. Many folks missed all of that. Others, JUNE BUGGY READERS WERE laughing along as uf convinced VIA realism. TEFF adlibing today on TEFF's writing is actually rare, although cheery. lllllllllll llllll llll lllllllllllllllllll Tons of work ahead, writing and a-planning, and a re-polishing during Twenty Eleven,as list build. Of course, there are those who deem to not understand what moi writes. Move on, read elsewhere. FANDANGO blogs currently faking coffee on the left, writing about the craft and how MY stories compile onward on the right. Stories behind the scenes from this desk, with a twist of a curly Teffom tress. Worse, if you are so unused to reading nothing but this site, grow up. A writer can never place oneself at your disposal and I aint the same if you stress outy by poetic prose which they call flowery. My aims are my own inside fiction. Okay the following is a huge way to save ultra, tight fisted bucks which in American households may meet standards of budgeting. Yet USA claims via certain tally (census comes to mind for Twenty-Ten) ... Let's allow hungry per capita was over possibly 20 million below the poverty level in 2009? Well, recheck stat notes ... (((((((((( 99999 )))))) research ref --- So, we saw coffee cans become extinct in 2010. Now, coffee purchased here at Teffom Estates is packaged inside cardboard and tinfoily cylinders, never tinny like Granny's shiny walker. Never fear, my darlings, these canisters still sport mini blue plastic lids. Did you know that if a kid refuses to pay attention standing @ a picnic table, shivering @ 30 degrees you can flip him with a coffee lid from twenty paces yonder. Anyways ... Maxwell House raised all coffee prices in 2011. Almost like an embargo as they announced ... less Maxwell House on your table to an addicted audience of java freaks striving to place the best on their table for Mamma and child. COWBOY COFFEE RECIPE So, here's what you do. Take a soup pot, fill with ice cold water, snow is fine. SET BURNER MODE to high, cover with a china dinner plate or a lid. Go ahead blog in the morning early, nice & quiet then, hardly any Lamborghinis in your neck of the woods creating havoc hell on the eardrums nor scaring schoolbus drivers. Okay, wait a bit. Bring to water to a full boil. After rapid boil shakes the plate, run to the kitchen posthaste, dearhearts. PS --- Shaking plate audible from this desk facing a mountain range, luvs. Take down your coffee can. Listen up, I saved about fifteen of these suckers and yes, refill them. Why? Because: Maxwell House Coffee from a cardboard can tastes stale. This a terrible injustice to Norte Americans and the world. Next, the little coffee plastic ... what two tablespoons approx? ... whatever, fill with grounds. Stand back from steam if things are out of control. Turn off heat or turn it down. If using gas, turn off while hovering. This is cauldron time. Okay .. into the center of that pot boil, drop the coffee. Wait one minute, then repeat ... Three mini dispensers poured into your boiling water, perhaps a gallon of water --- requires THREE additional drops from the little, coffee thingy to make one/eighth equivalent of Portland Coffee, meant for dockworkers, construction crews, road dudes, fishermen, etc. However if YOU don't need your coffee that strong .. start with merely six to eight tablespoons per gallon of boiling water and see what happens. After one to three minutes turn off heat, lid pot, walk away. When grounds settle, dip, pour thru strainer and enjoy. Mercy!! Now thass a strong coffee which clearly requires less per volume if using electric coffee makers. Oh, well anna beat goes on! Adios until next time. Only wrote this here blog, to coverup all the rest. Going open on web ville later, once more. Wondering if ADC is in duress, can't make me smile lately. All in all wasted time blogging without a reason Okay, kids, later Thursday ----- FOR way off in the distance, near the fuzzy woolies, amid softest yarns clicking pointy needles, then comes fingers tapping because, can't afford to waste time ... MUST make systematic production efforts for money making with TEFFY's new or completed fiction ----- THUS .... writing work schedule here I come. Researching == Comments on winners --- where a very popular REAL writing contests casts honest takes on its site. How insightful, fabulous, oh my. |
| Several mornings this month, at this house, in this room there's been a bit of quandary re: a change in both thought & a certain difference (hopefully) for the better re: the writing. With TEFF (That's ME!) sticking to the same style all these years --- now out of the blue arrives a codicil which offers a stretch, although not pinpointed as a certainly, can feel this one pulling. For moi, it's always been all about the writing. The crux of the matter involves a three line plan. In the dead of the night the first line which is endless, more like a space with no confides beckons the dream state. The second line seems more the plotting arena, and the third and last ... the place where lingers not only a conclusion or scenes pointing to same, but a vastness embracing soulful expression. We may ask ourselves every single day, if we have the time of course, as writers what indeed is the actual goal. Of course, answers become individualized as they should be ME: to each his own. What really happens in real world where normal folks don't attach themselves to other writers in the manner of begging for either writing advice, often demanding it, or taking it for granted that writing advice shall be offered to all for free any day of the year? Which, when you think about that last one is more than silly, it is beyond expectant. Why? Because the craft surrounding writing as an art form is still majorly competitive. Therefore, people whom may be doing their best and re-re-re-editing all the way to polishing a finished work are seriously insisting upon a wide berth. A keep our zone, if you will, certainly exists. Two years back, I decided not to advice on how to write. Sure, I broke the promise to myself and went ahead and threw out many this and that just to be kind. Or mouthy as it suited me. Because I could. However, one must always realize that what we share may not only benefit someone else so much, my brothers, it may abet that person or persons to grab an idea and run. Then possibly even become much more successful in a nuance world where most online writing is free for the taking and costs not a single dime. We meet each new story as a challenge to as close to perfection from that same desk as we can. Our desk. Or at least this is one way to approach. Don't be intimidated by people saying --- things which are basic reruns of grammar (which one should have a damn decent command of by fifth grade --- not post twenty-five years of age.) Early, one learns another definition for writing, which is merely a standard English Usage meaning. Later, post graduation from grade school or higher -- Forget a rule, look up a rule, because we assume your reading skills are just fine. That explanation for the term: writing exists on this site. It seldom breaks apart like a hard boiled egg. So the stymie system stays put in the review category,** and people who were already beyond such a childish thing, become drawn back because the so called experts if any, begin pointing at English Usage. Then too, if the writer himself or herself desires to keep his head in the hole like our friend, an ostrich, he may blame his/ her own lookout which teeters on being in a constant state of gullibility. The latter IF you mix with water, add a slim quarter cup of salt, all you should then attain is salt water. Don't ever drink a glass of this gullible brew, my dears. So, if you want to compare your writing to a glass of salted water, fine be my guest. If you prefer to reach for an ocean, such as the Atlantic Ocean to rock your boat, or expand your mind, enhance your stories (and no I am not talking about poems which are shorter) surf the Net, swim with the big boys whose works are available to ALL via public Libraries, bookstores, etc. Who doesn't have a collection in the home library, which still isn't read? Although, dusted at whim. The absolute opposite as a term definition for writing other than mere English Usage basics which includes grammar is ??? English LIT. Now, if folks know and accept that, they should never turn back to grammar school, you see? Whenever they do, and their thinking, God forbid follows for time to hover on every sentence, now read word for word, by monsters who are handing out advice like popcorn at a drive-in movie, well ouch. People like to write reviews, that won't change. What is best to do in an overall safe zone, is to never erase your first draft. Yes, change it, but don't revise for clarity for one person. Never! First how do you know what reading, writing, credentials these advice gifters can claim, if any? Look, you don't know and can't know. Then the first line of this blog, the empty space makes sense. It's our cyber space, individually available to use for our writing. Eventually, and here's the dream state the beginner level writer and the casual writer may seek as well as serious authors -- we rather edit as we go. Therefore, enter line two of my semi-wakeful blog start above, namely: what the hell should I blog about today, when this oddness grabs me again this month? The third part is the done deal. Nobody every touches that final copy, until you yourself make proper changes after the piece rests for a spate. Rest periods equate to years in fact, which may come and go, before one decides to change even a single word in a finished product. Used to be, I finished approx 2,000 words in forty-five minutes to an hour ala edits, spell check etc. Not including research time. Now, the same length climbs a bit, but takes almost three hours. Why? Editing as one goes. Nothing's really lost pertaining to what becomes included in the work as it's being added. But HEY! Me? I work with outlines when doing fiction. Planning, plotting often inhabit a streamline type path. People! Moms, Dads, my sisters, looky here kids ... Now, tie the knot, crossing Ts --- all back to square one --- thinking, filling in the blanks. Ah well, a certifiable last effort to prolong this simple, humble blog borders on a friendly Fandango premise: WRITER BEWARE!! Now, about that costly coffee? Wouldn't you like to know? ** A few questions writers should ask themselves as tie-in to electronic fiction --- RE: How come you never see a review (yeah, there are some who write, some who never write at all, and consider reviewing writing, when it is review writing, not LIT at all. Anyways you tell me. When did you ever see a review quoting a textbook, or adding a novel ref aka a citation? Not too often or never? Well, you can punch in teffom in PRP search box and you'll notice a few. Other than than all the rest is kinda akin to forcing opinions ala taking writers for a ride, if not commenting on content. WE want to know about content in a story. The only way one can join "Invalid Item"  is to send a query letter then send cash. Why, Miss Mary? Answer: Valuable material, past work time compiling and the best advice this side of the Mississippi. Ahem ... 30/all |
   Gracious, blog commenting is on, gee whizzers, FNADANGO was unaware. This BLOG starts now ... Tell me whose really into authority these days. Not me. Well, blending counts, I suppose .. so read @ your own prerogative. If you can't read FANDANGO because you are blocked, I hope you truly spend all day and all night re-cloning your special selves. Maybe you will take home a prize, move into the realm of Snow White and the Seven favorites. When you need to call a shrink due to over characterization creation syndrome, don't give me a buzz, for I won't be recommending anyone unless you tell me WHO WHO WHO are you? COWBOY COFFEE ON WEDNESDAY Okay, kids, here’s the deal. Recently it came to my attention plus my utmost surprise that a TOTAL --- swing back to antique grammar usage ONLY --- not only totally sucks and robs (and please be my guest, acquaint yourselves with at least one of the anthologies from the annual O. Henry Short Story Award List -- read choices for any given year, my dears and stand down from overly stalemating ken for insistent correctness.) IF NOT ... at your own risk you may risk being out of a major LIT loop as 2011 turns month by month. Ride with me now to slam a trend onsite which has once again swept thru cobwebs here at good old wc. Now bordering on a sly shun of creativeness toward total embracing shoddy correctness statistics which actually became so outdated as bygone decades scrubbed the SIXTIES dry, colored the SEVENTIES with crazy hues, and sucked normal vibes from the EIGHTIES. So, if the I-net was inside Everyman’s home in the NINETIES, you and me and my huge snow cat, Whitey were the last to condone such a premise. Next up, my friends, on a writers website such as this here, strangely enough one encounters by the dozens people (members) who do not write. Now, there may be some who are so fearful of making mistakes they hide behind the little squirrels who play in the park as they quit their jail cells, possibly turn into poets of little value nor worth scripting stanzas about birds in one tree at the end of the lone block. They’ll never look outside and tell you really what town, city, state or country. No, it’s all on the furry, cuddly, heart swelling, lovable mere beasty. Take that gray vermin --- whom likes his sunflower seeds --- They’ll waft snow in your face if you really desire to be so close to your trite poetic endeavors. Others will try and try and try and still someone else inside a rev will wish them to be oh so much more proper. Those dozens give up too while rev writing climbs. AHAH!! Does the craft itself float like a bobber in a circle on an icy lake, dead in the water? Hey, people, here? Maybe yes, maybe no. Come on now! Raise thy eyes up from the icy water, fishes that we be -- entertaining a slim hope that someone will buy something when everything is free --- then do your overall percentage and note the writing may be being slam-slam-ed, even destroyed since it must be so very very lousy with boredom, and oh son lackluster -- prah-opp purrrrrr --- errrrrrrrrrr. Yes, granted the serious poets strive onward. Myself(?) tis very unlikely I’ve ever gotten thru an entire book of poetry during librarianship classes nor since. Yet, I think I can read poetry now and then. Or occasionally write one poem from year to year. To me as both writer and reader and commentator on LIT in the NEW TWENTIES -- as a published journalist and fiction short storyist --- this is clearly reader pref. Short stories TO-DAY!! .. are primarily fun to write. Most are researched in better writing land, to be sure. So, like I say, we try and we try. And it is not my fault that I can still say today, as I type my 2,600th rev since joining into wc membership stats, way back in OH FOUR, yes I remember whom are the better poets. Yet, yonder unfurls a blue and glorious morn. Hold on for here’s the blog gripe. IF it fits under your hatband as well --- DO wear it proudly. Uhoh, wc-ers I can safely say that less than twenty of the short stories were remembered. So, when that says a lot to some who really want recognition and desire to sell .. wake up and smell the coffee, amigos. Hey, me I aint waiting to jump out of the pond. Do note that by wc -- wc is what we make of it, it is us. Yes, it is owned, run, maintained, updated. Let us be smitten by thousands of compliments, join & stay. If one criticizes anything here is it not onto the pates of whomever. Be yee so gullible or finger pointing, then this blog is not for thine almighty gifted perusal, especially not to swipe without a quote. Noh, I am not a bard, never shall be such a thing. TEFF preferred El Voce since online stats began for me in 2001. The premise this year on FANDANGO grows like peppercorns on tossed salads from Philly to Seattle --- Do it, but only if you can --- BRAG!!! BRAG, WRITER BRAG!!! ... whenever you claim your very own short story anthology. You see? Big White aka the Mini-popester waxes attentive at his windowsill. TEFF's on her way outdoors to steadily tromp accross yon snow piles. Feeding the friendly who seldom talk back. Although one of them starlings said they do read my words. Guess what, I've a fan. Imagine! Meanwhile --- Oh, hell for the non writers among us why not write today? Try it, you may like it on a fine cold winter day such as this here. Editor's note -- Using 150% zoom, compatible Courier New which swipes. Now onto Scotland research using my favoirte SE. Which never shall be idiotic BING. You see non webbers, you've NO idea what you're missing. Wait, I'm positive Bing will place you into any dummy down category if any of the ones from WHO-ville wish to establish. My question is WHY??? |
| Date: Mon, Jan 10, 2011, HELLO CLUB! COULD BE JANUARY offers a few replies to this first of the Twenty-Eleven newsletters which shall be posted @ "Invalid Item" Gee whizzers, Club, I for one would love to see such action. Plus, you may notice many previous NL up for discussion. Thus the title: "Invalid Item" surrounding the craft. Thousands of great novels around, so let's talk this year. Pretty much not begging, simply instigating use of CLUB forum again this year. This month inside this JAN NL --- Let us allow for a thing known as reader burn out due to repetition. Here, addressing novels as well as fiction short stories. While this repetition annoyance often stems from too much recapping (e.g.) it also reaches into the realm of the average verb sandwich.* *VERB SANDWICH is a coined Teffom term for excessive action words inside a predicate. Deviations vary, of course. By definition not stressing adverbs, which I find fabulous extras like relish. Nor does the meaning of VERB SANDWICH include compound predicates. However, we're apparently in a world of LIT when --- infinitives wax immortal. Yeah, we all use them, but we can avoid those as we see fit by turning the verb into an entity which stands alone. Thus, another TEFF standby --- the term re-re-re-re-editing. All right? It all began last week while reading A STRANGER IN THE FAMILY by Robert Barnard, winner of numerous Literary awards, author of 41 novels. Robert's a member of "Britain's distinguished Detection Club." Due to plot, found myself unable to put down this book, c-rt 2010 from Scribner. Sure as ice under the rafters, we must allow that publishing houses will indeedy, oh believe it, my dears, often mess things up. Which is aka editing to suit after acceptance. Sure, simply a known known aka tidbit of information. Then too, once they (published, well knowns, make it huge) we might ask ourselves -- do they go with ghostwriters? In some cases, yes. Looky here, by now --- since ADC made the airways in 2007, CLUB should realize when a bugaboo surfaces at this desk it is explored, elaborated upon. Thus, I almost consider complaining to my local library. BECAUSE? Because Mr Barnard's work flaunts 'get" overuse. After a few hours in, a less phenomenal occurrence overtook moi. Not only did I see the full pattern of the author's style, I identified same. Most of the dialogue contains huge overdoses RE: get, getting, got, gotten. The crux became a watershed attempt to make all speakers use the lousy word get -- getting & got. Although this immediately broke from realism. WHY? Because few residents (characters in time and place) from Germany in 1939-45, Austria, 1990-ish Scotland, England, Sicily & Italy will all use the same words -- AHAH, the get cartel words. Thus, Barnard is way out of line. Although many grand vocab choices are easily discovered, well placed within A STRANGER IN THE FAMILY, they lose credence whenever Barnard & Scribner decide to explain them with slangy get phrasing. As if readers need the, oh how to put this, longer, excellent words brought down to street level. We can't underline readers as uneducated, unable to comprehend ala picking up a dictionary. Oh, goodness, but this book sure does. Now, recommending once more those, handy, tomb dictionaries. Yes, online one's are out there. Bejeus, sure they are -- but being a hands on gal --- I stand by print version, whenever a synonym or definition is nec. If I can push a wheel barrow filled with woodsy topsoil, suffice I can lift a seven pound thesaurus. Anyone can. Besides faster than waiting for Windows. Yet, here comes this literary genius, Robert Barnard, who automatically supplies a fast definition ploy (repetition) by using his constant gettings. This equates to become part of his style. Totally sad. Oh, it was so horrible, it kept me reading on & on. Now, not only craving plot unfolding, solving the mystery, I'm heading into a brick wall playing about with each get diversion encountered. Ride with me now to: Chapter One: HOMECOMING p13 "Why should I need a reason for getting a surprise for you?" Translation: "Why do I need a reason to surprise you?" GETTING TOSSED! p14 --- "He'd started a family early, got married ... --- toss got p15 " ... when I'd got settled." A mouthful Translation: when I was settled. p16 "... He got out of Vienna during the war ..." He escaped/ left Vienna p17 "... Don't get up." Don't stand/ stay seated. Kidnapped is rarely used. Instead Barnard relies on "abduction." TEFFY thinks ET interference. Reference to Jewish citizens escaping war torn Europe always as in ALWAYS runs --- 'got out.' Now, yesterday I got out of a car at the movie theatre. Barnard's got out ---beyond endurance by Chapter 13. p20 ... RE: family offspring -- " ... We've got three. ... Ben, Becky and Tom." We've three. Toss GOT p20 "... I've got to go back to work ..." --- I must return to work Chapter Two: PARTY TIME p23 " ... the cab got to ... the cab arrived p24 "I want you all to get yourselves drinks -- This 'to get' is a stumbler ... use serve p24 ... Since this is on the same page --- well I never! Third person/ not dialogue: Kit was getting the idea that Pat was an organizer. @ was getting the idea -- felt/ guesses/ guessed/ observed/ noticed gets back --- returns to get to know --- acquaint/ learn Chapter 14: THE ERRAND BOY p212 ... hoping to get to the Allied part of southern Italy --- Translation: hoping to reach SEE: PART 2 --- G-E-T THEME: ANNOYING "GET THEME: ANNOYING!" REGRETTABLE GET RISING! Jan 23, 2011 ---- Regrettably authors could ask publishing houses & publishers: Q: Do circus antics regarding insertion of Get for join// or get to know for acquaint ... is this then --- by their instigation or insistence? I for one think that is the case by now. Yes, readers meet unchallenged acceptance, especially online. Publishers went regrettably irresponsible toward readers & authors. Uh-nah, never an obvious trite means for pleasing customers who buy books. RE: get, got, gotten, giving, go --- most with prepositions, bereft fine tuned vocal centers on laziness. While authors, correct me if I am wrong -- work to sell high, not make mistakes which turn their readers nose to the sky, Like, putrid skunk stinky. OOOOOOOooooooooooooooooHH ieee! Homework for the bored runs --- finishing a novel ever again. Most contain get overdrive. Why, THE HELP a 2010 tell all from South Carolina maids living the Sixties has almost 10-15 per 400 pages inside this hard to put down page turner. Spoiled from the get-go due plot, readers can‘t help but see the novel THE HELP requires get patience once more with each passing day spent abed reading. Mountains under snow, blue accentuated this month. Good old January, cold as ice. BTW, Researchers --- Good luck spending one minute online in search mode --- Watch as nearly 8% from fifteen msn.com websites --- Miss Teffy finds under terms: “writing advice” --- Said advertisers miss few opportunities by requesting your hits ... -- Stubborn Lil buggers the g-words of no consequence. Website lingo below, hangs all bothersome gets they can find, All of them doing the hangman‘s jig with a crowd of the Get Family on the sidelines, cheering for the death of LIT. So, sure we read online title details for websites all strewn with gallant, frightening pettishness gettishness. God forbid one really pays for a thing. Advise, these days is free. Look for a Grapes Of Wrath vine of verbose, overuse as gettings/ g-e-t-sism escalates, Search & find: average tag-along words via three line intros -- Hey, CLUB --- You’ll turn grapes into wine in no time as you smash all the gets & gots. Tsk. Tsk. On: JAN 23/ Well here’s a small sampling. Now, myself I really don’t feel the need for a click away by any means for: Oh, these are superb for hunters in the know ... Funny ...  “Get immediate homework help!” @ http:www.wnoptes.com/lit/group/discuss ...(Right, be right over. Sweetcakes? What are you thinking?) Here’s one of my particular faves --- “WHY GET BAPTIZED ...”Also: “Why is a Positive Angle Necessary & How Do You Get One? @ www.articles/smarticle.com/ART “Adverting on: “WHAT ARE THREE REASONS WHY WORD CHOICE IS IMPORTANT in Poetry? -- Get Answers.” (Uh, Okay Right .. heee hee humpr huunfff huh?) From: THE PERFECT LOVE SONG by Patti Callahan Henry ... nice touch, but no cigar. Like style which allows for an un-identified voice .. addressing and telling the story which is set in third person ... more South Carolina & Georgia and Country Music & Ireland ... However p.69- 71 throw it on with chopped onion, diced peppers, mouthfuls of g-e-t- /g-e-t-t-i-n-g --- primarily in dialogue but cheap. “I think getting married ... (common?) Hitched, tying the knot // being married? Later, Jimmy mentions his song :“As long as I get to sing it.” Can sing we get ready --- Prepare! to get to know --- plenty of these p. 90 === So, get you head together, get up and let’s get moving.” Toss book at wall. Finally one finds on p. 124 where full-force nonsense wording results from a possible add-get edit.. Well, it looks that way to me in this gem from: Vantage Press. Try this paragraph on for size. Okay! Ready? p. 90// Chapter: Eight “But that’s the thing about Christmas. It’s difficult to get over hope for more. It is harder than any other time of year to get over “I want.” (What the hell does this mean?) Same par --- “somehow the spirit gets confused.” Sounds like: Children writing for each other? What duh? Online Jan Freeman complains, no bull puppy... with this title” “Sick, Sick, Sick” ..”As people might get rid of the word sick ...” Who says so? Remove sick, one loses sick and tired of get. From: ehow.com there’s: “ HOW TO GET A CAREER AS A PUBLISHER” Oh, hurry, out of the way! Wa wa wa wa wah wahw whwhw wh wh wh watch the tram car run over getting street. Don’t despair, luvs. Go to: GET FREE CONTENT -- VIRTUAL WORD PUBLISHERS -- To get your book the attention it deserves ... “ TEFF's forums = open. Closed 500 Words A Day group --
open to all wc=ers .. See you round, sleep tight this Sunday night. Full moon light, bright tonight. Ta Ta! Pip Pip! Cheerio! TEFF |
| CHRISTMAS EVE, 2010 Greetings to all Authors Discussion Club members, while extending Happy Holiday Wishes to all and your families. Bit of news here at the house leftover from Nov which changed my piddling life in a rather unexpected way. On Nov 18 we lost Mr Moffett who succumbed at his home that very same morning, having survived an unhealthy heart for sixteen long years. If you recall the BUS TO BOULDER newsletter, you may also recall we were estranged. Friends and lovers for untold years, after that fateful divorce I returned to his side and lived with him and our children another seven years, as yearly calendars traversed many harsh winters, many surprising springs. As our younger years return to haunt my saddened heart, we were tied again to Nov 22, the day his handsome earthly remains were reduced to ashes. Finally, still with some type of direction ahead for the last date, my youngest daughter and I chose the fines spray of flowers at our local florist shop. I visit there once a week and order carnations, his favorites, just to keep the spirits up. The bagpiper arrived at his gravesite on Nov 29. My son read a eulogy for his father and the crowd cried. Myself, I let loose, as my oldest daughter accepted his flag from the US Army. Then together we stepped back. Mr Moffett's three older sisters attended and one could easily see how wonderfully bravely they wore their broken hearts. Like all families which had a sad job to perform, we practiced at home how we would stand aligned. "Chins up, eyes forward, shoulders squared," I told my grown children. At graveside, before that piper played Amazing Grace walking out Mr Moffett's last square along the roadside, I handed my oldest daughter an identical handkerchief to my own, and said, "Use this if you have to, it has a bit of lace." I had a week to prepare. The kids remained busy ransacking his house and mine for photographs. By November 25th when Kathleen commented, "Mom, I just wanted you to know, you were a beautiful couple," I went into action. Now, I was challenged to bring back a face, my sad one, and wear something he'd adore. So, I chose a red plaid kilt, white knee socks, ankle suede boots. a white, turtleneck sweater beneath a black motorcycle jacket, topped by a black velvet beret. We made it through that day. While Kathleen held his flag, I held the last note, his sister's tearful faces. On that extremely fateful day ... I took home a memory like no other, knowing now, what must be shared today on Dec 24th ... the following fact. Love never dies. As is customary on such occasions, the last one the piper looked upon ... was me. And yes, as I head into silence, I am a little bit okay. I haven't been able to write at all, a most unusual turn of events. I'm pretty sure that aspect of my hobby life shall return, plus there's enough private editing to keep me busy for an entire year. Lucky for me, The Dish supplies free Hallmark channels this month. So, Christmas movies all the way with knitting needles working overtime. We may not always write about our personal lives in any stories at all. What we can do is repeatedly serve the heart well. Not only is it an absolute best thing to share, enjoy and compliment the loves of thy life; it also becomes duty offering requirements we should never shake. Yes, we might dabble inside a gigantic bubble known as the Internet to some. However, again with the reminder, not everyone is the same. But not setting aside any lack of communication with the written word, the spoken word and the etiquette of cards, letters via snail mail are indeed also aspects we leave in a wake of our very lifetimes. Sincerely, Mrs Moffett |
THANKSGIVING DAY this year (2010) will be different than any other that has ever gone before for the Moffett family. On Nov 18, we lost our beloved leader, Mr Moffett who died in his sleep at his home, during in the early morning hours. His beloved family, including my grown children understand that for the past sixteen years he suffered a failing series of heart attacks as recovery periods came and went with enduring hospital stays. Now, all of the debilitations he bravely lived daily since 1994 may no longer bait his fears. Thus, this courageous, intelligent and highly imaginative man held the key to where few men of our times dare to venture. Moffett, by all accounts and as every single person he met over the years may agree, my husband possessed what is known as a scathing wit. IN FEB 2005 === When Mr Moffett sat in the audience during a eulogy I delivered for my own father, back in 2005, to a standing ovation by the way, he winked at me. Of course, leaving the podium I ran right toward him and received another of the great bear hugs he was apt to produce even in the worst of times. I am thankful I knew him. After my nerves calmed a bit, since speaking before two hundred people is a bit of a stretch, especially with my own mother so bereaved and Daddy gone ... Moffett felt duly bond to remark upon the eulogy's delivery. Do bear in mind, cousins were rushing forward to say how much they liked the fact that I had included the entire family history in that speech. Well, Daddy was the youngest so it seemed the end of the road for the aunts and uncles who had been his brothers and sisters and Daddy's eulogy spoke of his honor and love for the duly departed who had been buried in other years, who Moffett also knew had all gone before. My husband put a grab on my arm that day almost as strong as his own character. So here's my cousin Mark on one side, complimenting the eulogy itself, asking for a written copy, which of course I knew he would. Mark is our record keeper. So I'm trying to dig a copy out of my purse, pushing Mr Moffett's arm aside at the same time locked in his eyes, don't you know? Then here's Mr Moffett, teary eyed and smiling at the same time. He says ... while people are still clapping as loud as thunder. Yeah, it was only moments after the best forty-five minute, speech I ever gave in my life, mind you. He says: "What took you so long, Mary? I almost fell asleep." He always held the last word and the funniest side of ordinary life fell from his lips as smooth as taffy. I am thankful that each of his children inherited this gift of seeing the smallest good and the largest wrongs at the same time from topics at hand. You see? Well, his second best one liner came a few minutes before my son's wedding ceremony was about to commence. Apparently, the maid of honor that day couldn't attend. She invariably cancelled since she was now in hospital birthing her first born. (Nice woman, she had a son on the day in question, and became tied to the family due to this memorable endearment for life.) Let us waltz down memory lane. Here we find, Mary Moffett and Mr Moffett sitting in the front row, side by side. Two daughters at the alter, both witnesses for their brother, our tuxedo strutting, son soon to be a husband. Everyone well turned out, hair do's to stop a semi, sparkling jewelry well chosen for the occasion, red gowns on the girls. All holding flowers, breathing in, breathing out with plain nervousness yet giddy with happiness, like the rest of the congregation of the moment. June weather tugging at our sweaty skin, fans blowing from all directions. Now, enter the minister who deems announcing the absence of the nine month preggie, maid of honor. "Elizabeth Moffett will stand in today as maid of honor. Because Lisa Somebody went to hospital this afternoon. We are happy to announce Lisa's son was born at 12:30 pm, this afternoon." Sure, nobody expects perfectly timed, best of the best, whenever Moffett drops these cunning gems from his proverbial apple cart. Oh, hell that would spoil an entire scenario at hand. And to this day, I am thankful, this quick thinker chose to at least whisper this one. Moffett looks at his watch, leans into my ear, like it is a microphone and he sez ... "Whattya mean, Reverend? That's plenty of time to get here." Of course, with harnessed strength and full intent, I'll cook, baste, coddle the bird next Thursday. I always remember how much he loved my gravy, how he insisted on adding gobs of horseradish to my, hard to replicate, cole slaw one year and not tell anyone first. How he asked for dark meat, then poked about at the white meat platter with the eyes of a hungry fox. How wonderful a carver he was, how sexy he looked with bowls of vegetables in each hand. Maybe by next year, I'll be able to deal with how holidays will never be the same without him. Sadly enough, not today. Cordially, TEFF Moral of the story -- cherish the ones at hand this Thanksgiving Day. Do not be alone! Regale those whom you love so well in present time. For one day --- no they may not all be seated at table since fate is well versed at working in mysterious ways. |
| WEBERS! Hold the fort, blessings, my friends. Waking in dawn's early light, occurs to me there's much to be thankful for during this month of bended knee syndrome. A time when we (many believers) roast our store bought, ostentatiously large birds with heartfelt intentions for enjoying annual luscious feasts bereft family arguments. Why ... Come Thanksgiving, we'll sit beside chosen guests chewing hard as rock, raw cauliflower pre dinner --- Hoping the oven was turned on during roasting. We'll dip broccoli with talk of current events in the great USA banned at table again this year. I, myself am grateful for arthritis, which only goes to show that at least one can still feel. As we pass attractive cheese trays, we may not wax maudlin every second. Doubtful we are truly thankful for Congressmen and women, whose names and faces we don't exactly cherish for their last thirteen years of US Congress memberships, per se. These folks had plenty of time to withdraw funds for the business of war mongering which this fantastic shindig of a guv'mint of ours whooshes in year after year. More than a decade's worth now of business as usual. And sure, we watched as war/ security/ occupations-invasions become a lucrative business. Only for an eleted some. Thus, we look instead, perhaps to the air we breath. Uh oh, those in Appalachia aint 'zactly head over heels in love with coal dust left behind from Mountaintop Removal, of course not. So we understand any and all reluctance to worship suspicious air, we maybe shouldn't breath with glee. Because prevailing winds waft that risky beeswax right to us like milk at the door of our discontent. So, let's see --- ahh fields of green, wheat shimmering under golden skies to feed cattle, fatten geese, etc. Wow! That turkey smells scrumptious about now, does it not? But hey, we somehow add ourselves to the list of great pretenders and refuse to shut open windows on Thanksgiving Day. We watch kiddies play outdoors. The youngest are hungry today, like us, all inheritors of future fiscal burdens. Oddly enough, holiday dew comes with damp reminders of Monsanto evils lurking behind every corn stalk, inside each monoculture, soy bean field. Hell, stinky, poisonous stuff coming off those surrounding, saucy fields could fell a St. Bernard, don't you know? Now, be this as it may, we tell ourselves everything is rather --- Rather! Hunky dory. As in fine, dearhearts. Yes, we still listen to quaint babbling brooks, sail the seven seas, fish rivers. Oh, damn, shooting down myth number three, we gasp for breathing space, place our right hands over our misaligned hearts. Shush, my dears. So what one must read pollution indexes for the day, determining whether or not to imbibe on aquatic life from non pristine waters. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I miss seafood as much as the next guy. Too expensive, right? So @ rock bottom level, we smile about like mimes. We bust a gut serving tossed salads we grew ourselves. We might read about the Clean Energy Act being over ridden in our life times. We could make ourselves aware of agriculture stats gone awry .. all ignored for the sake of spectacular holiday meals yet to be set down before our watery eyes without fret like the second coming of Christ. I do throughly hope to be thankful soon enough for a subscriber list to purchase stories and past blogs that TEFF once wrote. Oh, because, dedicated teffom@wWriting.Com tries to finish her difficult website construction, re-re-re-edit these prolific works while posting under the second penname of Paula LaRue. Thus all is not lost. Au Contraire, mon amis. Now, I'll tell you what I am thankful for. Vision, maybe talent. Talent as in the gift of gab. Irish wit? Vision to see across the road, stare at a glorious mountain range, as orangey gold in daylight hours as ripe peaches. Vision to bitch about important things, I cannot change, only inform. Vision to knock off reading novels abed when two cats snuggle close. Vision to watch DVDs, pick up purled stitches from colorful threads. Knitting Club today. Hold on there's a knock at the door. But I don't feel like leaving my cordless keyboard just yet. Oh my gawd. There's a tall fiend at my window. No! Jesus help us each and everyone. He's hulking about in a black coat. Not a vampire, let's hope. You see 'twas me editing the vampire stories from 2008/9 a few moments ago. You know the funny ones. Uh, oh, this scary intruder is holding up pieces of cheap white bread. He's mushing a slice to the glass pane. Christ! It's the toaster guy. He's miming lifting a cup. Oh, he wants coffee, so he screams. Me too, guy nearly gave me a coronary. Well, yet another thing to be thankful for, don't you know? A morning visitor on a perfectly lonely day here at the house. Apparently, he's on foot, looks like. The toaster dude's all about constantly complaining about his used toaster not working properly. That'd be the appliance he took home from our impromptu, yardsale for a crappy fifty cent last summer. However, since he's agreed to pay $1 per cup for Hazelnut Holiday, the aroma which brought him waltzing straight into this blog in the first place ... and being kinda desperate for money around these parts --- Especially after reading this morning that GM received, took, absconded with a cool, $49 BILLION during bailout hey days ... 2008-9. Holy Toledo, Batman. BILLION!!! FORTY-NINE BILLION DOLLARS! Sparky, 'scuse em whah ... gotta run. Now that NY Times news alert (11/18) did thoroughly piss me off. You'd think they'd give you a damn car for that price. Hell no, instead we-uns are left in the dust, holding the debtors' bag. Tons of folks driving average, used, POS automobiles. Damnation! Paying oil corporations exuberant payouts at the pumps. Damnation! Now, will you please tell me. Who isn't grateful for a decent cup of coffee these days? ================================================================ To whomever it may concern, a free premium mebership, no matter the length, just might put me in a better mood, a thankful conjecture, to be sure. SEE: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE JOURNALIST/// @ Network54.com http://www.network54.com/Forum/652040/ SEE: PENS ALA BYO CAFE @ Webring.com http://pg.webring.com/members/blog/paulalarue Writing as Paula La Rue since 2005! Note this formeraly, very active wc-er claimS 94 community recognitions. And never hid her talent, per se since 2004. Aint that a hoot? Sip sip, yummy! Whitey (a cat who looks like a lamby pie) sends hi to those he loves only. He's a smart alec, just like me. Cackle, cackle. |
fox out. WOE IS ME! A breaking news alert from the NY Times (10/30) sees fit to inform readers about a two week dispute between Fox News powered by News Corporation (the real logo) has come to an end. Well, suffice while three million viewers in the Metropolitan area were ousted from any daily enjoyment from overpaid, snarly spin doctors, one of them dubbed "pencil head" at our house, who incidentally never spoils our morning coffee klatch. Oh, we'll never tune in since we've low tolerance for sham propagandizing. Easily avoided as we block this channel allatime. Speculation ensues for the loss these poor folks underwent, that small sampling whom take news seriously from that awful source. Ah shazam, Sparky, they must invariably welcomed abrupt delusion when silent pleasantries surrounding the long awaited Fox blackout occurred. Imagine being glued to the set, waiting for fundamentalist Jeff Beck who we hear prays day and night for more money. Maybe die hard foxers in the narrow confines of their private chicken coops felt lil Jeffy's one hundred year plan actually went into effect without tribal trumpets to warn of that major comeuppance. Nor can one possibly fathom what became of Sara Palin fans unable to track her on the money laundry, Tea Party Circuit. We hear at Fandango, and sure this is rather hush hush, Miss Palin, groomed by the Republican Party since her McCain election days, post walking out on a governorship plus all responsibilities to the state of Alaska and the salary per se, for work incomplete .. seriously feels due her egotistical slant lavishly splashed across the political scene ... that she has one chance in hell at the White House in 2012. Lordy, such high end mullah surely buys a ton of lipstick. Shame on you, Sara! Shall this lovely lass continue reaping via campaign take-their-repuggy-money and run syndrome, for mo ... forever? Maybe. Well, said news brief, non foxxy utopia when that snake pit station which adverts the most automobiles not airing Oct 16 to Oct 30 is officially over. God, we were so close, almost out of the spin loop snag. Without a shadow of a doubt, Watson, the world would have been a much better place. Paula LaRue/ 30/all PLEASE!!! Don't forget the name nor penname, Mr Publisher Man. Send an email, I'll probably take the job. OK --- WEBERS, see you there? @ Writing.com: FICTION FANDANGO, A WRITER'S BLOG Do vote Tue. Do cadge: THE WASHINGTON POST: TOP SECRET AMERICA series. Do realize, Fandango notes a chicken side of readership stats afraid to comment below or site refusal. Hey, read it and weep, I always say. PS: Dear audience, you won't get in twahbbull. Trust me, one may e-write this blog spot any day of the year. Yeah? Meanwhie, bwhack, bwack and cackle cackle. |
An Annual Autumn Celebration at this digs, http://www.writing.com/authors/teffom/blog over those tumultuous years in question, became known as Oh! It's Cauldron Time. Suffice, October surprises sums late month news brief topics, perplexing or horrendous, according to an outlook which lumps and lambastes a snidey side of reporting across the nation. Namely: we may be outsiders seeking more, yet we can be aware not of discrepancies alone, while performing online searches. Whenever or wherever one encounters a regrettable lack of vim without contentious variables on certain topics. Meanwhile, ride with me now into a land of incredulity, when faced with the nerve of these guys. Nah, don't mean the likes of Mark Mazetti (NYTimes) nor Julian Assange from WikiLeaks, as this weekly recap ensues. Doll, maybe Ms Moffett's (aka Paula LaRue's) sharp toned, microscope aims at information coverage without a shadow of a doubt. Holmes, albeit impossible. Connected parties bear mentioning who are of, involved, speaking for and reporting (often verbatim) topics of interest amongst the surrounds of "guv'mint" ... as we perceive this highly entrenched circle passing under the lump sum noun of "media." Not my fault in the least, to be blessed with an eye and ear for news. Yeah, our crazy fam considers this a gift. Lest we not forget after all is said and done, names in these blogs stumble about, in some cases rule over a population residing inside an extremely beautiful country, geographically known as fifty US states. What we need inquire is who sets the pace. All better news articles outside audacious spin, or sugarcoated gonzo journalism, headline collections only or a third widely popular annotation anagram aka seriously shorts spewing all around us via minuscule, icky (tiresome twits) with topic wording resembling spam runs are out there, one supposes ours for the taking. So, we reach out. Do be cautious, don't dummy down for audiences, dear readers and writers. Instead smarty up. Here's FICTION FANDANGO'S RECAP LIST ...for the week that was on this blog, please note below. Of course, one may simply check these sources whenever. Which puts us on the same wave length somewhat, at least. You see? (Granted this perusal, should you accept your mission ... shall takes many long hours, even days, allowing for basics such as bread, water, shelter, bathing. sleep while living the comfortable life we all love so well.) NOW: Supplying a when as pertains to incidental window shopping amongst prevailing online must reads. And yes, you should thank moi. TEFFY loves flattery, don't you know? And sure, don't we all? Should anyone feel a need to catch up .. well you'd need go back to 2005 to be a major endorser of my blogs per se. However, this shouldn't be your prime concern at the moment. Easy enough to decipher. And no, self explanatory is out ruled from this desk. So, for the really lost, advise hanging in. Glad to mention that the most recent blogs here, indeed cast background stats for what came previously, so be informed. Myself? I detest writers who feel the constant kowtow need to ridiculously stipulate, overstating all their reasons for lousy wording inside style-less essays and stories. These types often wish to convey how wonderfully shy they are, how well they can't communicate quickly, or silly aim for an adolescent audience, which they feel is out there reading along. Nope, not available on this blog. No apologies. From where I sit, with a full view of the circus ring, due to morphing around certain places, the need to write the former paragraphs merely once more shows reading inferior shit, can invade one's pours. The Behavioral Objective here is to furnish topics which require time for readers to think. Yes, these blog temptations are trying to make a point and these are rather related like a series. Comprende? Contrary to sameness issues, this blog offers no guarantees things will be meticulously spelled out, mon amis. Closing for now --- TO-DAY there's a rally to cover. Au Revoir. OH MY GOD!!! OH! HELL-O, STEVEN!! Here's the first place to wallow. Check for you ownselves the following series: Top Secret America from the Washington Post/ July 20, 2010. (Oh yeah said interactive causes a call for outrage.) Lastly a quote from moi (2008) "If an author, any author compromises their style, they do so at great peril." |
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