Ugh! I found someone had scanned and uploaded a copy of my book to the Internet Archive, without my permission. When wanting to find a review to recommend a book to someone, I found that copyrighted book there, so looked for mine. I still own my copyright. This interferes with me creating an author-preferred edition (instead of the publisher's vision) as planned.
In their terms of service, you will find:
While we collect publicly available Internet documents, sometimes authors and publishers express a desire for their documents not to be included in the Collections (by tagging a file for robot exclusion or by contacting us or the original crawler group). If the author or publisher of some part of the Archive does not want his or her work in our Collections, then we may remove that portion of the Collections without notice.
You can only contact the Internet Archive through email as their telephone number is voicemail. AFAIK their website doesn't list take down procedures.
I have emailed them a takedown demand, with their identifier for my novel, and left the same message on their voicemail.
Please boost so your circle of followers will see this, especially if they are authors.
PS: Yes, they consider themselves a library. I don't mind if they loan an original paperback from Del Rey in paper form. I don't give them permission to scan and then display, or display someone else's scan of my book.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 10 Nbr 08 — Do you agree with Michael Moorcock, who said: "Ignore all proffered rules and create your own, suitable for what you want to say"?
The advice boils to down to learn how to write and practice enough that you understand the basics (items 1 through 9), and understand what about all that gets in the way of you telling your tale... then tell your tale the way you need to tell it instead. I kinda agree...
To the extent you can be truthful with yourself and keep your ego at bay. This took me decades.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 10 Nbr 03 Part 2 — Should books include a content warning?
Well, I inadvertently conducted an experiment in content warnings. I added a content warning for Ch 10 Nbr 4 (here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112560345961576143) consistent with my eldritch.cafe instance's standards. It stated:
How do you handle highly intimate scenes? CW: Intimacy. Nothing graphic, but, really, if intimacy or discussion thereof bothers you, don't read.
In my opinion, it worked a little too well. 😊 I generally can count on more response. Yeah, maybe the post wasn't deserving.
The "experiment" does allow me to discuss my fears about CWs—despite agreeing to use them in the spirit of their requirement. In warding off people who need them to be sufficiently detailed, or want them, reading a CW forms in the reader's head a preconception without actual knowledge of the facts. It's a cudgel not a scalpel. In my cited CW, I overwrote it because in the back of my mind I fear picking up a hater. I've dealt with getting badgered because someone's interpretation of reality wasn't mine, and I became an evil to be purged for the good of the world. As a shy person, this is a very difficult thing for me to deal with, so I use CWs.
Wintereyes, the MC, is kind and considerate, and really wants to help, but when it comes to love she thinks like the wolves she's lived with over a decade. They don't have the concept. The closest is companionship and sex, which misses the point. Learning the concept of love is one of the many reasons Her Highness is forcing Wintereyes to live around people.
Caramello, the SC, fell in love a couple years ago. He knows that if he to return her interest in him, she'd be caught up in the succession war he's living in exile to avoid. The women since then have been substitutes. Wintereyes, however...
Wintereyes doesn't realize she could discover human love. Caramello doesn't realize that his dangerous past might learn about his present because of Wintereyes' kindness.
None of this bodes well for either romance novella character.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 10 Nbr 09 — How do you select ideas from all the ones floating around?
I require a character I can relate, to with an agenda to fulfill and a problem to solve. If that generates an ending I can write toward, it's "Tag yo it!"
Sadly, I sometimes write without an ending. Those rarely end well.
#WordWeavers 2406.09 — Who has the best meals in your story?
The main character's first non-vegetarian meal was crab cakes. Her marathon trainer insisted she needed more protein in her diet. Since then, her diet has been more like a day angel's than her own kind, which is a problem because day angels live on the top of buildings and any good day angel restaurant is going to be a rooftop restaurant. Her day angel friends and team mates fly her up to the best fish and chips places. I think she eats pretty tasty food, both sky and earth cuisines.
You'd think her antagonist would have the best meals, since in the worst case she could choose takeaway delivered from ten different worlds. (Okay, all but one of the colonies are non-earth-like planets, but still.) Problem is she prefers dessert. Not a meal.
The main image may be mirrored, but fascinating anyway. Elites provided tax relief for followers all through history. Don't forget why people do things for powerful friends.
"Save The Best for Last"
A #Poem written for my partner, Hikari Selene
You've waited for so long
While I loved others like a song
Enough verses written to fill a tome
Yet not once have I written you a poem
Faithfully you've waited
Silently you've anticipated
With lips and hands pressed tight
Loving me gently like moonlight
But darling look around and see
This life of ours is my poem to thee
It's shaped by all the little choices
And rhymes with both our children's voices
A masterpiece is not composed fast
I had to save the best for last
The pieces of our hearts ring like chimes
Celebrating a love meant to last seven lifetimes
I've lost track of where I end and you begin
To our generation that might seem like a sin
Let's blaspheme as two souls mix where they meet
I'll offer my prayers to the moon dust from your feet
For our love has been a mythic fairy tale
One forged like steel that's supple not frail
It's elegance woven with grace and simplicity
Into each minute since you first saw me
To you I was guided like Theseus's twine
By a crimson red ribbon with a grander design
Of a pinky promise made in case I lost my way
Silver light of night guiding towards dawning day
Only for you can I weave all this meaning
In a way beyond the first simple reading
You alone have all the tools to decode
Because you've made my heart your abode
Before, I could not see this poem for you
To observe it at all you need a bird's eye view
It's breadth and depth beyond simply vast
Because for you I saved the best for last
#PennedPossibilities 339 — Does your MC learn from their past, or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes?
My MC is way too prone to making mistakes. Repeating them, not so much. Somehow she survives.
From the current work, this:
..."Better not to get hit?"
"Definitely. Though the direct route through an obstacle is sometimes more unexpected."
And:
Were my trust misplaced, I'd learn something about myself. But, then again, that seemed to be my method of operation: win—or get hurt, pick myself up, make different mistakes.
#WordWeavers 2406.08 — Where would your SC go if they had a bad day?
She's a day angel. Solitude is easy. Near sunset on the always hot world she lives on, she can always catch a thermal and spiral high into the sky. Gliding way above it all, the city she's trapped living in seems so peaceful, so devoid of people. She can make believe for a few minutes that the boss doesn't hold blackmail that would frame her for murder, and that she can soar off into the coming purpling dusk and start anew. The dry air swiftly dries all tears.
This keys into pennedpossibilities 338 rather well (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112573054902942695): a betrayal. She. Doesn't. Cry. Stoic, right? When she's held it in for three-quarters of the novel, when she's trusted her identity with someone who has suddenly proven trustworthy, at least in her heart, my MC admits the first hurt of two betrayals that sunder her.
Whilst I won't reveal details, it is a case of a once trusted adult providing only material support when the MC required a simple act of love and caring.
Never forgotten. Never forgiven.
Thus she breaks, while being held. Actually, both cry over being betrayed, but that's also spoilers. In a subsequent novel, the friend characterizes the event as a "cloudburst."
#PennedPossibilities 338 — How would your MC or SC respond to someone betraying their trust?
Since a childhood betrayal is an essential part of the MC's character, let's say she reacts rather poorly. She makes the worst mistake of her life, later runs away, and becomes a criminal (and an anonymous hero amongst other things.) It takes three novels for her to resolve the consequences of that betrayal in an event that shatters her conception of reality. And. She has to keep it together. At all costs. Lives will depend on her; failing to continue through it all would betray trust placed in her.
"The Jungborn nudist sanatorium, the Paris metro, or the picturesque town of Stresa by Lago Magiorre – these are just some of the many places visited by Franz #Kafka, the great Prague-born #Jewish#writer who died exactly 100 years ago. To mark the occasion, a new #book, has just come out dedicated to Kafka’s travels. I spoke to its author, journalist and publicist Judita Matyášová"
#WordWeavers 2406.06 — MC POV: When was the last time you laughed? CW: Spoilers if you follow me under another alias.
My MC's story is rarely funny, despite being regularly snide or darkly humorous, sometimes ridiculous like here. Because the "last time" she "laughed" requires too much context, this is the penultimate time she laughed in the entire novel. It's also a minor spoiler for a chapter that will soon be published. The is a slight revised [#excerpt: Two SCs are sitting in a high security prison, on either side of the bars. The MC is watching them from the wrong side of them. The reader knows she has slept with both men.]
He sat opposite my shapeshifter. They looked at one another, the shapeshifter imitating his actions. When it devolved to insulting gestures and the sticking out of tongues, I cleared my throat to forestall laughing outloud.
The prince grinned as did my shapeshifter. The prince said, "It's like looking in a mirror; uncanny."
"Yeah," I said, covering my mouth. "Uncanny because not a mirror image!"
#PennedPossibilities 337 — What was the worst job that your MC or SC ever had? CW: 400 word tootfic.
This #excerpt tootfic is from an in-universe novel I published online in 2016 that would include both my criminal MC (aka the devil-girl) and her SC (aka Bolt) as SCs, as told by the crime boss who wants employ her as his enforcer. My MC has a knack for existing well and without regrets. The detailed jobs and conditions were undoubtedly the worst my MC experienced, and Bolt didn't like it either, which foreshadows their eventual friendship. [I made a few revisions.]
... From what [Bolt], my youngest employee, could find shadowing her in the university district, she was looking for a change of career. She had applied for admission to the [Home Planetary School for Thaumaturgy]. She'd have to wait months until enrollment started.
I saw leverage and a desirable new hire.
Why would I want a security specialist who failed her last employer? Well, in CA's case, sometimes you can't save a person from her own stupidity [so I found the failure forgivable.] I also visualized a different employment for this woman's "miraculous" talents.
I gave orders to ensure the woman's efforts in finding a job to pay room and board would be only marginally fruitful. I provided strategic services to many businesses; they usually respected my opinions on such matters. The woman seemed reluctant to venture into downtown or suburban Home City. Perhaps it was that she was shy about being noticed as the failed security specialist for the deceased Doña. Perhaps it was because visibly healing wounds, time pounding the pavement, and days exposed to the sun and the elements made her look like a vagrant. In any case, she restricted her search to the less-structured more-freewheeling Lower City where I conducted my core business. Her life would be hard.
Surprisingly, this stoic didn't break. She saved the minimal coin she made first sweeping floors, then, when pushed out, cleaning ovens at a bakery, then later hauling garbage, and after that painting walls. She literally performed a dozen menial jobs before the proctors granted her admission when the spring session opened later in the month.
And during those months, she spent nothing. Instead, she lived homeless in encampments in the warehouse district. She never visited the homeless shelters paid by the homeless tax levy where she'd have to identify herself. She ate when she got handouts, even bathed in public washrooms. She even endured a week of strong spring storms, sheltered beneath the eaves of warehouses or restaurants after they closed, sometimes soaked to the skin.
The latter drove my usually hard-flanked [day angel] to tears one evening. The only thing I could do to stop [Bolt] from flying the [daemon] to her aerie that last dark rainy night was to relent and promise to offer the former specialist a position in my organization the next day.