Boobie Bracelet Colors

Books for a fee (for his friends "Evil")

This afternoon I saw a video:

When dreams have a price , recording a roundtable discussions on the theme of the publishing fee, which is already the title of a program.

And I confess, a bit 'I'm irritated to see the incredible mountain of crap that people, especially the self-appointed defenders, managed to shoot in less than an hour. I'm not un'editrice, did not send manuscripts to anyone and does not handle any site or blog on the subject, so I think enough out of the game (great location, I assure you) to tell a thought or two about it.

The first is this: publishing fee I do not like. You something rather squalid and humiliating for all parties involved, not very productive at best, at worst actively harmful, and tends to get people who are writers. Unfortunately I saw it happen live, and it's extremely irritating. Especially if the book sucks you right from the preface and the check to see mo 'SPAM viagra to every corner of your social network.
However, publishing fee bothers me. It is one of those things that make me happy to see disappear from the face of the earth, such as cockroaches and allergic rhinitis, but to which I am not in good conscience to deny the right to live. Cockroaches are to the ecosystem and allergic rhinitis is a disorder of the My body to which they have resigned. I would live better without, but know we can not take to the streets to march against my nose done, right? So I'm not outraged by sending off antihistamines like candy, I am not indignant when I run slippers on the ceiling, and equally outraged if someone thinks I do not offer a service and pay someone else to enjoy it. I suck, maybe it bothers me, I complain, but not the mantle of thing more seriously than it merits.
But a little 'me indignant when I see propionate and accepted without replication axioms such as: publishing industry is "serious" and a paid . Of course the publisher has "not paid" (hence "not P"), a character rather soft, having complained that tortured voice he can not afford the commercial on Channel 5 (was'), to bring out the big words. "We do publishing serious" (we, the Good, we do not pull at the end of month) "while they have it spot on Channel 5 (which in itself is bad, imagine if you put also to sponsor the Bad Guys) .
Just because the editor does not P would be more serious? Explained it to me, since I am ignorant, which means "seriousness"? Perhaps this is
:
1. choose the text based on its literary value Ah, yes? And why? I contend that it is the function of a publishing house. I realize that the romantic idea of the publishing house and spreading throughout the culture. But since we live in the real world and not in the castle of Cinderella and Santa Claus is dead long ago, people should open their eyes and realize that the publisher is a company and as such makes a profit. How does it? Publishing books. Simple. It would be like saying that Scientology or the Catholic Church spread peace, love and morality in the world because they are churches. Surprise, the churches do not spread the morality in the world than the publishing houses to spread the culture. This does not mean that they do not, sometimes . If they did all times who can afford it would be idyllic. But it is not and is not due primarily . The churches are followers and publishers profit, end of story. But back to the debate. The house is not P, as a serious, we evaluate according to your value. Home P, as not serious, has no interest assessed on the basis of any argument: you pay and produces copies tot, once you leave the store the goods do not change (cited). Horror! Abomination and horror! And that is, seriously, this? Culture? Aesthetics? Art? No: just as all companies looking to profit .
your novel sucks, or maybe not: maybe it's a masterpiece. Did not importance, because they have not read much. Oh, maybe someone will read it as well, but in general no matter what it says: bad prose, fanfiction tentacle bdsm about Harry Potter, Wikipedia articles. Publish everything. Pay and your ego is happy. If you are an honest person, inside you know that - with a little 'balls more - you would have tried to place the work in which you believe (or maybe not) at a publisher that you do not ask money. But you did, or because you have rejected your novel sucks, or maybe not. The point is that they (the publishers P) does not matter, and apparently not even to you. (By the way, the contracts they offer to all the editing, but then you do do, if only to fall into a number of pages. Trust me, it is.) P
The publisher does not, however, the public just because you believe in yourself. I mean, do you think will sell, and then bring the money.
that is not the same as saying "I think you're good,"
! Your story sucks, or maybe not: maybe it's a masterpiece. It does not matter much because even if it is the masterpiece of the century, even if it is deep and beautiful and has a unique style and Dante Alighieri I would gladly lick between her toes for the privilege of reading a line, even in this case, you're beautiful, clever, innovative, traditional, beautiful, one-who-you-think, is' tranquil, as sure as death not publish if you do not sell .

made me laugh the publisher P, after just five minutes from having serious publishing separate (himself) from publishing is not serious (the other), he stated explicitly that they would not have published Rowling because it is fantasy, and fantasy does not sell, and then JK hello hello! Okay, Rowling is not a model of style and the world would go on without her too. But what the hell:
the face of the seriousness
! "And the day we receive hundreds of fantasy," says the serious person, dismay because people have not realized that it must stop writing these things that do not sell unnecessary. Write to drug traffickers, gosh, plaques and the role of the pipe in the construction of contemporary moral Briatore! It takes time to understand it?

But maybe I'm all wrong, and instead seriously means


2. enforce contracts


They commit to things, to give you reviews, some level of distribution, media coverage, an article in the newspaper next to the bald Silvio (no, better, superimposed on the skull), and then they do not . You've been deceived.
not complied with the contract.


But what was written in the contract? Did you read that right? Are you really sure that the deadlines were not met, or perhaps just a voice you have spoken generally of "distribution" (and there), "promotion" (and is) the "fuck the baby" (and no, that never fails) and articolone Today there was Padania on its own, but I miss the fuck? Are you sure that you are beautifully exposed to the risk of a complaint, with the risk that you are right that Italian pain in the ass out of five who has a family lawyer?

If you do not have complied with what they have signed, certainly have a malpractice, and if you are the lucky five

report it, instead of the round tables. report it, you win your case and give an example that the terms of the contracts must be respected. This will surely need some 'more. But please, do not tell me that this only applies to the publishing fee. Even the big publishers do not P, if you have the ass to get in, I promise "distribution" and then yes, you give it, but if for one reason or another do not feel the need to invest on you (because c ' is more at stake because there's a great promotion of "I'm sorry but I woke up gay," because the editors who followed you was torpedoed and sunk his plans with him, because it's been a year, the pope is dead are all the rage and now only prayer books, why why why), then sell 800 copies and then a kick in the ass, hello Hello Newcomer! Fall in costs, make us a modest gain, just to say that they did not give you any money because you did not reach the target to trigger the rate and that was it.

These things do not me I'm making it up. Just have a basic familiarity with this world, for example, know one or two people who work there, to know that such things are on the agenda. With this I'm not flipping the cards and saying that the publisher is not serious P and P Publishing does. I'm saying that there is not serious people everywhere, no matter what "seriousness" should never mean (spiegatemelo! yearn for an answer!), And is expected to cut at least ridiculous two in a whole world and say 'you are serious "and" not you "just because, given the common objective of

can make more money, have chosen two different ways to achieve it. The truth, however, is that the crusade of the poor to irritate me more than anything else. There is nothing shameful or illegal or morally illicit publishing fee. It is bleak, such as prostitution, but prostitution as there is only one thing to say about it: is your stuff and can do what you want . And then, however, do not you complain. Then do not go crying to mother that the editor Mondadori has not been dazzled by your debut vil bought with money and not called you to offer you to become the new José Saramago (who conveniently left the space). Then do not go to salons to say it's a shame that you've been duped and that instead there is serious people like X, to which you have not addressed for your choice or you have calciorotato for his choice, and everyone should do like them. Of course, as they do and baskets, I agree.
And do not put up the campaign against this terrible phenomenon as if it were a social emergency: my god, all these people who want to publish a fee! It is certainly the fault of publishers and decoy bad, of a thousand poor fools who can not tolerate being told that know how to write and

prefer to go to those who will tell them that it's okay to be published, without even reading them. It is certainly not the fault of the fact that people write without knowing how to read herself. No, no, this has nothing to do: it's just human greed.
will.



Ah, cut out, just to point out: the dreams have always

a price. If you're lucky you cash money, most often a piece of your life, your time, your feelings, your passions, your integrity, your other dreams. If you know that dreams are made gratis et amore Dei, let me know.

How To Tell Counterfeit Titleist Ap2 R

[Sherlock Holmes] A hint or two


Title: A hint or two


Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing:
Holmes / Watson Rating: G
Word Count:
290 (W) Prompt: Lestrade
@
Tree
of Drabble (


holmes_ita

) + kiss @



bingo_italia

(!
)

Notes:
SIXN.
Lestrade had fallen asleep on our couch. We stopped talking for some time, retiring in a comfortable silence, me with a cigarette in one hand and the notes of the day in the other, Lestrade lying on the sofa with the blanket, legs, had gradually climbed up to rimboccarglisi the body below the neck. Holmes was upstairs, to see old newspaper. Every so often a dry leaf of paper and a grunt of disappointment broke the silence.
I would not have noticed that Lestrade Holmes had not slept at all if I had not met with kindness from mine. Without speaking, Holmes pointed to the inspector with a nod of the chin and handed me a cup of hot tea, no doubt, Mrs. Hudson had prepared us before going to bed.
Silent, Holmes sat down on arm of my chair and we sat for a moment to contemplate Lestrade snoring floor with one arm stretched over the edge of the sofa. Then Holmes bent down to steal a sip of my tea cup. I smiled and bit my tongue not to reproach him with this little rudeness aloud. The movement that followed was one unit: Holmes put the cup on the saucer, turned his head on my side and kissed my mouth with his lips still wet from the drink and impossibly hot, then straightening his back and his feet in a single, smooth diagonal.

glanced anxiously at Lestrade, but the unit continued to sleep the sleep of the just.
"Holmes!" I whispered, but to no avail, because our car had stopped just under the window and Holmes ran to retrieve his scarf. "Standing, Lestrade! It's time! "He exclaimed, throwing his hat in the belly of the poor Inspector Lestrade upon waking.

When I Dvr Does It Still Get Ratings

[Sherlock Holmes] In mist or cloud

Title:
In mist or cloud
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: January
Rating: G


Word Count:
358 (W)

Prompt: the dark and foggy arched streets of the City Tree @
Drabble (

holmes_ita
) + nebbia @
bingo_italia ( tab ) At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. Cominciò nel primo pomeriggio come una bruma leggera, e prima di cena era un manto spesso e opaco di foschia grigiastra. Era un tempo che il mio amico avrebbe amato, considerai seguendo il cappello di Lestrade giù dalla carrozza, non per i suoi meriti estetici ma per le infinite possibilità. La nebbia è amica dei criminali, e il crimine è - Was - what they eat his mind superb. For the rest of us, the fog is not to see beyond their noses, wet moisture that the storm coat and old war wounds. For my friend was a spy, a signal, a cover, a clue, and a thousand other things that I never started to learn. Now the fog had engulfed the lights and I resigned myself to guess Lestrade in the body that preceded me, resisting the urge to stretch an arm to make sure that its feathers were nevertheless real. "Time to dogs, doctor," muttered the inspector, turning to me but not necessarily. He paused for a few seconds, during which After studies, I thought, house numbers engraved on the doors. "Good for thieves and cutthroats." Another pause. "Mr. Holmes would be happy as a child, "she concluded, lightly tinged with caution.
"Oh, yes," I said. "I thought the same thing."
"It could not please anyone ... Ah, here's four hundred twenty-seven."

A muffled peal provenne Lestrade from inside the house when he pulled the rope. Then, when I turned to gaze at the empty street, a strange thing happened. A gust of warm air, found his way to my throat through the coat collar turned up, and a wave of cloth filled the corner of my eye. The passer-by touched my shoulder and went on. The blade of light that opened the door, I saw his back, cutting sharp shoulders and walk decided - the only part of the world, they say, that no man can forge. And I could smell, tobacco and an idea of the colony, and something else that seemed dust, paper dust.

"Come, Doctor," called me from a distance abysmal Lestrade, one or two lives, three years, a million miles.

"Arrival."

I looked the man with the look, but I noticed that you lost.