Was just chatting with the owners of my local shop. They've known me a long time now and we talk about all sorts of issues. They feel like extended family, we have so much in common and stare aghast at the same people. They've got my phone numbers because I'm just around the corner and am happy to help.
Someone complained to them in front of me that the Link cash machine takes £1.80 for every transaction when the post office along the road dispenses cash for free. I've never heard a better business case for cash machine charges as I just have. The machines have to be manufactured, paid for, maintained, filled and they're placed in locations that are convenient for the public but not the people involved in that entire process. Would you make a product, give it away and then go to work for nothing? You'd charge people to have one, wouldn't you? The shop doesn't make a profit on that machine. They cover the cost of it and they keep it because it's a convenience for their customers and might just bring some people in.
My question would be do the people who complain about a paid for cash service phone their
water company and complain about paying for the most commonly occurring
element on the planet whether they run the tap or not? I bet they
don't. You pay for your water for the same reason as you pay for your
convenient cash. The system doesn't run itself.
We got on to business in general. They have massive overheads and make just a tiny amount on each item they sell. Did you know, all you smokers and drinkers and I don't exempt myself from that group, that small shops make between 2 and 5 pence on the fags and booze you complain are so expensive? The rest is all tax, manufacturer and supply chain. Your local shop does not import products directly or have enormous bulk buying power like the supermarket giants do. They go to a cash and carry where they pay not a whole lot less than they then sell the goods for.
That little local shop pays £1000 a month just for electricity. They have lighting, tills, fridges and freezers to run not to mention that infamous cash machine and the security systems. They have deliveries to pay for - bread, milk and fresh produce - business tax and yet more tax on the property. Then there's insurance and heating, assistants to pay and the list goes on. They get by, but only just.
Now that's a really busy shop and you might imagine that they're minted but they're not. They are an important part of what's left of the community around here. I talk to people in the shop that I'd never have talked to otherwise. It helps that I know the place like the back of my hand and can show people where things are. That shop has been a lifeline to me for ten years and even more so in the last two years. It's a place where I can get exactly what I need cheaply and at the same time catch up with the lovely people that own it. They're really feeling the economic pinch, just like the rest of us. From my perspective, i.e. supporting me and the cat, the cost of living has risen by about 50% in the space of 6 years. It's the same for small businesses.
I support my local shop because their presence supports me and they've become a part of my life. Support your local businesses. We need them as much as they need us.
Thursday 31 May 2012
Monday 28 May 2012
The bees today
This is definitely a Postcards item and not for Soliloquies. The headline as tweeted by the BBC is "UN-Arab League envoy Kofi Annan urges "everyone with a gun" in Syria to stop fighting". My immediate thought on that, as I posted on facebook, was so apparently rocket launchers, grenades, knives, vicious hamsters are all still in?
Then I felt the need to clarify that I do not find the situation in Syria remotely funny, however the tweet is badly written and grossly trivialises the situation. It's the kind of headline Have I Got News For You dreams of. I can hear Paul Merton's voice in my head now.
There are a couple of bees in my bonnet as a result of this. One follows on from Celebrating Stupid which I penned this morning and buzzes that you have to be so careful to clarify everything you say on social media because people, well, they'll get bees in their bonnets too. When I see headlines like that one, I have an involuntary response to them. Even if I manage to keep my mouth shut, my left eyebrow arches in a most pointed and sarcastic, indeed flippant attitude. Many people still do not quite get my sense of humour, which is a blend of sarcastic and sardonic with a twist of plain dark and is on the whole dry as a bone. My face is too busy being wry and wrestling with my eyebrow to arrange a cheery grin to offset the sting that trips off my tongue before I can stop it. I spend a lot of time clarifying and some apologising. Some people get me and react accordingly. Social media actually makes it harder for me to say what I would say in person. In this case, it would have been as trivialising as the headline itself to add :D but why shouldn't I say what's on my mind? Clarifying comments ensued. The bee though is still buzzing.
The other bee is bigger but like all bees, the bigger they are, the less aggressively they go about their business. It's buzzing loudly though about ambiguity in journalism, particularly headlines. It's all very well to use headlines to grab attention. The headline didn't start life that way though. It came into the world to help distinguish one story from another and only when it was seen to aid sales did it become bigger and bolder and all too often red. Big letters aren't enough though. They have to be worded in a punchy, thought provoking way, that thought being ideally 'buy paper now'. How often do we read a headline that actually tells us what the story is actually about? How often do they place importance above sensationalism? It really bothers me that even an institution like the BBC can so grossly trivialise situations. Yes, it was a tweet and has to be brief. But even fewer words would have been better. Kofi Annan urges Syria to stop fighting. Simple and not at all open to mockery by the likes of me and my eyebrow or to misinterpretation. But how many people read the article? It sounded so ridiculous for a UN envoy to say such a thing and I'll bet there are many conversations over a pint in the beer garden today about the headline and not the article. These people lead public opinion and wield a frightening amount of power yet the majority of people will not look beyond the big letters at the top.
I guess my bees are from the same hive and it's a hive named public information. They'd really prefer people to stop reacting to only the heading and start thinking about the content, whether it's a status update or a news headline. But who listens to bees?
Then I felt the need to clarify that I do not find the situation in Syria remotely funny, however the tweet is badly written and grossly trivialises the situation. It's the kind of headline Have I Got News For You dreams of. I can hear Paul Merton's voice in my head now.
There are a couple of bees in my bonnet as a result of this. One follows on from Celebrating Stupid which I penned this morning and buzzes that you have to be so careful to clarify everything you say on social media because people, well, they'll get bees in their bonnets too. When I see headlines like that one, I have an involuntary response to them. Even if I manage to keep my mouth shut, my left eyebrow arches in a most pointed and sarcastic, indeed flippant attitude. Many people still do not quite get my sense of humour, which is a blend of sarcastic and sardonic with a twist of plain dark and is on the whole dry as a bone. My face is too busy being wry and wrestling with my eyebrow to arrange a cheery grin to offset the sting that trips off my tongue before I can stop it. I spend a lot of time clarifying and some apologising. Some people get me and react accordingly. Social media actually makes it harder for me to say what I would say in person. In this case, it would have been as trivialising as the headline itself to add :D but why shouldn't I say what's on my mind? Clarifying comments ensued. The bee though is still buzzing.
The other bee is bigger but like all bees, the bigger they are, the less aggressively they go about their business. It's buzzing loudly though about ambiguity in journalism, particularly headlines. It's all very well to use headlines to grab attention. The headline didn't start life that way though. It came into the world to help distinguish one story from another and only when it was seen to aid sales did it become bigger and bolder and all too often red. Big letters aren't enough though. They have to be worded in a punchy, thought provoking way, that thought being ideally 'buy paper now'. How often do we read a headline that actually tells us what the story is actually about? How often do they place importance above sensationalism? It really bothers me that even an institution like the BBC can so grossly trivialise situations. Yes, it was a tweet and has to be brief. But even fewer words would have been better. Kofi Annan urges Syria to stop fighting. Simple and not at all open to mockery by the likes of me and my eyebrow or to misinterpretation. But how many people read the article? It sounded so ridiculous for a UN envoy to say such a thing and I'll bet there are many conversations over a pint in the beer garden today about the headline and not the article. These people lead public opinion and wield a frightening amount of power yet the majority of people will not look beyond the big letters at the top.
I guess my bees are from the same hive and it's a hive named public information. They'd really prefer people to stop reacting to only the heading and start thinking about the content, whether it's a status update or a news headline. But who listens to bees?
Monday 21 May 2012
Captcha or tortcha?
So the good news for anyone that prefers the rants and meanderings of the
usual postcards will be glad to hear that a new blog has begun to take over the
creative venture posts. So no more on here about those unless of course
it falls under the heading of rant. If you were actually reading the
posts about those exploits, you can check in on swornnotbythemoon.blogspot.com
or the blog page on the website, or the blog tab of the facebook page - I've
got it linking in by RSS to synch instantly. And that's that.
But in setting up all the tie-ins, something set me off on a bit of a rant. The Captcha. Not only is it a horrible non-word, but it's an annoying little validation device springing up in more and more locations. Sometimes, although they're displayed in lower case, to pass the test you have to switch on caps lock. Sometimes they're displayed in upper case and only work if you type in lower. Sometimes it wants mixed case. You can only find out which it wants through trial and error. That's if you have the patience not to give up and go somewhere else.
This morning, the captcha encounter so infuriated me that I had to remind myself it was not the fault of my machine and it would be very silly to punch it in either the keyboard or the screen. I was simply trying to post a link, but for that I had to prove I'm human and really medical science can only probably on that one. I gave up in the end and came back later. In the later attempt though, the pop-up window showed me two words, not just the one it had showed before. When I say words (which by my definition Captcha itself is not) the first was a jumble of six random letters and the second an actual word. This time it worked on the forst attempt.
Most irksome. What if I'd been trying to enter time sensitive information? What if the delay had cost me millions of pounds? I can almost guarantee there's something in the terms and conditions of use that puts them in the clear. Not that they could afford to reimburse me for the millions I've hypothetically lost, especially if their share price stays so close to the IPO. You know who I'm talking about now, right?
I can imagine captchas not working on there all the time though. Nothing on there works all the time, probably because things aren't allowed to stay the same for five minutes. It's not a problem exclusive to one site though. It happens all over the place. It makes me think that somebody, somewhere must have hit upon the idea and made it work. Then someone else's CEO saw it and thought I want that on my company's website too but wanted this change and that change and can it be more like this until damn thing sort of worked and sort of didn't. The someone else's CEO said just copy that and the failure propagated like an overly fertile bunny rabbit. I'm blaming the CEO but it could as easily have been the tea lady.
Captchas are one of the best and yet worst inventions in the virtual world. I think we might need to get the UN involved to regulate just how much tortcha they inflict.
But in setting up all the tie-ins, something set me off on a bit of a rant. The Captcha. Not only is it a horrible non-word, but it's an annoying little validation device springing up in more and more locations. Sometimes, although they're displayed in lower case, to pass the test you have to switch on caps lock. Sometimes they're displayed in upper case and only work if you type in lower. Sometimes it wants mixed case. You can only find out which it wants through trial and error. That's if you have the patience not to give up and go somewhere else.
This morning, the captcha encounter so infuriated me that I had to remind myself it was not the fault of my machine and it would be very silly to punch it in either the keyboard or the screen. I was simply trying to post a link, but for that I had to prove I'm human and really medical science can only probably on that one. I gave up in the end and came back later. In the later attempt though, the pop-up window showed me two words, not just the one it had showed before. When I say words (which by my definition Captcha itself is not) the first was a jumble of six random letters and the second an actual word. This time it worked on the forst attempt.
Most irksome. What if I'd been trying to enter time sensitive information? What if the delay had cost me millions of pounds? I can almost guarantee there's something in the terms and conditions of use that puts them in the clear. Not that they could afford to reimburse me for the millions I've hypothetically lost, especially if their share price stays so close to the IPO. You know who I'm talking about now, right?
I can imagine captchas not working on there all the time though. Nothing on there works all the time, probably because things aren't allowed to stay the same for five minutes. It's not a problem exclusive to one site though. It happens all over the place. It makes me think that somebody, somewhere must have hit upon the idea and made it work. Then someone else's CEO saw it and thought I want that on my company's website too but wanted this change and that change and can it be more like this until damn thing sort of worked and sort of didn't. The someone else's CEO said just copy that and the failure propagated like an overly fertile bunny rabbit. I'm blaming the CEO but it could as easily have been the tea lady.
Captchas are one of the best and yet worst inventions in the virtual world. I think we might need to get the UN involved to regulate just how much tortcha they inflict.
Saturday 19 May 2012
The anticlimactic day after...
Not only did the news arrive that the book is now available on Amazon.co.uk, but the promo copies landed too. Have to say I'm very impressed with the quality of the printing and binding. There was always that nagging feeling that I'd told everyone about it and when my copies arrived I might wish I hadn't. I always say a pessimist is rarely disappointed but often pleasantly surprised. I dared to believe for once and I was not wrong. Everything is coming together nicely.
There are two things I can't quite get my head around. The first is that this lovely, glossy little book is my creation, my design, has my name on the front and the only bit I didn't do was print and bind it. It looks like something you'd buy in a shop. But it's my work and it really is a strange sensation, somewhere between pleased as punch and bashful.
The other thing is that now everything is falling into place, it's my responsibility to make some success of it. I'm not used to selling a product. I'm quite reticent about plugging it everywhere. I know I've done so much social media coverage that I must have caught everyone I know that's going to look. Other social media is more fast-flowing with a wider and constantly renewing audience and I have to keep at that. I'm trying to do what feels right and it's not as easy as it might seem. I've brought the price down as low as I can whilst still leaving a royalty margin. It now only generates an 86p royalty per sale, but I figured two 86p's was better than one £1. Amazon now retail the book for £4.99 with free super-saver delivery available. I retail it on my website for £4.99 plus P&P (I make no profit from that and only cover costs plus donation margin).
It occurred to me that even after lowering prices, the key focus might be wrong (yes, I'm about to talk about charities again). While I wholly believe in and support the MS Society and am not about to switch allegiance to a glitzier organisation, I'm wondering how much making the cause a product feature is harming uptake. There's a widespread ignorance of MS and an even more widespread ignorance of the MS Society. So there's one public blind spot. There's also a traditional association between things sold for charity and either second hand or low grade goods. It doesn't have to be true for it to be a preconception. Jumble sales and bring-and-buy and clearing out your junk by giving it to charity to sell on - it all adds up in the minds of the people and creates this unconscious rejection in many. On the other hand, it motivates some, especially those with a knowledge of the nominated charity. So do I rethink the marketing and reduce the charity angle in favour of emphasising the shiny new product aspect? It's a tough call and requires a degree of mind reading.
Considering the practical requirements from this point on, I have to say, is quite anticlimactic after good news and parcels of much anticipated goods. It sort of reminds me of the feeling as a kid when your party was over. Where's the next high? It's a bit like starting out from the bottom of the hill again. Or maybe that's a new hill after making it up the first one. I can plan and refine and plan some more and do everything I can to get the word out - I definitely do not lack the motivation. What I can't do is predict the outcome. I can't let that be an anticlimax too!
There are two things I can't quite get my head around. The first is that this lovely, glossy little book is my creation, my design, has my name on the front and the only bit I didn't do was print and bind it. It looks like something you'd buy in a shop. But it's my work and it really is a strange sensation, somewhere between pleased as punch and bashful.
The other thing is that now everything is falling into place, it's my responsibility to make some success of it. I'm not used to selling a product. I'm quite reticent about plugging it everywhere. I know I've done so much social media coverage that I must have caught everyone I know that's going to look. Other social media is more fast-flowing with a wider and constantly renewing audience and I have to keep at that. I'm trying to do what feels right and it's not as easy as it might seem. I've brought the price down as low as I can whilst still leaving a royalty margin. It now only generates an 86p royalty per sale, but I figured two 86p's was better than one £1. Amazon now retail the book for £4.99 with free super-saver delivery available. I retail it on my website for £4.99 plus P&P (I make no profit from that and only cover costs plus donation margin).
It occurred to me that even after lowering prices, the key focus might be wrong (yes, I'm about to talk about charities again). While I wholly believe in and support the MS Society and am not about to switch allegiance to a glitzier organisation, I'm wondering how much making the cause a product feature is harming uptake. There's a widespread ignorance of MS and an even more widespread ignorance of the MS Society. So there's one public blind spot. There's also a traditional association between things sold for charity and either second hand or low grade goods. It doesn't have to be true for it to be a preconception. Jumble sales and bring-and-buy and clearing out your junk by giving it to charity to sell on - it all adds up in the minds of the people and creates this unconscious rejection in many. On the other hand, it motivates some, especially those with a knowledge of the nominated charity. So do I rethink the marketing and reduce the charity angle in favour of emphasising the shiny new product aspect? It's a tough call and requires a degree of mind reading.
Considering the practical requirements from this point on, I have to say, is quite anticlimactic after good news and parcels of much anticipated goods. It sort of reminds me of the feeling as a kid when your party was over. Where's the next high? It's a bit like starting out from the bottom of the hill again. Or maybe that's a new hill after making it up the first one. I can plan and refine and plan some more and do everything I can to get the word out - I definitely do not lack the motivation. What I can't do is predict the outcome. I can't let that be an anticlimax too!
Thursday 17 May 2012
Making progress
Great news arrived in my email this morning. CreateSpace, the print on demand publishers, now distribute through Amazon's European channels too. So the 'real' book is now IN STOCK in the UK, Germany, France, Spain and Italy and not only through independent sellers who'd picked up the title.
Even better than that, sales are really starting to happen, so I'll (eventually) have royalty cheques to pay in to my account and straight back out to the MS Society. It's also a much faster turnaround time for anyone that buys and much cheaper shipping. I'm still waiting for the copies I ordered, so customers might even have their copy before me! In the meantime my credit card is even more dinted in the name of sending preview copies to magazines to hopefully get a tiny mention to help the charity sales along.
In the meantime, I've re-jigged the free stuff page on the website to help people understand there are loads more than the free chart of the month (which is seeing downloads - thank you) at a very tiny prices, all for a good cause. Check it out - Free Stuff!!
Now, I'm aware of a few things that might seem to have been overlooked. It's a niche market I'm appealing to - not everyone does cross stitch - but nearly everyone knows someone that does. It's a bit like MS itself. You might not have it, but I bet you know someone or know someone that knows someone. But so you know much about it? What I'm trying to promote, as much as the products is the message to tell your friends. A simple retweet or shared link is all it takes. Awareness of MS is built in to the message already. It helps in so many ways just to click that link.
I might never be a tycoon this way, but I can do my bit to help out. I can't run marathons. I can't even walk a mile. But I can use technology and I'm not incurring any unreasonable costs that might harm the donation fund. It's a slow process, I know.
Was thinking as I rejigged the free stuff page that the whole front end of the site needs redesigning really. The home page has the latest news. The news page has archived news. The blog page streams this blog, which gives the news (plus the ramblings and ravings of a madwoman) but it really doesn't need all of that. Where I'm really undecided is the blog. If you read this via the website (and yes, some people actually do), does it make it a more personal experience because you can see what's going on in my unravelling mind, or would you rather see a separate blog that focuses on what I'm writing, designing, or promoting at the time? I hear mixed advice about this, so tell me what YOU think. I can do either. I can do both, just to be perverse and confuse things. You are my audience, not the advice givers, and your feedback is what matters most. If I don't hear anything, I'll leave this blog in place and apologise in advance for the random rants that will no doubt appear!
Stop asking, start doing she thinks to herself. After tonight's toast-pizza, the layout goes under the knife and hopefully emerges in better shape...
Even better than that, sales are really starting to happen, so I'll (eventually) have royalty cheques to pay in to my account and straight back out to the MS Society. It's also a much faster turnaround time for anyone that buys and much cheaper shipping. I'm still waiting for the copies I ordered, so customers might even have their copy before me! In the meantime my credit card is even more dinted in the name of sending preview copies to magazines to hopefully get a tiny mention to help the charity sales along.
In the meantime, I've re-jigged the free stuff page on the website to help people understand there are loads more than the free chart of the month (which is seeing downloads - thank you) at a very tiny prices, all for a good cause. Check it out - Free Stuff!!
Now, I'm aware of a few things that might seem to have been overlooked. It's a niche market I'm appealing to - not everyone does cross stitch - but nearly everyone knows someone that does. It's a bit like MS itself. You might not have it, but I bet you know someone or know someone that knows someone. But so you know much about it? What I'm trying to promote, as much as the products is the message to tell your friends. A simple retweet or shared link is all it takes. Awareness of MS is built in to the message already. It helps in so many ways just to click that link.
I might never be a tycoon this way, but I can do my bit to help out. I can't run marathons. I can't even walk a mile. But I can use technology and I'm not incurring any unreasonable costs that might harm the donation fund. It's a slow process, I know.
Was thinking as I rejigged the free stuff page that the whole front end of the site needs redesigning really. The home page has the latest news. The news page has archived news. The blog page streams this blog, which gives the news (plus the ramblings and ravings of a madwoman) but it really doesn't need all of that. Where I'm really undecided is the blog. If you read this via the website (and yes, some people actually do), does it make it a more personal experience because you can see what's going on in my unravelling mind, or would you rather see a separate blog that focuses on what I'm writing, designing, or promoting at the time? I hear mixed advice about this, so tell me what YOU think. I can do either. I can do both, just to be perverse and confuse things. You are my audience, not the advice givers, and your feedback is what matters most. If I don't hear anything, I'll leave this blog in place and apologise in advance for the random rants that will no doubt appear!
Stop asking, start doing she thinks to herself. After tonight's toast-pizza, the layout goes under the knife and hopefully emerges in better shape...
Wednesday 16 May 2012
Things in my head
I was thinking, and I know you wish I wouldn't, but I can't stop. I really wanted to write a scathing blog about the 15 year old that stabbed someone through the heart over being asked to stop throwing conkers around. I have a lot of thoughts about that and they're thoughts I've voiced but not yet blogged. But as I was sitting here, I thought damn, I need to go to the shop and I'm still drained from the bad jab night I had.
I was thinking what a mess I am and haven't the energy to do anything about it. I was thinking that I might have to take my stick for the first time in a while. I was thinking that unless something miraculous happens in the near future, my life on wheels will have to begin.
Oh no, I hear you thinking, here we go. But I'm not bemoaning anything. From life on wheels my thoughts wandered off even further to ponder the prospect of wearing any shoes I like because I won't lose my balance in them and I won't get blisters. Then I thought I'd probably never have to worry about developing hard skin or corns or bad bunions. But then the little devil on my shoulder piped up, but what if you get hard skin and corns on your bum instead?
At this point, I hit pause on the thought track and tried to think of other things to change the direction. I was watching House but stopped paying attention when it ended. Looking up at the TV there's a Star Trek episode on. It must have beamed in, because I didn't register it before that. It's a Voyager, I think. The aliens have unusual skin. It did nothing to clear my mind of potential lumps and bumps appearing where I don't want them to.
So what can I do? Well, I think drag myself to the shop for the sake of stretching my legs and see if talking to some sane and rational people might snap me back to thinking sane and rational things. But I really should do some writing and thinking sane and rational things is not always conducive to the most imaginative work. However, there's a short story I'm working on that links in nicely to youth violence, so perhaps if I can get them to rant or comment, I might get sane and rational thought as well as a useful line to follow.
There's know knowing until I heave my aching carcass up the street, I guess. I just have to keep the things in my head quiet so they can be replaced with other more workable things. Yes, I do worry sometimes, but it soon passes...
I was thinking what a mess I am and haven't the energy to do anything about it. I was thinking that I might have to take my stick for the first time in a while. I was thinking that unless something miraculous happens in the near future, my life on wheels will have to begin.
Oh no, I hear you thinking, here we go. But I'm not bemoaning anything. From life on wheels my thoughts wandered off even further to ponder the prospect of wearing any shoes I like because I won't lose my balance in them and I won't get blisters. Then I thought I'd probably never have to worry about developing hard skin or corns or bad bunions. But then the little devil on my shoulder piped up, but what if you get hard skin and corns on your bum instead?
At this point, I hit pause on the thought track and tried to think of other things to change the direction. I was watching House but stopped paying attention when it ended. Looking up at the TV there's a Star Trek episode on. It must have beamed in, because I didn't register it before that. It's a Voyager, I think. The aliens have unusual skin. It did nothing to clear my mind of potential lumps and bumps appearing where I don't want them to.
So what can I do? Well, I think drag myself to the shop for the sake of stretching my legs and see if talking to some sane and rational people might snap me back to thinking sane and rational things. But I really should do some writing and thinking sane and rational things is not always conducive to the most imaginative work. However, there's a short story I'm working on that links in nicely to youth violence, so perhaps if I can get them to rant or comment, I might get sane and rational thought as well as a useful line to follow.
There's know knowing until I heave my aching carcass up the street, I guess. I just have to keep the things in my head quiet so they can be replaced with other more workable things. Yes, I do worry sometimes, but it soon passes...
Tuesday 15 May 2012
Learning from dragons
I've put down the fiction, both reading and writing, for a brief sojourn into the real world. Sort of anyway. I've picked up Enter the Dragon, or How I transformed my life and how you can too by Theo Paphitis. It's a much lighter read than you might think and although I'm not far into it, I'm already thinking a lot as I go.
The first thing that's really struck me is the obstruction faced for being in any sort of minority - you might be a foreign national, or you might have a disability - you're an outsider whatever your pigeon hole is. I'm born and bred here, but the constraints are still all too familiar and getting moreso.
Another thing that occurred to me is that being good at school might not have done me too many favours in the battles I now face to get beyond those obstructions. I got too comfortable at school, knowing that I would pass my exams and always get a good report. Add to that the fact that all I'd heard from grandparents from an early age was "when you go to university" so to my mind, there was no alternative. I was also influenced to take up purely academic studies that did not exactly catapult me into a glittering career.
Although we had hard times when I was very young, I was never allowed to feel the pinch. I was aware of money troubles, but by the skin of Mum's teeth, the children were never made to feel poor. Whilst I'm hugely grateful for being spared, at the same time I wonder just how much more enterprising I might be if I'd been really made to go without or live in less comfortable conditions. I didn't ask for much as a kid anyway. I wasn't worried about what everyone else had. I was aware that most people had video recorders and satellite or cable TV while we had an old TV set, an analogue aerial and that was it. But I didn't miss what I'd never had. I still don't concern myself about having the latest thing, even though until recently I could afford to have it.
Perhaps a lack of envy is at the root of my lack of enterprise. If I've got enough to get by, that's ok. If I have enough to get by and buy nice gifts, even better. If I have enough to do both of those and not panic when something happens requiring cash input, brilliant. I need only keep going and know that the battles have been fought for now.
But when times get tough, as they are right now; when I can barely afford to hold on to what I've got - that's when I lament a lack of entrepreneurial spirit and wonder how much the early years of my life might have left me less well equipped to compete. Illness I can handle and that's largely owing to those early years - a just get on with it mentality is all I know. Getting past the just get on with it attitude and finding the support I need is something that just doesn't come to me naturally. The get out there and make something of yourself and your life drive was never installed. Instead we were set up with the basic work hard, pay your way, retire, die package. That's all very well until you face a period where things are not that straightforward. So I suppose I'm now rebuilding and reinstalling the enterprise version and finding out what more I can achieve while achievement is still something more than waking up and making it down the stairs on my own.
But then Theo himself has already said, his own brother was a career civil servant and they had the same start in life. So I might be looking at the nurture and neglecting to look at the underlying nature. The ideas are there. The ability is there. Will I take a risk? That's a good question. That's a point where I can't distinguish nature from nurture. I do know that putting myself forward and especially first was not encouraged. I've never in my life asked for a promotion or a pay rise (I mark myself down at annual review time and I know I shouldn't be thinking like that). I've never even looked for another job while I was already employed. It's that be humble and don't be ungrateful message engraved inside my skull.
Is there any point trying to install a different mentality when the voice of my conscience is the voice of my Grandma and she would tut if I wanted more?
The first thing that's really struck me is the obstruction faced for being in any sort of minority - you might be a foreign national, or you might have a disability - you're an outsider whatever your pigeon hole is. I'm born and bred here, but the constraints are still all too familiar and getting moreso.
Another thing that occurred to me is that being good at school might not have done me too many favours in the battles I now face to get beyond those obstructions. I got too comfortable at school, knowing that I would pass my exams and always get a good report. Add to that the fact that all I'd heard from grandparents from an early age was "when you go to university" so to my mind, there was no alternative. I was also influenced to take up purely academic studies that did not exactly catapult me into a glittering career.
Although we had hard times when I was very young, I was never allowed to feel the pinch. I was aware of money troubles, but by the skin of Mum's teeth, the children were never made to feel poor. Whilst I'm hugely grateful for being spared, at the same time I wonder just how much more enterprising I might be if I'd been really made to go without or live in less comfortable conditions. I didn't ask for much as a kid anyway. I wasn't worried about what everyone else had. I was aware that most people had video recorders and satellite or cable TV while we had an old TV set, an analogue aerial and that was it. But I didn't miss what I'd never had. I still don't concern myself about having the latest thing, even though until recently I could afford to have it.
Perhaps a lack of envy is at the root of my lack of enterprise. If I've got enough to get by, that's ok. If I have enough to get by and buy nice gifts, even better. If I have enough to do both of those and not panic when something happens requiring cash input, brilliant. I need only keep going and know that the battles have been fought for now.
But when times get tough, as they are right now; when I can barely afford to hold on to what I've got - that's when I lament a lack of entrepreneurial spirit and wonder how much the early years of my life might have left me less well equipped to compete. Illness I can handle and that's largely owing to those early years - a just get on with it mentality is all I know. Getting past the just get on with it attitude and finding the support I need is something that just doesn't come to me naturally. The get out there and make something of yourself and your life drive was never installed. Instead we were set up with the basic work hard, pay your way, retire, die package. That's all very well until you face a period where things are not that straightforward. So I suppose I'm now rebuilding and reinstalling the enterprise version and finding out what more I can achieve while achievement is still something more than waking up and making it down the stairs on my own.
But then Theo himself has already said, his own brother was a career civil servant and they had the same start in life. So I might be looking at the nurture and neglecting to look at the underlying nature. The ideas are there. The ability is there. Will I take a risk? That's a good question. That's a point where I can't distinguish nature from nurture. I do know that putting myself forward and especially first was not encouraged. I've never in my life asked for a promotion or a pay rise (I mark myself down at annual review time and I know I shouldn't be thinking like that). I've never even looked for another job while I was already employed. It's that be humble and don't be ungrateful message engraved inside my skull.
Is there any point trying to install a different mentality when the voice of my conscience is the voice of my Grandma and she would tut if I wanted more?
Monday 14 May 2012
The good things
They're few and far between these days, those good things aren't they? The news is full of, well, bad news with few feel good stories to lighten the public mood. If you want lighthearted current affairs you have to turn to celebrity gossip columns and reality TV. Since I can't bring myself to partake of either, there's little to talk about that isn't cutbacks and austerity and government bashing. I can't always be bothered with those either. It gets to be chore, reading stories that only make you fret about how you'll make it to retirement.
I've been writing my own stories when I haven't been reading headlines or novels. It turns out there's quite a lot of blood and death in my stories and makes me wonder sometimes just where these murderous ideas come from. I don't dare over-analyse it - I might be quite alarmed at the answer. If they give me something to write about, I suppose they're one of those elusive good things. That I write them and don't go out and act upon them is definitely a good thing. I'd be so bored in prison.
One thing I notice about writing so much and having those side ventures with the charity publications is that good things can be a double edged sword. Every time I have an idea or complete a short story, the one person I want to call and tell about it is my Mum. Sometimes I've even picked up the phone and started to dial before I realise with an awful lurch of my stomach and missed heartbeat or three. The good things serve as a stark reminder and not simply a means to keep me sane (I wrote about it and might publish it some day. Right now, it's too close to my heart). So I quite often finish writing and smile then burst into tears. I've set myself off again just writing this paragraph.
Good things just aren't as good when you can't share them with the people that mean the most to you. The cat showed a modicum of interest when I told her I'd written a short piece as her (under her pen name of Foobyevsky) but she was on the arm of the sofa when I told her and that means she wants food, so it might not have been her debut release that interested her at all. You can read that for free from the links on the right for a time or download the PDF from from the website. Just don't tell the cat it's up there for free. That would definitely not be a good thing.
The weirdest thing of all, and I think it's human nature and not just me, is that it's really hard to write about the good things. When you're a kid and writing something in your exercise book at school, it's easy. It's easy to write a tweet or a facebook status about something good that happened. It seems just as hard for people to respond to those messages about the good things. Post a good tragedy or catastrophe and everyone has something to say. So are good things really that good? I'll let you know when I eventually (the law of averages says it has to happen) have something good to write about.
I've been writing my own stories when I haven't been reading headlines or novels. It turns out there's quite a lot of blood and death in my stories and makes me wonder sometimes just where these murderous ideas come from. I don't dare over-analyse it - I might be quite alarmed at the answer. If they give me something to write about, I suppose they're one of those elusive good things. That I write them and don't go out and act upon them is definitely a good thing. I'd be so bored in prison.
One thing I notice about writing so much and having those side ventures with the charity publications is that good things can be a double edged sword. Every time I have an idea or complete a short story, the one person I want to call and tell about it is my Mum. Sometimes I've even picked up the phone and started to dial before I realise with an awful lurch of my stomach and missed heartbeat or three. The good things serve as a stark reminder and not simply a means to keep me sane (I wrote about it and might publish it some day. Right now, it's too close to my heart). So I quite often finish writing and smile then burst into tears. I've set myself off again just writing this paragraph.
Good things just aren't as good when you can't share them with the people that mean the most to you. The cat showed a modicum of interest when I told her I'd written a short piece as her (under her pen name of Foobyevsky) but she was on the arm of the sofa when I told her and that means she wants food, so it might not have been her debut release that interested her at all. You can read that for free from the links on the right for a time or download the PDF from from the website. Just don't tell the cat it's up there for free. That would definitely not be a good thing.
The weirdest thing of all, and I think it's human nature and not just me, is that it's really hard to write about the good things. When you're a kid and writing something in your exercise book at school, it's easy. It's easy to write a tweet or a facebook status about something good that happened. It seems just as hard for people to respond to those messages about the good things. Post a good tragedy or catastrophe and everyone has something to say. So are good things really that good? I'll let you know when I eventually (the law of averages says it has to happen) have something good to write about.
Thursday 10 May 2012
Perspective
Hospital visit today for the six-monthly vampire feeding and report anything new/changed appointment. Bloods taken, so we know I still have blood and presumably a heart that's beating. It was the right colour and the veins were in the right place, so probably still human. I assume if I've become half hamster it will show up in the routine tests and someone will let me know. Of course they might not, but I don't feel any different so it probably doesn't matter.
Was sitting in the entrance area waiting for my taxi home and had a slap in the face from life making sure I don't lose perspective. Think I can blog about this because I'm in no way disparaging the person. I'm in fact full of respect and admiration. I don't have a name. I don't have an explanation. I only have my observations and the impact they had.
In the lobby, a young man (and by young I mean definitely no older me) in a wheelchair was waiting for his transport, two nurses by his side. I see people in wheelchairs all the time. I'd been talking to two just fifteen minutes earlier. I'll probably be in a wheelchair myself before too long. This young man had far more importance in my day and maybe even my life than anyone else I've seen or spoken to today. Why? Well, the only way to describe it is a significant proportion of his skull is missing. His face is like anyone else's until mid forehead. From there, it does not curve back and over like yours or mine. There is a flat section that goes back an inch or two then a vertical section rises from it for an inch or two and from there, slopes backward like everyone else's. An entire segment of the sphere of his skull is just not there as though it has been cut out with some right-angled tool. Perhaps it was. Whether through accident, illness, birth or some other factor I haven't imagined, he is very remarkable.
When you see someone afflicted like that, you can't help but look. It's not like you even do it voluntarily. My eyes did not believe what they were seeing and instinct made them look back to be sure. I'm not one to stare at anyone and that didn't change; I'm certainly not one to pry or pity those who are fighting on, and that didn't change. I really wanted to go over though, and just talk. I was stopped by a fear that my intentions would be misunderstood. I wanted to understand and I wanted to show not sympathy but a genuine respect and awe at his courage. He was interacting with his companions, talking as well as he good in a deep and resolute if not quite co-ordinated voice. What I wanted to do was smile and and ask him his story. I would never dream of being sickly sweet and talking down to him. I was interested and I was inspired. But you never know how it will go if you try to show it.
Perspective comes in many ways. So what if I struggled to get to the post office the other day. The fact is I got there and back and I did it myself. I washed my own hair last night and I dressed myself this morning. I walked through the hospital myself and I explained how I'm doing for myself. Now, I know I laughed when I found out I had MS because frankly it could have been so much worse, but it's not often I get such a powerful reminder. Worse things happen to better people than me all the time and that young man, who clearly has such spirit, is better than me. I could feel his mood and his persona from where I sat and I was humbled. I'm no less frightened about the things that are happening to me day by day, but I am reminded that at least there are things I can do about it and things that I shouldn't allow to bother me. I have frustrations, not problems. I have weird symptoms, not catastrophic ones. If he or anyone who knows that remarkable young man (north east of England and at the hospital today, May 10th 2012) should read this, I'd love you to get in touch and tell me more about him. I'd like to tell his story, with his permission, so that more people than me can be inspired by him. I hope I'm not crossing the line by blogging this. It's really refreshed my perspective.
Was sitting in the entrance area waiting for my taxi home and had a slap in the face from life making sure I don't lose perspective. Think I can blog about this because I'm in no way disparaging the person. I'm in fact full of respect and admiration. I don't have a name. I don't have an explanation. I only have my observations and the impact they had.
In the lobby, a young man (and by young I mean definitely no older me) in a wheelchair was waiting for his transport, two nurses by his side. I see people in wheelchairs all the time. I'd been talking to two just fifteen minutes earlier. I'll probably be in a wheelchair myself before too long. This young man had far more importance in my day and maybe even my life than anyone else I've seen or spoken to today. Why? Well, the only way to describe it is a significant proportion of his skull is missing. His face is like anyone else's until mid forehead. From there, it does not curve back and over like yours or mine. There is a flat section that goes back an inch or two then a vertical section rises from it for an inch or two and from there, slopes backward like everyone else's. An entire segment of the sphere of his skull is just not there as though it has been cut out with some right-angled tool. Perhaps it was. Whether through accident, illness, birth or some other factor I haven't imagined, he is very remarkable.
When you see someone afflicted like that, you can't help but look. It's not like you even do it voluntarily. My eyes did not believe what they were seeing and instinct made them look back to be sure. I'm not one to stare at anyone and that didn't change; I'm certainly not one to pry or pity those who are fighting on, and that didn't change. I really wanted to go over though, and just talk. I was stopped by a fear that my intentions would be misunderstood. I wanted to understand and I wanted to show not sympathy but a genuine respect and awe at his courage. He was interacting with his companions, talking as well as he good in a deep and resolute if not quite co-ordinated voice. What I wanted to do was smile and and ask him his story. I would never dream of being sickly sweet and talking down to him. I was interested and I was inspired. But you never know how it will go if you try to show it.
Perspective comes in many ways. So what if I struggled to get to the post office the other day. The fact is I got there and back and I did it myself. I washed my own hair last night and I dressed myself this morning. I walked through the hospital myself and I explained how I'm doing for myself. Now, I know I laughed when I found out I had MS because frankly it could have been so much worse, but it's not often I get such a powerful reminder. Worse things happen to better people than me all the time and that young man, who clearly has such spirit, is better than me. I could feel his mood and his persona from where I sat and I was humbled. I'm no less frightened about the things that are happening to me day by day, but I am reminded that at least there are things I can do about it and things that I shouldn't allow to bother me. I have frustrations, not problems. I have weird symptoms, not catastrophic ones. If he or anyone who knows that remarkable young man (north east of England and at the hospital today, May 10th 2012) should read this, I'd love you to get in touch and tell me more about him. I'd like to tell his story, with his permission, so that more people than me can be inspired by him. I hope I'm not crossing the line by blogging this. It's really refreshed my perspective.
Tuesday 8 May 2012
So which am I?
I can' t move from where I'm sat just now. It's where I stopped when I got in and the batteries for my legs haven't recharged yet. When this happens, which is more and more often these days, I have to wonder whether I'm stupid and stubborn or determined and plucky. I suspect I'm stupid and stubborn, but I'll make believe the nicer options are true.
What did I do? I walked three quarters of a mile but had to stop and stand in a queue half way through. Standing still for me is actually worse than walking for bringing on power failures and collapses. Put standing still neatly in the middle of a reasonable walk and I'm finished.
I had to send off yet more forms and made the trek to the post office. Yes, I'd refused offers to do it for me, but I'm only too aware that the less I do, the less I'll be able to do. It's not entirely stubbornness - it's also common sense. So I put on my hiking boots for the nice, sturdy support they provide (I've had more sprained ankles than seems reasonable and if I click one, I just fall) and a fair to middling weather jacket then away I went, letter and purse in hand.
If I were to actually chart the distance with one of those wheel things they have in schools (I forget the name), I probably went twice as far with all the lurching off to the side and coming back to centre. Another thing of which I'm only too aware is that people on the street think I'm drunk. More on that later. The distance I walk from point A to point B is usually lengthened by a wide, meandering sine wave pattern and compensating for the loss of balance at the crest of each wave is every muscle in my core, straining to hold up what my brain can't quite co-ordinate. It's hard work and it gets harder year by year.
When I got to the post office, my right leg now really being berated for its lack of co-operation, I think I swore out loud and visibly deflated at the sight of a queue. It's dole day, so everyone that wasn't cashing a giro apparently waited until this afternoon to go along for their various reasons. I stood there, supporting myself against the fixtures for as long as I could then had to stand under my own power as I neared the front. This was the bit that sapped the remaining main battery.
I think it took about 30 seconds to do what I needed to do then off I staggered for the journey back. With every step, the backup battery glitched and drained until I thought I wasn't going to make it. I just fixed my eyes on the shop where everyone knows me and willed myself on. In the doorway, some woman stood there talking to her friend blocking everyone else off with a pushchair large enough for three kids but carrying only one. I fell against the door jamb and evidently grunted because she realised and apologised then got out of the way. I got one foot over the tiny ledge but had to push against the wall to get the other moving again. Spilling into the shop, it was obvious I wasn't doing well and I know I could have asked for a chair but I wandered round, shuffling my feet on the nice, smooth floor which took some of the strain off the backup battery for a few minutes.
My spine was trying to jack-knife first one way then the other, finally settling on forwards. Forwards is preferable really. Backwards means impending fall and cracking of head against floor/obstructions. Sideways means crumple to the ground and wait there for a while. Forwards means might just make it at a lurch. I shoved my fist into the small of my back to force my spine back into the right shape and made it to the counter. What's really odd is that with a bag in my hand containing some tinned veg, I was able to compensate better - must be something to do with pathways used to handle the weight of the bag - and I was a bit more upright to get home. The gate gave me something to push against to get my feet up the step from the path (thank you Gateshead Council for putting that step in when I said absolutely no) and then the inner wall of the house gave me something to pull against to get in. I've been sat here on the sofa ever since and still wouldn't trust my legs, or rather the mid section of my spine, to enable me to stand.
So when I complain about having to walk to the post office, you might have some idea of what it means for me. I'm not being dramatic. I've understated most of it. There's no pain, but the lack of feeling is the root of the problem. The nerve signals do not get through and I don't know when or if this is going to hit at any given moment. Walking and standing, especially in combination, are virtually guaranteed to trigger it nowadays. So was I stupid, stubborn, determined, plucky, all or non of the above? I got there. I did what I had to do. I can probably do nothing else but sit here and read or write for the rest of the day, so it looks like a long day in the making. But I did it and that, for me, is an achievement. Do I give myself a pat on the back (that I won't feel), or do I give myself a slap in the face (which I'll not only feel but be quite angry about)?
What did I do? I walked three quarters of a mile but had to stop and stand in a queue half way through. Standing still for me is actually worse than walking for bringing on power failures and collapses. Put standing still neatly in the middle of a reasonable walk and I'm finished.
I had to send off yet more forms and made the trek to the post office. Yes, I'd refused offers to do it for me, but I'm only too aware that the less I do, the less I'll be able to do. It's not entirely stubbornness - it's also common sense. So I put on my hiking boots for the nice, sturdy support they provide (I've had more sprained ankles than seems reasonable and if I click one, I just fall) and a fair to middling weather jacket then away I went, letter and purse in hand.
If I were to actually chart the distance with one of those wheel things they have in schools (I forget the name), I probably went twice as far with all the lurching off to the side and coming back to centre. Another thing of which I'm only too aware is that people on the street think I'm drunk. More on that later. The distance I walk from point A to point B is usually lengthened by a wide, meandering sine wave pattern and compensating for the loss of balance at the crest of each wave is every muscle in my core, straining to hold up what my brain can't quite co-ordinate. It's hard work and it gets harder year by year.
When I got to the post office, my right leg now really being berated for its lack of co-operation, I think I swore out loud and visibly deflated at the sight of a queue. It's dole day, so everyone that wasn't cashing a giro apparently waited until this afternoon to go along for their various reasons. I stood there, supporting myself against the fixtures for as long as I could then had to stand under my own power as I neared the front. This was the bit that sapped the remaining main battery.
I think it took about 30 seconds to do what I needed to do then off I staggered for the journey back. With every step, the backup battery glitched and drained until I thought I wasn't going to make it. I just fixed my eyes on the shop where everyone knows me and willed myself on. In the doorway, some woman stood there talking to her friend blocking everyone else off with a pushchair large enough for three kids but carrying only one. I fell against the door jamb and evidently grunted because she realised and apologised then got out of the way. I got one foot over the tiny ledge but had to push against the wall to get the other moving again. Spilling into the shop, it was obvious I wasn't doing well and I know I could have asked for a chair but I wandered round, shuffling my feet on the nice, smooth floor which took some of the strain off the backup battery for a few minutes.
My spine was trying to jack-knife first one way then the other, finally settling on forwards. Forwards is preferable really. Backwards means impending fall and cracking of head against floor/obstructions. Sideways means crumple to the ground and wait there for a while. Forwards means might just make it at a lurch. I shoved my fist into the small of my back to force my spine back into the right shape and made it to the counter. What's really odd is that with a bag in my hand containing some tinned veg, I was able to compensate better - must be something to do with pathways used to handle the weight of the bag - and I was a bit more upright to get home. The gate gave me something to push against to get my feet up the step from the path (thank you Gateshead Council for putting that step in when I said absolutely no) and then the inner wall of the house gave me something to pull against to get in. I've been sat here on the sofa ever since and still wouldn't trust my legs, or rather the mid section of my spine, to enable me to stand.
So when I complain about having to walk to the post office, you might have some idea of what it means for me. I'm not being dramatic. I've understated most of it. There's no pain, but the lack of feeling is the root of the problem. The nerve signals do not get through and I don't know when or if this is going to hit at any given moment. Walking and standing, especially in combination, are virtually guaranteed to trigger it nowadays. So was I stupid, stubborn, determined, plucky, all or non of the above? I got there. I did what I had to do. I can probably do nothing else but sit here and read or write for the rest of the day, so it looks like a long day in the making. But I did it and that, for me, is an achievement. Do I give myself a pat on the back (that I won't feel), or do I give myself a slap in the face (which I'll not only feel but be quite angry about)?
Monday 7 May 2012
Can't give it away
You'd think I was offering some kind of suspicious freeware, not something to read or make, but I can't seem to even drum up a download of a free short story or cross stitch chart. It's a most isolating feeling. There is no catch. I can tell when something's been downloaded, but I can't tell by whom. If I'm lucky, my website stats will show me which country you're in.
Yes, I am ready to go back to work, and yes that's patently obvious from what I've been doing lately. I've been told to wait until occupational health is in place among other things. I've tried to get back and am now filling my time. I'm slightly (if slightly means very) frustrated on that front. I said some time ago I was ready and yet that was missed, so on Friday when I received an email saying I had to with the doctor's advice, I replied and said no, my GP is waiting to sign me off when you say so. I have the emails here that state that. That you replied to at the time, in fact. The letters to OH hadn't even been sent yet. I'm not blaming anyone or holding anyone personally responsible. I just wish things could be even a little bit less frustrating. I'm sat here filling my days and testing my abilities and I can only imagine what my colleagues must think. I'm trying to get back. By the time I'm given the go ahead, I'll not have enough money to get there, so it could be interesting.
The return to work plan we'd devised so I build up in gradual steps hinges on my Mum giving me a lift there. That she no longer can is the least devastating part of losing her. It's weird. I can't think of travelling in without thinking of her bright green Fiesta and every time I see that car in my mind's eye, I break down and cry. Yes, I'm in tears now and trying to shift my attention to some other aspect of what I'm saying.
I've had to apply for state help to travel in when I get back to the office. Working from home is still but a dream, even on days when I have little strength to travel in. The thing is, as long as I have access to a computer and an Internet connection, I can do my job. I could have been doing it at least part time for months now. But working from home, even with doctor's recommendations looks highly unlikely. It's not a case of having the strength to sit and work. The early start, the getting ready, the travelling in - they take a lot out of me before I even start to do any work.
I still have vertigo. That's unlikely to ever go away. Imagine your head is already spinning and you have to travel at motorway speed for sometimes forty-five minutes to an hour then walk to the building and then get in a lift and make your way to your desk over patterned carpet with strip-lighting overhead. Just imagine it for a minute and ask yourself how that would set you up for a day of reading and writing on a screen where the background noise messes with your confused hearing so that you keep looking up because it seems like someone is yelling right in your ear even though they're on the other side of the room or you can't tell the person next to you from the humming office noise. Now imagine what it would do for you if you could do your job without putting yourself through that. You'd turn out three and four times as much work. But the option isn't there. Are you frustrated now?
Yet I'm willing to put myself through that every day and I'm told I have to wait when for so long I've been asked when I anticipate getting back. So not only can I not give free downloads away, I also can't seem to give my gainfully employed skills and services away. How did this happen to me? When did the angel/demon of destiny look in and decide that I should be always kept in this little box? It might have written or phoned first and saved me a whole lot of bother.
Yes, I am ready to go back to work, and yes that's patently obvious from what I've been doing lately. I've been told to wait until occupational health is in place among other things. I've tried to get back and am now filling my time. I'm slightly (if slightly means very) frustrated on that front. I said some time ago I was ready and yet that was missed, so on Friday when I received an email saying I had to with the doctor's advice, I replied and said no, my GP is waiting to sign me off when you say so. I have the emails here that state that. That you replied to at the time, in fact. The letters to OH hadn't even been sent yet. I'm not blaming anyone or holding anyone personally responsible. I just wish things could be even a little bit less frustrating. I'm sat here filling my days and testing my abilities and I can only imagine what my colleagues must think. I'm trying to get back. By the time I'm given the go ahead, I'll not have enough money to get there, so it could be interesting.
The return to work plan we'd devised so I build up in gradual steps hinges on my Mum giving me a lift there. That she no longer can is the least devastating part of losing her. It's weird. I can't think of travelling in without thinking of her bright green Fiesta and every time I see that car in my mind's eye, I break down and cry. Yes, I'm in tears now and trying to shift my attention to some other aspect of what I'm saying.
I've had to apply for state help to travel in when I get back to the office. Working from home is still but a dream, even on days when I have little strength to travel in. The thing is, as long as I have access to a computer and an Internet connection, I can do my job. I could have been doing it at least part time for months now. But working from home, even with doctor's recommendations looks highly unlikely. It's not a case of having the strength to sit and work. The early start, the getting ready, the travelling in - they take a lot out of me before I even start to do any work.
I still have vertigo. That's unlikely to ever go away. Imagine your head is already spinning and you have to travel at motorway speed for sometimes forty-five minutes to an hour then walk to the building and then get in a lift and make your way to your desk over patterned carpet with strip-lighting overhead. Just imagine it for a minute and ask yourself how that would set you up for a day of reading and writing on a screen where the background noise messes with your confused hearing so that you keep looking up because it seems like someone is yelling right in your ear even though they're on the other side of the room or you can't tell the person next to you from the humming office noise. Now imagine what it would do for you if you could do your job without putting yourself through that. You'd turn out three and four times as much work. But the option isn't there. Are you frustrated now?
Yet I'm willing to put myself through that every day and I'm told I have to wait when for so long I've been asked when I anticipate getting back. So not only can I not give free downloads away, I also can't seem to give my gainfully employed skills and services away. How did this happen to me? When did the angel/demon of destiny look in and decide that I should be always kept in this little box? It might have written or phoned first and saved me a whole lot of bother.
Sunday 6 May 2012
Would you like a W7 to go with that?
It's a fact throughout history, tax collectors have always been hated. You hear about it in the New Testament before you're even old enough to know what a tax really is (at least you do if you go to Catholic school). You hear about in legends from all around the world (see above) and perhaps most notably from the tales of Robin Hood. It has never been a popular occupation.
So why, when you make people fill in their own paperwork, would you make it vastly more difficult than it needs to be? I used to think HMRC forms were complicated. Then I published through a US based print on demand company and now I realise HMRC are incredibly plain speaking and helpful.
The blinding pain in my head came on after trying to read (and retain the information) in the instruction papers for completing forms for the IRS. My tip to them would be when you set out to explain what someone must enter on a particular line, explain what the line means and don't just list the same points with 'if you are' and 'check this box'. I'd worked that much out already. What I didn't know was what that particular definition referred to in the first place. If I don't know, by your definitions, which bracket I fall into, your explanations of checking the boxes for particular brackets make no sense. I don't know whether I need an EIN or an ITIN, but I managed to complete the W8-BEN despite not knowing whether I need an SS-4 or a W7 to go with that. Whichever it might be, I've tried completing both in readiness and I can't make head nor tail of anything other than name and address.
I think the pain in my head might be something about to burst. All I want to do is inform the IRS that I'm English and resident in England but have a product that may or may not sell sufficient units to be subject to income tax unless I register my exemption through international tax treaty. It's quite simple really. Even I can do the maths and my lifelong number blindness does not pose a problem. I can tell the difference between 30% tax and 0% tax. One has a 3 at the front and costs me roughly a third of anything I bring in. The other has been taken care of by my government because I pay tax here too. Except I won't on this because anything I earn on this particular title is going straight to charity and HMRC don't need to know about it.
You hear that? They don't need to know! It's going to charity therefore it only touches my account to bounce straight back out again and into someone else's, so they don't even waste time on processing forms that are completely unnecessary. They have a slogan too - "Tax doesn't have to be taxing" - and they hold to that. Sorting out our taxes in the UK is a plain English simple process that doesn't cause hideous cranial pain before even a box is ticked.
I really don't know how US citizens cope with filing their taxes when the paperwork is written in such a way that someone with a degree in English from a British red brick university can make neither head nor tail of it. Maybe they don't. I haven't really asked. Maybe the IRS brings in millions of extra revenue because no-one understands the forms. Maybe I'm just unfamiliar with the system in question and by the tenth time I've gone through it all, I'll do so without painkillers on standby. I'll certainly be more inclined to laugh when I hear a comment like "relax, we're not the IRS."
HMRC, all is forgiven. I got quite annoyed with your sister, DWP not long ago, but I still understood everything she said. If I could do this through you, believe me, I would because when I spoke to you the other week you couldn't have been more helpful and clear. Now if you could only tell your cousin how to do it...
So why, when you make people fill in their own paperwork, would you make it vastly more difficult than it needs to be? I used to think HMRC forms were complicated. Then I published through a US based print on demand company and now I realise HMRC are incredibly plain speaking and helpful.
The blinding pain in my head came on after trying to read (and retain the information) in the instruction papers for completing forms for the IRS. My tip to them would be when you set out to explain what someone must enter on a particular line, explain what the line means and don't just list the same points with 'if you are' and 'check this box'. I'd worked that much out already. What I didn't know was what that particular definition referred to in the first place. If I don't know, by your definitions, which bracket I fall into, your explanations of checking the boxes for particular brackets make no sense. I don't know whether I need an EIN or an ITIN, but I managed to complete the W8-BEN despite not knowing whether I need an SS-4 or a W7 to go with that. Whichever it might be, I've tried completing both in readiness and I can't make head nor tail of anything other than name and address.
I think the pain in my head might be something about to burst. All I want to do is inform the IRS that I'm English and resident in England but have a product that may or may not sell sufficient units to be subject to income tax unless I register my exemption through international tax treaty. It's quite simple really. Even I can do the maths and my lifelong number blindness does not pose a problem. I can tell the difference between 30% tax and 0% tax. One has a 3 at the front and costs me roughly a third of anything I bring in. The other has been taken care of by my government because I pay tax here too. Except I won't on this because anything I earn on this particular title is going straight to charity and HMRC don't need to know about it.
You hear that? They don't need to know! It's going to charity therefore it only touches my account to bounce straight back out again and into someone else's, so they don't even waste time on processing forms that are completely unnecessary. They have a slogan too - "Tax doesn't have to be taxing" - and they hold to that. Sorting out our taxes in the UK is a plain English simple process that doesn't cause hideous cranial pain before even a box is ticked.
I really don't know how US citizens cope with filing their taxes when the paperwork is written in such a way that someone with a degree in English from a British red brick university can make neither head nor tail of it. Maybe they don't. I haven't really asked. Maybe the IRS brings in millions of extra revenue because no-one understands the forms. Maybe I'm just unfamiliar with the system in question and by the tenth time I've gone through it all, I'll do so without painkillers on standby. I'll certainly be more inclined to laugh when I hear a comment like "relax, we're not the IRS."
HMRC, all is forgiven. I got quite annoyed with your sister, DWP not long ago, but I still understood everything she said. If I could do this through you, believe me, I would because when I spoke to you the other week you couldn't have been more helpful and clear. Now if you could only tell your cousin how to do it...
Saturday 5 May 2012
Blahness abound
Having a day where everything feels just blah. The eBay listings haven't exactly caused a flurry of excitement and I was wondering what more I could do. Thought maybe the baby name samplers were too specific using a name as an example, so thought I'd change the image to an obvious example rather than a more specific one. Changed the wording, resampled the image, and eBay won't let me sign in to any of my accounts anyway! I have one account for me personal buying use and one for selling so that there's no confusing cash flows or feedback or anything else. Neither account signs in, so I'm assuming the problem is not at this end. Doesn't really help things feel less blah when you can't do something as simple as add or change an image!
Got loads of writing done yesterday and added a bit more in the way of sub-plots and a whole new layer, so felt quite good about that. Not entirely happy with one thread though. It's a bit too 'magic powers' and that doesn't belong in the overall plot. Yes, there's something supernatural happening, but it's too much; too silly. One thing it's not is a comedy, so some revision to tone it down is now necessary. Suppose knowing I'm not happy with everything I wrote adds to the blah feeling.
The worst of feeling blah though seems to come from the fact that I'm trying to do something positive and put things I can do to good use and it's very slow going now that the products are in place. I worry that I'll lose interest or rather lose focus and although these things I've done will remain on sale, it'll be hard to stay consistent when it's ages between actions.
The one other thing really getting on my nerves is this laptop. I know there is nothing at all wrong with the router or the location of the router. The poorly laptop can connect to it from the attic and still have full signal strength. This one cannot stay connected even with line of sight. Every half an hour, it drops the wireless connection and the only way to put it right is run the troubleshooter again. It's frequent enough that I never close the window down and just leave it on the task bar because I know I'll need it again in a short while. What's more is it seems to know when I need to send a message and as soon as I've finished typing, it drops the connection. Everything I do online is with one eye on the signal strength. It might be something to do with not spending much on the laptop, but it was the most I could afford to stick on my credit card and still meet payments right now. I'll never like it as much as the poorly one and I'll no doubt replace it as soon as I can afford to. Disappointment with my main means of sorting everything out does not help feelings of blah.
As a consequence of this blahness, food is sort of a necessity and not something that inspires me to enjoy. What does food matter when everything is blah? In fact everything is not just blah, it's also a bit meh. Not sure when those became adjectives exactly. The problem with them is that they're subjective and open to interpretation still. What I think is blah and meh might be completely different to what someone else interprets them to mean. No doubt the OED will be alerted to their existence and stronger definitions will result. An amendment to blah, I would imagine since blah, blah, blah has been an expression in use for at least a couple of centuries. Ha! Infact someone on TV just said blah blah blah in it's original sense. Meh would be a new one though. Etymology interests me. I don't feel blah about that. (Not to confused with entomology which also interests me but is an entirely different can of worms, quite literally.) There. You can tell it's not so blah because I used my customary parenthesis at last.
But it's the only thing today that hasn't been just blah. Maybe I'll put some music on and shake the blahness out of everything. It might even help me completely rewrite the bits that I don't like. Then eBay might let me in too and the day will start again. Maybe, blah blah...
Got loads of writing done yesterday and added a bit more in the way of sub-plots and a whole new layer, so felt quite good about that. Not entirely happy with one thread though. It's a bit too 'magic powers' and that doesn't belong in the overall plot. Yes, there's something supernatural happening, but it's too much; too silly. One thing it's not is a comedy, so some revision to tone it down is now necessary. Suppose knowing I'm not happy with everything I wrote adds to the blah feeling.
The worst of feeling blah though seems to come from the fact that I'm trying to do something positive and put things I can do to good use and it's very slow going now that the products are in place. I worry that I'll lose interest or rather lose focus and although these things I've done will remain on sale, it'll be hard to stay consistent when it's ages between actions.
The one other thing really getting on my nerves is this laptop. I know there is nothing at all wrong with the router or the location of the router. The poorly laptop can connect to it from the attic and still have full signal strength. This one cannot stay connected even with line of sight. Every half an hour, it drops the wireless connection and the only way to put it right is run the troubleshooter again. It's frequent enough that I never close the window down and just leave it on the task bar because I know I'll need it again in a short while. What's more is it seems to know when I need to send a message and as soon as I've finished typing, it drops the connection. Everything I do online is with one eye on the signal strength. It might be something to do with not spending much on the laptop, but it was the most I could afford to stick on my credit card and still meet payments right now. I'll never like it as much as the poorly one and I'll no doubt replace it as soon as I can afford to. Disappointment with my main means of sorting everything out does not help feelings of blah.
As a consequence of this blahness, food is sort of a necessity and not something that inspires me to enjoy. What does food matter when everything is blah? In fact everything is not just blah, it's also a bit meh. Not sure when those became adjectives exactly. The problem with them is that they're subjective and open to interpretation still. What I think is blah and meh might be completely different to what someone else interprets them to mean. No doubt the OED will be alerted to their existence and stronger definitions will result. An amendment to blah, I would imagine since blah, blah, blah has been an expression in use for at least a couple of centuries. Ha! Infact someone on TV just said blah blah blah in it's original sense. Meh would be a new one though. Etymology interests me. I don't feel blah about that. (Not to confused with entomology which also interests me but is an entirely different can of worms, quite literally.) There. You can tell it's not so blah because I used my customary parenthesis at last.
But it's the only thing today that hasn't been just blah. Maybe I'll put some music on and shake the blahness out of everything. It might even help me completely rewrite the bits that I don't like. Then eBay might let me in too and the day will start again. Maybe, blah blah...
Thursday 3 May 2012
Going, going, maybe
I forgot what a faff it is listing multiple items on eBay. Downloaded Turbo Lister and setting up inventory is just as much faff, but you only have to do it once. Hadn't wanted to go the eBay route, but it looks like the only way to get some attention for the charity products. Trying to remember that once upon a time in what feels like another life, I set up as eBay seller with zero feedback and zero customer base and did OK. This time, products are sold as PDF by email (apart from the book, which might take a while to transfer by TCPIP) but whether people will want that is an unknown. As I've said in previous blogs, given the option for print or email, they always opted for print sending my costs rocketing above revenue. I'm taking the hit on listing fees and items are all listed as charity sales, meaning eBay will pay the money direct to the MS Society and I won't see any of it so won't be donating net of costs. Getting page views but no watchers so far. It's only been an hour or two though.
Having one of those days where I know I haven't stopped, but cannot for the life of me account for the time that's passed. Definitely haven't spent all day on eBay!
I did post the Union Jack Beanie pattern on the lovely Deramores.com facebook page. Deramores are the kind of company that restore your faith in people. Great website, great product range, lovely people to deal with and a real community spirit with their customers. Emailed them to tell them about the pattern because it was through them that I got started using the technique used to make the beanie and from them that I bought the yarn with which the first beanie was made. Didn't expect to be allowed to post it - most kind of them. So that was a nice boost earlier today.
Where the time went after that, I couldn't say. Sometimes I wonder whether I've been asleep or on autopilot. So many things are just so routine that I simply don't even register doing them anymore. It's probably indicative of getting old(er). Every time I ask the doctor in passing about these things, he tells me it's normal, you're over 30. I don't ask anymore.
I do sometimes wonder how much the damage to my brain and spinal column and the reduced life span might cause accelerated ageing in some respects. My skin still looks young, thankfully, but other things happen that I wouldn't have expected for another 20 years. I'll keep the details to myself, but there are enough incidents to really make me question what's going on.
I remember thinking about a strange dream I had last night, but that can't have taken more than ten minutes. The dream never reached any conclusion so it's likely to happen again. I was called into a meeting with some entrepreneurs that I know and respect. One of them asked me, then another, then another. But why, I don't know. Were they going to tell me the secret to success? Or were they going to tell me I'm doing it all wrong and should either stop altogether or start again? I'd hardly call myself an entrepreneur or anything like businesswoman. I'm just having a try at a new approach to fundraising. I can't run a marathon or climb a mountain, but I can do some things. I've put a lot of time and effort into those things and they're no less deserving than some sporting feat. They apparently are less attractive and less inspiring though. Maybe the dream was going to tell me how to package things up differently or how to ally myself to some other more high profile product or event. Maybe it was going to tell me nothing will happen until I have more cash to invest. Investment is certainly one thing I'm lacking because I simply can't afford to put more than time and effort in right now. See what dreams bring tonight and whether they make any difference. They might even conjure me a buyer on eBay.
Having one of those days where I know I haven't stopped, but cannot for the life of me account for the time that's passed. Definitely haven't spent all day on eBay!
I did post the Union Jack Beanie pattern on the lovely Deramores.com facebook page. Deramores are the kind of company that restore your faith in people. Great website, great product range, lovely people to deal with and a real community spirit with their customers. Emailed them to tell them about the pattern because it was through them that I got started using the technique used to make the beanie and from them that I bought the yarn with which the first beanie was made. Didn't expect to be allowed to post it - most kind of them. So that was a nice boost earlier today.
Where the time went after that, I couldn't say. Sometimes I wonder whether I've been asleep or on autopilot. So many things are just so routine that I simply don't even register doing them anymore. It's probably indicative of getting old(er). Every time I ask the doctor in passing about these things, he tells me it's normal, you're over 30. I don't ask anymore.
I do sometimes wonder how much the damage to my brain and spinal column and the reduced life span might cause accelerated ageing in some respects. My skin still looks young, thankfully, but other things happen that I wouldn't have expected for another 20 years. I'll keep the details to myself, but there are enough incidents to really make me question what's going on.
I remember thinking about a strange dream I had last night, but that can't have taken more than ten minutes. The dream never reached any conclusion so it's likely to happen again. I was called into a meeting with some entrepreneurs that I know and respect. One of them asked me, then another, then another. But why, I don't know. Were they going to tell me the secret to success? Or were they going to tell me I'm doing it all wrong and should either stop altogether or start again? I'd hardly call myself an entrepreneur or anything like businesswoman. I'm just having a try at a new approach to fundraising. I can't run a marathon or climb a mountain, but I can do some things. I've put a lot of time and effort into those things and they're no less deserving than some sporting feat. They apparently are less attractive and less inspiring though. Maybe the dream was going to tell me how to package things up differently or how to ally myself to some other more high profile product or event. Maybe it was going to tell me nothing will happen until I have more cash to invest. Investment is certainly one thing I'm lacking because I simply can't afford to put more than time and effort in right now. See what dreams bring tonight and whether they make any difference. They might even conjure me a buyer on eBay.
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Twittering twits
There's this blackbird that lives in the hedge at the end of my street. I really like to hear it sing, it's such a tuneful little thing. One night, I could hear it from the bedroom and I swear it was singing the Addams family theme tune. Yes, at night. I really never stops. I'm not sure where it finds time to eat and drink and it must never sleep. But I'd be sorry if it was gone and I'd not complain about it while it's there.
The thing is, I joined Twitter to network a bit and promote the Kindle books and the book book. I chose to follow certain organisations, publications and persons to get the lowdown. The blackbird at the end of my street has nothing on three of four of those I'm following. Or no longer following, I should say. The Economist. Yes, big name in publications of good information. Big noise in tweets. Every day about thirty tweets and not about major breaking news. An article is written, a tweet is sent. The Economist are not the only ones by any means. They're just the example that most people will be able to put in context.
I could understand if it was important news going out, or a discussion on a post, or even something of the moment, but it's not. See, when birds tweet, they're sending messages often crucial to their survival or the survival of the other birds in their neighbourhood. When human business organisations tweet it seems anything they could think of that could be said, including link, in 140 characters or less, they say. It's too much. It's the equivalent of 50 blackbirds roosting on your laptop, mobile phone, PC, whatever and tweeting in a hideously dull monotone.
I admit I've sent a few tweets in a day along the lines of 'buy this, it's for charity' but even though it is for charity and I am driven to push for sales, I couldn't find it in me to saturate anyone's feed night and day with my message. In fact I've made the conscious decision of saturation bad, drip feed good and after initial test runs, I'll limit it to one or two a day using appropriate #tags and varied timestamps. I'm not a twittering twit and I can't bear being inundated myself, so won't inundate anyone else.
Now, when I open the page and there are more than five tweets in quick succession by the same organisation, I unfollow. If you prevent me from seeing what someone else has to say by overloading the page with you ill-planned tweets, I unfollow. Since when has unfollow been a word anyway? As long as unfriend I suppose. That's just more twitfulness in my book. If they can make up words, so can I.
At this rate, the only tweeting I'll encounter will be my little blackbird friend, the people I actually know who tweet sparingly anyway, and of course Stephen Fry. Following Stephen Fry is fast becoming tradition. He's not the only person from the cast of Blackadder I've followed, but the other was in a literal sense that these days might be classed as an afternoon of stalking, and is for an entirely different blog. I was a young teen and my friends and I spotted him leaving the stage door of the Theatre Royal, so we followed at a not too subtle distance with much giggling just to see where he would go. It's much easier and far less embarrassing to follow Mr Fry on Twitter, believe me. He tweets nearly as much as my blackbird, but in a way that doesn't annoy. I'm sure he could read this blog in such a way that it would sound as amusing as it does in my head, or indeed in a way that highlights every flaw and puts me in my place. Maybe I'd ask the blackbird instead.
The thing is, I joined Twitter to network a bit and promote the Kindle books and the book book. I chose to follow certain organisations, publications and persons to get the lowdown. The blackbird at the end of my street has nothing on three of four of those I'm following. Or no longer following, I should say. The Economist. Yes, big name in publications of good information. Big noise in tweets. Every day about thirty tweets and not about major breaking news. An article is written, a tweet is sent. The Economist are not the only ones by any means. They're just the example that most people will be able to put in context.
I could understand if it was important news going out, or a discussion on a post, or even something of the moment, but it's not. See, when birds tweet, they're sending messages often crucial to their survival or the survival of the other birds in their neighbourhood. When human business organisations tweet it seems anything they could think of that could be said, including link, in 140 characters or less, they say. It's too much. It's the equivalent of 50 blackbirds roosting on your laptop, mobile phone, PC, whatever and tweeting in a hideously dull monotone.
I admit I've sent a few tweets in a day along the lines of 'buy this, it's for charity' but even though it is for charity and I am driven to push for sales, I couldn't find it in me to saturate anyone's feed night and day with my message. In fact I've made the conscious decision of saturation bad, drip feed good and after initial test runs, I'll limit it to one or two a day using appropriate #tags and varied timestamps. I'm not a twittering twit and I can't bear being inundated myself, so won't inundate anyone else.
Now, when I open the page and there are more than five tweets in quick succession by the same organisation, I unfollow. If you prevent me from seeing what someone else has to say by overloading the page with you ill-planned tweets, I unfollow. Since when has unfollow been a word anyway? As long as unfriend I suppose. That's just more twitfulness in my book. If they can make up words, so can I.
At this rate, the only tweeting I'll encounter will be my little blackbird friend, the people I actually know who tweet sparingly anyway, and of course Stephen Fry. Following Stephen Fry is fast becoming tradition. He's not the only person from the cast of Blackadder I've followed, but the other was in a literal sense that these days might be classed as an afternoon of stalking, and is for an entirely different blog. I was a young teen and my friends and I spotted him leaving the stage door of the Theatre Royal, so we followed at a not too subtle distance with much giggling just to see where he would go. It's much easier and far less embarrassing to follow Mr Fry on Twitter, believe me. He tweets nearly as much as my blackbird, but in a way that doesn't annoy. I'm sure he could read this blog in such a way that it would sound as amusing as it does in my head, or indeed in a way that highlights every flaw and puts me in my place. Maybe I'd ask the blackbird instead.
Tuesday 1 May 2012
On it goes
Woken by a hungry cat who would have dragged me out of bed by the hair if she could. Not too impressed with a 4am start to begin with, but picked up where I left off yesterday which was tidying up the death in chapter 5 and getting ready to launch into chapter 6. It's nice to spend some time with Max et al again.
The thing that struck me most yesterday was that I've placed some explanatory detail too early in the picture and will have to move it to a much later slot. There's no point calling it a mystery if the reader knows what's going on before anyone else does. Still, I'll leave it where it is until I find the right spot to place it.
At less than 32,000 words, there's still a long way to go and I can see many revisits to add more and more back-story as it grows, but that's where the document strategy comes in. I write every chapter as its own document so I know exactly where I need to be to edit a certain detail. It also makes it more imperative to write something long enough to be called a chapter and something that is almost self contained within a chapter setting. I have the notion to end every chapter at a point where something dramatic has happened but there is still no explanation. There won't be any proper explanation until the very last chapter and then the big finale. But that's in many thousands of words time.
On it goes and I'm still really into the story, so I hope I can turn out something that other people can also be really into.
Meanwhile, on the design side of things, progress is still slow with the Kindle cross stitch books, but I have had a sale on the Union Jack Beanie. I can't tell where the buyer actually is, but it was bought from Amazon.com not .co.uk so there's a good chance they weren't in the UK. Goes in completely the opposite direction to what I would have predicted for the union jack, but if there's one thing you can never predict it's people on the Internet. I haven't done much promoting of the book either, so it was a nice surprise to see the new month reports started off with the beanie pattern.
Things on the website remain painfully slow. Search engines aren't reporting it yet, which is half the battle, but I can see from the usage stats that it has been spidered many times now. I'm also aware that the charts available aren't mind blowing, but most are designed to be made by or for kids as a fun thing. They aren't meant to be fine art with a needle. I had much more success selling them on eBay and might end up doing just that in the interests of charity fundraising. I can't afford the initial costs just yet though. Soon. I've set myself this goal and I'm going to achieve it no matter how many brick walls I run into on the way.
The thing that struck me most yesterday was that I've placed some explanatory detail too early in the picture and will have to move it to a much later slot. There's no point calling it a mystery if the reader knows what's going on before anyone else does. Still, I'll leave it where it is until I find the right spot to place it.
At less than 32,000 words, there's still a long way to go and I can see many revisits to add more and more back-story as it grows, but that's where the document strategy comes in. I write every chapter as its own document so I know exactly where I need to be to edit a certain detail. It also makes it more imperative to write something long enough to be called a chapter and something that is almost self contained within a chapter setting. I have the notion to end every chapter at a point where something dramatic has happened but there is still no explanation. There won't be any proper explanation until the very last chapter and then the big finale. But that's in many thousands of words time.
On it goes and I'm still really into the story, so I hope I can turn out something that other people can also be really into.
Meanwhile, on the design side of things, progress is still slow with the Kindle cross stitch books, but I have had a sale on the Union Jack Beanie. I can't tell where the buyer actually is, but it was bought from Amazon.com not .co.uk so there's a good chance they weren't in the UK. Goes in completely the opposite direction to what I would have predicted for the union jack, but if there's one thing you can never predict it's people on the Internet. I haven't done much promoting of the book either, so it was a nice surprise to see the new month reports started off with the beanie pattern.
Things on the website remain painfully slow. Search engines aren't reporting it yet, which is half the battle, but I can see from the usage stats that it has been spidered many times now. I'm also aware that the charts available aren't mind blowing, but most are designed to be made by or for kids as a fun thing. They aren't meant to be fine art with a needle. I had much more success selling them on eBay and might end up doing just that in the interests of charity fundraising. I can't afford the initial costs just yet though. Soon. I've set myself this goal and I'm going to achieve it no matter how many brick walls I run into on the way.
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