You are starved. Famished for words to satisfy your hunger. Mishmash, mumbo-jumbo, incoherent and sensible words tumble around.
A meaningless mess of words that I don’t know what to do with, all attempting to fall out in no sequence whatsoever.
A search for thoughts. Scratching the surface of the mind, several impressions leading to rabbit holes; where Alice in Wonderland is waiting for a visit, where the wizard’s cauldron bubbles with mischief, where sanity beckons to peace, where desire meets passion, where laziness meets the propensity to procrastinate, where nothing becomes something and something becomes everything. Where…
Welcome to my brainbox. Where fun stuff and nonsense often happens.
I have no doubt that book reviews help an author immensely. For sure, peer review and recommendations are influential. A review will help a potential reader know what the book is about and if it is something that they would find interesting. It saves time, creates greater visibility and higher chances of the book being found by prospective readers. Simply put, reviews amplify the books reach and ultimately more sales = more money in the pocket of the writer.
However, the crux of my post is not about how important reviews are for authors, rather, how rewarding is it for reviewers? As an avid reader, it presents an opportunity to indulge in your passion reading free books and earning from it as well. No, you are not likely going to become a millionaire reviewing books ‘cos from my research and based on the book review site, the fee paid for an authentic review fluctuates from a paltry sum to enough coins to buy yourself a cup of coffee latte per review.
With a 2 weeks turnaround time and often tough guidelines and as someone who is dabbling into book reviews as a source of extra income, I am wondering if anyone has pointers to offer, if you have had any experience earning from book reviews and what your general overview is? How rewarding were your efforts?
One poor writing habit that I am working hard at unlearning is the habit of waiting until I have something profound to talk/write about and waiting until the feeling to write grips me before I do so.
Waiting for such fine moments emanates from that underlying need for control and perfection, which is basically impossible. There is no right time and no other time can be righter than now. This scenario applies to millions of us who sit around waiting for the right partner, waiting for the right job to pop out of the woodworks and offer itself, waiting for the right time to exercise, to adjust our lifestyle, to start that course we are interested in, to start travelling, waiting, waiting, endlessly waiting…
We don’t have 100 years left on this earth to get around to doing those things we want to do and sometimes, I wonder why we are quick to get upset over minor delays that will save us not more than 2 minutes, yet keep waiting for the right time and are reluctant to make those changes that impact our lives more?
Time passes so fast, this much we know, and we can never, ever get back those days spent waiting unnecessarily. Waiting for writing inspiration is a fool’s game because inspiration can be slippery and may never come in expected ways. The longer you spend waiting for the writing genie to turn up, the further it slips away. I know that staying consistent is the key and that when we start writing regularly, with or without inspiration, inspiration eventually finds us between those words and sentences that we manage to squeeze out.
It’s been ages since I participated in SOC’s and this prompt ‘left alone’ for the stream of consciousness that I just came across made me laugh out loud and sigh as well, as it pretty much sums up my situation at present. Though I have been dodging writing about this situation due to my mixed feelings, but I guess this is my prompt to talk about it.
These past couple of months, we sent off the children to continue their schooling in Canada as college fees in these parts are literally untenable and you need to have heavily lined pockets to afford putting your children through college/university here. For nationals it is freely funded whilst immigrants have to sell some vital organs in order to get their offspring educated in the higher institutions. So, being that my kiddos are Canadian citizens, it’s far more reasonable for them to continue over there, to reacclimatize and to start charting their course in life.
Whilst on one hand I feel relieved that we have this major aspect of things sorted, I feel bereft at being left alone in the interim. I have never been apart from my children and their physical absence leaves the house far too quiet for my liking, that I have taken to leaving the TV on for background noise which is simply out of character for me as I am not much of a TV person.
Thank the Gods of technology that we can make video calls and talk for as long as we want. It helps to take the bite off the ‘flown the coop’ feeling that I keep having, but it is not the same at all. I feel lonesome and I miss being needed. I miss the warm hugs. I miss their squabbles and laughter. I miss the ‘mum I am hungry’ requests. I miss the delight that they express after enjoying a nicely prepared home-made meal. I miss listening to their ideas. I miss my shopping companions. I even miss having the kitchen dirtied up when they try their culinary fingers on one recipe or the other. I miss many things that a list would be endless.
I presume this is a precursor to what it means to be an empty nester and I can categorically state that ‘I don’t like being left alone.’ I look forward to joining my kids in some months down the line and I will savour all the moments spent together.
For those of you who are empty nesters, what are your coping mechanisms?
Friday arrives here in the UAE and we all feel – I guess most, a sense of relief, elation and excitement especially as most places, except privately owned businesses literally shut their doors earlier for Masjid and an early start of the weekend. Of course for the Emirates of Sharjah, that sense of elation arrives on Thursday as they now practically operate a 4-day work week and 3 days of weekend which is particularly enjoyed by those in government establishments and schools.
I think the 4 day work week is truly great and much better way of creating more work-life balance, and I daresay it is likely that those who are enjoying this extra day of weekend perk are far more productive than those of us who have to reluctantly hightail it to work on Friday for just a couple of hours which is largely spent around the coffee machine.
There’s this psychological button in my brain that the thought of Friday switched on. It signals to me a whole 2 and half days of simply unwinding and minding my personal affairs. A time to put the alarm clock at bay and to try to snooze a bit deeper though my body clock has more or less set itself and wakes up despite my best intentions to get more delicate snores in.
Fridays through the weekends make me feel like I have a bit more life to live and not just the constant survival rat race. I am still trying hard to find my Eureka moment and a magical wand that will crack that code that pushes me to enlightenment, unprecedented breakthroughs, abundance and growth and to subdue the feeling of gravity pulling me down into the abyss of constant strive to stay afloat and not drown in the sea of bills and just these extra hours off gives me a sense that ‘I will get there soon.’
I suppose I have grown so used to the universal staple diet of Saturday/Sunday weekends that they don’t feel as euphoric as a Friday half-working day. Friday has slowly become for me, not only a day that I let down my hair and put on my dancing shoes – sometimes only in my mind – but also a day that leads to a much need soul-satisfying me time.
What do Friday’s look like in your neck of the woods?
So WordPress sent me a congratulatory message for having spent 8 years in this space and I must say that the notification escaped me except that I just started going through the outstanding comments that I haven’t attended to in a while and found the gem tucked away in the thick pile of comments. How remiss of me!
I honestly can’t believe that 8 years have passed since I first made my post albeit in hesitation and yet, here we are – years down the line and the excitement for blogging hasn’t waned in the least. Although I did take a hiatus now and again to get myself together when life is a bit rough, my blog has never been far from my mind and has become that interwoven abstract tapestry of my life.
In this space I found a voice, I found a part of me that was missing, I found a community of likeminded souls, I found friends who though I have never meet them physically, I feel like I have known them for a good while. In this space I have found solace and encouragement, laughter and upliftment, inspiration and growth, camaraderie and so much.
Time does pass in a blink of an eye. I still vividly recall sitting on the high-stool of my kitchen’s island back in Houston, with the hot Summer sun peeping in through the blinds and tapping out my very first post not sure where I was heading…. and here we are… 8 years later. It has been a worthwhile experience and I have enjoyed it in entirety. To many more years of blogging, may this space continue to treat us well.
P.S. As I get older, I do understand the fact that money and material things certainly make life easier and less stressed, but I have also learnt certain valuable lessons during infernal times of financial constraint that the true depths of peace and joy that we experience in life can never be attributed to what we own materially. It is borne as a fruit of the spirit.
So, early this year I thought I could try to break the mold of self publishing my books and try approaching publishers to see how things can proceed forward and to find someone interested enough to want to publish my 3rd poetry book, collection of short stories and the novel that I am still trying to beat into shape.
I approached just a couple of independent publishers (here in the UAE) ‘cos I thought that would be an easier way to break into getting published by those whose business it is to run such things.
I wouldn’t say that I was disappointed in the least. I got a favourable and quick response after they had reviewed my materials, but I must say that I was startled out of my shoes at the exorbitant cost that they included in the publishing contract couched under the term ‘contributory fees.’ Maybe I am too naive about what it truly entails to publish, promote etc. and such found the quote a bit shocking to say the least.
If I had the said amount, would I go ahead with the proposal? I suppose so for various obvious reasons that I can’t even begin to delve into right now but most especially on top of the list is to see my book published and marketed professionally and see how it moves.
On the other hand, even if I had the funds, how on earth would I recover the amount invested, not to talk of making any sort of profit from the whole venture, or are we not expected to make proceeds from our endeavours? The sale of the book has to be in huge numbers to break even before you can talk about profit.
Hmm. There’s no easy way out there. As I don’t have many nickels to rub together right now, much less pay a publishing outfit a king’s ransom to get my books published, I guess my desire has to be dampened till further notice. However, knowing that the opportunities are out there was a good outcome in my opinion.
What are your thoughts? Have you ever tried using an independent publisher for your books? What was the experience like?
a cooking pot and twisted tales 