Aspiring Writers Behaving Badly and the Definition of Bullying

First, a definition before I kickstart this little rant.

bul·ly1

ˈbo͝olē/
verb

use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.

20160514_063330.jpg

 

I’ve blogged about bullying before. It’s a subject I’ve dealt with in my younger years and witnessed my own child go through. However, I’m seeing a shift in what defines bullying. Notice the definition? Bullies use fists and words to bring people down physically and mentally respectively. Telling someone their worthless and won’t amount to anything, for example. It’s the mental element I’m going to shoot for here since my rant has something to do with the internet.

In the recent months, I’ve become to loathe how some use GoFundMe. I’ve written about it before, actually. The person in question has since gone to Patreon and still asks for money instead of, you know, earning it. Write and keep writing if you want to be an author and don’t go looking for handouts!

Writing costs money. I know this beautiful fact first hand. I also have a full time job, have a household to take care of with three cats that lay fur bombs daily. Oh there’s the bills I’m responsible for on my own … yardwork … adulting. On top of all that, I write. Gone are the days where writing can sustain your livelihood (IMO) thanks to pirate sites and over saturation of the market. Anyone, I mean anyone, can self publish. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen fake books get tossed up on Amazon in the middle of the night by spammers that somehow get through Amazon’s “superior” filters.

But let’s get to the meat of why I’m not posting about my recent trip overseas–something I saved to do and booked over a year ago.

Self-entitled persons who want to write but really haven’t done any writing but, seriously, they want to be a best seller! I came across a link on Facebook from one of my writer friends concerning this individual. My mouth just dropped. I mean why? I started out on a typewriter I bought myself with my first job. Before that, I used my mother’s. And I wrote! Paper, placemats, or any other piece of parchment I could get my hands on. I wasn’t going to let the fact I had no idea how to get published at the time deter me into writing. It’s all about words getting out from within. In this new society of handouts and safe spaces, however, the concept of working for what you earn seems to be lost. After all, in the world of GoFundMe mania, we can just ask for money. Hell, someone swindled $500 out of my son with a sob story. Money that was for his future. Money that, in two weeks, would have helped him fix his car when it broke down instead him having to wait for the next paycheck and the one after to repair it. If I had the fund to help him–beyond the tow–I would have. However, he would have to pay it back. That’s part of being an adult.

If that GoFundMe wasn’t enough to boil my blood, my need for research found several Facebook accounts for this person and a strong social media presence. Then I reflected on why she’s asking for money for a laptop. She has to share a desktop–something I did with my ex when we first got a computer. She doesn’t want a job she doesn’t like doing. With a laptop that’s around 1k she can do everything and not get distracted by the internet. Riiight. Any writer will tell you that the internet will distract you regardless.

Then I came across another GoFundMe by this person. Mind. Blown. WTF. Now she wants more funds than I make in a year? Just stop the train, I want off. Time to roll up my sleeves and call out some heavy bullshit.

No one should fund your dreams. That’s for you to get off your ass and do for yourself. If someone really wants to be an author then they have to work at it. That means a rough draft, first draft, etc. There are no shortcuts and I’m all for supporting authors but handouts to said writers. That’s a big F. U. ten four, good buddy. There are days and months where the writer’s block is so bad, I just want to say it’s time to focus on school and forget this writer gig. Yet this is my dream and I have to reach the star, tickle it’s dangling bits, and squeeze them tight.

You know how you get money from people as a writer? It’s not the promise of some dollar store swag or a mention in a book. It’s not hangout campaigns on GoFundMe. It’s putting forth the effort and fucking doing more than talking about it. All bark and no bite gets you jack and shit in this world. You want to make something of yourself? Get a job and start being more than a bump on a couch. There are no free rides and it’s about time people start realizing that again.

As far as the bullying someone called out on the one GoFundMe page? Get a dictionary, honey. There’s a huge difference between cut someone down and calling them out on their bullshit. I’m going to shout it out every time. My parents taught to earn what I have.

*mic drop* I’m out

 

 

The Beauty of the Mediterranean

My mother planned this trip over a year ago. I was going to abstain from any big vacations to build my savings thanks to never ending lawyer fees. However, I couldn’t pass up the inaugural sailing of the Carnival Vista. The price lured me as well as the destination. Damn you, places I want to see! That’s the beauty of my divorce. I’m not stuck going to the beach where my ex wanted to go without regard to what I wanted. Now I see the world and other countries when funds allow.

I snapped this one as our bus rolled up to the dock.

I snapped this one as our bus rolled up to the dock.

The journey wasn’t easy. I still don’t enjoy flying because of what it does to my sinuses. To this day, three days after returning, I’m still messed up in the nasal passages. Still, to get to my destination I had to board a plane. That in itself was a harrowing deed. We left Harrisburg to meet up with our sister in Charlotte, NC. From there we waited on the tarmac for “maintenance”. Funny how during that hour wait a few more people boarded the plane. What did that delay do, pray tell, to our connecting flight in Philadelphia? Make all four of us almost miss it. That would have added two more stops to our journey. Thankfully the stewardess phoned ahead and the captain of our connecting flight held the plane. Thank goodness!

Off to Venice and a bus ride to Trieste to catch our ship. Of course we enjoyed an espresso while waiting for our ride. The Italians know how to make a great coffee.

Isn't she beautiful?

Isn’t she beautiful?

The trick to going ahead in time is to sleep on the plane to acclimate yourself. Same with returning though I take time off after a trip to recover. Although I was six hours ahead, I had to stay up. Our first priority after the indock to gain access to the ship was getting something to eat. Your luggage is never there so your carry on better have what you need at the moment. No worries, however, as all luggage is waiting outside your door by the end of the day. My sister and I took our parent’s suitcases into our room and said it was fifty euro to get them back. Teasing and joking was our moniker the whole trip. We also had our Uncle (mother’s side) and Aunt along for the ride and most nights we had dinner together. Heck, we even met on some excursions which I’ll get to in separate posts.

All in all I had a great experience on the Carnival Vista. Though minor touches were done as we sailed, it didn’t interfere with the fun. I’m not much of a complainer about the details. I’m on vacation and refuse to get a bug up my ass as my sister and I witnessed from other passengers. We met a lot of nice ones, however, that made up for the stick in the mud types.

This was my second Carnival cruise and I wasn’t disappointed. One of these days I’d love to take a transatlantic cruise just for the peaceful calm the sea brings.

The whale tail. The iconic symbol of a Carnival ship.

The whale tail. The iconic symbol of a Carnival ship.

Deep Dream by Elodie Parkes

Thank you for inviting me to your blog today to celebrate my new release with Hot Ink Press, erotic paranormal romance, ‘Deep Dream.’

 

This story concept was originally formed for a proposed series. Now it has been completed revised, lengthened, and re-edited for Hot Ink Press.

 

Essentially a vampire erotic romance, it also has threads of magic, and taking place in New Orleans, it’s set in a music club/rock club, the mysterious StarZ.

 

Ethan Ross, the vampire hero, has been in New Orleans since his girlfriend and sire, dumped him in 1922. He’s used to the weird undercurrents of the city and now works in StarZ that caters to the supernatural folks. His band, Deep Dream, play there. He’s tasked with taking care of the ‘ordinary humans’ that arrive in the club and he does this happily …

 

With a broken heart to heal Ethan swore off love long ago … that is until starry eyed Anna Prideaux wanders into his life. 

Then sparks start to fly 

 

Read an excerpt

 

 She watched him

disappear into the gloom. Anna stood and scooped her phone from the counter.

She glanced around to check who might be watching her. When it looked like no

one was, she quickly followed Marcus. She quickened her pace as she lost sight

of him in the swirling mist at the back of the club’s main room. Marcus

disappeared.

 

When she reached where she’d last seen him a shiver spiked

up her back. The mist was freezing cold, the air thick with potent. Anna turned

away as a weird fear gripped her. She practically ran back to the bar, weaving

through the groups of patrons, and muttering, “Sorry,” as she knocked into one,

splashed the drink from the glass of another, until she stood in front of

Ethan.

 

His gaze mesmerized her. She wasn’t even sure she actually

heard his voice, but somehow he soothed her.

 

“Anna, it’s time you went home now. You want to go home. You

have work to do transcribing the interview with the band. Everything’s fine.”

 

She smiled at him. “I’m off now. Thank you for answering my

questions. Thank Marcus for me. He left.” She gestured toward where she’d run

from. A flutter of fear rose in her stomach and then Ethan was leaning forward,

his blue eyes capturing her so that she dreamily froze to soak up his low

voiced words.

 

“Goodnight, Anna.”

She

left the club happily, a faraway feeling carrying her along …

©Elodie Parkes Hot Ink Press 2016

 

 

About Elodie

I’m a writer

who is in love with happy endings. Currently based in the UK but thinking about

joining the next flock of birds I see heading south for the winter.

I love:

music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean…

I work with

antiques by day and words by night.

Like a

vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an

occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my current home, and I write.

Find me: