…for a good cause. Go to FreeRice.com and play their vocabulary game. It’s free, easy and addicting. Out of 48 levels, I’m comfortable on 40 and can move into 41 with some effort. Curious to see if repeated playing moves me up or not.
Yesterday I was cruising easily in 41 and made a brief surge into 42. I guess it does help your vocabulary.
This isn’t exactly an invasion of privacy — not quite. It compiles everything about you on social media sites. (So try not to post drunk pictures of your self.) The creepy thing is that anyone can track you and you’ll never know it.
Although I have quite a public presence online and have worked on that, my real personal life is not to be found online. I’ve worked on that too.
In 10 years, the real luxury will be not being found.
I often compare the sex worker rights movement with the Civil Rights movement and gay movement. Most often, I see it closer to the Civil Rights movement.
I’e become used to conversations with people or business interactions with them — all behind the scenes. But I understand that in public they might not wish to be associated with me. It’s not a condescending remark. Not everyone is ready to stand up to prejudice or make logical arguments to refute knee-jerk morality. I understand. So if we meet in public I pretend not to know and do not burden them with social embarrassment.
Take the constant checking I have to do with publishing-related businesses. I can’t assume they’re going to want to do business with me, so before we get too far down the road I have to give background info, detailed explanations, legal disclaimers (and prove that others have worked with me before) — and this is just the introductory e-mail. In essence, I apologize for what I’m doing and for imposing on them.
My hat must be in my hand, my eyes down and I should respectfully step out of the way so they can pass. In case I make them uncomfortable, I should cross the street so they don’t have to.
Usually I get praised for checking their tolerance level before daring to engage in a business conversation with them. Before I dare to believe I’m a regular publisher like anyone else making a book about cats (or cooking or yoga or whatever has been done to death). Before I dare to act as though I have a right to choose my business partners, instead of letting them choose me and being grateful for it.
Another post in my disjointed look at small publishing.
I have a backlog of writing/business/marketing podcasts I listen to when driving or washing the dishes. Or cleaning. (I’ve found I can’t listen while working on the computer since most of my computer-time involves writing and reading.)
This podcast was an Internet radio show that interviews publishing experts and this guest was an expert in marketing for small publishers or authors (either/or). I haven’t read any of his books, but one of them is on my “buy” list. He was discussing building newsletter lists and how marketing today is all about building relationships with your customers. He has a newsletter list of 10,000 subscribers and feels he has developed a relationship with them.
Not only is he a far more popular guy than I currently am, I wonder how he thinks he has a relationship with 10,000 people he’s never met.
Why does this statement bother me?
I read Jenna Jameson’s book quite a while back and she claims to have had sex with less than 100 men (80-something, if I remember correctly). I look at the blogs/sites/columns of sex advisors and wonder what their numbers are (actually, I’ve wondered about people’s number all of my life — it’s my one area of prurient interest, though I never want details).
Comparing my estimated number to theirs leads me to think I should be a so-called expert. And there are sex workers whose numbers are much higher than mine. Hmm…who should really be considered experts? Or does the whole “money” thing negate anything sex workers might’ve learned?
FYI: Professionally-speaking, it’s more than 100, but less than 1000. I’m not going to be more specific than that in public. Besides, it’s an estimate. I haven’t really sat down and used a calculator.
Personally-speaking, it’s in the 40s. I think.