Addendum VII

I have a guest post on the Book Boost Blog on the subject of M.A.F. and what I want to do with it!

P.S. …  No. I don’t know where that lipstick kiss came from.


And now it’s Addendum time:

Cats with thumbs: only a matter of time!


Two things …This is one helluva right forearm, and Paganini and Liszt were sadists


“ My mother was a jazz fanatic and she wanted me to play the piano so I could play jazz tunes. I wish I had learned but I was too busy getting into trouble!”Etta James – died but three days ago.

Addendum VI

In the Spirit of the Season, and with the knowledge that I have almost reached my limit for Bing-o singing ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas’, I offer you a rendering of the Christmas Spirit, and it’s companion piece, for this month’s Addendum.


… and …

… You’re welcome.


“There is a great disturbance in the Force”Obi-Wan Kenobi, in Star Wars Episode IV- A New Hope, when the planet Alderaan  is destroyed by the Death Star

Addendum V

If it’s an Addendum, it must be the beginning of the month!


Science Fiction just got a little closer to Science. Back to the Future (Part II) … here we come. Bring out your hoverboards: 


A  “vertically starting, human carrying transportation device.” … It looks like such fun … I want one!

 … and their Website


“I’ve always liked the idea of a special Hugo to be awarded (by force, perhaps) to literary authors who write books dripping with themes filleted from mainstream SF and then deny that it’s science fiction ‘because it’s not about robots and spaceships'” – Terry Pratchett

Addendum IV

This is another one of those addendum things I warned you about. They tend to appear at the beginning of each month.

I am playing over at the Muse Online Writers Conference this week. Registrations have closed now that the conference has started, but bookmark it for next year. It’ll be worth it. And best of all, it’s free!

For those bemoaning the demise of the English language – you’re not alone, either historically or quantitatively.

 And just to show who really rules: Koalas


Completely off track but perfect anyway. Dog Day Downer


“Ever wonder where you’d end up if you took your dog for a walk and never once pulled back on the leash?” -Robert Brault

Addendum III

Addendum I

Addendum II 

And now, Addendum III


A little levity for those who are a little twisted, and not sixteen anymore: Baby Boomer tweet shortcuts from Geezer Planet 


A little steampunk noir for the Idealist Dreamer in all of us.


And finally, a little water for your thoughts.


“This morning I took out a comma and this afternoon I put it back in again.” – Oscar Wilde




Addendum II

I should’a known how this would go when I saw the violinist in a tux and … well, I hope they were shorts!

Gloria Gaynor  forgive them!

Maximise your screen and fasten your seatbelt.

Presenting …  Igudesman and Joo


“The violinist is that peculiarly human phenomenon distilled to a rare potency – half tiger, half poet” – Yehudi Menuhin


I’ve decided to start a new category for one-off posts like this. It’s for things that I think might be interesting, but not originating from my brain, muse, or subconscious. I’ve already posted a few such things and as I seem to be making a habit of it I thought they deserved a category of their own. They aren’t strictly related to writer-ly stuff, just anything that catches my attention.


This one comes from, Grammar and Composition, whose weekly newsletter has odd and interesting stuff about… you guessed it, grammar and composition. This is the article, so you have a choice to either click on the link … or read it right here, right now.


How to Write 2,500 Words Before Breakfast Every Day

from An Autobiography, by Anthony Trollope

“It was my practice to be at my table every morning at 5.30 A.M.; and it was also my practice to allow myself no mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, and to whom I paid £5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no mercy. During all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once late with the coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not know that I ought not to feel that I owe more to him than to any one else for the success I have had. By beginning at that hour I could complete my literary work before I dressed for breakfast.

All those I think who have lived as literary men–working daily as literary labourers–will agree with me that three hours a day will produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should so have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously during those three hours–so have tutored his mind that it shall not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the wall before him, till he shall have found the words with which he wants to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom–and it still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient to myself–to write with my watch before me, and to require from myself 250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my three hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly recommend this practice to all tyros in writing. That their work should be read after it has been written is a matter of course–that it should be read twice at least before it goes to the printers, I take to be a matter of course. But by reading what he has last written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of three volumes each in the year . . ..”


“It is the test of a novel writer’s art that he conceal his snake-in-the-grass; but the reader may be sure that it is always there” Anthony Trollope