Just in case you don’t read much of this, I’d like to mention up front that you can get Walking over Eggshells free (for the first time ever) up to and including Wednesday 15th July 2015. And to make it easy for you, here is the link. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E8HSNDW
She has already topped the free chart in genre in the US and the UK and the real promo doesn’t start until tomorrow. So, just in case Amazon or any of the other outlets like Nook, Kobo and Apple suddenly explode, or go off line because somebody forgot to pay the electricity bill, why not grab it now?
So there we were in the rabbit hutch lounge and DH is continuing his feedback on Amie 2. I’ve dug my heels in and refused to let her pee for several weeks, or if she does, it’s a very private affair you don’t want to read about.
But we move on to other bodily secretions.
“She’s always crying.”
Now really, I can take criticism, but this is beyond the pale. “She’s a girl! Girls cry!”
“So I’ve noticed (remember DH doesn’t like soppy movies?) Yes but you portray her as tough, so why is she always blubbing?”
“She’s not! I think she only bursts into tears a couple of times.”
“You want men to read the book don’t you?”
“Yes of course, it’s not exactly chick lit, well not really. Least I don’t think it is.”
“Then she doesn’t need to burst into tears all the time. She should be tougher than that.”
“Oh come on, she cries when she hears how they burnt the orphanage down, all those little children…”
“I’d cry. Wouldn’t you? Well, maybe you wouldn’t. But however tough she is on the outside, she’s still feminine and tender on the inside.”
“Not once in two books, has she been to the hairdresser or had her nails done.”
“Of course not! If you’re slogging through the African bush about to die from dehydration, the last thing on your mind is booking an appointment at the beauty parlour.”
“If she keeps bursting into tears, she’s going to look a real wuss.”
“Well she’s not Rambo nor the Terminator either. I’ll cut out one of the crying bouts, maybe just a few feminine tears running down her cheeks. How’s that?”
“Really? Well let’s move on to how they get to their destination. She’s walking the wrong way. She’d never get there in a million years, much less in a couple of hundred pages. Did you draw a map?”
“No, but it’s in my head.”
“You should have a map.” DH draws one, and it’s all wrong.
“No, the river flows west to east, and they approach it from the north.”
“You have her walking west, and she’s coming from over here.”
“OK. You have a point, I’ll make her go south west then.”
Next comes a huge tussle over the map. DH has to turn a map round to read it, me, I can read them upside down no problem. DH sulks a little as I redraw the North-South over his beautiful map, and then he insists in adding in all the valleys and ridges which are quite unnecessary.
We have another session this afternoon, so I’m sure there will be another barrage of comments. I am thrilled he is taking such an interest, but I might just look up the number of a good divorce lawyer, just in case.
Back now in history we come to a real date, and one of the more exciting occasions in the reign of the slobbering and dribbling James of the many number’s reign. Yes! An accurate one November 5th – it doesn’t matter about the year, that’s not important.
It’s when a friendly guy called Fawkes decided to blow up the king and the parliament all at the same time. I can now tell you the real and unexpurgated version of this.
Guy Fawkes was the marketing manager of the major gunpowder company in London and the directors called him in to devise a marketing strategy to up their advertising campaign and create more sales.
Many hours were spent outlining their aims, objectives and mission statement, before they took the final decision to blow up the king, the Houses of Parliament and the whole parliament in session.
(Frankly, as we know they would not have got many of them as this picture shows). But they chose this target because there were too many parliaments held and they did not seem to achieve anything.
In the end it was all a terrible failure as someone squealed on them. There’s always someone right?