During the Canadian election, I was approached by a representative of CanWest to submit blogs for their Election Issues coverage on www.canada.com Two of my blogs were submitted, and both were selected. I considered it a serious honour to be invited to participate and to lend my words to those of other Canadians discussing issues on their minds. Since my blog address was published, presumeably exposure in this national forum would increase blog traffic and I would be able to enjoy the prestige of having my words in such a professional milieu.
http://www.canada.com/Voting+exercise+hope/4709973/story.html is a May 2 reprint of https://shawnbird.com/2011/04/27/young-voices/
http://www.canada.com/hard+respect+Commons/4677890/story.html is a April 25 reprint of https://shawnbird.com/2011/04/20/responsible-government/
Having permitted them to reprint my words, I was surprised to notice at the bottom of my reprinted piece (c) Postmedia News. Huh? Nowhere in our correspondence did they ask for nor did I give them copyright. I gave them reprint permission. Interesting, isn’t it? If some text book or magazine wants to reprint it, will they be paying Postmedia News or will they be coming to me, the author and legitimate copyright holder of the work? What would it cost me to fight it?
There is an issue among professional writers with respect to news agencies using nonprofessional, unpaid writers who work for the glory of seeing their byline. It’s pretty cool, but an unpaid byline doesn’t put bread on the table of anyone’s family, except perhaps the publisher who’s enjoying the free labour. On the other hand, how does one earn a professional reputation except through giving some words away? It’s a bit of a tightrope, to be sure.
According to the shawnbird.com site stats, although there was a bit of a spike on April 26 and 27th, there was no increase in traffic after the May 2 article was posted on canada.com which suggests that the exposure didn’t generate the potential blog traffic. None the less, it was entertaining reading the comments from readers who would not normally have been exposed to my blog, and it was a thrill to see my words in a national forum. Perhaps there will be some name recognition in the future. I’m not really counting on it, though. We Canadian artistes know that with too much free exposure you can freeze to death, after all.


necessity, the mom May 27, 2011
Tags: #8, Grace Awakening, invention, postaday2011, writing
Topic #137: What invention, as in something not yet invented (jetpack, teleportation ring, time machine) do you most need right now?
The fall that I started Grace Awakening, I also started a high interest low vocab novel I called #8. When Grace took over my life for six months as she told me her 150,000 word story, #8 languished as an outline and one chapter. When Grace was finished, I set to work on #8. I’m aiming for it to be completed at 15,000 words, so it’s a tenth of Grace’s size. You’d think it would have taken a tenth of the time- say eighteen days instead of 180, but no. For all its brevity, #8 has sat with ‘something’ not quite right for almost two years. Every once and awhile I pull it out and add a paragraph here, a chapter there, fine tune a paragraph, crop out a sentence, but the intangible thing has been elusive.
This last week I’ve been reading and thinking about #8. I’ve added half a chapter and decided that I need to crop out the first chapter I wrote for this book (presently it is chapter 2). I realised that I have a beach scene immediately followed by a snow shovelling scene (this is feasible in Calgary, but not in the Shuswap!). Oops. I figured out the biggest area that needs fixing.
As I was drifting off to sleep, one of the minor characters stepped up. She had been in one brief scene in the seventh chapter, but suddenly she had a back story to share that was relevant to the rest of the story. She had been there all along, with the answer to the question, if only I’d been paying attention. I had to be up in a few hours, and I couldn’t afford to get up and write out the scene. I was sure that it would not be lost over night, but I could not shut off the narrative.
It would be so handy for authors to have a brain writing machine. While you sat in a boring meeting, went jogging through the neighborhood, or were drifting off to sleep, your brain writer could dictate the narrative rolling in your thoughts and put it into a file. What a brilliant devise that would be.
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