The very talented and sweet Tina Vaughn, who I’ve learned so much from in our critique group, is releasing her debut novel–today!

She’s seriously good, you guys. Buy No Sweeter Love.

Thanks to the wonderful Penrefe‘s advice, I filled out a “DCMA NOTIFICATION: Copyright Infringement Report” after I finally, and I mean like six hours of finally, found the host of the offending site. (The original post on this topic can be found here.)

Within a few hours of my notification, the entire site had been suspended. Today, when I went back to the offending post, it’s gone.

Someone did something wrong. And I stood up for myself. And it worked out.

Is it sad, because that happens so rarely, I’m actually shocked?

But, also thrilled. And, because I love you, I will compare the stolen, disfigured text to my own.

Me:

We decided to chat on Google a week later and about five minutes in she said, “Can I just call you? I hate chatting.” Feeling slightly awkward about my West Virginia accent, I reluctantly agreed. (She doesn’t know I was reluctant. I’m shy. Shh, that’s a secret).

Pirates:

We motionless to discuss on Google a week after and about 5 mins in she said, “Can we only call you? we hatred chatting.” Feeling somewhat ungainly about my West Virginia accent, we reluctantly agreed. (She doesn’t know we was reluctant. I’m shy. Shh, that’s a secret).

I felt ungainly. And she didn’t know we was reluctant. We was. Subject-verb agreement, pirates. And pronoun usage. Work on it.

Me:

Now, she’s my writing partner. We write our own stories, but we help each other by brainstorming, critting, beta reading, and motivating. We talk at least weekly. We actually talk a lot. Like, we usually run down the battery on my home phone and my cell phone.

Pirates:

Now, she’s my essay partner. We write a possess stories, yet we assistance any other by brainstorming, critting, beta reading, and motivating. We speak during slightest weekly. We indeed speak a lot. Like, we customarily run down a battery on my home phone and my dungeon phone.

You know. My dungeon phone. Everyone has one of those.

Me:

The thing is, besides acquiring a loving, accepting, genuine friend, my writing has improved. A lot. Because when you have someone to throw around ideas with, who will say, “Your hero is acting like an asshole,” (her) or, “No, I’m sorry. Internal conflict doesn’t count as scene conflict. Something has to happen. Period,” (me), then you up your game. You have someone, in real time, to call you on your flaws, to draw out your talent.

Pirates:

The thing is, besides appropriation a loving, accepting, genuine friend, my essay has improved. A lot. Because when we have someone to chuck around ideas with, who will say, “Your favourite is behaving like an asshole,” (her) or, “No, I’m sorry. Internal dispute doesn’t count as stage conflict. Something has to happen. Period,” (me), afterwards we adult your game. You have someone, in genuine time, to call we on your flaws, to pull out your talent.

So much happening here. Where do I start? Instead of a acquiring a friend, I appropriation one. My hero has become my favourite. With a ‘u’. Which is fine, if you’re not a post-stealing pirate. But don’t add a ‘u’ and act like that makes it all okay!

Conflict becomes dispute and scene becomes stage. Apparently, we’re merely disagreeing about a play. Or an essay. But not a story, since conflict is pretty essential. So are scenes, in fact. Then, we adult our game. Because our game was either childish or it’s suddenly become naughty. And, best of all, your critique partner will pull out your talent. Like a splinter.

In closing, plagiarism sucks.

Photo used with permission from stock.xchng. Photo by: Vitezslav Valka.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post. I’m not going to tell you which one because… okay, let me tell the story first.

So, a post. I publish it and it’s not even about anything (as usual). It’s not even one of my posts that people occasionally find useful (like the one on Kindlefeeder, or The Hero’s Journey in Clash of the Titans, or some of the writing posts). The day after I published it, I caught a weird pingback in my spam filter. I get those all the time when I link to one of my older posts but this one wasn’t from me. But, it was my words in the little sample that shows up.

When I clicked it, I found a beauty site (beauty, people–how many times have I blogged about that, I ask you) that had copied my entire post whole without any attribution whatsoever. The links within the post still pointed to my site (hence the spam filter pingback). Worse, most of the site, other than my post, was in another language. I know that copyright laws aren’t enforced in many countries, so I knew a report to the host would probably not yield a result.

So, I emailed the person. Nothing happened. Then, I left a moderated (and, so far, unapproved) comment on the site and told them that they’d copied my post in whole without any attribution, that I would make a complaint to Google which may or may not affect their search results. And some other things I couldn’t really back up. Because, seriously, what am I going to do about a post on a blog I don’t make any money from?

Don’t misunderstand me, I know it’s wrong. I felt strangely violated that someone had stolen my words, my thoughts, without even asking or giving me credit. If they found the article useful and wanted to repost it, I’d probably let them, with a link back here. Why not, right? But, to just take it? That’s seriously not okay. And, no, it’s not harming me financially. But, it harms me intellectually and emotionally.

Anyway, when I went back this week, because now it’s a car wreck and I can’t look away, they’d ran the post through one of those programs that changes the words but isn’t supposed to change the meaning. Except, now it sounds like I have a poor grasp of the English language and it links back to here through those links I mentioned earlier, so now I’m mad and a little embarrassed someone might think I wrote it.

I’d link to it so you could all go have a laugh except I’m afraid if the traffic there goes up, they’ll steal everything I do. It’ll be like having a thought-stealing internet stalker. And I know how people are, because I’m the same way, and if I just give you a screencap (or tell you which post), you’ll google the words and find it and drive the traffic up that way. So, now, I can’t even call them out on it.

Other than making legal threats I can’t really back up in their comment section, does anyone have any suggestions?

Photo used with permission from stock.xchng. Photo by: Pedro Pasquale.

Edit 05.13.2012: Turns out Godaddy is hosting the site, though it’s owned in Vietnam. Godaddy was not the host, but they walked me through tracing it back to the real hosts. I sent the DMCA Takedown Notice (on the advice of Penrefe in the comments below–thank you!), so fingers crossed.

Penrefe (@Penrefe, twitter) is gaining a reputation as an exceptionally helpful commenter, like in this post, when she explained to me what a “licker zombie” was.

Edit 05.16.2012: I just realized why they stole this post. Because it has beauty in the title. Doh. Also, an update!

I found my critique partner through a website (Ladies Who Critique) about eight months ago. We exchanged a chapter to see if we would be a fit. We decided to chat on Google a week later and about five minutes in she said, “Can I just call you? I hate chatting.” Feeling slightly awkward about my West Virginia accent, I reluctantly agreed. (She doesn’t know I was reluctant. I’m shy. Shh, that’s a secret).

That night, we went over our crits, answered questions, brainstormed. Then we spent three hours talking about writing, and story, and good books. And life. It was like we were meant to partner up.

Now, she’s my writing partner. We write our own stories, but we help each other by brainstorming, critting, beta reading, and motivating. We talk at least weekly. We actually talk a lot. Like, we usually run down the battery on my home phone and my cell phone.

The thing is, besides acquiring a loving, accepting, genuine friend, my writing has improved. A lot. Because when you have someone to throw around ideas with, who will say, “Your hero is acting like an asshole,” (her) or, “No, I’m sorry. Internal conflict doesn’t count as scene conflict. Something has to happen. Period,” (me), then you up your game. You have someone, in real time, to call you on your flaws, to draw out your talent. It’s like creativity crack.

Before I end this with crazy, random quotes, I encourage everyone to find a writing partner. It should be someone you trust. It should be someone you connect with. It should be someone who is committed at the same level you are. But do it.

Crazy, Random Quotes:

• “I think my hero’s hair is going to be troutymouth blond.” (Cool points if you get this reference. See a couple of posts back for a clue.)
• “That’s okay though. The important thing is you were creatively…creating.” (Yes, I’m a writer. I use my words so well.)
• “I think my inappropriate dead crush is Yul Brenner.” (Mine is Rock Hudson).
• “I’m a writer. I can make those fantasies happen all over my mind.” (Let’s not even go there.)
• “But we’re not normal people.” (It’s true.)
• “Trust me. You’re going to love conflict boxes so much, you’ll want to marry them.” (She’s almost there.)
• “I have the perfect song for your story. Go buy it.” (It was).

Photo used with permission from stock.xchng. Photo by: Robert Linder.

It’s kinda late and I have to get up early tomorrow which explains why I am wasting time on Facebook. But, luckily I was. Because two different ads showed me what is the “perfect blend of horror and comedy.” It’s horrmedy.

First of all, apparently, the cabin in the woods that everyone is so afraid of is a Rubik’s cube. Ever wondered what it would be like to LIVE in a Rubik’s cube? Probably “sexy, funny, scary, and bold.” And, second? Is that mouth thing supposed to scare me? A mouthful of razor sharp teeth with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth? For all that is good in the world, why? Horrmedy. That’s why.

It reminds me of the time my daughter called my house phone with my cell phone and when she said, “Hello,” it caused an infinite loop of hellos that, frankly, creeped me out and made me doubt my place in the time-place continuum. It was actually scarier than this movie looks.

Glee. Just…Glee. I’ve posted in the past about watching great shows to improve your writing (and because they’re awesome and we love good stories). I’ve been a fairly long-standing fan of Ryan Murphy (and later Brad Falchuk). The Shield, Nip/Tuck, American Horror Story. Good shows. Great characters.

But, Glee. I’ve watched it on Netflix and my becoming enamored with it started one boring, cold Saturday morning. I turned it on. I gasped. I laughed. I called to my teenage daughter to get in there because I was watching the best television show I’d ever seen and she had to see it.

I’ve fallen in love with the characters because they’re so not perfect. They make mistakes, they’re human and flawed. But they’re real and they grow, so I care about them. And, I think I’ve learned from this show, antagonist or protagonist, what matters is to make your characters realistic, to have strengths and flaws, to make them stretch and grow into more than they were when they began.

Aside from being a writer, from the perspective of being someone who messes up and deals with the fact that sometimes life sucks, from the perspective of a parent of a child who has been bullied and is a minority, I love that this show is about loving the “loser” that we all are. I don’t know who coined the phrase “let your freak flag fly,” but I live by it and I wish that in finding the things about ourselves that make us unique and special (and unicorns), we’d learn to embrace those things in other people.

I wrote a short Christmas story and it’s being hosted over @ Passionate Critters as part of their 12 Days of Christmas. Please go read and give me some comment luv!

Happy turkey-Christmas-Solstice, whatever you celebrate during this time of year.

I’ll be back in 2012.

Except I have a surprise on the 19th. Naturally, I’ll be back to let you all in on that. Until then, merry holiday!

As mentioned on many occasions, I have become a full on convert to the digital reading experience. However, I still enjoy the occasional magazine (I got suckered into a year’s subscription when my kid was fundraising so she could have a fifty cent toy).

So, I’m scanning through the magazine, and I see this ad.

And so many thoughts occur to me. I will share.

• She has Oscar Mayer food, including Jello, in her purse. Sometimes, I throw my lunch in my purse for the ten minute drive to the office. I get how this could happen. But… there’s no context here. Just… Jewel likes Oscar Mayer so much, she carries it in her purse.
• There’s makeup and guitar picks (which I totally get–I’m a writer. Good luck catching me without a pen and something to write on.). But… seashells? Seashells. Really?

• There’s a picture of her and her husband in there. Aw. And peaking out of the very top is a tube of Butt Paste. No, you guys. It’s for babies. But, there’s absolutely nothing else in her entire purse to indicate she has children. So I look some more. Hair stuff, mix CDs, a pen, makeup. No, no kid stuff.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m so not above carrying Butt Paste in my purse. But it’s not top of the list. I’d probably have some toys in there, a snack (for my kids, not this Oscar Mayer fancy Triscuit and Jello mousse crap), some wipes. What mother doesn’t carry wipes? I just… don’t buy it. Either she has a diaper bag and the Butt Paste was thrown in there for effect or she is the most ill prepared parent in the history of ever. What the hell, Jewel?

In closing, I can only say this: Don’t show me what’s in your purse–I will judge you.

The Museum of Idiosyncrasy is a Tumblr blog about sexytimes and romance. I once told @EroticClara that her site was like poetry in images to me.

If you’re under 18 or easily offended, you absolutely should not check out this site; otherwise, go there and see for yourself.

I go there to get inspiration when I need to write sexy scenes. Every image, to me, tells a story. It evokes a feeling. Every quote speaks truthfully. And, I love it.