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From the Raymond Chandler website:

"Chandler switched to Dime Detective, the leading mystery pulp behind Black Mask. Its editor, Kenneth White, paid higher rates to popular authorsmdash;up to a nickel a wordmdash;and was more open to accepting humorous or parodying stories than Shaw had been (such as Chandlerrsquo;s "Pearls Are a Nuisance", which burlesques hard-boiled conventions). Chandler sold seven stories to Dime Detective between 1937 and 1939."



From the SFWA website:

"To become an Active member of SFWA, applicants must demonstrate either:

�� 1. Three Paid Sales of prose fiction (such as short stories) to Qualifying Professional Markets, with each paid at the rate of 5c/word or higher (3c/word before 1/1/2004), for a cumulative total of $250, minimum $50 apiece; or

�� 2. One Paid Sale of a prose fiction book to a Qualifying Professional Market, for which the author has been paid $2000 or more; or

�� 3. One professionally produced full length dramatic script, with credits acceptable to the Membership Committee."



5c/word was pretty good -- in 1937.�

Anybody know how $250 (in short story sales) = $2000 (for a novel)?

Notice how they donapos;t put a dollar amount on a professionally produced full length dramatic script.� Canapos;t tell you what they donapos;t know.�

Why would� Big Shot scriptwriter want to join their penny-ante "professional" organization, anyway?

You schmooze, you lose.

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arena del sole

Well... Iapos;m back... Since my last bitch, life has been continuing on itapos;s spiral downward. School sucks. Iapos;m failing at it... I know I am... Siiigh. Iapos;m just- I donapos;t even know. Whatapos;s keeping me from actually doing something? My self-doubt? Iapos;m thinking itapos;s that. Because anything I start, I think... This isnapos;t good enough... And then I depress myself and I donapos;t feel like doing anything. I havenapos;t even started my third sculpture project and itapos;s due on Monday. UUGGGHHH WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MEEE I NOT a sculptor Why canapos;t I accept that Maybe itapos;s because Iapos;m so used to being good at anything creative that this one facet in which I suck at, is driving me crazy. I can sculpt figures and people out of clay. Thatapos;s easy. So why canapos;t I make a fucking non-objective sculpture out of PAPER WHY?? Itapos;s sounds like it would a lot easier than sculpting a human. Less complicated right? Wrong. It canapos;t look like anything for starters. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me? Iapos;m a CARTOONIST for fucksake. To me, everything has to look like something. Not nothing. Everything I draw is based off the world. Specific things. Itapos;s extremely hard for me to create forms and not objects. Then thereapos;s negative space, composition, and presentation to think about. I donapos;t know how to do it. I canapos;t. Iapos;m such a failure... I just want to give up... But I canapos;t do that either. So Iapos;m stuck. I just feel like crying all the time. Iapos;ll probably flunk out of my first semester of college any way...

Then thereapos;s my social life... Yeah itapos;s still basically non-existent. I go to dinner with Maddie sometimes, have breakfast with Autumn every so often, and talk to Claire on the phone, but thatapos;s it. The only reason I go off campus is to go to my mom or dadapos;s house. I spend most of my time on the internet. I want a boyfriend. I want friends at least Well, I have friends. Iapos;m very grateful for that, but Iapos;d like some in my classes, so I know if anythings due, or come ask them if I missed anything if I was absent. I want friends who will drag me out of my stupid little hole Iapos;ve dug myself. I want to get out I want to go places and meet new people... But Iapos;m scared... I want someone there whoapos;s reassuring, and can MAKE me go do things. Uuuhh... I guess thatapos;s a pretty tall order for someone I donapos;t even know yet... I want a guy the most... My pain over Ryan is slowly but surely fading away... He got a new girlfriend which caused me to stupidly vomit all of my emotional tension towards him that had been building up in an e-mail, that I, of course sent him. I feel better, but Iapos;m embarrassed about it now, and I havenapos;t heard from him at all.... Oh well, if I never hear from him again I guess thatapos;s for the best. I still love him... I always will. But Iapos;m tired of being IN love with him. Thatapos;s why I want someone new. And Iapos;m lonely. And I actually want something to do on a Saturday night. My mom, in her loving and yet irritating way of trying to make me feel better, predicts that I will meet someone. Soon. Iapos;ll meet him in the dining hall before Winter Break and heapos;ll be some engineering geek. Or so my swami mommy says. Why does she have to do that? I know itapos;s not ACTUALLY going to happen, but why does she have to sound so damn certain about it? Why does she have to give me false hope? God...just another thing to look forward to disappointing me, I guess. Iapos;ve been getting a lot of those, so whatapos;s one more.

I know I can get through all of this. Despite the never-ending hollow pit of stress and anxiousness residing in my stomach, thereapos;s always a small, tiny glimmer of this-will-go-away-someday. Well not go away, Iapos;ll have to work at it some, but I wonapos;t have to worry about non-objective sculpture one day. Or the fucking essay on M.L.K., that my teacher wants me to turn in even though itapos;s late. Right now I wish I could just quit my sculpting class. I want to stay in college, and major in painting and drawing, I just want to skip the sculpting requirement. I know itapos;s there so that I know all of my options and because they try to convert as many people as possible to sculpture, but I. Am. Not. One. Of. Those. People. Never will be. I like looking at sculpture, but I hate making it, even if I know what Iapos;m doing. And that STUPID essay God I didnapos;t do it because I was soooo stressed over (guess what) sculpture and I really couldnapos;t concentrate on it. Now my writing teacher wants me to turn it in.... I thought he said no late work... Did I miss something? I mean, itapos;s nice that he cares about me, but... Why now? Why do my teacher always have to like me? If I didnapos;t have my sculpture class to fret about I would definitely do that essay... And god this all sounds like the worst excuses ever. I guess, Iapos;m just trying to weakly persuade myself to think that Iapos;m still a good student, when in truth Iapos;m nothing but a scared, stressed, lazy, whiny bitch. I am extremely lazy. I had that whooooole entire week to work on stuff and what do I do? Nothing. Of course. WHY CANapos;T I DO ANYTHING Why canapos;t I realize what kind of hole Iapos;m digging myself into? All of last week I could have finished that essay. But I chose to run from it instead. And of course I realize this now... Two days away from my writing class. I am really and truly beginning to hate myself. All I do is watch stupid movies and linger on facebook. I sign in and out of msn messenger just waiting for the little apos;you have e-mailapos; chime so that I actually might have something to look forward to. I dread each day that comes next. And when Iapos;m alone, crying into my pillow I think apos;I wish I had someone to hold meapos; because if I had that Iapos;d feel less lonely and that I was actually worth something and then just maybe Iapos;d have the motivation to do something. And as I cry and think of someone to hold me, of course Ryan comes into my head because when I was in Ryanapos;s arms I felt more safe than I ever had. Nothing could touch me while he was looking at me. It was just me and him. Now-a-days my memories of Ryan have faded back into nothing but a vague and blurry dream, like he was never actually there. He was nothing but a fantasy. And how could I ever hope to deserve a guy as nice as Ryan anyway... Yes he had communication problems, but compared to most guys, he was a diamond in the ruff. Uhhh... Why canapos;t I stop talking about Ryan, anyway? Thatapos;s done and over with, why canapos;t I accept that? Iapos;m tired of whining and crying over the past. Iapos;m tired of crying. I. Want. Something. New. I want something to look forward to. But thereapos;s nothing... And I so scared that nothing is just about a good as itapos;s going to get for a very long time...

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fat lezzies

Idiot.
I refuse to hook you up with any of my friends.
I refuse to pretend to play cupid for you.
I refuse to let you hit on me then think that Iapos;ll pawn you off on someone else.
You donapos;t deserve it.

Bitch.
I refuse to tell you where the party is.
I refuse to invite you with me to the club.
I refuse to take you anywhere so I donapos;t have to be seen with your dumbass in public.
You donapos;t deserve it.

Iapos;m not going to let anyone use me.
I am TAKING CONTROL of my fucking life.

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common french marine musket

So this past week Bleach Episode 190 came out, and I liked it. Even though for half (or more than) of it was a review of what has been going on. LIKE�WE�DONapos;T�KNOW But I still loved it. I loved the songs as well

Now for the other stuff. This is where Iapos;m going to put things like pictures that I like from Bleach or Naruto or other manga or books that I�like (yes sometimes I�do talk like that and sometimes I talk formal....depends on the mood). Movies and music too. The reason being that my lovely�and wonderful boyfriend (if you are him reading this�*sticks out tongue*) told me that he has trouble loading my myspace�page b/c it�has too many stuff on it. But I am finally starting to like my myspace page and�then he (you) tell me that it has too much stuff.��

So now Iapos;m going to put a lot of things�on here.��
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I donapos;t think Vollyapos;ll be around since he has morning uni times. I think from 9-2. But, being hungry, I got up and went all the way downstairs without descending on my bum but by the rails. Father always gets up early to run around the block, but not today, heapos;s at a bar gig somewhere. And I think Vicapos;s out too... Against the maternal unitapos;s wishes. Volly specifically didnapos;t want me to refer to her that way, but NO LOVE FOR HER this (rather early) morning. She did several things to vex me: insisting upon approving of Pablo the other comrade (for whom I personally donapos;t care, preferring Ben much more In fact, heapos;apos;s to be over at sometime today), losing my cellphone, annoying me by getting into bed with me (???) and continually kissing me (*disapproves*), mrrr, think thatapos;s all.... Mostly the kissing thing was unwelcome. Her breath smelled bad too. X_x Going to look for breakfast now.
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farther on down the road

-confined, fighting to be free, without losing the love iapos;ve worked so hard for. I want to do everything you tell me I canapos;t, just because you make that decision for me, and want me to except your opinion as my own. You act like an old man, a father, and Iapos;m sorry but Iapos;m still an adolescent.
-we are on 2 different pages, leading 2 separate lives, how will this ever work?


..I just want to wake up in Vegas.

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How stubborn, and blind we are. Itapos;s right here, right now; weapos;re already there.

At a time, I was waiting to meet Susan. It seemed impossible; she lived in a completely different world, thousands of miles away. I thought, "the day we meet, is the day I am waiting for."

At a time, we came together, and we thought, "the day we can have a home together, is the day we are waiting for."

At a time, our lease began, and we made our own home, and then we thought, "the day we have financial freedom, is the day we are waiting for."

At this time, I sat at my table eating my morning meal, and I realized, "why am I waiting? What am I waiting for?"

Money?

Success?

If I allow this pattern to continue, then soon there will be a time, when the day I am waiting for, is the day I die.

There will never be a more "right" time. There will never be a more "perfect" condition. Itapos;s here, now.

Weapos;re so childish, and immature, so unappreciative. I myself, very much included. To have Susan in my life, even after how impossible it seemed to be, should alone be enough of a doorway to the "heaven" state. To be able to sit here and type on my computer, cognitive and healthy, to be able to sit in my comfortable chair and play my game, and have fun and laugh, should be enough to be centered in the now, rather than the later.

If you keep running, you will pass by and miss so much; be still and take it all in.

If you keep chasing, you will never catch it; be still and let it come to you.

Itapos;s here, now.

Iapos;m begging you, to not let life pass you by, waiting for some perfect circumstance.

Iapos;m begging you, to realize, and no longer be blinded by the western ideal that the majority of your time here should be spent at a job, making someone else rich, and paying bills for things you donapos;t even need or perhaps even use.

I wish with all my heart that I could make you realize how precious, and how fast life really is.

Donapos;t lose your life to the waiting game.

No longer allow your purpose to be making someone else rich.

The day I have been waiting for, is today.

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