I’ve blogged about New Years Resolutions on Passionate Critters today.
Mainly because I never stick to them, but this time I’m determined to succeed.

In more ways than one!

So if you want to read my musings… Head on over.

Did you get what you wanted?
Did you get something you needed?
Did your family drive you crazy?

I got a huge jar of jelly beans, even though we said no presents this year.
I gave a Wheat and Lavender neck warmer in return. (We’re sharing the beans. :))
Some other things too, but the beans made my day. (The pink nightie… didn’t. I don’t do pink.)
Oh and some vouchers, as well. I’ll probably swap mine with the other half, who got book tokens.
All in all it was a nice Christmas. I still miss the snow and ice and darkness on Christmas Eve though, and I doubt I’ll ever get used to Christmas Day being the main day.
So now we can all get back to writing, right?

The one thing I didn’t get for Christmas, is unblocked.

 Argh.

It’s that time of year again.

The time, when all sense goes straight out of the window and only one thing matters:

Brussel Sprouts.

The annual Brussel Sprout War is in full swing, as witnessed by myself in Waitrose earlier today.
I don’t know why people go crazy at Christmas time. You’d think everything was closed for the next eight weeks, the way some people are shopping.
Seriously, do you think you’re going to starve? That the shops run out of food by Saturday?
Worse, apparently it all hinges on a little green vegetable.

So…

Have you got your sprouts yet?

If not… you better bring a shotgun.
You’re gonna need it…

It’s the same thing every year.

Christmas Eve arrives and I get a little melancholy and homesick.

It all has to do with Christmas Tradition, the smell of the tree, the cookies I used to bake with my grandmother (Gutzle, if any Swabians happen to read this.), Butter-S’s, Glühwein!
Sorry, I digress. We didn’t really have Glühwein (Mulled Wine) on Christmas Eve. We had that during the run up to Christmas, because it was… well… cold.

We never used to bring the tree inside before Christmas Eve.
It was kind of a ritual, and the day went something like this:

Morning — Noon

We’d get the tree up three flights of stairs, into the living room. Eventually. When we worked out how to get a tree that was too wide, too tall and otherwise unwieldy, up those winding stairs and through that door, without leaving half of in on the stairs or in the banisters… One of us was always on a mission to unsnag snagged branches and hide the broken bits from mom.
There it would be erected and left to settle for an hour or so, while my dad, my brother and I climbed into the attic to go get the Christmas decorations down.
Then came the ritual "Oh no! You BROKE it!" of the dropping of any baubles that were breakable.
We would pull tinsel apart and lay it out, dig out the candle holders, the stars, the bows…
Then my mom would come in and we’d decorate the tree, taking extra care to put the candles where they wouldn’t burn anything. (Yes, REAL candles.)
Once we were all happy with our tree, we’d clear up the debris (there was always debris…) and leave the living room.
Usually by around noon.
Door shuts.
No one is allowed inside anymore.

Noon — Afternoon

I’d go downstairs to my gran’s and we’d make more cookies. (We started baking cookies on the 1st Advent, and after Christmas Eve you didn’t bake any more.)
Our cookies never lasted long. There were Butter-S’s, Vanillkipferl, Coconut Macaroons, Ausstecherle, Haslenut Macaroons… you name it, I’ve probably made it before.
Tons and tons of them. (And I’m still making them…)
I might dig out the recipes and post them some time, because they are worth preserving and making, they were that good. And there is nothing like baking with gran, or mom.
By 3pm we’d start asking if the "Christkind" had been yet. (In Germany, presents are not brought by Santa, but by the Christ Child.)
By 4pm we’d "help" my mother prepare Christmas Dinner. (I think she would have preferred us not to, but there you go… at this point we were unstoppable.)
By 5pm (it was pitch dark outside by then) we’d be camping in front of the living room door.

Afternoon — Evening

At 5pm, everything was silent outside. You didn’t hear a car move, or anything.
Then the church bells of all the churches in town would start to ring.
When they fell silent again, you would hear "Silent Night" ring out over the town, played by a trumpeter on the church spire.
I swear, I hear that, and I’ll be in tears. They probably don’t do it anymore now, but they used to, when I was a kid.

And that’s when a little bell would ring in the living room.
My mom turned all the lights off. Every single one.
It was a time when I held my breath, waiting… waiting for that door to open.

And then it did.
And all you saw was the lit tree, sparkling tinsel in the dark room, glistening baubles, stars…

Magic.

I tried hard to find anything that could do justice to that view.
Below is pretty close to what we’d see when that door opened.
 

Merry Christmas!

I hope your Christmas is a magical as mine used to be.

I miss snow.
But everytime there’s even an inch of it here (outside London) everyone is like "OMG! What is that WHITE stuff????"
Having grown up in southern Germany, and having spent most of my formative years on skis, you kinda look at an inch of snow and go "So?"
Mind you, growing up near the Alps and spending plenty of time on top of them, kind of also makes you go "What mountain? Where??" when you get to Wales and someone says "Look at the mountain!"
This is closely followed by me going "Oh you mean that hill?" which is closely followed by my hiding under the car, trying to avoid enraged climbers. With ice picks.
Scotland has mountainous terrain. I still have trouble calling it a mountain.
I used to ski in Courmayeur and Dolonne (Monte Bianco / Mont Blanc) as well as all over the Dolomites (South Tirol), Zugspitze and whatnot.
1,000 meters (3,500 ft) is a hill to me. Even the Zugspitze is 3 times higher than that and I’m used to looking at 4000 meters of mountain. (13,000ft, with Monte Bianco being almost 16,000 ft)

I miss the mountains. I really do.

And I miss snow, especially around Christmas.

  I’m talking about adjusting the time.

  You know, moving the hour hand forward or backward.
  Or, not.

In my case… Not.

The clocks changed on Saturday night. I dutifully changed all the clocks that didn’t self adjust and all was well.
I realized on Sunday that, oops, I’d left my cell phone at work. Black blends into a black computer, so naturally, I left the damn thing sitting there.
Not to worry.
I got in on Monday, pocketed my phone and carried it home with me at the end of the day.

This morning I got up when the alarm went, showered, had coffee, got dressed… you know. The normal routine.
I walked to work, snow (!!) crunching under my feet, when promptly I slipped and landed in a puddle of mucky water, splashing my jeans.
Luckily it wasn’t too bad, but hey…
It was really quiet on the road and I trudged on.

I get to work and promptly drop my walkman, then, bending to pick it up, kick it across the room for good measure, where it slams into a storage shelf.
It didn’t sustain damage, despite the punishment.
By this time I’m thinking this isn’t a good start to the day.
So I say good morning to my co-workers, round the counter and go into the office, where I realize they are all giving me funny looks.
"What are you doing here?" my boss asks.
Immediately I think oh shit, do I have the wrong day? (I work part time)
"It’s Wednesday," I say. "I work Wednesdays."
"Yes, but…" He looks at his watch. "It’s 8 o’clock."

I start work at 9 o’clock…

I checked my watch, and yes, it was. Could I work out why I was an hour early? Hell no. It made no sense.

Then it dawned on me.

I use my cell phone as my alarm.
Since it was trying to merge with my desktop at work when the clocks went back, I didn’t change the time, and on Monday, when I picked it up, the clock change was far from my mind. After all… I’d changed all the clocks, right? I woke up at the right time on Monday, using the other alarm, so why would I think about it? It’s not like anything was wrong.

I felt like a complete idiot lol.
Especially since my morning routine includes checking my mail — and I usually use the computer time to see how long before I have to go.
There is a brightly lit screensaver showing 4 timezones on my PDA.
There are 2 clocks in the kitchen.
I wear a wrist watch.
And I still didn’t know what time it was!

So the moral of the story: The one day you don’t want to forget your phone at work, is when the time "Falls Back" or "Springs Forward"
 

I went to the doctor today.

When I told her I took Aspirin for pain, she looks at me and goes "Oh you should take Paracetamol, Aspirin is dangerous."

Err… what?

Not what I’ve been told. Well, okay, if you overdose on Aspirin it’s dangerous. Obviously. That goes for any drug. But if you overdose on Aspirin, they can usually save you. If you overdose on Paracetamol… bye bye.

In Germany you can’t get Paracetamol. At all. It’s classed as a dirty, dangerous drug. Because of the overdose issue. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that’s what I was told by a nurse. That if you overdose on Paracetamol, there is nothing that can be done to save you.

Never mind.

Then she says that you can’t give Aspirin to children. By law, you can’t give Aspirin to anyone under 20 years old.

Riiiiiiiiiight.

That brought us to talking about kids. I said what do you give them then if they hurt themselves and are in pain? Paracetamol.
Not that kids today are allowed to hurt themselves. Period.
They’re not allowed to climb trees, because they might fall off. (Duh!)
They’re not allowed to play chase because they might fall. (Duh!!)
They’re not allowed to ride their bicycle because they might fall off. (Or get run over…)
God forbid they pick up a creepy crawly, or (gasp!) a slug.

Basically, kids aren’t allowed to do anything anymore. And people wonder why there are so many hyperactive, gone wild, out of control brats??? They aren’t allowed to exhaust their bodies. They’re not allowed near any germ, houses get hoovered and cleaned so much, the slightest germ will give a kid a hell of an infection now. Asthma is rife — not because the world is so terribly dirty, but because our homes are so terribly clean now.
When I was growing up, my dad used to say "Every human needs three pounds of dirt, per week."
I think I wallowed in my, my brothers, and twentyfive other kids allowance per week. At least. I fell off my horse. I fell off trees. I fell off my bike. I got wet. I got dirty. I got hot and sweaty. I scraped my knees, arms… every bit of skin on my body. You know what? It didn’t kill me. None of it did.

I think it’s about time parents took a step back and allowed their kids to play again. So what if they get the sniffles? So what if they scrape a knee? That’s what being a kid is all about.

When was the last time you saw kids play football in a field not dedicated to it, watched over by adults?
What’s wrong with picking up a slug? A worm? To build a dam in a stream, to fall in and laugh? To find a frog and catch it to have a closer look? Lick a toad? Catch grasshoppers and keep them in a jar? Get bitten by ants?

Yeah, they’ll get up to mischief, all kids do. What’s wrong with sticking a frog through your neighbors letterbox? I did it. My friends did it. My neighbors from back then still remind me of it to this day. "When you were ten, you put a frog in my letterbox," they’d say (Grannies now) and laugh heartily. Then they’d go all wistful and say "I thought you kids were terrible back then. But look at them now. A frog in my letterbox is the least of my worries. These days they just steal the letterbox…"

So here is a word from me to those parents: Take off the leash. Stop being so damned overprotective! Let them have their three pounds of dirt and let them get an immunity to germs. They’ll be happy, exhausted kids at the end of the day. Kids who will remember their childhood with a smile, who won’t get sick with everything. Kids who won’t be hanging around streetcorners, smoking, drinking beer and stealing my granny neighbor’s letterbox.

And if they do wrong… Punish them. Not by taking their internet away, but give them a slap. Teach them manners.
I’m not advocating you beat up children, but a slap has never failed to make me see the error of my ways. Nor did it harm my brother. Or my friends. This whole nonsense about "mustn’t slap a child" has to stop. Sorry, if you’ve done wrong, then the punishment has to be there. Today those kids know if their parent lifts a hand against them, they can run to the police and scream child abuse. And the parents know it too.

That’s just wrong on so many levels. It’s wrong because those kids have no respect for their parents, and the reason for it is that the punishment the parents are allowed to dole out are so negligable, the kids don’t respect the punishment either.

It has to change or we’re headed for disaster.

But again, part of the problem here is that those kids who get out of hand do so because they have no outlet for their energy.

So yeah, take off the leash. Do it. I dare ya.

My handwriting stinks.
No, I mean that. I used to have nice handwriting, but because these days we type everything, instead of handwriting it… my penmanship has suffered severely.
I thought a nice pen would help. It did, to some extent. Not enough, though.
Time to learn how to write again.
I keep a journal – sporadically. I should do it more, but you know how it goes. Good intentions and all that.

I’ve made up my mind. Yeah, emails are nice and fast, but the real joy comes from receiving a handwritten letter in the mail. Right? Who doesn’t like to get a letter? I’m not talking about a postcard, but a letter. In an envelope. On nice paper.
How about your handwriting? Has it suffered since you left school? Any good tips on how to improve it?
Also, if anyone out there would like to exchange some letters, I’m up for it.
Boy, am I ever! It would make a change from getting bills in the mail!
So if you want to do the penpal thing, drop a note on the blog and I’ll contact you. J By email, first. Don’t put your address here! LOL
(And that image up there is not my handwriting!)

I catch myself reading my own blog.
I think everyone should do that occasionally. Read their own entries, I mean. Not mine. Although, feel free to read mine, of course!
Anyway, I’ve moved blogs about three times in the past, but now I’ve settled. (I think!) I like the title, because it’s nice and generic. I like the layout, and I like being able to post to it when I feel like it. No matter what I blog, at the time it has meaning to me. Maybe not to anyone else, but it does for me.
Originally I figured I’ll keep it down to writing, and nothing but. Then things started to creep in. As they do.
(Yes, I still love my pen!)
I don’t post much about me, personally. I’m a bit paranoid about that. Okay. I’m a lot paranoid about that.
Besides, I’m really not that interesting. In fact, I think I’m a pretty boring person. I work, I go home, I write. Or render. (You’ve been to my gallery, right? No? Why the hell not! It’s linked on the side!)
And when I don’t render or write – I play MMORPG’s (Massively Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Games). Yeah, more than one. I used to play Everquest and deep down I’m still terribly attached to my characters there. I also used to play Horizons, but it doesn’t work too well on Vista… so I’m going to let the subscription lapse I think. *mourns her dragon* And I started to play some World of Warcraft. When it was first released I hated it. Then they released an expansion and now I love my Bloodelves. What can I say… it’s a case of never say never.

That’s about enough you get to know about me for now.
Well. Maybe one more thing: I eat apples completely. Pips, core and all. If you give me an apple, the only thing left when I’m done will be the stalk.
Yeah.
I told you.
I’m weird.

If your nose runs, and your feet smell…

…you’re built upside down!

How come I can get anything in ebook format — except reference books?

Wouldn’t it make sense to have something you’re not reading for pleasure, which would benefit from being searchable, which might cost a bomb to print and can benefit from revisions… in ebook format?
I’m talking about synonym books, thesauri, dictionaries, lists like A-Z of whatever, Name books… stuff like that.

Why is it that the ones I want, never seem to be sold as an electronic edition? Why not include a PDF version (after all, the dang thing is being submitted as a file, in the first place!) on a CD with the print version?

Pisses me off, it does…

I want one.

I’ve been trying to come up with one for years, and I’ve still not managed to do it.

My real last name - which shall not be mentioned - is too difficult to spell. It’s pretty damn unique, but it’s also a name that doesn’t roll off the tongue.
My real first name - which shall also not be mentioned - is being mispelled every day. Not to mention, I get it in various variations and the next person who calls me Silvia is going to end up skewered with a broomstick. It’s not even close to my name! And it annoys the shit out of me. Don’t. Do. It.
*fires black looks at anyone even trying to make fun of it*

Anyway, I’m trying to come up with a nice name again lol.

Oh joy…

I went shopping today.
I needed some decent sandals I can walk to work in and I hate shopping — especially for shoes.

So while I was in town (Most of the day) I obviously had to treat myself. I did. I bought a new fountain pen.
I love fountain pens, and calligraphy ones especially.
I’m actually appalled at how few fountain pens there are for sale now. Everything is a ball point or a gel pen. While gel pens are nice… nothing beats fountain pen and ink.
When I was about 14 or so, I persuaded my dad to let me ride a race. A horse race.
We came third and I won a nice Parker ballpoint pen and fountain pen.
Unfortunately I seem to have lost the fountain pen somewhere in the moves, but I still have the ball point and it’s my favorite pen, because it’s really good quality.
Naturally, I wanted a fountain pen again, and while I like the Parkers, I love the Cross ones more. They just have something… something. You know what I mean?
However… you cannot get one for love or money in this damn town. I settled for a nice Calligraphy Parker instead.
Naturally, I need something to write on, too. *whistle*
I picked a Paperblanks Charlotte Brontë wrap cover journal. Not my first choice, by far. I want the “Fragment of a Speech” one (Abe Lincoln) but no one bloody sells it in the UK and all the sources I found online don’t ship to the UK. ARGH.
Nevermind.
My other choice would have been the “Book of Kells” hand-stitched ones. I WILL eventually get them, but damn…
Also… I’m eyeing several Parker 51’s on Ebay. I’ve always wanted one. I WILL get one. Maybe.
I’m also eyeing a gorgeous Waterman Carene and a vintage Schaeffer…
*starts to drool*

Can you tell I love pens, paper and journals?

I know most writers love to write, but my handwriting has become appalling over the years, so I decided to keep a journal, with a decent fountain pen. Perhaps I can fix the atrocious hieroglyphics I use these days and turn them into pretty, flowing prose again.

I felt it was time to change the look of the blog a bit. (Not that anyone reads it…)
The new theme looks cleaner, smarter. It’s easier to read.

At least that’s what I think!

I’ve blogged on Wicked Wenches today, regarding music and writing, which is our theme of the week.

Also, over on Amanda’s blog, The Berry Patch, I really liked the way she does her updates on her WIP’s. So much so… I might just do a Three Week Efficiary Exercise Tallying Yarns.
A Tweety.

For my Tweety posts, naturally I need a new category, which we shall name… Tweety. (Well duh, you didn’t think I’ll call it Sylvester, did you?)

The Update Posts shall have the following format:

Title:
Words Written:
Words Total:
Hero Mood:
Heroine Mood:
Story Snippet:

Hey now, this might just work.

I ordered a batch of books in mid March. One of them was a pre-order for a book due for release 1st May.

You’d think I have the order by now, right? After all, when I placed it, the estimated delivery was 15th May.
About 2 weeks ago I checked and it said 6th June.
I just went to check on my second order and noticed the March order has gone out to JULY.
There was only one preordered book in this, it’s a Silhouette Nocturne and they get released beginning of the month. Considering I ordered nearly 2 months ago, you can’t tell me that they didn’t have stock in the meantime. What’s more, if I end up missing that book (I happen to like the previous two) I’ll end up paying a premium for it. Again. And I’m sick of it.
This is the third time a pre-order minced up the delivery and I’m going to look at someplace like Waterstones or Borders from now on.

Oh, not to mention, one of the pre-order books I placed previously? I ended up getting an email telling me it was “no longer available” and I ended up having to find a battered used copy someplace else.

Color me pissed. I am not impressed.

Writing can be a lonely business.
Critique groups can be great - if they are active.
Critique groups can be hell - if you feel you don’t fit anymore.

That’s kind of what’s happened to me. I feel I don’t fit. I feel I’m writing the wrong thing when everyone goes off in directions I don’t want to go to. I can’t critique some things. I’ve started to dislike Urban Fantasy, because there’s just too much of it and all of it tries to be “Gritty”. Swearing isn’t gritty, it’s offensive to a lot of people. I swear as much as the next person, my characters use “bad words” too, but they aren’t based on those words, they don’t need them to look tough. My hero might utter an expletive when he’s annoyed, as a reaction to something, but my heroine usually doesn’t resort to it. Hell, she might even pull him up on it.
Too many stories I see these days have a heroine which is a tough gal, who gives as good as she gets — and swears like a trooper. Sometimes it works, sometimes Miss Heroine is written very real, very well. Most times… ugh.
I don’t like childish heroines either. Keep your bubblegum pink girly girls whose every other word is fuck. I’m an adult, I like an adult heroine. Swearing doesn’t give character, it makes me dislike the person if it’s overused. And some words… some words should be struck from the english language with a penalty to anyone who uses them. Cee You Next Thursday (I leave it up to you to work out what I mean) used by a woman… is so incredibly offensive to me, it’s not even funny.
Part of my dislike for that word stems from the fact that I work with people who think that word is okay to use to apply to people. They mean to label them an Asshole / Bastard / Idiot — but believe me, I don’t think it’s funny. I’ve taken to throwing soap bits at my boss when he says it, and I’ve already told him it’s *not* okay, it’s actually very offensive. He apologized and is trying to curb his tongue, but he gets carried away, as do the other guys.

So when I found it used in a story… Sorry. It jarred me so badly, I wanted nothing to do with a writer who uses it for effect.
The story was labelled Urban Fantasy, and it was another strike against the entire genre for me, because if that is the direction the genre takes — then it’s not something I’ll read. It will make me boycott the author, period.

Yeah, maybe I’m a prude. I don’t think so, but there you go. I don’t mind graphic scenes, I don’t mind graphic language. I do mind that word. I have a similar dislike of the word cock, but alas… I’m female. It’s nowhere near as offensive to me as the equivalent c word as applied to the female genitalia.
Why, why, do some women feel it’s okay to bring such a degrading word into the generally accepted vocabulary?
As far as I’m concerned, it’s not.

But I digress.

The above is one of the reasons I shied away from a really great critique group. I have a problem with someone in there, and although I’ve been around a long time, that doesn’t matter. So I didn’t go back anymore. I don’t want to post anything there, because I know I’d eventually get confrontational. I don’t want to post my chapters for critique anymore because I don’t want that writer anywhere near them, or even see them.
Yes, I know I’m anal and I cut myself off due to my own misgivings. I miss the rest of the girls. A lot. They are great, but at the end of it, sorry, I just felt cut off and singled out in a way. I can’t help the way I feel, and since no one else shares that feeling, I’m better off out of there I think.
I’m also the only paranormal writer in the mix, the rest write other things. It’s a romance group, so that’s what I expect to critique. Well. First chapters of a new member were Urban Fantasy, so that’s another thing. Why the HELL join a romance group - if that’s not what you write? It boggles the mind.
Yeah, I can critique it. And I did. I got slammed instantly because yeah, I was blunt. It didn’t work for me. When I asked someone else — funny, they said the same thing. Same points I made. But they didn’t post it, I did. Seeing the response I got made them not post their opinion. Therefore I was the evil nasty critiquer who doesn’t “get” it when everyone else does. (No they didn’t like it any more than I did, they were just more polite and kept stumm.)

So now that I don’t mingle there, I feel lost and lonely. I’m holding off on retiring from the group, but I know I will. It will feel like losing a lot of very good friends, but my feelings about hanging on are too strong and would make me too resentful, too… catty. God, how to tell someone you will really miss them, but you can’t stay because you know what it will turn into? That the trust toward someone just isn’t there?

That’s what it boils down to, I think. Trust. You have to trust your critique partners to do right by you, to give you their honest — even if it hurts — opinion. But you have to be able to take it as well as dish it. I can take it, hell, I had one critiquer tell me the heroine didn’t work. At all. And to go and rewrite her.
Guess what? I did. It hurt at the time, but the story is better for it. I valued her opinion, because I knew there was no animosity or anything, the trust was there for her to feel comfortable enough to tell me the truth. I ended up getting slammed for doing the same thing, btw. (Not by the same person.) That — more than anything — destroyed the faith I had in the group as a whole. I won’t present my opinion through rose tinted glasses just in case I might offend the author of the piece. If that’s what they want, then tell me not to critique their stuff. That’s fine by me, but frankly, don’t tell me off after I spend a few days going over some twenty single spaced pages and line edit.
I don’t agree with a bunch of the critiques I get, but I wouldn’t dream telling the critiquer off for their opinion. They didn’t like it, that is THEIR RIGHT. If we all liked the same authors, the same books, the same stories… we’d have no diversity. A “I don’t like this” opinion is as valuable to me as a “ooh… I like this” one. Maybe more so, because it may well be more objective. A “don’t like it” critique is like getting a bad review, I guess. We all better learn how to handle those and be gracious about it — because if we really want it bad enough and get our books published and out there… we are going to get our share of “This is crap” reviews.
However, if the trust in the group isn’t there anymore, for whatever reason… I think it’s better to leave. Even if it means you feel lonely again, even if you might never find a group that’s as great as the one you had. In the long run, I’d rather be lonely than unhappy and uncomfortable.

Is still beating.

I tripped over Huey and remembered this song, and how much I loved it.
I listened to it and… I still love it.

I am a writer.
I can’t help myself.

Therefore I like the written word. A book. Any writing. If it contains words I can decipher - I will read it. The back of cornflakes packets, the bottle of shampoo in the shower, I’ll read it all. It increases my vocabulary exponentially, improves my spelling, sentence structure and everything that goes along with it.
It doesn’t make me a good writer, it just means I can read really well.
This also means I am a book addict. My keeper shelf is vast, rarely does any book leave it and that shelf - or should I say wall of books - behind me is the bone of contention in our house. My better half (he cooks and cleans, so yeah, he’s the better part of me) argues that I might never read them again. (Lies!) He points at outdated computer books and says things like “You don’t even use the software anymore.”.

Blasphemy!

Then he says “What about e-books?”

Okay. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against e-books and I own some. But… I grew up curling up in bed with a good book and it’s a habit that’s hard to break. Besides, I don’t want to break it. I see his point though. Any voracious reader will accumulate a lot of books and they have to go somewhere.
Like the shelf behind me.
Which is full.

Seriously.

But… you won’t get my books, because…

Anyway… the debate of E-Book vs Print will probably go on longer than I’ll be around.
I’ll say this, though. As a writer, there are some books I really, really, want as ebooks.
Reference books.
Dictionaries.
Encyclopedias.
Lists.
Thesauri.
You name it. Anything that isn’t for reading, but for reference. If it can be searched - I want it electronic. Those I would actually pay good money for, because the electronic part is what makes them ten times more useful to me as a writer.