Julia Barrett's World » writing

I’m sorry… I can’t resist.

Julia Barrett — Sun, 20 May 2012 01:57:47 +0000

I tried, I tried so hard not to post this, but when something makes me spit out my morning coffee, well, I’ll blame it on the devil. The devil made me do it!

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Why I won’t renew with KDP Select.

Julia Barrett — Thu, 17 May 2012 03:58:29 +0000

I’m now entering a second 90-day period with KDP Select. I suspect this will be the last for me. The experiment has been worth it, in terms of getting my work into the hands and minds of new readers. Giving away many free books kept my books high up in the rankings for a considerable period of time after the free promotion ended and significantly increased my visibility and, more significantly, my sales.

However, with the advent of Amazon’s new ranking algorithm, that advantage has come to an end. There is no longer a 1-1 ratio between books uploaded as freebies and books sold. Therefore, your book drops in the rankings quickly as soon as your promotion ends and there is no rebound effect. The law of diminishing returns…

As I said, KDP Select has been a valuable promotional tool because it made my books visible, i.e., discoverable, to the casual reader. This is no longer true.

Therefore the value of enrolling in Amazon’s KDP Select program has just been nullified for me. If I’d known about the change in algorithm before I enrolled for a second 90 day period for all my books, I wouldn’t have bothered. Instead I’d have made my titles available via multiple outlets, as I did before the advent of KDP Select.

I figured it was too good to last. But then, most things are.

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Some Poems.

Julia Barrett — Mon, 14 May 2012 05:25:24 +0000

I Cling To You, Julia Barrett

The fog pours over the
low mountains
in a slow cascade of
wet curls.

It clings
to the folds
the hollows
the deep valleys.

Its pale tendrils reach
into the earth’s secret places.

If I were the fog
I would cling to you
just like this.

Thirst, Julia Barrett

I am
lost in the desert
alone and parched.

By day
my feet blister
by night
I sleep in the hard places.

Your brown hand waves to me
from every heat sink.

I could drink the heavens
written in your name.

Time Passing, Many Afternoons, Ellery Akers

Weeds rustling,
the afternoon pulling its heat after it,
coming on like a dark hand
pulling me into the hill.

Often, I stop to see this:
the hill drinking, and lifting its head up,
at the end, the last tree:
the dark moving the light upward.

Going home, I noticed
the comfortable shadow of the car
pacing beside me as I drove,
the cold shells of abandoned cars by the road.

As a child, I played on the lawn,
watching the afternoon gathering in a corner.
Dark under the dark elm. The latch getting dark.
The short grass, dark. My dress, soaked with it.

The Traveler, Pablo Neruda

The stones do not mope.
within lives the gold;
the seed-bearing planets
with bells in their depths,
gauntlets of iron, weddings
of time and the amethysts;
within is the laughter of rubies
and the bread of the lightning.

Traveler, beware: keep
a curious eye on the glooms of the highway,
the mysteries crowding the walls.

This I know at great cost:
all life is not outward,
nor is all death from within:
time writes in the ciphers
of water and rock for no one at all,
so that none may envision the sender
and no one be any wiser.

The Negro Speaks of Rivers, Langston Hughes

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:
ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Dream Dust, Langston Hughes

Gather out of star-dust
Earth-dust,
Cloud-dust,
Storm-dust,
And splinters of hail,
One handful of dream-dust
Not for sale.

A Selection of Japanese Poetry (my favorite)

The mists rise over
The still pools at Asuka.
Memory does not
Pass away so easily. Akahito

I wish I were close
To you as the wet skirt of
A salt girl to her body.
I think of you always. Akahito

I should not have waited.
It would have been better
To have slept and dreamed,
Than to have watched night pass,
And this slow moon sink. Lady Akazome Emon

I think of the days
Before I met her
When I seemed to have
No troubles at all. Fujiwara No Atsutada

We were together
Only a little while,
And we believed our love
Would last a thousand years. Yakamochi

I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today. Narihira

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My new snacking obsession:

Julia Barrett — Thu, 10 May 2012 04:31:39 +0000

Fresh mango, sliced, sprinkled with hot chili flakes. Oh. Yeah.

What else did I want to say? I actually attempted to organize my thoughts this week and I made a list of blog topics. Of course I am well-known for making lists and never, ever looking at them. The same way I carry an appointment book, write down my appointments and then never, ever look at my appointment book and thus miss many appointments. I’m much better off relying upon my memory engrams.

Found my list, which says:

2 tsp. vanilla

2 1/2 sticks butter

ear worms – check

cats – check

clown doll – Oh My God No!

Parenthood

Post poem

Experience as a… what? Can’t read my own writing.

Small world

Ah, I choose Small World! Not the Disney version.

I’ll keep this short and sweet. As you know, my husband and I only recently reunited. Like two ships passing in the night, first I was away for 8 days and then the day before I arrived home, he left town for 10 days. We barely spoke the entire time– my cell phone wouldn’t work in the wilds of Maine while he spent most of his trip attending lectures. But we did text back and forth and I was reminded just how small this world really is.

Case in point – I come from a rural community in Iowa. My high school class was pretty dysfunctional (you can include me in that category) and whenever anyone asks me why I don’t attend high school reunions I answer, “Because everyone is either in prison or dead.” I wish I could say that’s a flat out lie, but it isn’t. Oh, it’s a bit of an exaggeration, there are a few of us survivors, battered and bloody, and none of us keep in touch. Apparently my husband does, keep in touch with my old classmates, that is.

While he was up in Minnesota, he helped his brother – a veterinarian – at a free rabies vaccination clinic. Assisting with vaccinations was the sister-in-law of my second best high school friend (my very best friend having died young, as you will recall). So my husband texted me about a million times, catching me up on my friend’s life since I last saw her, which was when we each had a three-year old and a newborn.

I told my husband to give her sister-in-law my email address just in case, but my friend hasn’t contacted me. I didn’t expect her to. But it is interesting, this six degrees of separation. What’s even more interesting is that her name had popped into my head just the week before.

Yup, small world… check!

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This post is brought to you by dark things II, Cat Crimes…

Julia Barrett — Wed, 09 May 2012 03:19:50 +0000

Tales of Feline Mayhem and Murder.

This scaredy cat-horror anthology was collected and edited by Patty G. Henderson, with a foreword by Robert V. Walker. It’s all in the name of charity– the proceeds go to The Cat House on Kings, a no-kill lifetime sanctuary for stray and abandoned cats.

A collection of tales featuring feline mayhem, murder and dastardly deeds. Vampire cats. Scoundrel cats. Daring cats. Killer cats. Cats you don’t want in your worst nightmares and cats you might want on your side against evil. Authors include Mary V. Welk, Patty G. Henderson, Patricia Harrington, Jim Silvestri, Ken Goldman, Shanna Germain, Anna Sykora and dozens more. Intro by Robert W. Walker. All proceeds from sales go to several cat sanctuaries across the USA. Enjoy over twenty-one cat tails and support a cat charity!

One of the contributors is an author friend of mine: J.D. Revezzo has long been in love with writing, a love built by devouring everything from the Arthurian legends, to the works of Michael Moorcock, and the classics. Her short fiction has been published in Dark Things II: Cat Crimes, The Scribing Ibis, Eternal Haunted Summer, Twisted Dreams Magazine and Luna Station Quarterly.

J.D. has two sites: http://harshadpassion.wordpress.com/ and http://tarnishedgaslamps.wordpress.com/

Here’s the buy link, remember, the proceeds go to a worthy cause:

dark things ll, Cat Crimes, Tales of Feline Mayhem and Murder.

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