Thought from fellow Writer Lane Browning

"The path to better is paved with trying."

Flickr To Offer Free Book Covers

Free Book Cover & Book Blog Image Resources on Flickr

Today Flickr announced they have 200 million photos available on their site. Writers can explore this massive repository to find free photos to use in book covers, blog posts and book illustrations.
To use these photos, go to Flickr’s advanced search function. Scroll down, search: “Only search within Creative Commons-licensed content,” “Find content to use commercially,” “Find content to modify, adapt, or build upon.”

I haven't tried this yet so I will not vouch for its ease, but here is the info for those needing artwork for a cover- LIKE ME. 

Steve Jobs' Autobiography Due Out This Month

Steve Jobs Biography Release Date Changed

By Dianna Dilworth on October 6, 2011 3:23 PM

An upcoming authorized biography of Steve Jobs from Simon & Schuster shot up to the top of best-seller lists last night, after Apple announced that Jobs had died. The publisher has moved the date from November to October 2011.

Excerpt from No Place Like Home

My desk phone rang, interrupting me from my inbox. It way my sister calling to ask me for a ride. It had been months since I had seen Mindy and with few appointments, a good day to take an hour from the office. She gave me an address for a hotel near the Convention Center. The ick factor of picking my sister up from a hotel she could not afford was more familiar than remarkable. The weather was not sunny or raining as I pulled into the nondescript, chain hotel.
Mindy opened the door wearing a ridiculously small and tacky nightgown, sleazy rather sexy. My face grimaced in disgust as I heard the unfortunate words leave my mouth.

"What are you wearing?"

"Can you carry this bag", she replies. "I don't need to go far, my friend Wilbur lives on SE Frances."

The bed loomed large in the room. Tangled sheets, blankets, and pillows distracted me from the task at hand. I pictured the man with whom she spent the night leaving the conference at the Convention Center to fly back to his wife and children. The man who paid to spend the night with my baby sister.

We casually gather up her few things to leave. As usual, she was disorganized and unprepared.

"Can you hold these things for me?", she asked.


"Sure. Where is the purse I gave you?"


"I threw it into oncoming traffic when I was high."


Not thinking that required explanation, she went on to the next subject. Her stories were always filled with the misfortune of her unstable life. She clearly wanted me to care about the crime and injustice she experienced, but I often answered numbly. I sometimes wonder what she thought of my lack of reaction to ugly disclosures.


My car had just been broken into, leaving the passenger lock frozen. As she climbed through the drivers' side, she noticed the hole where a stereo had been. 


"What kind of stereo was it? I might know the person who took it."

She can tell that I am laughing without judgement and pursues the conversation.

"No, seriously. Tell me what is missing and I'll ask around."


Laughter relaxes me as we share a lighthearted family moment.

Waiting for a natural break in the conversation, I wonder how to help her.

"Hey, how about I take you to a couple of agencies next week, like the Council for Prostitution Alternatives?"

"I've got plans. You know me, always big plans."

"I'll bring you a new purse and give you $25."

We arrive at a grey block building in Southeast Portland. In the darkness, a door opened from the side of a large concrete wall. A very old man leaned his head out with a weak hello. Mindy stepped through the door- into a world I would rather not think about. Even today.

Leaving her at a rundown apartment, my new, white car seemed to illustrate the difference in our lives. Unable to work, I stared out the window of a newly constructed building for hours as the phone went unanswered, faxes unsent, and paperwork not completed. How to re-enter the only world I knew. Oddly aware of the tailored suit and black pumps I was standing in, I vaguely attempted to process what I had just seen, experienced, and felt. Seeing the contrasts in our lifestyles, personalities, and clothing, you wouldn't think we could know each other, but I knew we were linked by background, religious upbringing, mother, and, at that time, lack of education.


I picked her up at the bar she suggested just before noon. For Mindy, arriving four hours late was as good as being on time. To my surprise, she was already there. Knowing everyone by name, she moved among the late morning crowd enjoying beer and straight shots.


On the way, I handed her $25 and a new purse full of make-up. Her appreciation was evident in her weary face and shoulders. It felt good to meet one of her needs. Taking the foundation from the delicate white purse, she began applying it to the tracks on her hands. Trying to remain calm, I quietly watched as the ugly sores became ugly sores caked with skin-colored paste.

The most surreal moments were in the lobby, as my brain knew why I was there, but my senses did not. The casual, business-as-usual atmosphere made me feel relaxed, as if the furniture itself was saying, "hey, we do this all the time." On some level I had to remind myself what brought me...and the other waiting women as well. The intake person assigned to take down our information moved with compassion. It was clear that we found a judgment-free zone. She asked Mindy questions I had never heard and Mindy knew all the answers. It was as if they were speaking a foreign language.


What is your drug of choice?
Speedballs.


How old were you when you first did drugs?
Fourteen.


Where do you live?

I'm homeless.

I sat completely still with my eyes closed, afraid to open them and see what I was hearing. Wishing I could be strong, wishing it was all different. I
only hope the tears told her what I could not. That she mattered to someone. In my own trauma at hearing of her pain, I could not put my arms around her or tell her I was sorry.

As I dropped her off, she said, "You know, I only did it for hte $25."

My saddest memory of Mindy is her sweeping my deck to show her appreciation for my support. She was full of hope for a better life. The next morning she would be taking a train to a drug rehab program I had arranged and paid for. Her dreams of art school and stability fueled my belief that she could do it.
--time together, shopping for new clothes and packing for the trip in the weird space of family you barely know, familiar and yet so foreign.
Sending her off in a train from Portland’s beloved station, I felt relief and a sense of accomplishment. Something had gone right; it was a new day.
Within a few days, I received a call from the director telling me that her issues were far too great for this facility to address. They were packing her bags and she was being sent away again. Unfortunately, this was one of many times she was sent from somewhere to nowhere.

My typical numbness helped me feel nothing when the director called to tell me that her issues were far too great for them to address. Although I knew Mindy had serious issues, I did not see her as beyond repair.

Famed neuroscientist, Josh Fost describes the human as machine while separating us biologically from aspects of the notion of free will. He explains that broken machines like Mindy need compassion as we try to help them while we protect society from them. This is the answer I sought as I called social workers, teachers, and those working with broken machines for information.

I intuitively did not believe that Mindy really had much of a choice in the matter. Resiliency theory tells us that children in dysfunctional homes need one healthy, involved adult for the first three strikes and an additional one for each woe after that. So, for poverty, alcoholism, and abuse, one awesome aunt, uncle, or grandparent. Pile on neglect and sexual abuse, a cool cousin and another aunt.

We had a wonderful step-father who was never around. Since he was a heroin addict who was either away at sea or nearby in prison, some might say he doesn't really count. We loved him so much you couldn't have gotten any of us to swallow that.

Lovely Book Sculptures Mysteriously Appear in Scotland

These gorgeous book sculptures are being left in Scottish Libraries. 

Thank you Galleycat for this inspiring story. 

Book Sculptures Mysteriously Appear In Scottish Libraries

By Dianna Dilworth on September 14, 2011 3:23 PM

In what would make for a great plot in a mystery novel, an anonymous artist has visited libraries across Edinburgh, Scotland, and planted uncredited works of art among its shelves.
The artwork is a beautiful series of sculptures made out of old books. One such work (pictured left via Thisiscentralstation.com) is a tree built from poetry. Here is more from blog: “Next to the ‘poetree’ sat a paper egg lined with gold and a scatter of words which, when put together, make ‘A Trace of Wings’ by Edwin Morgan.”
No one has yet to take credit for these very detailed creations.

Rapper Common Writes Memoir

After years of movies, music, and entertainment, rapper Common, nee Lonnie Rashid Lynn, has written a memoir called “One Day It’ll All Make Sense.” The September 14th interview with Jon Stewart on the Daily Show brings home why this is a must read.

According to eurweb.com electronic urban report;

Although his earlier music provided fans and listeners an inside glimpse of his life and growing up, the book will delve a little deeper into his life, his past, and growing up in Chicago and the decision to drop out of college to pursue his career.
“People who know me as Common might find it hard to believe some of the things that made me Rashid,” the rap star says in a press release. “That’s partly why I’ve written this book, so that I can show myself as a man in full. That means telling some tough truths, revealing my faults and vulnerabilities. But it also means showing the true strength of my character.”
The memoir will also include letters to loved ones both living and gone, as well as words about his past relationship with special women, including his mother, and Erykah Badu.

Vintage and Modern Literary Playing Cards- Great Gifts!

Authors is a literary card game much like Go Fish. The game features thirteen authors with four cards each and the object of the game is to collect the most sets.According to Wikipedia, “The game is the creation of Anne Abbott, a Massachusetts editor of a young people’s literary journal. Abbott also designed one of America’s earliest board games, The Mansion of Happiness in 1843. 
The 1888 version of the game and includes authors such as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Vintage and modern versions would make excellent gifts even for oneself.