Recently, I noticed that my original published book, Two Too Deep Fools, is now out of print. That's OK with me for I've been hatching a plan to publish a 2nd edition with a different company, with a different cover, and perhaps a color version, as well, as the original manuscript has much color in it and is a bigger size. So maybe two new versions including a smaller, black and white more economical copy.
That version had a very significant typo, in my opinion, a typo that detracted from the meaning- I mean, it was so much about wordplay, in the first place. Even when I proofread it many times and insisted on new versions, somehow, this typo still occurred. Fateful typo. I foresaw typos happening against my will and my perfectionist side even dealt with this by a form of psychoanalysis in a piece in the very same book: "typo's all right."
I saw some typos here in this blog and went back to revise, then hunted another one for a while but it eluded me. I shouldn't care so much. Formatting is a bitch.
Speaking of words, I'll revisit earlier writings now and then and come across something that has an idea that is buried, yet there was something there when it was written, arrived at through the labyrinth, and it is still there, yet has somewhat hidden itself even to me. Usually, I can make it resurface and reveal itself. I can still be cryptic to this day, but through the years I've also amassed a style that is much more straightforward. Plain talking prose. I just like to mix the ingredients and experiment like making word soup. That goes for other mediums, too.
Speaking of soup, tonight I believe I will experiment with some potato soup.
Below is the next trailer. Very busy been I do this. (Like when I'm learning a language and mixing up the grammar, as yet unlearned of the grammar rules, but they still understand)
That version had a very significant typo, in my opinion, a typo that detracted from the meaning- I mean, it was so much about wordplay, in the first place. Even when I proofread it many times and insisted on new versions, somehow, this typo still occurred. Fateful typo. I foresaw typos happening against my will and my perfectionist side even dealt with this by a form of psychoanalysis in a piece in the very same book: "typo's all right."
I saw some typos here in this blog and went back to revise, then hunted another one for a while but it eluded me. I shouldn't care so much. Formatting is a bitch.
Speaking of words, I'll revisit earlier writings now and then and come across something that has an idea that is buried, yet there was something there when it was written, arrived at through the labyrinth, and it is still there, yet has somewhat hidden itself even to me. Usually, I can make it resurface and reveal itself. I can still be cryptic to this day, but through the years I've also amassed a style that is much more straightforward. Plain talking prose. I just like to mix the ingredients and experiment like making word soup. That goes for other mediums, too.
Speaking of soup, tonight I believe I will experiment with some potato soup.
Below is the next trailer. Very busy been I do this. (Like when I'm learning a language and mixing up the grammar, as yet unlearned of the grammar rules, but they still understand)
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