5 Free E-books

I've had a glut of luck in finding cheap or free books lately. Not that I'm actively looking, but it's nice since work has been slow in coming in the last couple of months. Here are, according to Hope Clark of Funds for Writers, the top 5 free e-books for fiction writers.

To get the last book, The Marshall Plan Fiction Makeover, you have to sign up, confirm your e-mail, and then the site sends you a link for the book. A little more work than the other four books, and I'm a little suspicious of it because it aggressively touts the Makeover Software. And the site is confusing; I wasn't sure what link to click on at first. Just don't click on any link on the site, and you should be fine.

In other news, I just got hired to write some articles through a Funds For Writers e-mail. I will report back on how everything pans out.

Reminder

Those of you dropping by who might have missed my post on Stephen Pressfield's THE WAR OF ART should know this book is on sale on his site for $1.99. Today's the last day to get it for this price, so don't miss out! It's a kick-ass book.

Six Books Everyone's Gotten Wrong

Great article about the misinterpretation of six classics here.

The War of Art - Special Deal

Hey folks - Stephen Pressfield wrote a terrific book titled THE WAR OF ART, which I have and have read, but the book is now in storage. If you've outgrown the gentleness of Julia Cameron's wonderful THE ARTIST'S WAY and need something a little more kick ass, this is your book. The e-book is available tomorrow and Thursday (October 20 and 21) for $1.99. You cannot beat that price unless you steal it. (Don't steal it!) Here's the link.

Kindle App

Though I've had the Kindle app on my Blackberry for a while, I just downloaded the Kindle app for my Mac desktop. I lucked into finding some free Kindle books on myths ( a big interest of mine), and I just checked my recommendations on Amazon. I think I've downloaded thirty free books.

My head may explode.

NaNoWriMo

Hey folks - I'm signed up for NaNoWriMo. You can get my screen name by e-mailing me at strictlycraigslistaccount@gmail.com.

Free History Lessons

In a tiny surge of inspiration this morning, I googled free online history courses. I wasn't able to find the courses I want actually being taught right now, but I did stumble across a plethora of free courses taught in the past at MIT. I don't see that the lectures are available on iTunes, but there's plenty of reading material, copies of tests, and syllabi to go through if you're dying, as I am, to read more of the Greek and Roman classics and learn more about American history. Or pretty much any subject, really. Great resource for writers, I think.

Link here.

MAD MEN

I'm watching the first season of MAD MEN, courtesy of my local library. I'm surprised at how much of an indictment of misogyny it is. The '60s were a time when a man could get drunk, hit on his employee's wife, and somehow everyone wound up thinking it was her fault. As I recall, things hadn't changed much by the '80s. I think things have improved, but as long as we ask the question "Was she asking for it?" I won't be satisfied.

Review of INTO THE WILD/Jon Krakauer

When I read Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, as I have twice now, I find myself criticizing the subject rather than the writer. The book is the story of Chris McCandless, a twenty-four year old man from a well-to-do family who hitchhiked to Alaska to live in the bush. He died there, leaving behind a family he hadn't spoken to in more than two years and bewildered friends and acquaintances he met along his travels.

The book chronicles his approximately two-year hike across the United States. He hitchhiked, tented, slept in the desert, and somehow settled on the idea that a summer in the Alaska bush would—if not change it—give his life a deeper meaning. In his mind, he was following the path of the writers he loved, most notably Jack London. But he also emulated Tolstoy in his lofty ideals: McCandless was one who seemed to believe, as his father put it, “that you should own nothing but what you can carry on your back at a dead run.” Chris reveled in scrounging for the next meal.

To me, as someone who has been poor and will be poor for the foreseeable future, McCandless's endless romanticization of the hobo lifestyle smacked of unbelievable self-absorption and hypocrisy. Here was the son of a man who had top-secret security clearance and a mother who worked alongside her husband to create a successful business. He had excelled academically all through school and could have the job of his choice or create his own business fairly easily. Only someone as well-to-do with such an easy path paved before him could believe he was a better person than the “plastic people” with whom he was forced to share breathing space (such as the people with whom he briefly worked at McDonald's—many who were not financially much above poverty) by hoboing around the country.

But perhaps I am being harsh; McCandless was young and no less hypocritical than I was at his age. And Krakauer, by telling his own story of his relationship with his father, which led to his harrowing climb of Alaska's Devil's Thumb, brings the reader to a more compassionate view of McCandless: he was young and brash and ill-prepared and perhaps even foolish, but he was not stupid, and his death was the result not of his dramatically heeding a “call of the wild,” but of two small errors that turned out to be pivotal and irreversible.

At any rate, Krakauer is a fine, fine writer, and he tells McCandless's story as only a young man who had a similar relationship with his father as Chris did to his can. Yet in the book he is gentle with Chris's parents, writing about them as non-judgmentally as he does about Chris. It's clear that the wisdom he came to in his own life somewhere along the line parallels that of Chris's, only there's a point where Chris's line stops and Krakauer's keeps going. Krakauer was lucky to have survived his own brush with death and not only live to tell the tale, but forgive his father—something McCandless will now never have the opportunity to do.

Also found at The Book Book.

Linked Post

Natasha Fondren wrote a great post on the Glenn Beck/Sarah Palin rally. Not only that, but she's handled the critics very politely, which I admire.

Ghost Story Recs

I've been dying for some good old-fashioned European and/or New England ghost stories. Any recs???

ETA: I lucked across a cheap anthology of Victorian ghost stories at Half Price Books. Unfortunately, I have not had time to start it. Sigh.

So I've Joined . . .

. . . the 2010 McKoala Challenge. Looking forward to it, though I've been warned those claws are razor sharp.

Who Designs These Things?!

Why is it that women's dress shoes only become tortuous instruments of pain after purchase? They can be totally comfortable in the store, but as soon as you buy them, you walk two blocks and the damn things are cutting into your heels and making your pants all bloody. WTF?!

I drove to Chicago yesterday for an interview and decided on a pair of flats that seemed comfortable for walking. Wrong. After a block or so they rubbed against my heels and took off a bunch of skin. The right one actually cut into my heel. It's a good thing I'm familiar with downtown Chicago and didn't get too lost. I managed to find a Starbucks across the street from where I was to interview and stopped and sat down. At that point it wasn't too bad.

But here's what I learned: When your feet hurt, it's actually worse after you rest. After my 45-minute soiree, I stood up and managed to make it across the street, although by then I was starting to limp. I got to the agency, filled out my paperwork, took a survey, all the while getting up and down. I managed, through pride, to keep everything to a minor limp. Those that saw me for the first time might have thought I once suffered a minor bout of polio. No biggie.

But by the time I got back to my car, I knew I was gonna have to either find a different pair of shoes or drive barefoot. At first I drove with the shoes on, since I drive a stick. I was afraid if I drove barefoot I might miss the clutch or something. But even driving with the shoes on was painful. I managed to find a Walgreens about halfway home. By that time I'd already stopped for gas and went to the bathroom, and was literally hobbling. Alas, Walgreens has moved its merchandise to its Fall season, and had backpacks instead of flip flops. Screw it, I thought, cursing the person who designed my shoes. I'm driving barefoot. Whoever designed these things should be made to walk two miles down Michigan Avenue in a pair of these things. Preferably a pair two sizes too small.

So I drove barefoot. It was pretty comfortable, actually, besides the bleeding heels.

Home

Home for a week now. Feeling lost in a sea of possibilities. L.A. is beginning to feel like a mirage. I miss the desert.

On the other hand I've developed a new appreciation for the cheap housing prices in Indiana, and I'm seriously considering buying a house once I land a job. The job will have to be an offsite position, unless I make some good contacts here and find something that isn't advertised. But the idea of an offsite position appeals to me. So we'll see how that works out.

Otherwise I'm just still tired. Haven't wanted to do much but read and take baths. Yet, I must carry on.

Done

Well, school is all over, and I'm no longer in L.A. I wanted to stay, but no apartment buildings or complexes had anything open for at least two weeks at a price I could afford - except for one in a bad part of town that was literally the size of a closet. I couldn't see staying and wasting a bunch of money on hotels, and I didn't feel comfortable asking anyone if I could sleep on their couch for two weeks or more. There was one place that was a room in a woman's house, but . . . I just really wanted to get my own place. I may take up Sarah on her suggestion that I buy a little house in the mountains when I go back. So . . .

I'm back in Indiana. I am utterly wiped out and need some time to rest and regroup. Sarah, I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to meet, but it will happen! I loved L.A. and got a great vibe there. It wasn't at all like the horror stories I've heard. A guy even offered me a tire gauge at a gas station while we were respectively filling up our tires and vacuuming our cars. Never experienced that in a big city before.

AND I got hit on pretty much wherever I went. So naturally I want to go back.