So you want a publishing credit or twenty-five? Can you hear me now?

The good news:
click here for a list of over twenty-five titles seeking YOUR stories.

If your story is accepted, you will receive ten copies of the book, and a publication credit. The publisher is a former Chicken Soup editor.

You can write with a saucy, PG 13 rated "voice", and I know a lot of you sassy pants out there can do this. I have already sent one off.

The bad news:
No monetary compensation. But just think of how fast you could rack up publishing credits. If this sounds like a fair trade off, check out the NOT YOUR MOTHER'S... call outs on the upper right hand menu of their page.

I personally think writers undervalue themselves when they work for peanuts all of the time. Your hairdresser, plumber etc. wouldn't do their jobs for a write up, so you decide. On the other hand, the ten books are yours to sell, so technically...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My husband finally decided last week that hearing aids were in order. He's had them adjusted twice. Yesterday he shouted into the bathroom as I was taking a shower,"You won't believe this, I'm picking up Morse Code in these things, dot-dot-dot dashhh. I have to get these things adjusted again!"

When I shower, I listen to the police scanner which we bought years ago during a tornado season. As nosy as I am, you'd think I'd have it on 24/7, but I listen to it for background noise only when I shower.

Sometimes when a call is being dispatched it is preceeded by a series of high pitched bleep-bleep-bleep-blipppppps which Bill intercepted loud and clear.

I laughed until my sides hurt.

The good news about his hearing aids: he can hear the slightest whisper. I no longer complain about the blaring TV, and I do not have to repeat myself and use exaggerated gestures anymore. They require batteries. So naturally, I messed with him when he said he heard the tiny indicator beep. I started mouthing what I was saying to him. "They went completely dead! I can't hear one word you're saying, speak up.

Oh you little..."

The bad news about his hearing aids: he can now hear my slightest whisper, "He makes me crazy leaving this mess!" He looked at me and said, "You do realize that I can hear everything you're saying now, right?" My tongue is sore from biting it.

The TV is so low, I can't hear it well, and if I turn it up, HE says it's too loud.

We are making adjustments, in fact he's going today for further tweaking.