Why edotirs and poorfrdeaers mghit msis a mspisleled wrod

For your edification, a curious study which piqued both my interest and humour.

http://www.mrc-cbu.cam.ac.uk/~mattd/Cmabrigde/

Keep in mind, a lot of morphemes (or really long words) make a difference to how well this works. Also, the trick seems to apply to skilled readers, which I take to mean those readers who do now how to spell. Presumably, editors and proofreaders know how to spell. We hope.

Quoting:

In it Graham says:This reminds me of my PhD at Nottingham University (1976), which showed that randomising letters in the middle of words had little or no effect on the ability of skilled readers to understand the text. Indeed one rapid reader noticed only four or five errors in an A4 page of muddled text.

So, proofreaders, editors: read slowly. Very.

Not guilty!

Feeling guilty for having chronic illnesses is just off. It’s off. It’s wrong. It’s unnecessary. I mean, aside from making you feel bad emotionally, it doesn’t help with your physical health, does it?

This is the quote that finally got through to me:

From Practicing The Power of Now, one of the “how to” sections with bold print at the beginning (page 130 if you have the book):

When you are ill or disabled, do not feel that you have failed in some way, do not feel guilty. Do not blame life for treating you unfairly, but do not blame yourself either. All that is resistance.

My take on this: Blame pins the past and future to an illness, so you’re burdened with years of whatever tribulations, pain and failure you suffered in the past and also burdened with the potential pain and suffering of the future. Blame keeps you (the spirit) smothered and feeds the pain body (I’m not referring to the chronic illness here, but a sort of egoic entity that feeds off any sort of pain, but especially emotional pain, and helps smother the spirit). Blame is resistance. Resistance isn’t what the spirit is about. The spirit is freedom.

Sure, I’m chronically ill, but that isn’t me. It’s my body. It’s something that happens to a body. I was blaming myself, however. I was feeling guilty. But there’s nothing I can do about this illness that I’m not already doing. So no more guilty.

You know, guilty also gets in the way of creativity. Creativity is an act of freedom, the spirit. So “Not guilty!” as I said in the blog title.

If I can’t work. I can’t work. If I can, I will, and I’ll accept how it goes because it’s a whole lot nicer than being “guilty sick author”. I’d rather be just me.

At last, the revision of Gryphon 1

It’s been a year since I was able to get back to this series. I revised the last of the Bound set in September of 2007, and here it is, October of 2008. My, my. Not being able to work on this epic has been bugging me like you wouldn’t believe.

Gryphon One is my oldest novel in the epic. It had the most faults to correct. While I wrote it, my style change. You can see the change somewhere around chapter four. The edits involved the removal of repetitive words, not changes to the characters or plot or huge alterations in style (POV, certain types of prose choices). I did get rid of a few paras of excess backstory near the beginning of chapter two and tried to place necessary data elsewhere in dialogue.

Writing is always a learning process. No matter how good you think you are getting, you can learn more. And I swear, this art form has more critics than any other. I mean, you flub a flower in a painting and it’s often called style, but you can’t blub a blower in writing.

See what I mean? What other art form requires almost 100% perfection to be acceptable? Even 95% properly spelled words looks bad in a published story. Writers have to aim for at least 99% properly spelled words and often, veeeery often, fail to do so. This need for perfection doesn’t even take into account the myriad opinions out there as to what constitutes good prose, good characterisaton, good whatever. Art is about taste. Taste is about opinion. But spelling and grammar are all about rules. What a volatile mix!

Gryphon One, long overdue for an upgrade (that’s what I call getting rid of repetitive words), has been uploaded to both Lulu and Memoware. This is one of the free ebooks in the series, so anyone who had the older version can upload it again without needing to contact me.

When I get to Gryphons 2 and 3, however, readers will need to send me proof of purchase to get the new versions. Lulu does not give the newest version when a reader downloads a purchased novel a second time. It keeps the older version on file for that reader, so the reader can only get the new one direct from me.

I believe Lulu does this to protect the reader. The logic may be that the reader purchased a certain version and should have the right to access that version in perpetuity (I’m speaking ebook downloads, here). But I’m willing to email readers the newer version at no extra cost, because I’d like them to have it. It’s just, I don’t know, artistic pride, I guess.

I have a lit version of Gryphon 1 available, though it’s not showing on Memoware yet. I suppose I should load lit versions of the Bound set on Lulu as well, but the darned storefront is getting awfully long.

I keep wondering if I should sell ebooks direct from a website using Paypal as a payment method…

Ok, done rambling. Gryphon one revised and available. And now I’m off for a morning nap. I don’t sleep eight hours in one shot. Can’t.

Star Stepping: An Anthology of Fantasy & Sci-Fi Tales

This anthology is available on the Wild Child Publishing site.

For interviews and websites of the authors, please visit Debbie Mumford’s blog.

Contents:

Beneath and Beyond by Debbie Mumford

Archaeologist Erin Carstedter is a no-nonsense kind of gal. If something can’t be defined by scientific method, it doesn’t exist. Erin’s beliefs are about to be tested by a ruin beneath the polar ice cap. What Erin discovers in those icy depths will challenge her thinking…and change the world.

Read excerpt.

That Old Sweet Smell of Deception by Martin Owton

An ancient dragon tempted out to war for the first time in centuries finds the world greatly changed and dragons a rarity. Does an enemy wizard hold the key to saving dragonkind?

Read excerpt.

Fatal Wager by Andy Heizeler

Read excerpt.

A Pixie Story by Joe Miller

Mike awoke to find himself in a strange land. To then find himself surrounded by a whole hoard of pixies, each one with an arrow aimed at his heart, one could hardly guess how things would turn out.

Read excerpt.

The Honorable Lady by Kim Knox

Royal officials are vanishing and Evia-ben-Thiak doesn’t intend to be one of them.

As a high-ranking member of the court, she fears for her life. So, she takes the only option open to her. She hides on a boat sailing to her home-island.

However, the boat is not the sanctuary she hoped for. A friend from her childhood, the now-feared sorcerer, Makovik is also onboard. To be seen with him could end her career; have her thrown in the deepest dungeon. But more than that, she finds he has a plan.

And his actions will change her life forever…

Read excerpt.

Wakinyan’s Valley by Debbie Mumford

In a post-apocalyptic world, Mark Whitehorse and his friends search for a safe haven where they can raise their families. When they stumble across a hidden valley, they believe their search is over. But the valley is already inhabited. Will the band of survivors find refuge…or something else entirely?

Read excerpt.

Storms of Light and Shadow by Patrice Sarath

Some gifts are better left unopened.

Read excerpt.

Under a Full Moon by Tom Fowler

A weretiger wizard immune to the lunar cycles suddenly finds himself caught in a painful transformation — one he suspects was caused by someone else. Can he stop it before he becomes a rampaging monster, and can he find the man who did this to him?

Read excerpt.

Casey by Noelle Sterne

An ordinary junior high school boy, Casey suffers the trials of a teenager until one day his life is changed forever.

Read excerpt.

Bastet by R. S. Pyne

Captain Kai Brenhin Righa of the corsair fighting ship Raven is quite happy not being human. The transition came without warning, a blessing from a stowaway with the face of an ancient Earth Goddess and a strange sense of humor. Now Bastet is back and she needs a favor.

Read excerpt.

Nana Genevieve by Julie Nordeen

As science creates robots that behave more and more like humans, how will we know when they cease to be our creations and become self-aware beings of their own? Nana Genevieve knows. And she’ll make sure the world understands…if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Read excerpt.

The Tie That Binds by Debbie Mumford

Twin brothers Cameron and Kyle McClellan have always shared a psychic bond. Though the adult men lead very different lives, when career military officer Kyle is wounded in Iraq, Cameron’s ability to decipher their special link may mean the difference between his brother’s life and death.

Read excerpt.

Star Stepping Table of Contents

Debbie Mumford has begun a series of interviews with her fellow authors of the Star Stepping anthology, which will be published though Wild Child Publishing on June 3rd.

I pop over to Debbie’s blog regularly. Today I’m glad to have done so. The first interview I read reminded me of the reasons I enjoy a good SF story: the potential for an original idea; the ability to put human nature and an extraordinary situation together and see what happens; the ability to fantasize about the practical aspects of possible technology.

Do go over and meet Debbie and her fellow authors. This industrious lady has posted three interviews so far.

More on being in the now

I’ve been using the stuff I learned from Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth to help with chronic pain. His advice does work. Interestingly, being in the now (as he keeps saying to do) can put a person through all the stages of grief (from denial to acceptance). I went through such when taking a walk. Instead of avoiding my pain by daydreaming, which I usually do, I persisted in confronting the now while not judging what happened. Even when I became angry that I had to do this, I accepted that I was angry and did not judge the feeling of anger. A few minutes later, a greater portion of my pain at the time vanished. I enjoyed the walk, mostly in the now and without a lot of mental gear in place to avoid my pain. The anger vanished as well, btw. It was my ego (what Tolle calls the ego, anyhow) acting up and getting in my way of being in the now.

Lovely experiment, but I need to put it into practice more often. I’ve been semi-successful, because the daydreaming has become something of an addictive practice over the years. I need to dream to write, but I also want to enjoy my actual life when I’m away from the computer. There is life beyond the computer.

The computer, writing: to some degree, both were a means to avoid pain . I’ve noticed for years now that I wasn’t really “there” with my family and kids. The last few months, I’m more there. Means less time spent on the computer, but it also means I may actually improve my health at last.

The facts as they stand now: my blood pressure has, indeed, lowered, though my pulse is still too rapid; because I’m being in the now with my life, I don’t have a pile of laundry hiding what should be an upstairs sofa (and believe it or not, that pile of laundry adds to my stress the longer it stays present); I’ve spent more time with my husband, even doing things like helping him when he gets the scrap wood (skids and crates) for next winter’s firewood from a local industry .

Truthfully, I’m not much use to him when it comes to the physical labour. I hold the skids up in the trailer while he loads them, or I drag the less heavy stuff closer, sometimes bang a sledgehammer on bigger constructions to break them apart (my idea of weightlifting for health–dislocate my shoulder, give myself more neck pain, and put myself out of breath in five swings, lol.) Mostly I’m there for company, to be there now with him.

It sounds strange, maybe, to add to the pain in my neck through labour, but one of the things I have to do is stay mobile and stay strong to keep my bones from worsening, which means I cannot avoid pain. I laugh off the extra, and that I’m happy being with my husband helps me stay in equilibrium. When I lose that equilibrium, I cry like you wouldn’t believe. The Tolle book has helped me keep that equilibrium better.

I like my husband, you know. Been married what? Almost fifteen years. I really like him. He’s good company and I’ve been missing it, off in daydream land with a story instead of living in the world.

Don’t get me wrong. I intend to continue writing, but I intend to live, really live, as well. My health demands it, in more ways than the physical.

So yes, I recommend the Tolle book to all of you. It’s worth a read. There is no mystery to what he is saying. There’s no sitting on a mountain like a holey hermit, or starving yourself to achieve some sort of spiritual enlightenment through ascetism. It’s all very simple. Just be in the now.

Good deal and good excerpt

Marci, our fabulous publisher, has released the first PODcast of a Freya’s Bower excerpt. Ok, I’m going to do my lazy bit and cut and paste. Here it comes:

20% Discount!

Freya’s Bower is offering a 20% discount coupon for account members who are also signed up for the store newsletter and purchase more than $3.25 in ebooks. If you already have an account, just sign up for the newsletter. You can sign into your account here, or create a new one. You can use the coupon as many times as you like until May 31st.

And there it is.

On with the good excerpt, another from In the Gloaming, this time from Esmeralda Bishop’s Robin’s Cap. Robin Redcap, btw, is a scary little… You should read the excerpt. (He dyes his hat with fresh human blood!)

Blurb:

Tales of ancient evil surround Hermitage Castle. What happens when legend becomes reality? Graham Parish and Kat Davis are about to find out.

***

Kat stiffened in his arms. “Graham, what is that?” she breathed, fear shaking her voice.

He peered around her and shot to his feet, pulling Kat behind him. He backed up, pressing her to the wall.

There, before them, stood the subject of his thoughts. The powrie’s grin spread across his face, its razor sharp teeth gleaming in the dimly lit room.

“Graham, what the hell is that?” She screamed the words in his ear. Her grip tightened on the back of his shirt. The material flattened across his chest.

Shrugging, Graham tried to loosen her grasp. “That is Robin Redcap.”

He felt Kat jerk behind him. “The troll from the fairy tale?”

The faerie growled. Graham got the impression he didn’t take kindly to being called a troll. Redcap moved. A colorful burst of blurring light streaked across the room. The creature materialized where the light stopped.

Graham swallowed. He had no doubt the creature was fucking with them by showing off its speed.

“How do we get rid of it?”

Good question. Should he tell her getting rid of it was not an option? The only end result would be it getting rid of them.

Subconsciously he had known that, but had refused to admit it until now. Now he was faced with the reality that they would not survive this night.

Redcap moved again; this time the beam of light headed straight for them. Graham grabbed Kat as he stumbled backward, trying to put space between them. Kat clamped onto his arm, bringing it against her chest and screamed in his ear.

The closer the creature crept, the scarier it looked. Deep wrinkles lined its filthy face. Its red eyes filled with bloodlust. The metallic smell of blood and the musty odor of death hung in the air.

The powrie’s lead boots clunked heavily on the floor.

Kat screamed.

Redcap smiled. “Don’t be afraid, kitty. It will only hurt a lot.”

***

Visit Esmerelda at her web site, her blog, or her MySpace.

To purchase In the Gloaming, click here.

And now I’m going to thank Nita Wick for all the hard work she put into posting these excerpts, because I’m just a lazy butt who copied them from her blog. Nita’s blog link here.

Nita is wonderful. She’s on the ball with her blog, her website (linkie!) and with regards to promoting In the Gloaming. Thank you, Nita!

April Freya’s Bower interview and an In the Gloaming excerpt

Our publisher, Marci Baun, interviewed Debbie Mumford not long ago. The PODcast is up on site and ready for listeners. Here’s a link. On her blog, Debbie said she enjoyed the chat (via Skype) and forgot it was an interview. You know what this means, of course. It’s got to be a candid and warm conversation with a wonderful author lady.

This next excerpt is from Kelley Heckart’s The Enchanted Meadow, one of five stories published in Faith Bicknell-Brown’s fairy anthology. Faith is planning a second anthology. You can find out more about it, I believe, on her writers’ group, which is dedicated to discussions about all aspects of writing.

***

Blurb:

Warriors from the Raven clan are sent to guard the king’s cattle. They are unprepared for the strange, otherworldly happenings in the new winter grazing land, including nocturnal visits by a beautiful lass. Only their leader, Taran, can save them—if he remembers how.

***

Alina wanted to cry out to him, but her throat would not form any sounds. The one who had betrayed her and trapped her in this tree had taken away her speech so she could not ask for help to escape her prison. So many centuries had turned, each season passing in a blur of muted colors, her hope fading. Now someone had come, a mortal who could help her, but she needed to communicate with him in some way. Sighing, she realized she was not even sure she knew how to break the curse.

He watched her now with curious eyes, unaware that she also watched him. When she concentrated all of her power, she could imprint an image of her face on the tree trunk, becoming one with the tree. Only he had seen her face in the tree bark, so she knew he was more than a simple warrior. He had the mind of a druid. Only the one who could help her would be able to see into other realms and pay such close attention to her tree. She sensed the affection in his caress. Shivers of pleasure shot through her body at his gentle touch, giving her a sense of hope.

She studied him, admiring the confident way he commanded his men even as he faced the unknown. He stood regal and powerful, the blue warrior marks he earned shadowing the austere planes of his handsome face. Long, golden-copper streaked hair plunged down his back in a wild tangle. She yearned to run her hands through his thick mane again.

As if reading her thoughts, he glanced back at her tree, his bright blue eyes darkening to a deeper hue in the shifting light, his face softening from its usual hardness. When he looked in her direction, he let slip his true feelings he hid from his warriors. Her heart sang with compassion for him.

She felt herself blush at his penetrating gaze. His eyes awakened that feeling of familiarity in her again, but she still could not place it. If she escaped her prison, she could go to him now. Frowning, she thought how she hated the tree that felt like a tomb. The world beyond the tree taunted her with its bright autumn colors, a world so full of life and freedom. She could not bear to look upon it any longer.

To help her bide her time, she thought about their coupling. Her body flushed at the memory. She recalled how wonderful his muscles had felt beneath her touch and the way he had kissed her, caressing her secret places with his skillful tongue, making her moan and quake. A twinge of desire flickered inside her at the thought of having him touch her again tonight.

When they discovered another missing cow, they would have to stay. At least she hoped so. She continued to hide some of their cattle to keep the warrior there so eventually he could help her escape.

At first, she only wanted to use him to help her escape, but now her body trembled with affection for the golden warrior. After he rekindled what had been dormant for so long inside of her, she began to yearn for him and his tender, passionate touch. Could she let him go? And if he should eat of the apples….

***

Visit Kelley at her web site or MySpace. To keep informed about her new books, contests and other book related news, you are invited to join her Yahoo group.

To purchase In the Gloaming, click here.

Excerpt week continues

…in the style it began: late. I guess I’ll be skipping a day before posting each.

This next is from from Cora Zane’s story, At the Edge of Twilight. Cora is a North Louisiana author with a penchant for shapeshifter stories. But this story is about fairies, of course. Expect the unnerving.

Blurb:

Lured by otherworldy music, Colleen braves a midnight garden and meets a man full of secrets…one who’s determined she should stay with him forever, locked within his world at the edge of twilight.

***

Hands shaking, Colleen clicked on her flashlight and held the rake handle out in front of her for protection. She levered the dull beam of light toward the old tree and scanned it back and forth across the tall grass.

She saw nothing, no movement that should not have been there, but she couldn’t chase away the sensation of being watched. The music played on, more loudly than before, but now it seemed further away than she had originally anticipated. She pushed on through the tall grass, toward the hated oak tree, and raised the flashlight higher. The beam stretched longer and longer still, until the light stretched so far away it bled away into moonlight and wilderness.

She stopped beneath the sprawling canopy of the oak, the hard-packed earth barren save for the running roots that poked through the rotting carpet of dry, dead leaves that crunched under her feet. She moved to the far side of it and stopped there to listen. The lilting, woodsy music crawled over her, through her, made her shiver.

“Hello?”

Abruptly, the music stopped, and Colleen could’ve sworn her heart stopped with it. She lifted a hand protectively to her throat and waited for someone to emerge, to say something.

Seconds ticked by. A minute. Only night sounds answered her. Swallowing hard, she turned a circle where she stood and gathered her courage around her. Despite the silence, she was convinced she wasn’t alone.

“This is private property,” she announced, trying to seem brave to whoever might be watching her. Something dashed off through the leafy foliage to her right.

Colleen yelped in fright and stumbled back, her heart kicking violently against her ribs. She scrabbled out from under the darkness of the tree, too terrified to immediately recognize that whatever had run away had been too small to do her any harm. By the time the thought finally occurred to her, it was too late to regain her calm façade.

She turned in a circle, scanning the nearest trees and bushes with the flashlight. Her ragged breaths sounded loud to her own ears, but her nerves were shot, she couldn’t have controlled it if she’d tried. I never should have come out this far, not at night.

Overhead, black clouds drifted, stretching open in places as the jet stream caught them, thinning them so they revealed fragments of moonlit sky the color of bone. She moved to the far side of the oak and stared across the threshold into the patchy wilderness beyond the back yard.

Long years had passed since the last time she trekked past the oak tree. Her aunt had forbidden it, had alternately bored her and scared her with tales of dangerous wild animals, of missing children lost forever in the woods.

How clear everything looked over there. A faint blue gleam settled over everything, revealing the spiky needles of the pine trees and highlighting the leafy canopies of the sweet gums and maples. In a small clearing just beyond the wood line, stood a broad ring of mushrooms so white they appeared almost to glow. Plucking up her courage, she walked toward the white caps gleaming in the dark, wondering all the while, Where did the music go?

“They draw the eye, do they not?”

Colleen nearly jumped out of her skin. The beam of the flashlight zigzagged wildly as she spun around in the direction of that voice. She bungled the rake handle; it slipped from her fingers and landed somewhere among the ferny bracken at her feet.

She couldn’t bring herself to look for it; she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the silhouette of the man watching her a few feet away. He sat on something, or perhaps crouched down. The beam of the flashlight made a narrow circle on the ground in front of him, and instinctively she jerked the light upward, shining it in his face. He pulled an arm up over his eyes, and all she could make of him was an olive green sleeve and that he had russet-brown hair.

***

Visit Cora at her web site and her blog.

Purchase In the Gloaming

Excerpt week

Beginning yesterday, I was to post excerpts from Into the Gloaming, but seven cases of chokecherry wine, which I began bottling on Sunday, demanded a shopping trip for corks (bought 250 so I wouldn’t have to worry about needing any for a while) and more bottle washing (the last two cases of the bottles from hell; in other words, commercial wine bottles recycled for my use; equals labels with sticky glue; meaning an hour of scraping and scouring per case to get all the sticky crud off). In the end, I ended up with seven cases of chokecherry or chokecherry blend, plus one extra bottle. Eighty-five bottles. Unless my math is off this morning, which it might be.

I’m skipping chokecherry picking this year. I have enough to last two years easily. My wine cellar is all but full. And yet I have three kits of white wine to start and two kits of red. And I still intend to do my second attempt at dandelion wine. The first attempt made an incredible delicate wine. Well worth the effort.

So. Nine months of aging in the carboy. That’s how long the chokecherry sat about before bottling. When I first began wine making, I had no idea, really, how much aging was required to make a good wine. But four batches of chokecherry have taught me that wines made from astringent berries require more time to become palatable. Chokecherry makes a wonderful wine, but it does require that extra time. Maturing at least a few months in the bottle will help as well.

On with the In the Gloaming excerpt. Today is Nita Wick’s day. She’s an author from Tennessee and…oh, my! Nita! The heroes page! Whoa! (Hot! Hot, hot, hot! Eyes melting!)

Links! I have them below the Gloaming cover, and you’ll also find the excerpt from Nita’s story, The Dream. Remember the scary children’s tale about trolls under a bridge? Perhaps you’d like to revisit the bridge.

Links: web site: www.nitawick.com
blog: www.nitawick.com/blog
MySpace: www.myspace.com/nitawick

The Dream by Nita Wick

Lost in one of Scotland’s enchanted forests, a sleeping Katie dreams of trolls, faeries, and her fantasy lover. And never has a dream felt so real.

Excerpt

“Have you no sense at all, lass?”

“What?”

“Sittin’ on the trow’s bridge. Are you daft?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t know it belonged to a troll. I got lost. I just needed a place to rest, but I fell asleep.” She shrugged. “And now I’m dreaming.”

He grunted. “What are you doin’ out here in the forest in the first place?” He didn’t slow his pace.

Jogging to keep up with him, she said, “The bellboy at the hotel said the forest is enchanted. I didn’t believe it, of course. But I thought it was a good excuse to see the forest and some of the countryside while I’m on vacation.”

“Did it ever occur to you that there are tour guides for a reason?” He had the irritating tone of an adult reprimanding a mischievous child.

She frowned and pulled her hand free. “What is wrong with you?”

He halted and turned to gaze down at her. “Me? You’re the one what’s wanderin’ around in the forest talkin’ to trows.”

She crossed her arms. “Look. This is my dream, and I don’t like your attitude. Shouldn’t you be making mad, passionate love to me now?”

He leaned down, his face hovering just above hers. “Is it your habit to offer sex to complete strangers?”

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “Never. But this is different. You’re not a stranger. And?”

“Do you even know me name, Katie?”

“I?.” She thought back to all the erotic dreams she’d shared with this man. “Well, I guess you never told me.”

He raised one brow and spun on his heel.

She ran around him and stood in front of him, blocking his path before he’d taken more than a few steps. “So what is your name?”

Blowing out a long breath, he rested his hand on his hips. “Aidan. Aidan McLain.”

“Aidan.” Katie searched his features and smiled. “It fits you. I like it.”

“I’ll tell me ma you said so. Can we go now?”

He stepped around her, and she fell in line behind him. “Go? Where?”

“I dinnae know where you’re goin’, lass, but I’m goin’ home.”

She stared at his back for a moment before she let her gaze fall to firm buttocks encased in tight denim. She followed him in silence, enjoying the view until they came to a clearing. The little meadow lay nestled in the forest like a hidden treasure. Summer wildflowers bloomed and swayed in the gentle breeze.

“Oh, how lovely. So this is where you’ll make love to me. In a bed of wildflowers. This dream may turn out all right after all.”

He stopped without warning, and she ran into him. Facing her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not dreamin’.”

“Of course I’m not. That was a real troll. And a fantasy man really can come to life. What’s next? Are you going to show me your unicorn?”