I read that paper books – just like vinyl records-were making a comeback and were increasing sales over ebooks. But when your publisher tells you that your book *might* go to print faster because of it (rather than waiting for 100 ebooks to sell –still have no clue how many I’ve sold as of Dec. 31) you get VERY happy. Fingers crossed everyone!! The faster it goes to print, the faster I can do all those really cool book signings with candles, mead, and soaps!
Here is a quick article about paper books: http://forums.solidsignal.com/content.php/4871-FIRST-VINYL-NOW-THIS-paper-books-making-a-comeback?p=16858
So the photo challenge today is black and white. I LOVE black and white photography. There is just something about it that is so pure. You really tell a story when there is only black, white, and the shades in between. I used to love taking black and white photos of my kids when they were babies – no digital – black and white film in a regular Canon camera. You take 24 shots of a squirming child that look magnificent to you in that moment and wait a week to see that only one came out good enough to frame.
I would love to say that I took some magnificent photo of architecture because, hey, I love architecture and what better way to show off an amazing structure than black and white photography. I mean look at black and white photos of the Chrysler building? OR the Empire State building? They are magnificent. Truth be told I do have one black and white photo of architecture, but it’s a beat up old barn. I’ll post that as well just because I liked the way it came out.
Anyway, I took a photo of a sign on my walk with the kids this afternoon. It isn’t terribly exciting but I figure it was something to write about. Have a great week!
Precious Prudhomme shielded her eyes with her hand and peered up at the sign. She hoisted her tattered bag onto her back and slung her guitar over her shoulder. It was a few more miles to the crossroads that her Mawmaw had warned her about. The same crossroads that her great grandad had walked to in the dead of night with a dream in his heart and his soul on the line. Her guitar seemed to heat up at the thought. It was actually her great grandaddy’s guitar. Precious learned how to strum and play chords with her grandad on their porch while he told her stories of how his daddy was the best guitar player in Louisiana. Her mamma said girls weren’t supposed to play guitar, they were supposed to be good wives and have babies for their husbands. Precious didn’t want anything to do with babies or washing, she wanted to make that guitar sing her happiest moments and wail with her when she cried and her heart broke in two. She was going to learn to be the best guitar player in the south tonight... even if her soul depended on it.