Rolling in it: the highest paid authors

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I know, I'm weird. I admit it. I really don't envy these writers. Last week, we changed our car. The car salesman was very friendly and chatty. He told us about his model aircrafts that he flies at a local flying club. I said, "You should read Mr. Planemaker's Flying Machine." He'd never heard of it. I said, "Go on the 'net and type in Shelagh Watkins into Google."

He did and pulled up my video trailer -- which he watched as his eyes grew bigger and bigger. He said, "I've never had a customer who's on the 'net!"

We had a laugh and a chat about the flying club at the small airport just a few minutes drive from my home (close to our golf club). He invited us to the club any Tuesday around 5.30pm. So, last Tuesday, we went along and I gave him a signed copy of my book.

This may not seem very exciting and certainly wasn't financially rewarding, but it is the kind of thing that just would not happen if I were famous. I guess I'm easily pleased.

I was riding on an airliner when I noticed the passenger next to me was reading one of my books. What to do? If I ask him how he likes it, I might not like his answer. Computer programmers tend to be highly critical of anything they did not write themselves. If I tell him first that I wrote it, he might candy-coat his opinion.

So, finally I just asked him if he would like to have the author autograph the book. Once we got that explained, I had to show him my driver's license to prove I was me.

All of which avoided the subject of how he liked the book.

The best I can claim is the pride with which my secretary brought her entire family and extended family to my book signing, from grama to great granddaughter, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, husband etc. They had to gather and travel quite a ways to make it happen. Since they all came at once and all bought books, the B&N guy was ecstatic and rushed around to be sure he had lots of books. We took pictures. It was like being famous for a moment in time. I was to her and her family; they were precious in my heart. I was so pleased at the honor, I almost hated to see them all buy books; I wanted to tell them to share the books around...

Many people assume that an author makes millions because his/her book is published.
If they only knew.

Sometimes there are more important honors than money. This June I received one of four citations as distinguished alum of our college. You can find my info below.

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This meant the world to me. I believe my books put me in the running, although it was necessary to be nominated. John, one of the other recipients, said I'd been nominated several times.

The award is glass crystal and sits in a place of honor. (Tom has not built me a cabinet, but shows it to everyone who comes to visit.)

Carol

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LC wrote:

I don't care about awards and never did. I don't apply for them at work.

Pool hustler Minnisota Fats said, "If I want a trophy, I'll buy one at the pawn shop."

There are various types of recognition that have meaning at different levels for different people Yes, you can go buy a trophy and I've heard plenty of jokes (used some of them myself about papering the walls with certificates, etc.). Sometimes a smile is enough. Sometimes a dinner in your honor is too much. I make no judgments about other recipents of recognition and congratulate them for any notice at all. Yes, money is a measure of appreciation; but sometimes, money doesn't register in the ego department like we think it will. It disappears so easily.

Today, another woman at church and I were called on to read the two parts of a short script to the congregation. We sort of "got into it" and had a good time. We received positive feedback that made us smile. The fun discussing it spread among several people. Money could not replace those moments.

Being nominated for an honor is special. It is not only the recipient of the honor that receives recognition, but also the presenting parties. It sometimes has two-fold meaning.

Carol Troestler wrote:

Sometimes there are more important honors than money. This June I received one of four citations as distinguished alum of our college. You can find my info below.

[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

This meant the world to me. I believe my books put me in the running, although it was necessary to be nominated. John, one of the other recipients, said I'd been nominated several times.

The award is glass crystal and sits in a place of honor. (Tom has not built me a cabinet, but shows it to everyone who comes to visit.)

Carol

Congratulations Carol. Receiving recognition is an honor.

Sorry. I guess a pawn shop for the award would have worked, but then it wouldn't have had my name on it. I did not apply for it anywhere.

Carol

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I doubt that I will ever be famous. That is ok.

Ms. Donna King is the principal of the Duette School. She found it in her heart to read Wooffer to the students at the school. On a field trip, she brought them all out here to meet Wooffer, Old Agnes and all the rest.

As they were visting Margaret, The Chicken, one boy noticed Reginald The Rooster. He turned to me and said, "Is that the rooster that Santa pulled out of his bag?"

I said, "Yes! It is."

You do not get better validation as an author than that.

Here is the story he had heard.


A CHRISTMAS EVE UNDER THE OLD OAK TREE
Marygrey had waited a very long time for the arrival of her babies. But babies cannot be rushed into the world and take their own time in coming. Say what you will, or wish as hard as you want, it will do no good at all, especially rabbit babies. They come when they have a good mind to. Marygrey’s babies had waited until Christmas Eve. Basil, the wild rabbit, was the father-to-be of Marygrey’s babies, and he had been constantly running in and asking were the babies here yet and how much longer was it going to be, until Marygrey said, “Basil, my dearest, Old Agnes is here with me, so you don’t have to worry. When they arrive she will run out right away and tell you they are here. Please go and wait for Santa with the others and when you see him, come and tell me.”
There are certain things that every animal, wild or tame, knows to be true. But the thing they know to be the truest of the true is that Santa Claus comes on Christmas Eve. Yes, Santa brings presents to every animal on earth, just as he brings toys to all the children of the earth. You may wonder how Santa has time in one night to bring all those presents. There are a lot of animals on earth, too. Well, the answer is quite simple. Time Stands Still on Christmas Eve! Not one minute on the clock ticks by, after Santa leaves the North Pole, until all the presents are delivered to every child and every animal everywhere.
So, while Marygrey waited for the arrival of the babies, Basil went to join the other animals who were waiting and watching under the Old Oak Tree for the first glimpse of Santa’s light as he passed overhead. Every animal on the farm was there, except Marygrey and Old Agnes, who was waiting with Marygrey for the babies to come, and Wooffer, who had not come out of the house yet. All of the Thousands, every squirrel for a mile around, the Armadillos, Cho Lee Yen, Camille and all the lizards, the Bully Frogs, The Banana Spiders from the Republic, Reba and Henry — and all the Hoppers and Bugs — and, of course, Larry, Curly, Moe and Margaret the chicken (her eggs had not hatched). They were all there waiting for Santa to go by in his sleigh to deliver presents to everyone and they would be the first to see him, they hoped.
None of the animals had ever seen Santa up close, except Wooffer had seen a picture his mom had shown him in a book called, “The Night Before Christmas.” But every animal had listened to stories their moms and grandmoms had told them when they were very young and each one knew in his heart how Santa looked. He was Beautiful!
Wooffer knew it was about time for Santa to go by, so he asked his mom if he could go wait with the animals to see his light as it went by. She was putting the last decorations on the Christmas tree. “Go on and watch and bark as soon as you see anything and I will come out, too.” she said smiling. So Wooffer went to join the animals under the Old Oak Tree to wait for Santa to go by.
Wooffer went out and said, “Merry Christmas,” to everyone. He had heard the news of Marygrey’s babies coming.
Basil was almost in a trance from the excitement of the babies and waiting for Santa. He kept looking at the sky, muttering, “Oh, My! Oh! … Oh My!”
Wooffer saw Margaret standing by herself, gazing up at the night sky.
Wooffer had not seen Margaret since she was hatching eggs, but he had heard that they had not hatched. He cautiously went up to her. Wooffer never knew if she was going to fly at him feet first or not.
“Hi, Margaret, sorry about the eggs not hatching.’’ he said.
“Me, too. I thought for sure the eggs would hatch this time. But they didn’t. Maybe next time,” Margaret said.
Wooffer said, “I hope so. Have you heard that Marygrey’s babies are coming tonight?”
Margaret stood there and gave Wooffer one eye, then the other, and said. “No, I had not! I must go to her at once! Poor thing!” And off she strutted as fast as she could run, toward the burrow where Marygrey was waiting for the babies.
When Margaret arrived at Marygrey’s burrow, she was met by Old Agnes, Mother of Thousands. “Have they gotten here yet? I do hope I am not too late! Wooffer just now told me that the babies are coming tonight. I do want so much to be here when they come!” squawked Margaret.
“Oh, you are in plenty of time,” answered Old Agnes, who knew more than most when it came to babies.
Margaret was glad and she sat down next to Old Agnes to wait.
Under the Old Oak Tree, the other animals were having a fine time. All the little Thousands were singing, “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus … right down Santa Claus lane …” Wooffer had climbed up to the second branch in the Old Oak Tree so he would be closer to the sky to watch for Santa’s light and was talking to Mr. A.A. Corn and Sir Doodah. Larry, Curly and Moe were having a contest to see who could make their eyes shine the brightest yellow. Silverthorn was telling rabbit jokes to Basil and the other rabbits. Everyone was having such a good time they had not noticed that the fog was creeping in all around them. In no time, the fog was so thick they could barely see who was standing in front of them. How disappointed they all were! No one could see Santa’s light through all that fog!
Then, the most amazing thing happened! The fog began to curl and furl around their feet. Then it began to swirl and whorl and twirl! … Round and round it went, faster and faster, until the animals began to be quite frightened. They all got close to the ground and put their paws over their eyes. No one had ever seen anything like it!
As the animals sat there with their eyes covered, afraid to move, they heard: “He He He … Ha Ha Ha … Ho Ho Ho.” It was the jolliest laugh they had ever heard. Well, they HAD to look. When they opened their eyes, there in the middle of the yard stood SANTA CLAUS, HIMSELF! The fog was gone.
When Cho Lee opened his eyes, he saw a beautiful white peacock with golden “eyes” in his tail feathers and his topnotch was red and gold. He knew it was Santa because he looked just like Cho Lee had imagined him to be.
Basil and Silverthorn and the other rabbits did not see a peacock at all.
They saw a big white rabbit with golden ears and they knew right away it was Santa because he looked just as they had imagined he would.
When Mr. A.A. Corn and Hoy T. Toity opened their eyes, they saw a fat, red squirrel with white ears and a bushy white tail. Santa was just what the squirrels had known he would be.
All the little Thousands saw a beautiful white mouse — and Wooffer? Wooffer saw a very jolly old man in a bright red suit with big white whiskers and rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes and a big belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
Oh, there was just one Santa Claus there — but each of the animals saw him a bit differently, which was the really amazing thing!
Santa talked to each one there and called them each by their own name, and wished them all a Merry Christmas. Then, he said, “I usually don’t do this kind of thing, but you all have been so very, very good this year, and I have a very special present to deliver to Margaret. Where is Margaret?” Basil explained about the babies about to come and that Old Agnes and Margaret were with Marygrey waiting for them to arrive.
Santa told Basil to go and fetch Margaret so she could get her special present.
So, Basil was off in a flash to the burrow and, breathlessly, told Margaret to come right away! “Santa wants to see you! He came specially to bring something!”
“What!? Santa is here?! For Me?!” clucked Margaret. Margaret did not run, she FLEW to the Old Oak Tree! Old Agnes went running as fast as she could — she was not going to miss seeing Santa for herself. Basil stayed with Marygrey.
“Ho Ho Ho … Ho Ho Ho!” laughed Santa, as Margaret flew in and landed right in front of him. “Margaret,” said Santa, “I have heard about how your eggs did not hatch again, so I have brought you something that will cheer you up on this wonderful Christmas Eve.” With that, Santa reached way down in his bag and lifted out the most beautiful Rooster that Margaret had ever seen. His name was Reginald. Reginald was very glad to get out of the bag, even if it was Santa’s bag, and he was even more glad when he saw Margaret. He cock-a-doodle-do-ed his most polite “good evening” to Margaret and she Clucked her best “how-do-you-do” to Reginald. It was love at first sight!
Santa called Wooffer to come to him and patted him on the head and said, “Wooffer, you are such a good dog, one of a kind. Would you like to come to the North Pole with me and be one of my elves?”
Wooffer did not have to think about it. He wanted to stay right where he was with his friends and his mom, so he said, “No, thank you, Santa.”
Santa understood. It was the best place in the world for a dog to be. So, Santa leaped back into his sleigh and was off in a twinkle. “Ho Ho Ho!” they all heard him laugh as he disappeared among the stars. This would be a night all of them would remember for a lot of Christmas Eves to come.
Marygrey did not get to see Santa herself, but she got the best present of all that night. When Old Agnes and Margaret had gone to see Santa, the babies started to arrive. There were six baby rabbits in all, three boys and three girls. Now, every Christmas Eve, the six little rabbits and Marygrey beg Basil to tell them the story of, “A Christmas Eve under the Old Oak Tree.”

Like I've said before, when I am reincarnated, i want to return as one of Betty's animals.

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"...I will never be known nor make money out of this either, period..." went the goblin now, adding "...just I become a known unknown at best then...", so the internet was vast, fast, and alive he felt and these were early days too, adding "...no I just want to be a livewriter on the internet here, where the truth is that, like you, I haven't the slightest clue what that means, only that ours for the trying and I am going to try for it..."

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Well, goblin, maybe you'll eventually gain notariety and a place in Wikipedia as a famous internet poster, like early newsgroup posters Archimedes Plutonium and The Internet Oracle.

Quote :

Well, goblin, maybe you'll eventually gain notariety and a place in
Wikipedia as a famous internet poster, like early newsgroup posters
Archimedes Plutonium and The Internet Oracle.

"...that would be a thought..." said the goblin liking it, sounding rather like "the tomb of the unknown goblin" then, of course all spoiled when or if his dna revealed that he was actually some poxey nobody in dailylife too, concluding "...oh, how boring it must be to become as aged as ones works now, ah but if you're reading this reply, then what more should I care for..."

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