While I Wait On Kindle Direct…
Feeling flattened once again by signs that the world at large doesn’t take kindly to spammers. And if this project is to be aborted right now because of this, in addition to feeling sorry for myself I’ll extend my pity to those whose last names are low in alphabetical order. I didn’t get flattened until midway through the ‘B’s of the American Academy of Forensic Psychology; some small consolation in imagining that the unwarranted success of the ‘A’ and ‘B’ names in drumming up extra business, and having treasures dropped at their doorstep, might be tempered by the increased annoyance for those who bet against Monstrous as being anything other than a sap on one’s precious time.
My last experience with a spammer as inefficient as I am, one recipient at a time and therefore able to escape the junk filters, was actually halfway positive; closer to a hundred percent until my generous spirit threatened to leave me overextended. This person was rare company in my isolated neck of the woods, and my impulse was similar to desiring to shower him (or her) with courses upon courses of food. This person was seeking reviewers for a collection of poetry written by a murder victim, and had picked me by virtue of the fact I had reviewed on Amazon and included my email address. That I hung out in True Crime was also likely relevant.
So I said, sure, I’ll review it, and only after I hit ‘Send’ did I think, wait a minute, I can’t stand poetry. Least, that is, anyone else’s. Fortunately, this person reconsidered their offer of a copy in exchange for a review, and I was left off the hook.
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