Ring to it

Oh, hey. If you’d like to buy a spiffy blue set of wedding rings so that you can show them off, tell people that they’re made of sapphire and brag about how expensive they are, you can always pick up a set like THIS.
blueweddingrings
$11 bucks on Wish.

You’re welcome.

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Wicked, Wicked, Wicked

In August of 2015, I posted an author’s experience with Tabetha Jones about (yet another) clusterfuck “Anthology” called Wicked Enticements.  To refresh your memory, since it’s been a little while, Tabetha had a nasty habbit of throwing together so-called anthologies with a few real authors and a plethora of her own alternyms, putting in a minimum effort in production and reaping the majority of any rewards that might ensue. In the case of Wicked Enticements, an author very kindly showed evidence of how poorly the book was formatted, right down to having two of Tabetha’s bogus companies on the cover as the publisher even though one of them was supposed to be defunct at the time.  Check that post out HERE.

Very recently, one of the authors from Wicked Enticements asked if anybody has a hard copy, for legal reasons. I’m asking around about that. But, just in case nobody has a copy they’re willing to part with, I’m looking around to see if I can find it online. What I found is disturbing.

I’ve posted many times in the past how important it is for authors to google themselves and keep on top of any potential illicit sales or associations. And I’m suggesting it again today. The reason? Because Wicked Enticements is still out there.

On Amazon.com in America.
WickedUS

On Amazon.com Europe.
On Amazon.com Canada.
On Amazon.com/de.
On Amazon.com Japan.
On Amazon.com.in.
On Amazon.com France, they let you know that it’s out of stock but invite you to order it. Then, when it comes in, they’ll deliver it. I don’t know if you pay up front, but it bears consideration that it might be possible that money can still be generated from that title.
On Goodreads.

You get the idea.

On all of those sites, the book is listed as being out of stock and unavailable (except maybe in France. Not sure), but that’s not the whole point.

Authors that contributed work to that book have long since parted company with Tabetha Jones and want nothing to do with her. They don’t want to be associated with her in any way, shape, or form. Some of those people still pursue a career in writing, and the last thing they need is for their names to show up on such a failed product.

Yet there it is. Big as life. Years later. With all their names still on it.

That’s one of two things:
1) Either Tabetha’s too lazy to clean up her business and remove titles.
or
2) It’s her ultimate power play, her egotistical control over her victims by refusing to let them get away from her.

Those authors don’t want their names anywhere near hers. But by refusing to take old titles down, she can thumb her nose at them, perhaps trying to prove that once she’s got you, she never lets you go, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

 

In this case, perhaps it’s best that she’s either too lazy or sociopathic to take that listing down. As long as it remains, those authors have proof they can use against her.  So google away, kids. Find any information she refuses to take down about you and use it.

You’re welcome.

Tabetha Simpson returns

Aw. Look who’s so desperate for attention that she has to come trolling around here for it. That’s right, boys and girls. Tabetha Jones herself.
Untitled
“It’s been a long time since I’ve said anything, but I think it’s time to break the silence. First, I knew nothing of your house until a few months ago,”

 

Two words. Bull and Shit.The very first words out of your moth are the typical lies the entire galaxy has come to recognize you for. Too many people have confirmed that you knew about my house when it happened, couldn’t stop cackling about it. And, even though the house has long since been rebuilt, here you are, denying it.

But, hey. Thanks for stopping by and supplying me with your latest IP.

“and I’ve had more going on than publishing or writing. You kinda ruined all that for me.”

Judging by the police reports and surveillance photos, we all have a pretty good idea what you’ve had going on. Or should I say ripping off? That’s more your style, isn’t it?

The only person that ruined “publishing” for you is YOU. If you could ever wrap your poor drug-addled brain around that, you might get somewhere. But you can’t. You can’t accept responsibility for what YOU did wrong. You can’t admit that YOU still owe authors royalties to this day, from as far back as Mystic Press. You can’t admit that YOU are at fault for the many terrible things you did to people that trusted you with their dreams, their hopes, and their hard work. They didn’t fail you. You failed them.

“I suppose no one has ever stopped and pondered the thought, that the reason I had no charges against me for the long list of fabulous lies conjured up by you all, is because it’s all bullshit.”

How stupid do you think people are? The only reason you had no charges against you was because you threatened them, both with your phoney magic bullshit or whatever man was handy – even if you had to make one up. Yet another lie that blew up in your face, just like the rest of them.

See, that’s the thing. To be a writer, you first have to be able to create a convincing fiction, one in which a reader can suspend belief and lose themselves for a time. You can’t even tell a convincing lie. Once upon a time, you were able to string people along with that sweet southern drawl and conforting platitudes, but those days are gone and buried. Now, you can’t even deny something as simple as knowing that my house burned down. Your decline would be sad if it weren’t so hard-earned.

It’s insulting that even now, long after you’ve been exposed for all of the crimes you committed against a myriad of people, you still try to victimize them by calling them liars for what YOU did to them.

I say TRY to victimize them, because you can’t anymore. They’ve outgrown you. In order to victimize people, you first have to have some power of ther them, and you don’t. They’ve moved on to much healthier things in their lives than you. Some have gone on to earn a good living in writing, despite what you did to them. Like my daughter. You remember her. She’s the one that got you on my radar after you scammed her, lied about it, and did your level best not to repay. You did eventually repay her, but there are still too many out there that will never see a dime from you.

But there is life after Tabetha Jones. Simpson. Whatever. Your prior victims husbands and boyfriends have discovered that, and so have your former victims authors. My daughter, for example, is currently working as a journalist, doing something that you can only dream of doing: earning a living with words.

Suck on that the next time you think you’ve won a single victory over your victims.

One way or another yours and others got butt hurt,
No. They didn’t get butt hurt. They got ripped off. Scammed. Lied to. Cheated. Threatened. Abused. By you. But those days are over, aren’t they? Too bad. So sad. Now you’ve got to find some other way of making a living, if you call what you’re doing living. Gee, maybe there’s some poor mentally disabled guy that’ll tolerate you beating him up for his social security check. Who knows?
didn’t like the end result of me not putting up with stupidity or whatever the case may have been, and that is all.
Wrong again, sweetheart. It was they who got tired of YOU. They finally called you out for not paying royalties, and they let the world know what kind of a publisher you were and what kind of person you are. You might have rooked them out of a few bucks, but they got the win. They put you out of business. Not me. Your victims did that. I’m just lucky that I got a front row seat for it.

If I was that grand of a criminal why didn’t I go to jail? Why did nothing but this sorry site come to be?

The only reason you never went to jail is twofold. First, the amounts you scammed people off for were sums too low to qualify for the legal attention you deserved. And Second, people were so badly abused by you that they were simply too sick of you to deal with you anymore. They were too far removed from you geographically to be able to travel to where you lived and follow through with charges.

You would have been in front of a judge back then if my daughter had followed through. We’re just close enough that she could have driven over and pressed charges personally. I would have gladly come with her. Hell, I’d have rented her a limo for the ride, just to see you in front of a judge. But, unlike you, she works for a living and couldn’t afford to take the time off. We can’t all lay around on our butts all day expecting the world to revolve around us. Out here in the real (sober) world, people work for their money. Try it sometime. I won’t say you might like it, but at least it would finally be an honest living.

Hey. I hear there’s a military base nearby. Maybe you could try selling pizzas to hungry soldiers. How hard could that be?

Besides, you did get charged, didn’t you? Not for what you did to authors, but for a different kind of theft, one more tangible. What was it, again? Renting a computer then claiming to the company that it was stolen? I wonder how something like that would be discovered. I wonder if a theif would be stupid (stoned?) enough to have the “stolen” merchandise sitting out in plain view when an officer came to take a report? That would be hilarious, wouldn’t it? Only a true moron would be that incredibly dumb.

And, judging by those surprisingly clear ATM photos, those might not be the only charges you face in your near future, are they? You were smiling for the camera, but somehow I don’t think you’re going to get the last laugh out of that one.

On a different note, sorry to hear about your house, but karma may be a slow moving train, but she destroys everything eventually to those that deserve.

And there it is. For all of your protestations of innocence, you just can’t help yourself. You’ve just GOT to get that jab in there, saying that I deserve to have my house burn down. Why? For exposing you? Even if that were true, it would be well worth it if not for the loss of life we suffered. But that doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? You don’t care in the slightest, do you? As long as you can get in that catty little dig, it’s all good in your slitted, bloodshot eyes. So very typical of you.
“Kisses from the Simpsons”
Save those kisses, sweets. Save ’em for when you’ve got to kiss the long-suffering Mister Simpson goodby when the law finally catches up with you. Save ’em for Bertha, your new bunk-mate when they finally send you to jail for all your sins. You might find that she’s a little harder to beat into submission than some poor slob that was unfortunate enough to get tangled up with you on the outside.  But you’ll find that out for yourself.
Because you’re right. Everybody rides that Karma Train, honey. Even you. And when that happens, I’ll be the first to throw darts at your mug shot. I imagine that dart board will be in high demand, after all the people you’ve left battered in your wake.

Keep smiling, sugar. Keep telling yourself that everybody in the world is wrong but you. Keep blaming everybody but yourself for whatever’s wrong with your life. Keep doing what you do and see where that gets you.

Or, better yet, just fuck off.

Editing myths and facts

Image result for literary editor

“I’m a good author so I don’t need an editor.”
“I don’t need an editor. My bestie proofread it for me.”
“All editors are the same.”
“I’ll hire the first/cheapest editor I find.”
“If I hire an editor, I don’t need any proofreaders. And vice versa.”
“The editor hates my book! S/he marked it up.”

No, no, and no.

All of the above are wrong in all the worst ways.

THIS is an excellent article that details common misconceptions about editing. Read it and learn 7 deadly myths and 3 inspiring truths about editors and what they do.