Waiting for my ISBN

A distribution service has just been purchased for my book, The Art of Magic Words. This means I am awaiting my International Standard Book Number (my ISBN), the unique number that will allow my book to be sold in brick-and-mortar stores, as well as at online retailers like Amazon.

This is the magical creature--look, you can just see one now, peeking his head out from a repository at Wikimedia Commons:



Mine will, of course, bear my own unique ISBN.

My application for an ISBN has been sent to the ISBN Agency in the U.S., which will register GroundMark Press as a publisher and provide my ISBN. It usually takes 3 to 4 business days, I understand. When the ISBN has been assigned to my title, my book will be updated with an ISBN and a barcode can be added to my book. Once the update is complete and I am satisfied, distribution begins and the book is listed in Bowker's Books In Print, Nielsen BookData and other sources so it can be picked up by book sellers.

The PR and marketing of the book, however, is up to me.

Along those lines, I recently had an article on Witchvox published. The article, adapted from the introduction to my book, has been up 2 days so far and has had almost 1100 impressions and 6200 RSS views. In some senses those numbers are meaningless... they don't indicate unique users; nonetheless, it's encouraging, and I've actually received some positive email in response. I hadn't expected the article to go up until after The Art of Magic Words was available on Amazon; normally it takes about two months for an article to be posted from the time of submission. However, they either had very few articles in the queue at the time I submitted, or they liked it enough to approve it quickly.

I had to scramble to create a book listing on Witchvox quickly as well, so any readers would be able to find out where to buy the book (since it can't be found except in the Lulu marketplace at this point). I did that Monday. There are an unbelievable 6500 impressions on that page; surely this must be due to spiders mapping out the links on the page; it can also be due to counts generated from pictures and other things on the page that aren't necessarily connected to unique visits. My hits at the marketplace (where I can check for unique visits) aren't anywhere near as high. An additional 30 people, perhaps, have looked at the page there.

Once I receive the ISBN, I'll begin contacting the individuals on my media list to see if I can get reviews and coverage for the release. Word of mouth is nice, too, though. If you know anyone who might be interested in this book, please point them in the right direction!

My book is available for purchase!

My book, The Art of Magic Words is finally available. No one else will be as pleased by this as I am; it has been hanging over my head as something unfinished for months. The issues with the graphics we were having seem to have resolved. I'm so relieved!

Here is the "marketing" description of the book:

The Art of Magic Words explains why verse is so appropriate for casting magic: not only are sounds and rhythm conducive to achieving the right state of mind to work magic, but the meaning of the words can help to move you to another state of consciousness, a dream-state in which all is possible. "Having a spell," the author suggests, is a more accurate way to think of it than "casting a spell."

This book will be a solid addition to your occult library, and will especially appeal to you if you're interested in developing spells for your personal or for your coven's Book of Shadows. Not only are ready spells provided in a Grimoire section, but four instructional chapters show how to master the art of spell-poem composition for yourself.

Plus, because the Grimoire section of the book is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License rather than a traditional copyright, with proper attribution the spells herein can be non-commercially published, republished on your Website or in your Book of Shadows, modified and published yet again in order to encourage creativity in the spell casting community.

I was also fortunate enough to get a few people to review the book; here is what a couple had to say:

"This delightful introduction to the composition of New-Age Wiccan Spell Poetry takes the reader through the whole process of making a piece of rhyme that works, and it also includes a Grimoire of spell poems by the author."
--Peter J Carroll, Past Grandmaster, Illuminates of Thanateros


"The Art of Magic Words fills an important gap in the bookshelf of the beginning liturgist, connecting the mechanics that may only be dimly remembered from school to the practice and discipline of Pagan ritual. This slim volume contains a wealth of experience from a practiced and passionate wordsmith."
--Dr. Brent Neal, Triad of Leadership, Universal Eclectic Wicca

"Rather than simply advising readers to consider composing magickal prose as part of their Craft, the author encourages personal experimentation by providing lucid, step-by-step examples of her own creative process. The extensive included Grimoire reveals lyrical verse as a powerful and elegant tool for focusing intent and achieving magickal gnosis. A rich selection of spell-poems ranging from the pragmatic to the celebratory and visionary will inspire readers to explore the techniques herein and experiment with the possibilities for themselves."
--Al Hogar, Mystic and Magus, Order of the Golden Breath

I'm awaiting my final proof copy now; once I receive it and assure myself that the pdf and book preview reflect the printing, I will purchase distribution for the book, and it will (shortly thereafter) become available on Amazon, etc. It is currently priced at $9.98, and available only through Lulu. When distribution at other booksellers begins, however, the price will go up, because Amazon and other book sellers will need their "mark up." At that time, the price will go up to $12.98 (and there will be an actual ISBN number inside, rather than an ISBN placeholder).

If anyone wants a signed copy--why anyone would is beyond me, really, but I did have someone ask about that once--let me know, because I believe I can order a copy, sign it and then send it on to you. If you live far away from me, shipping, of course, will be more or less doubled that way, but my 10 seconds to sign will naturally be free of charge.

I have seen previous proofs of the book, and they were all fine except for a few fine lines that ran through some of the graphics (and drove me crazy). Because these lines were apparent in the electronic preview, as well, I'm relatively certain that there are no such issues with the graphics at this time. However... fair warning. You'll want to weigh whether or not it's worth more to you to get the book now with less expense or to pay three dollars more and get the book after distribution has been purchased when the printing quality has been verified.

Ten Things I’ve Learned from my Chickens

1. The early bird gets the worm. The late bird steals it.

2. If someone won't get out of your way, peck them in the head.

3. Keep your eyes on the sky; others like to attack from above.

4. If all else fails, hide.

5. Stay close to the safety and comfort of home even when free-ranging.

6. The opposite sex is made up of a bunch of cocks.

7. Scratching around in the dirt sometimes turns up surprising things.

8. Keep your eggs in a safe place and defend from intruders at all costs.

9. Often long brooding over good eggs is rewarded... over bad eggs: not so much.

10. Find the highest perch so you can poop on others while simultaneously avoiding getting pooped upon.

Mad world, mad world

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, Going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, No expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, No tomorrow


And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World, Mad World


Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
And they feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me whats my lesson
Look right through me, Look right through me


And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World, Mad World

Summertime, and the Livin's Easy

Where did June go?

I find I've been rather busy with the chicks, the cockerels, the goats, the cats, the budgies, the fish... and so forth. I've taken pictures, but somehow I procrastinate uploading and blogging. It's much more fun to spend time with the animals than it is to type stories about spending time with the animals. Now, though, I find I have a little time to sit at the laptop while lunch is baking: a nice venison stroganoff. Mmm.

The two Ameraucanas I purchased from StormStryder poultry as eggs are my favorite chickens. They're so friendly, they'll direct affection more or less at anyone within their line-of-sight. Most of the Faverolles, again, turned out to be cockerels--I finally ordered some sexed pullets from a commercial hatchery, which rather goes against my grain, but at least I'll be assured of some laying hens.

Out of the nine that hatched, I got the two Ameraucana pullets and one Faverolles pullet. There is also a Silkie whom I've named Sylvia. However, Silkies are almost impossible to sex, even by experienced breeders. She seems to act hennish, and her crest seems to have the right shape for a female, but many-a-person has been fooled.


She's a quiet little thing, half as big as our largest, but she doesn't seem to get picked on. Because of the unusual feathering, Silkies are unable to fly. Lily and Galatea (the two Ameraucanas) easily fly up to one's shoulder and settle for a comfortable visit.

This is Lily doing just that:


My Ameraucanas are Wheatens--that is, "Wheaten" is their color pattern. The breeder I bought from, however, breeds Blue Wheaten birds. Because of the genetics of the blue coloring, the birds can produce Wheaten, Blue Wheaten and Splash wheaten from the same pairing, so to be quite honest, I'm not sure what I have. The roosters are somewhat easier to differentiate as far as their color goes.

Lily's feathers are a light buff, with white lacing, and some of her feathers are white again in the center, as if they're double-laced. The underfluff on her back is slate grey while elsewhere it is white, and there are even some spots of grey on the ends of the feathers toward her tail, very subtle, almost a barring. She's terribly beautiful.

Her sister Galatea is lighter in color, with golden or yellow feathers on her back. All Galatea's underfluff is white, very pretty. In the photo of all the pullets together, below, you can probably see the difference in color. Lily is on the left; commanding her attention is Mathilde, the Faverolles pullet. Behind them, you can see Galatea and Sylvie. Notice the blue legs of the Ameraucanas.


Most chicken breeds have yellow or white (actually flesh colored) legs, but the Ameraucanas have this attractive blue (called "slate"). Silkies actually have black feet, to go with their black skin.

Henry--once known as Henrietta, named in a fit of wishful thinking and impatience--seems to always dribble his water down his little beard, and then get grumpy.


Mathilde isn't nearly as friendly as the other Faverolles I have, but she's is still quite lovely--and funny-looking, too, especially when she settles down and fluffs her feathers. She rather looks like an egg. Her fluffy beard nearly obscures her eyes from the front.



Jean-Jacques is getting big, and Franklin (once named Fanny) has begun to crow. Even Alan thinks the sound is cute: it sounds like a cross between and owl and a mourning dove. "Whooorrrr? Wrrrr..."

Catching up

It's been a while.

We've had life and death since last I wrote: Jazzy died. However Mojo still seems to be doing well. Carolina's milk dried up due to a mastitis infection, and for some time I was dividing my time between sleep and four hour feedings. We're past the worst of it.

The newest babies have hatched and are doing well, although we had one little girl with spraddle leg. A splint seems to have helped. She was a "peel" baby... something many people recommend against. However, she had pipped successfully, but I could see her position was wrong to be able to make it out on her own, and I chose to help. Poor little thing.



Hatching is tiring in any event.


The other chicken babies--not so young, now, perhaps--are doing well in their coop. They have caused my daughter to roll off her chair laughing as they fly to my back or the top of my head to see if there's anything interesting up there. Occasionally Fanny, always the troublemaker, will launch herself into flight and break out of her enclosure. For now, it's more of a temporary playpen until we get the electric fence hooked up.

She takes off like a rocket for no apparent reason, clearing the two-foot chicken wire and then skimming the ground in wild flight toward the apple trees for 20 or 30 good feet. Finally she comes to a halt, and--distressed to find herself so far from her companions--comes screaming back, panicked, until she can find a way back inside.

I can't say that I am fond of Wyandottes if she is a typical specimen. Bossy, noisy, willful, always picking on the other two... how much more pleasant are Jean-Jacques and Marguerite! In my darker moments, I can smell the curry...



Perhaps she senses it here. She looks a bit cowed. Really, though, I won't have a creature terrorizing my flock, be it coon, 'possum or diva.

They won't all fit in the bath, though they do try.



You see Fanny here getting ready to drive out Jean-Jacques. She drew blood. He's the rooster, for goodness sake--you'd think he'd be a bit more inclined to defend his territory, but Faverolles are simply not fighters. They're genteel. Driven out, he mutters astounded at her gall, but nothing else, really. He thinks of her as a mannerless ninny, I should guess. Marguerite, timid though she is, does try to stand beside him when Fanny is at her worst, and Fanny usually backs down, then, because Marguerite is so much larger... though I don't think marguerite has the least idea of what to do should push come to shove. In fact, Fanny is always stealing her food, and would much rather steal a goody from Marguerite than come to The Hand and get a fresh bit of her own. Poor Marguerite. She's always so bereft. It's especially sad, too, I think, because Marguerite is the one with the quickest eye, most likely to catch a tasty bug or grub to begin with... while Fanny simply waits for Marguerite to find something to steal. How I love curry.

Beautiful Marguerite:

A pleading look:


I will have to get some more Marans from MX Farms. Marguerite has such a wonderful temperament. I hope she'll lay well, too. I'm hoping to have eggs by August or September. And I have hatched new plans, as well. For more chickens... naturally. It seems to me that our Cellar house would make a wonderful chicken coop. At 12' x 20', I could probably house 6o chickens in it (although I think I'd want 20 or 25 layers at the most. But the flexibility would give me the opportunity to raise out extra chickens and choose my favorites. Here is the cellar house. What do you think?

Let There Be Goats

Carolina has had her babies--unexpectedly early. I was worried about all I might be called upon to do... in the case of a breach birth, for example, or in case of any other trouble she might have. I needn't have worried, but I wish I had been there.

She had no trouble. I fed her Sunday morning, and she ate voraciously. In fact I heard nothing from her--no disturbance at all--all day. Eowyn can raise quite a ruckus when she chooses. When I went out in the evening to feed them, Alan came with me. He was going to change the light bulb over her stall, and I was going to install the baby monitor, so I could hear her at night if I happened to be sleeping when it began.

She was standing in the middle of the stall, however, a little black lump of fur beside her.




At first, I couldn't imagine what it might be... a raccoon?!! A possum?!!! A giant rat?!!! But, no...

When I came to the realization that she had already given birth to at least one baby, I hardly knew what to do. She seemed okay, but I had no idea whether or not the little one had survived. It was, after all, early.

When checked, however, it was merely curled up and sleeping, and there was another behind Carolina that I hadn't been able to see from outside the stall... also quite alive. Both were bucks. I could have wished for at least one doe.



They are tiny, certainly smaller than Spider, our cat. One was much smaller than the other, and seemed to be chilled, unable to get his feet. I warmed him against my body until he stopped shivering, and then held him up to his mother's teat.

Now, first-time goat-mothers like Carolina can be like any other mothers. They may not know exactly what to do. They may not be prepared for these little aliens to begin sucking on portions of their anatomy--very sensitive portions, I might add. However, Carolina accepted it all with aplomb, nuzzling the little creatures maternally and daintily stepping around them when she needed to move. What a patient mama.

The chilled one, whom we called Carolina's Jazzy Star (Satchmo or Jazzy, for short) was the black one with the little galaxy of stars flecked on his coat... on on his forehead and chest, a couple on his ears, some on his tummy. He needed extra care. I went out every four hours for the first 24 to hold him up to his mother's teat to make sure he was getting enough sustenance.

However, he still didn't seem to be getting quite enough. It was as if he couldn't quite find or keep the nipple in his mouth long enough to get a full belly... so while his brother (Maestro's Sweet Mojo) was getting fat and happy and strong, Satchmo was still unsteady.

At last, I did something I did not want to have to do. I bought "milk replacer" for Satchmo and bottle fed him. I plan to feed him by bottle once or twice a day as a supplement until he can get the hang of nursing from his mama. The formula will not be as good for him by a long shot as his own mother's milk will be. However, if he's not able to get enough, for whatever reason, from her, then it's best he has something additional until he can. Luckily, Mojo will be able to keep Carolina's milk going until Jazzy can join him at the buffet.

In the meantime, I have to admit that bottle feeding has its charms. There's nothing like seeing the tiny little tail wag in greeting.




And his little face is so love-y as he waits for the bottle, it's hard to stop kissing his long enough to offer the food.



Cuddling him is also fun at this point because he hasn't quite figured out where the food comes from, so he'll try to nurse anything that's put in front of him. He's particularly fond of my chin. And when I'm done feeding him, he falls to sleep, just like a human baby might.




Unfortunately, this is when I must return him to his real mother. It really wouldn't do to teach him that he can snuggle with me in bed, which I admit is where I--like a fool--would like to take him. But it wouldn't be much fun when he's a 250 pound stinky buck, I imagine. I don't think it would even be much fun when he's a 40 pound stinky buck.

However, I've got a few more pounds and months before he starts putting on his mature nanny-killah scent, so I'll just have to enjoy the snuggling and chin-sucking now while I can.