I’m a huge e-book fan.
I’ve been re-e-reading Designing Your Life thanks to my Kindle Composition Book, as well as indulging in a never-ending bounty of self-help books on kindness, behavioral psychology, and gardening…
Courtesy, of course, of Kindle Unlimited.
With Kindle Unlimited, when I finish an e-book, (which is every 2 to 5 days,) I transition gracefully into my next romance, fantasy, science fiction, nature, poetry, or novella e-read, without ulcering myself with my bank account. At a stable $9.99 a month, I have unlimited access to a library I can visit 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, stress-free.
I can also have up to 10 e-books “checked out” at a time. Authors are paid based on how much I read—not if I complete the text—and it’s not like I have a lit quiz tomorrow; so I’m under no pressure to finish a novel…
But if it’s daaayum good writing, then yeah, I finish a novel.
Actually, we frequently finish e-books here. We’re an e-reading household. Chase and I read Kindle for at least an hour before bed every night. It’s our e-hour. Is e-hour a thing yet?
Mind you, I haven’t abandoned traditional books; I read a paperback for a half hour in the bath, and a few times a week, I escape into a cat photography hardcover while on the heavy-duty fish aquarium elongated oval toilet seat with cover acrylic seats.
I read Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to series while brushing my hair.
But I never liked fussing with reading lights in the dark; so I never trusted books in bed… At least, not until the Kindle became a staple in my life. Now? I e-read more than paper-read, and it’ll likely remain that way forever.
While I doubt Kindle Unlimited pays for its $9.99-a-month upkeep for infrequent e-readers, I promise, if you already invest as much time into your Kindle as your Hulu or Netflix, then there’s no reason to not subscribe to Kindle Unlimited—it’ll be worth its monthly vampirism to your e-checking.
Target Words: Wedding Registry
Target Words: Wedding Registry is a blogging exercise I’ve designed to entertain myself while writing.
Rules: In order for me to put an item on our Amazon wedding registry, I’m required to use the item name in a blog post, as if it were a target word; for example, the heavy-duty fish aquarium elongated oval toilet seat with cover acrylic seats was the target word in this article.
I have a secret list of future target words, and I’ll give myself however much time is needed to complete the Target Words: Wedding Registry game organically.
Once Upon a Time…
When I was 22- to 25-years-old, I worked in third-party marketing as a copywriter and copyeditor, writing for websites meant for organic traffic (SEO) and paid traffic (SEM).
Copywriters were given a list of “target words” for landing pages—webpages designed to market something to the reader slash viewer—which we were supposed to use as often as possible; so here we were, writing articles that said “concrete contractor” 5% of the time, while trying our darnedest to not write a piece of shit.
After all, Internet readers would have to wade through our copy to get to the marketing gimmicks.
I loved the game of target words—search-engine-optimized writing—because it was a puzzle, a challenge to include target words as many times as possible, without ruining the quality of writing of course; the game of target words was a riddle, designed specifically for my brain, ready to balance magic tricks and integrity perfectly.