Hens Lay Eggs

food for thought

Really?

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In my eternal quest for new projects and clients, I came across two opportunities last week that appeared promising. The first was right up my alley, ghostwriting a fantasy romance novel. Then came the details. The second was for a “position” as a freelance editor for a company that offers ghostwriting and manuscript editing services. Then came the details.

First, the fantasy romance novel. Here are the parameters: 90,000 words delivered in 30 days. The posted budget is $40, although the buyer does request bidders insert what they’d really charge. There are several issues with the solicitation, not the least of which is delivering 90,000 words within 30 days. December has 23 weekdays. If I worked on nothing but that project, I’d expect to put in 12 hours and 45 minutes every weekday on it. For $40. I can’t think of anyone who would do that. I’d rather give my work away for free … oh, wait, I’ve done that. (If you’ve been paying attention to this blog and taking advantage of the Book of the Month promotions, then you know this.)

Anyway, I responded to the post in the (faint) hope that the buyer could be educated. That seldom works. Usually, I get no response whatsoever. Occasionally, I get a rude reply basically stating that my rates are unseemly and exorbitant–no one’s worth that much! Regardless, I stated in my bid that the project would take several months to complete and I entered my fee, considerably more than $40.

Let’s not forget to mention that the platform on which this magnificent project was posted skims 20% of vendor earnings and then charges another $1 to transfer earned funds to the vendor’s bank account. Therefore, the oh-so-generous, posted fee of $40 would net the vendor $31 before taxes.

Second, the editing gig (see image below). A platform which shall remain unnamed but isn’t Fiverr, Guru, or Upwork, offers ghostwriting and manuscript editing services. That’s their specialty. They pay freelance contractors a flat rate of $5 per 1,000 words to edit (and $15 per 1,000 words to write). Well, in comparison with the above gig, that doesn’t seem so bad, does it?

There is no standard average for editing speed, but the unofficial rule of thumb is 1,500 words per hour. Some editors are faster, some slower. The quality of the manuscript affects speed a great deal. Some documents need more intensive editing which takes longer; some need less intensive editing which takes less time. Let’s assume a 20,000-word novella lands on my desk. Without even looking at the quality of the written material, I calculate an initial estimate that this project will take around 13 hours and 20 minutes for which I would be paid $100 or, roughly, $7.50 per hour.

Now look at the scope of work under “Fiction Copyeditor tasks.” That’s a lot of skill and expertise to expect for 25 cents more per hour than federal minimum wage ($7.25/hour). If fast food workers can demand and get twice that for the work they do, then why should a skilled professional accept less?

When someone wants to hire a ghostwriter or editor, there’s often an element of sticker shock that accompanies the fees quoted. Of course, the buyer wants to pay as little as possible. Of course, the vendor wants to earn as much as possible. There’s a happy medium where both compromise. That’s where I set my rates. I won’t get rich on those rates, but they establish me as a professional who commands professional rates.


Coffee Time Romance Interview

Can you share a little something about Holly Bargo that’s not mentioned in your bio on your website? 

I dearly want to travel, but I loathe traveling. There’s nothing fun about waiting in airports, being crammed into uncomfortable seats, and the general inconvenience and discomfort of travel. To take care of that desire to experience other cultures and places, I enjoy watching travel shows.  

When did you know that you wanted to be a writer?  

Since high school. As a young child, I flirted with the idea of becoming a nurse like my mother. Then I wanted to become a veterinarian. Then I learned I was squeamish. So, healthcare was out of the question.

Rowan #MFRWhooks

Branch 1 of the Tree of Life
nDecember Book Of The Month 

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nNearly a century ago, Rowan Nemed died by lightning strike. The divine bolt ignited something magic and she was transformed into something rare, powerful, and fey: sidhe.
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nSidhe survival depends much upon one’s ability to remain hidden from other supernatural creatures and magic users who would exploit them. Rowan has lived for several years in the pressure cooker of Hollywood as a set designer, carefully staying away from the camera. However, a spontaneous act of recognition for her work brings Rowan to the notice of Los Angeles’ supernatural community and her freedom is threatened.
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nLion shifter Adrian and vampire Simon are best friends and business partners. When they discover Rowan, each wants her for his own. Rowan does her best to dissuade them, for a supernatural matebond means the end of her freedom.
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nThen demons begin hunting sidhe and Rowan is a prime target. She agrees to exchange her freedom for survival. But which male will Rowan accept? And can she survive when one of them dies in a battle to keep her?
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nThis is the first of three books in The Tree of Life trilogy. The book can be read as a stand-alone novel.
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5 Star Review​

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nWow! Great read and I highly recommend it. Nicely developed characters and story line keep you intrested. Looking forward to the rest of this series!n

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Excerpt 

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nCameras flashed and fans screamed as Derek Wolfe eased his long, lean body from the shiny, black limousine. Equally shiny, black shoes settled on the deeply red carpet lined on either side by photographers, reporters, fans, and lesser celebrities. He flashed his brilliant trademark smile at them and waved as he waited for his bodyguard to shadow him. The men waited while the lusciously voluptuous figure of a starlet riding Wolfe’s comet to fame and fortune emerged from the limousine and joined them. She did not yet merit a bodyguard. Bedecked in pale pink sequins and borrowed diamonds, she glittered and sparkled like cheap champagne. Wolfe took her hand in his and they paraded along the red carpet, the bodyguard following closely and making sure that none of the fans or paparazzi became overly enthusiastic in the presence of their idols.
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nI found the whole exercise in fantasy, fame, and infatuation endlessly entertaining. Since Hollywood’s golden age, the process repeated itself over and over as a particular leading man or lady gripped the nation’s attention and affection and commanded salaries that most folks only dimly imagined.
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nFirmly ensconced behind the scenes where my anonymity could be protected, I loved making Hollywood magic come to vivid life. That evening’s set raised the bar and even I would have to work hard to exceed its success. Film sets were enhanced by digital wizardry; special effects on live audience sets were much more difficult to pull off, but I—and my small company—did it.
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n“Rowan, once again Stardust Set Design has created an unbelievably beautiful and fantastic venue,” Bertie Pendergast complimented with a small wave that sparkled and flashed with gold and jewels. Bertie loved his rings. “Troy Ingalls told me that you are definitely chosen as the set designer for his next movie—probably all three of them.” He added as an aside, “Betty Davis is doing the costume design. You’ll want to coordinate with her.”
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nI smiled and politely accepted the high praise and exceedingly good news from Hollywood’s most prominent B-list actor who was often selected to host several of the self-congratulatory awards programs that actors and moviemakers like to broadcast. These events afforded Hollywood’s darlings, the has-beens, and the ambitious up-and-comers with ample opportunities to flatter themselves, to parade before fans, and to attend decadent and extravagant parties. That night’s Oscars awards program and party was being held at the opulent Kodak Theater.
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n“Bertie, you’re an angel,” I said when he offered to introduce me to Troy Ingalls, the hottest director in the business who had just signed Derek Wolfe to a three-movie contract for an obscene amount of money. The blonde beauty who accompanied him that night held one of the lead parts in the ensemble cast.
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n“Troy’s doing a Camelot-based trilogy. The first is based on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” Bertie said with a shrug. “It’s a departure for Derek, but then Tom Cruise did a fabulous job as the vampire Lestat, which really surprised everyone.”
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n“I take it that Derek is Sir Gawain?”
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n“He’s too rugged to play Arthur,” Bertie said with a grin. “They’ve got Hammer Allencamp for that role.”
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nI repressed a groan as the actor just named by Bertie walked past us. He had shoulder-length, blonde hair, an impressive physique, a dangerously beautiful face, and an IQ equivalent to his shoe size.
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n“It’s a good thing he’s pretty,” Bertie said in a snide undertone.
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nI choked back a chuckle.
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n“You know, Rowan,” Bertie began, “I don’t see why you’re not in front of a camera.”
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n“Because I can’t act,” I retorted. My own accompanying shrug concealed the need for continued anonymity. Discovery meant loss of freedom and that meant someone had to die. I preferred that someone not be me. Patrick Henry said it best: “Give me liberty or give me death.”
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nSilver Dagger Book Tours Signup 
nTour will be from  December 17th – January 17th 

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Author

Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.

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Karen (Holly)

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