Self-absorbed.
I had one of those thoroughly enjoyable evenings, sitting on the patio of a coffee shop in South Austin, ruminating over charts and thinking great thoughts. Explicating matter of the heart and soul of artists, as displayed through the symbols etched out in astrology charts.
I was only booked for two readings, but I do tend to run a little long at times, and in the humid evening’s air, it just felt right. It was an added bonus for the recipients, I would hope.
Once again, the e-mail machine floored me. Left me shaking with anger, angst, and worried the cat. To be really honest, I think the cat was more distraught that I’d been gone for so long and she could see the bottom of her food dish.
Self-absorbed? Wait, wait, every writer is self-absorbed. It’s the nature of the craft.
I figure I’ve got something to say, and at least a dozen folks have signed up, some of the subscriptions are turning over for their second month, I’m beginning to think that this might work.
It’s not a plan to get rich. It’s not a plan to squeeze pennies from the poor, it’s not some malicious attack – I’m only hoping to make the web services pay for themselves.
Check it out. Rest of the site is free.
I’ve had two pissing matches in the last week about charging admission for the current weekly scopes. Up to six or eight hours go into crafting the weekly missive. That doesn’t include the material I carry around in my head, either. The life experiences, the imagination, the astrological observation that are not included in a number of weighty tomes I still keep on my desktop.
2002 was the first time, in over a decade, that this site ran at a loss. A serious loss. As much as I love this work, I’m not real willing to put up with posting red ink all over the place, or sacrificing my own lifestyle, just so some folks can have free entertainment.
As one person wrote to me, “There’s a ton of astrology material on the web for free.”
Hey, you get what you pay for. Most of what I’ve seen is cleverly – or not so cleverly – disguised advertising for services. I can’t do that. Or I could, but I tend not to lean in that direction.
Another e-mail that came in was about “not putting my credit card out on the net, it’s not safe.”
Well, as a decade-long credit card merchant, I’ve few problems with that. When I booked a flight for this weekend, Mother’s Day and all, I just whipped out a piece of plastic and fired the number down the pipeline. No big deal. Been doing that for years. Zero problems.
Worst it’s been, and I’ve lost two credit cards in ten years, one was left in a restaurant in El Paso, and one was actually still sitting on my desk, under a piece of paper. Old number cancelled, no problems, no theft, and the biggest problem is just me.
Fact is, when you hand your credit card to some waiter, you’re in greater danger of theft than with a net transaction. Get over it.
Besides, with the PayPal set-up, it’s real simple, I never see the number. All I get is an email notification that the funds have cleared, minus the service charge, runs about 10%. And seeing as how I can’t run such a small charge through on my own machine, it saves wear and tear. In fact, I don’t have to take any action – software takes care of all aspects of the transaction. Pick your own login; pick your own password. I never have to see it.
I had another writer, recognized the e-mail address time and again, who was using a free service I offered a few years back. Kept ordering up “planet profiles” for free. Explained later that she was using them to help generate characters for works of fiction. Always promised to buy something, but as far as I know, never did.
Numbers: over 1,000 profiles generated, promised maybe a half dozen sales, netted maybe two. No wonder it’s not free anymore, I’m tired of giving everything away for nothing.
Wait, wait, maybe that does make me self-absorbed.
Looks like there’s about a dozen or more sites listed off to the left. I suppose they’re all self-absorbed, too.
And I never got around to making the point I set out to make, when I looked this over: I wonder what it’s like to just read you’re own sign? Is that pretty self-absorbed, too?
