Author C. B. Dixon
Books. Life. Wonder.
Sparks
It seems that inspiration is everywhere for my newest book; hanging the walls, expressions on faces, and even in the sound of the plane landing. I never thought that I would be able to hear a monster in the growl of a small propellor plane pressing down onto the tar mat. I could hear the belly of the beasts rumble. I could feel the hungry shiver.
I’d explored the world when I wrote Wicked Soul Ascension. Even though I searched in all the right places nothing seemed to stick. With Wicked up for sale, and the phone calls from friends and family, emails from strangers, pouring in about what they thought about the story, I’ve come to understand that much more about my writing. It affects them each in their own way. While others felt the fear that emanated from the void, some found themselves attached to the realistic characters within the tale.
These comments got me thinking. How did I get the reader engulfed into a story that was all my own imagination? How did they see this world I brought to life?…How did I bring it to life?
I started by taking notice of the things I zoned out on. Small cracks in the floor, the fine lines on the wood, the texture of food on a sign, and even the stray hair that hangs out of a stranger’s nose. Yes, it sometimes gets that weird. After I realize that I am staring at these things, I focus inward. What am I thinking about when I stare at such things? Most of the time it’s a jumble of ideas. A vortex of thoughts that I can’t seem to put together. Other times, it’s a solid thought that I can’t seem to break. It’s these thoughts that I decode. The crack in the floor could be a canon or a scar on someone’s arm. The grains in the wood become a map of roads, trails, or even rivers. Even that awkward nose hair dangling out, wiggling with every exhale, oddly enough can add some inspiration. It adds the realistic touch to characters that not everyone thinks of. Strange, I know. It’s these things that weird people out, that add that tad of gross. It’s these uncomfortable moments that add to the rollercoaster ride through a person’s written imagination.
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Decisions, Decisions, Nightmare!
Woohoo, Wicked Soul Ascension was launched December 1, 2016. What an emotional day that was for me. I wanted nothing more than to be home staring at the computer screen. I didn’t expect the trouble that was coming my way. I used this self-publishing publisher type company. They place my book on all the websites like Kobo, Google Play, Amazon, Barns and Noble, and Goodreads. They also do a ninety-day book marketing for me. This company, I won’t give names yet due to the fact that I am locked into a contract, polished my script, and cover. The list goes on.
Some back story: I’m using this self-publishing publisher type company. They place my book on all the websites like Kobo, Google Play, Amazon, Barns and Noble, and Goodreads. They also do a ninety-day book marketing for me posting on Twitter and Facebook. This company, I won’t give names yet due to the fact that I am locked into a contract, polished my script, and cover. The list goes on. And all it costs me is $99.00 USD a month for twenty-four months. It’s the most cost-effective way for me to get my book out, without haveing to fork over a lump sum of money upfront. I was excited to get started with them, it sounded like a dream come true.
Why them? Having them on a payment plan was gold to me. They also sounded like the perfect final step before launch. 90 days marketing that would start before launch, Wicked Soul Ascension would be released in 4-5 months, one final edit to polish the script up, and they’d use my cover illustration to make the jacket out of. On top of it all, they would manage my book sales that happened on the web so I could work on the rest of the trilogy without worry.
Too good to be true? Seems so. They didn’t steal my money and run. That was nice. Instead, they killed all my hard work. Took a knife to it, slit it’s throat for all the world to see.
That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Okay, maybe a tad. I’ll let you decide.
The relationship started out great. They let me know all the things that the company offered. They let me know that they would meet the deadline I gave them. I accepted to get the polishing edit, thinking…why not? Another set of eyes looking it over wouldn’t hurt, right?
April 24, 2016: I made my first payment. December 1, 2016, is when my book was launched… My goal was October 1st. I had all the major things done and ready for them. Even a main edit was done by my editor. My cover illustrations, and the draft of what the jacket was to look like, all done. The deadline should have been reached.
Well, April 27 is when I got confirmation of when they got my script to edit. June 28th is when I got it back. Now, remember, I had a professional editor edit it for me so it shouldn’t’ve taken that long. It was a polish edit, not a full edit. The person that edited the story praised me throughout the story and edited a few things. Not as much that was needed. Since getting my book in book form I’ve found some mistakes than my editor and I missed, and it was this person’s job to find them that’s why I paid them to do that.
Next was formatting. And my worst nightmare came alive and took my poor manuscript, hung it from the ceiling to torture it, and my doing so almost made me quit publishing Wicked. If it wasn’t for my editor, my backbone, standing beside me to nurse the author back into me. All my italics in the story went missing! Now, most would say it’s not that bad. But, Wicked’s book has dreams and thoughts that are in italics. That makes up most of the story. So, instead of getting the manuscript and redoing the formatting they made me go through the manuscript twice to put in all the italics. This took two months to do. By then, it was late October. Missed my deadline, missed the Halloween market which was the best market for this type of story…
They still hadn’t made the cover or gotten anything else done during the time of their mistake. I had to pay for it…Not in money, in wasting my own time. I guess I lost money due to this mistake because I missed my target marketing time.
With the help of my editor, we forced the book out for December 1st. I had to hound them to hurry the F up and get my book launched. It’s now almost Christmas, and I missed another market…they still haven’t launched the ninety-day marketing that I was promised…and I have a feeling they will start it after Christmas when no one will have money due to how expensive Christmas is for everyone. Not only that, yesterday was when they finally put a book cover on my Goodreads page.
Thank you for listening to my rant, my ramble, my awful headache. Next time, I will not be using this company. When it’s all done, I will be placing the companies name on here. If you would like to know what company it was I used. Please feel free to message me on my website: www.cbdixon.com
If you have had a similar experience I would love to hear it in the comments below.
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The Laughing Oyster Book Reading
April 28 2015, I went to my first book reading. A spur-of-the-moment acton for me. I had never thought about going to a book reading, I’ll tell you the truth my shaky nerves never let me go to one. I don’t like being in crowds of people. When I read the ad about The Laughing Oyster Book Reading Night I wondered why my hands calmed up at the thought of going. One: I had no friends to go with. I’d have to go alone. Two: I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Those were horrible reasons not to go. Okay, start again. One: I don’t know the authors going.
Wait a minute. What’s wrong with that? Nothing’s wrong with that! A chance to meet new people and put myself out there. You have to go.
Fanny Bay is a small community on Vancouver Island. Close by to the town I have just recently moved to. I had driven through Fanny Bay before but I never stopped in to look around. The community hall where the book reading was being held was right off the highway, a half hour from Courtenay BC where I work.
With no excuse not to go I drove down to Fanny Bay, paid the five dollar entrance fee to experience my first book reading. Eight tables filled the large space inside the hall. The chairs around the tables were filled by white haired retirees. I found one empty chair off on the side were I could view all the guests and wonder what possessed me to come. A woman bounced a new born in her arms, finally, I thought, I’m not the youngest here. Second youngest to an infant. I was 24 with hazelnut hair sitting in the midst of a snow storm.
The lights dimmed and a woman who worked for the hall stepped on the stage to get the ball rolling. My attention drifted from my age and loneliness to the woman welcoming Pat Smekal and David Frazer. Two friends from opposite sides of Northwest Bay, part of the Georgia Straight, who found a way to dance over the water. Poems were sent through email to one another, the sender would send a poem and the recipient replied with another. Soon their book, Maybe We Could Dance, formed. Over 18 months of emails the two friends danced over the waters of the straight. Then their they were, standing in the spot light before me reading their heart filled poems. A call-and-reply. I liked their unique way of reading together. How the emotion of their words played on their faces as they touched parts of their past that brought them joy, and others that brought them sorrow.
After Pat and David ventured off the stage the announcer came back on to introduce the next reader.
Maleea Acker from Victoria. She is the author of two books of poems and one essay called Gardens Aflame: Garry Oak Meadows of BC’s South Coast. When she took the stage I wondered who this person was, how she became to write poetry. She mentioned she traveled throughout North America and wrote poems during her journeys. One poem she read called Tacos that made me chuckle. I had been in Mexico searching for tacos, feeling like an outcast within the crowds and then not caring about it once that taco was in my grasp. She had another few poems about the other side of Canada that made me think about my home town in Alberta. She reminded me about snow and ice, those frozen lakes where I could bring a shovel and skates. When she read her poems I drifted from the room and walked down memory lane with her voice as my guide. It was neat. I never thought that someone would help me remember things that I had long since forgotten. The guest applauded as Meleea found her way to her table.
Intermission.
I thought about hiding in the safety of my car. Avoid all contact, and then I remembered I brought money to buy a book. I remembered Victoria where I had just moved from and those beautiful Garry Oaks. With Maleeas essay in mind I stood and journeyed through the coffee hungry seniors to the book table. I picked up the essay, and then I noticed a peculiar book that stood out among the rest. A half naked woman wearing brains in the shape of a heart for pants. She appeared to be a faun, but instead of half goat she is half organs. I let my eyes study all the other covers; soft colours, calm layout, and natural images, and then there was this one. Blood leaking down from to form legs of the woman. I wanted to buy it right then and there but I had only a select amount of money I could spend. So I ignored the impulse to it buy.
Away from the table I snagged a woman to ask her how long the intermission was. I didn’t want to miss the next show as I slid from the sea of people to hide in the safety of my car. She didn’t know, and somehow we ended up talking about the show. Turns out she was a friend of the next reader. Her description of her friend made me want the break to end so I could dive into the next authors mind. Apparently the next reader could make the audience squirmy and uncomfortable, sounded like my type of author. The half naked woman came to mind. The authors name is Jane Eaton Hamilton. She happened to be walking towards us as her friend and I talked. Just like that I was face to face with an award winning author. I thought I’d turn to smoke and disappear. “This is Chianne,” Janes friend told her. “She’s a young author.” I felt my face burst into flames. I have alway had a hard time talking to people about my book and here I was about to talk to a professional. I had no reason to be nervous. She was down to earth and helpful, funny too. “Do you have any advice for a first time author?” I asked. “Persistence,” Jane answered. “Don’t give into the thought of giving up.” When Jane departed, her friend talked me into buying the book I decided not to get. I only meant to get one book, and now I had two. It really didn’t bother me to much, I love books.
Before the intermission ended I chased down Maleea and Jane to get their signatures. It had been my first encounter with real authors, there was no way I was going to let them be ordinary books. I wanted signed books. And just like that I had my first ever signed novels. I skipped over to my chair with my head held high.
Next on stage was Jane. She sat at a table covered in a crimson cloth, and read amazingly crafted poems. After that she read a short story about an illness that she had experienced. Her use of language drew the crowd into the pain of the main character. At times the crowd shuffled in their seats as they became uncomfortable, then they laughed at the well placed jokes, and gasped at the shocking moments. We all got sucked in to the sad tale of years of hard ships. It reminded me of times I had spent at the doctors, they’d tell me nothing is wrong, when I knew something wasn’t right with me. The main character was given medication that made her illness worse. I had been given medication that made me worse. When the main character and I both stopped the medications, the illness disappeared. Funny how that happens. It was sad to hear that I’m not the only one that this had happened too.
When the show was over I rushed out to beat the traffic. I had an hour and a half drive to get home. I’d be home at eleven o’clock, if I sped. I had a job interview in the morning that I needed to be alert for. While I drove down the long empty highway towards Campbell River, I snuck a glance at the two books beside me. There was something missing. I whipped the car around. Parked at the hall and jolted inside hoping that Maleea and Jane were still inside. The hall had emptied in the few minutes I had been gone. All the older folk needed to go home to bed, it was nine thirty after all, never mind that, I needed to go home to bed. I spotted Jane first, had our picture taken, and snagged another chance to talk to her about writing. I asked her about publishing vs. self-publishing. She didn’t think either one was a bad choice, really depends on the writer. Maleeas had a similar opinion when I chased her down next to get a picture with her.
My thoughts on book readings:
Music fans have their concerts. Book fans have their readings.
Cheers,
C.B. Dixon
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What I learned from my first time using a professional editor.
1. Editors are real people.
When I went through the edits that my editor Ann had wrote on my manuscript, I could read the emotions that went into the correction. I found it neat that she had gotten so involved with the characters and scenes that the font she used (in her hand writing) changed as the story sped up and slowed. Then there was this; I kept making the same mistake over and over again. At first she wrote the correction like all the other edits, but as the story went on the pen get heavier, and soon it was written in all caps. Sorry Ann, now I know how to use that punctuation.
2. My editor taught me a new way to see my manuscript.
I had never made it to hiring a professional editor before. My stories used to be locked away in a hidden spot were only I could see them. Since I hired an editor I am able to see my manuscript through a readers eyes. I tried to do this before I sent it off to Ann by letting my story rest and then go back to it a month later. This helped but I didn’t really know what I was looking for. Now I can see the repeated words, missed punctuation, added letters, character mishaps, and the fragmented sentence. Even one of my characters magically appeared out of nowhere. Lesson one: Always hire someone that knows what they are doing.
3. Phone calls from the editor can be a scary thing.
Right before Ann returned my manuscript to me I got a phone call. When her name showed up on the caller ID my heart skipped a beat. She had a few more days till she would be done the edits so why was she calling me? Oh no! Ran over and over in my head. What did I do? I clicked answer and greeted her with a shaky, “hello”. She had good news for me. My manuscript was edited. She had enjoyed it. There was work to be done, and learning too. That I could handle, that I understood. The conversation didn’t go like I first expected. It was quite pleasant. We said our good byes and then the sensation of being a author set in. I was on my way to publishing an actual book. I had an editor, she was real. I knew what she thought of my manuscript, her excited voice told me all I needed to know. I should be proud of what I wrote. I couldn’t help the shake that took over. A new anxiety grew. I wrote a book, and having my first edit done made it all real.
If a new writer was to come up to me and ask; what is one of the most important things they could do for their story, I would suggest an editor. They have that critical eye that makes the story flow without the glitches. Even though this is the end of my first edit, my manuscript has improved in ways that I could never do alone.
Time for round two!
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To Much of a Good a Thing
Dear Caffeine,
I write you today to say goodbye. My doctor says we can’t be together any more. I know one day you will understand. It’s not you it’s me. Don’t cry…it’s hard for me too. You’re just not good for me. Doc says that you hurt me. Please understand that as I write this I am already missing your sweet bold taste, your creamy goodness…maybe he’s wrong…no C.B. snap out of it!
Caffeine you’re bad for me. I can’t stand the pain any longer. Your hot sweet energy can’t be mine any longer. It’s over. No longer will we spend the days together writing in the coffee shops or on the bus or in the mall. No longer will I keel over in pain from your corrosive essence. I wont think about you when I drive by the Tim Hortons, Second Cup , 7-11, McDonald’s, the mall…okay maybe I will No, I will stay strong. I know your thinking your strong enough to take this, and I know your strong and bold and, no! I wont let you get in my head. Goodbye Caffeine. It has to be this way.
Missing you already,
C.B. Dixon
Goodbye forever my sweet Caffeine.
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Nasty Thought. Blessed Karma.
Karma at work:
In line at Tim Hortons to get my coffee, I noticed a elderly woman rummaging through her purse. Her scrunched face and silent curses told me something was up. I walked over and asked if I could help. She had lost her winning coffee rim (a free coffee) in the disaster of her bag. I told her she could find it later, I’d buy her a coffee. She refused. The Tim’s worker called me to the till. I moved forward and called the woman over to join me, I’d ease her pain by giving her a free coffee. It was at that moment she found her winning rim. The woman then walked to the till to order her coffee along side mine. To my surprise she bought me my coffee.
Actions speak louder then words!
When I offered to buy the lady the coffee it wasn’t without great thought. I am short on money now that I’ve paid my editor and I wondered if I could spare the extra bit of cash. I bit my tongue at the thought. I could afford the extra $1.95. If I was really that hurt for cash I wouldn’t be in line about to buy a coffee for myself. I became disgusted by my thoughts. I could buy her a coffee, it would make this person who is obviously upset happy. I let my good intentions take wing. Look what happened when I did. Karma rewarded the actions I had taken. It’s easy to close ourselves off to those around us even when they are right there in front us suffering.
Actions are remembered, no matter how small.
The woman and I walked away with smiles on our faces and a higher respect for the strangers we pass by each day.
Have a great day!
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To Use You Well
Dear Machine,
How are you these days? I hardly recognize you behind all the new parts you have. You seem to have made it far in this new world we live in. I remember, way back in the day, when you told me of a man that said you were nothing, just a waste of time, that you would never make it. Well my dearest friend, if that man were alive today he’d kick himself for not believing in your unique skills. Your diverse children are spread around the world in the hands, pockets, and on top of heads of people. Some are massive enough to move mountains and others tiny enough that it we need to use a distant cousin to see what that child looks like. From the wheel and axle that help the sick, the healthy, the poor, and the wealthy to the computer at my finger tips. You have family that have made it to space and have allowed us to see in to other galaxies. I always believed in you, I always will.
You’re everywhere and with everyone.
There was a promise made, and a promise broken.
You were born to aid man. Your mother and father dreamed of your future the moment they held you in their hands. What they saw was you working hand-in-hand with man to make life simple and easy so all could live stress free life, and in turn we would take care of you.
Everyday life seems to get more instant and everything seems to be now. I know you feel it too. Life hasn’t become more easy…it’s become a weight that we are crushed by. You get us place to place, connect us to one another, mend us when we’re broken, and yet we haven’t mastered you. We rely on you too much. When all the lights go out we no longer know what to do. We have lost the ability to function without you. Oh my dear friend it seems that we, mankind, have become a part of you. Take a moment. Look around. We have left our symbiotic relationship and entered into host-parasite relationship, you know who is who. What are we to do? Use our heads? Do I even know how to do that anymo…wait let me Google that. Didn’t work, let me ask Siri.
On the lighter side, I’m excited for your new child. I think Hover Board is a great name for the newest addition. I’m excited to invite her over to my place so we can play together. Her older brother Long Board is patently waiting to meet her.
You take care. Reply soon.
Cheers,
C.B. Dixon
P.s. Let’s go back to the beginning. Back to simple. Could we do that?
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Impulse Gone Pro
Have you ever experienced an impulse?
You’ve had to buy that object or eat that sweet or make your move? I’m going to talk about impulsive buying.
I am what people call impulsive. Once something is in my head I can’t get it out. It mostly comes when I want to buy something. If there is an object that I want, it begins to scratch at the inside of my skull and eat away all rational thought. There’s no thought about how much money I have or if I need that thing, I must have it and I need it now.
Well I have a solution to this problem. Yes. And it’s easy. Barricade all funds behind a solid wall and then don’t think about it…yeah right. The answer isn’t easy. I’ve been struggling with my obsessive impulse buys since I got my first allowance. For anyone that has experienced the thought of ‘I must have this!’ is one of the hardest to push away. There is no ‘why’, there is no ‘can I afford it?’ It’s all now and only now.
I will share you what I have done that has helped me. I’m not going to tell you it’s the perfect answer because perfect is an unrealistic word that no one can live up to. This is the path I find the easiest.
First I will explain what I buy. Gadgets. I buy all kinds of technology, from Gameboys to computers. It all started with the first Gameboy, then the Gameboy colour, then the Sony Playstation…it spiralled till I had bought all of it. I never kept the predecessor. I gave them away for free to friends that wanted them or to someone who would use it. Normally I would use it until I bought the next thing. Sometimes I’d buy it, play it for a day, then ditch it to the side. Game systems I used for a day or two before I beae bored and picked up and picked a book.
Now I am about to break my own self destruction.
We don’t need these things to survive. Wants and needs are to separate things. I went about creating a list of things that I want and then circled the things I needed out of the list. One was a MacBook Pro but I already had a Gateway desktop computer that I never used so why would I need another computer. I wrote myself a note on why I would need to have a MacBook. After six pages I decided that if I would like to enhance my writing career then I would need to evolve from my iPad 3 and get an actual computer that would sync with my iPad. There are two novels written on my iPad plus all my author info, my blog posts, every detail of my writing life was on the iPad. I needed consistency that my PC couldn’t give me. Beyond that, I needed a bigger screen, storage space, a web browser that showed me more then the mobile site, and it had to be portable (this being one of the multiple reasons I didn’t use my desktop). I then talked to my husband for his advice. He always gives me his honest opinion. He doesn’t say a blank yes or no, he gives me pros and cons of his answer. Mark told me that I was right. I needed a real computer, not just a tablet, to cary on with my writing.
I went out and found myself a deal. I bought the MacBook Pro with retina display.
People told me, ‘once you go Mac, you never go back.’
Now I tell my friends the same. It has done what I planned it to do. I write more often and am no longer frustrated with my little iPad screen. I can use full webpages and have access to a wider selection of apps. Numbers and Pages come with the Mac computers and I have used them to their full extent, I’ve only had my Mac for three days.
With all that said I will go back to the impulse buy thing. Notice how I wrote out pros and cons of what I would use the computer for? The list worked. It won’t be done if you go and buy candy or make up or a bag of chips. This is what I do when I go out and buy something that costs more than fifty dollars. That’s a week of groceries. I consulted someone who I knew would give me an honest outlook on what I wanted and thought I needed. With the cost of living on a constant increase and wages at a standstill, impulsive buys can be devastating. Once your locked into a payment plan there are penalties when you back out of them.
Ask yourself, ‘do I need it or do I want it?’
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People watching
Everyday People.
Smells of rich caffeine and baked sweets fuel the buzz. The click of the keyboard keeps in time with the blare of the music in my ear buds. A grey haired woman sits beside the chilled window fixed to the yellowed pages of her book. The misty air on the other side of the glass moistened the outside world. A man in a puffy black jacket pushed the door open for a woman with a small child in her arms. A smile and nod is all that was needed. The child eyed his mother with sparked curiosity.
Two woman raised from their chairs. Their conversation was to exciting to break although the one in a loose black shall inches toward the door. Smiles and laughs, in-between tight hugs. The woman breaks away with her head turned and eyes locked to her friend. They blows a kiss and waves good-bye before she dashed through the misty air.
People watching. Have you ever experienced it? Have you seen someone people watching you? I have.
I people watch. I don’t know if it’s something that a writer does naturally or if it’s the way I am. I could be deep in thought or stuck on a scene or when I’m with friends. I can be deep into my story and then I hear a strange comment that I didn’t expect and find myself watching those around me. The above blurb was me watching what happens around me as I write. I never tried to write what I see in a room full of people. To be honest it makes me a little nervous.
What if someone noticed what I was doing?
Still, my little blurb that I started with made me release how helpful it can be to boost ones writing. Countless things had happened that I couldn’t capture because I tried to think of the right word to use or asked myself did I capture that right? If I would have written, without thought, just my fingers and eyes in tune with one another the scene would have had a different feel.
People watching as a writer can be used to enhance the manuscript.
This is my own opinion. A tool that I have released after a while of dwelling on the distractions around me while I wrote. A child may laugh or an argument erupts, chairs fly and eyes dart around. Whatever it maybe, people’s actions give way to ideas, and with those ideas characters gain personalities.
And this is my little coffee shop thought. Thank you for stepping into my mind for a moment.
Have a wonderful day.
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Enter the New Year
I enter into the new year with high expectations for my future. In the past, no matter what my New Years resolution was, it seemed to get lost around March. Every year, the same thing. Well 2015 is going to be different. I am going to complete my New Years resolution. There is no might or attempt or even try! I will. You can hold me to it.
This year I am going to get my book Wicked Soul Ascension published.
So far I’m off to a good start. I have a completed manuscript that is ready for an editor.
With my manuscript in hand, I found an editor that was interested in my book. Her name, Ann Westlake. She is one of the most helpful people I’ve come across. Over a two hour phone call her and I talked about the craft of creating a novel. Ann had great ideas above and beyond editing and writing. With her help she made it possible for me to afford the costs of publication.
After I talked to Ann I knew that it was time for me to get a publishing name. I got my business licences and registered Hidden Words Publishing as my publishing company. I was actually about to accomplish a life long dream.
In November I took on the NaNoWriMo challenge for the first time. For those that don’t know what that is, NaNoWriMo is a writing challenge to complete 50,000 words in 30 days. Everyday as I worked on the challenge I would walk by a charcoal drawing of a fox that hangs on my wall. A beautiful work of art. Edgy and sinister. Around the end of November I began thinking, cover, cover, cover. Wicked needed an image. I called up Christine White, the artist of the fox I admire, and pitched the idea of her as my cover artist. She accepted and was thrilled to take on the challenge. I went to her studio and we talked for hours about the cover. As I spoke she doodled, took notes and asked in depth questions. I was pleased by how serous she took me. Her work is magical and I know she will aply that magic into the cover of Wicked.
Iryna Spica then found her way into my life. Her passion for transforming a story document into a beautiful book caught my attention. The way she talked about covers, spines, margins, fonts, and paper made me want to see a book through her eyes. She had many great inspirational ideas that let me see my manuscript as a novel. Iryna and I will put the word document, cover art, and text together to create a beautiful novel that you can hold in your hands or put on your ereader.
I am ready to take the new year head on.
2015 I’m ready for you.
Author C. B. Dixon 