When Life Gives You Vinegar...

One of my favorite YouTube channels is Tasting History with Max Miller. Every Tuesday -- sometimes more often -- Max makes an old recipe and "while that's cooking," he dives into the history behind the dish. He is charming and informative and blessed with a hundred ways to reference hard tack.

Usually, I watch from the comfort of my couch as Max cooks and noshes on historical foods. However, he recently made something that I just had to try...

The past 5 weeks since my main source of income dried up have been... interesting. The future is more steeped in uncertainty than usual, which leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

If I had a dollar for every person who told me "when God closes a door, He opens a window," I'd be able to pay this month's electric bill.

Sure, make lemonade when life gives you lemons. But what about when life hits you with vinegar...?

Well, Max recently came up with the solution:


  

Make shrub! 

This once in-vogue drink made from a sweetened vinegar-based syrup hearkens back to Colonial America. Delicious, beautiful, and oh so refreshing, it pairs as well with sparkling water as with gin.

To Make Shrub:

Simply cover bruised, mashed berries (I used strawberries) with white wine vinegar and let sit undisturbed for a day. 

Yes, it smells like vinegar. Ya can't avoid sticky situations when making shrub. Instead, you just have to soldier through...

At the end of 12 - 24 hours, boil for a minute, then strain the mixture through a sieve, saving all that clear liquid. Discard any seeds and pulp. (My chickens thought it was Christmas!)

Add sugar and simmer till well dissolved. 

Cool. 

Chill. 

The result is a decadent jewel-tone syrup. It's the sort of thing that makes you hold it up to the light and drown your gaze in its super-saturated color.

Just pour a bit of the shrub over ice, fill the rest of the glass with sparkling water, and stir. It. Is. Divine. No vinegar taste. The vinegar ordeal is over.


Mmmmm... 

Shrub is my new favorite summertime drink. It is impossible to make without the vinegar. And it got me thinking...

When your plans have been smashed, doused with an acid bath of setbacks and naysayers, it's in your best interests to take some time to ruminate. To sit undisturbed and reflect. To let good ideas marinate.

Then you owe it to yourself to act. 

This past week, I began working with a superb business coach. I can confidently say that had Scribe not imploded, I would never have entered into this new relationship. I can also state with equal confidence that this new adventure has energized me more and brought me more creative excitement than anything else has done for years. It's a very shrubby experience.

Don't be afraid to put your good ideas to the test -- to see how they react when you get fired up.

Keep your vision clear on what you intend to accomplish. Discard what threatens that clarity.


Sweeten your new endeavor with supportive allies as you persevere toward your ultimate goal. 

I have no doubt you're like me -- you've been around the block enough to know that life ain't always easy. It's full of complex ferments and unexpected acid tests. When overwhelm threatens to mash us down, that's when it's time to take a page from the ones who came before us: 

Make shrub and find a way to enjoy, rather than be overcome by, this wild ride that is your life!

Chin up, my pretties! I have faith in you. You can do this!

The MuseInks Interview with Book Coach Erik van Mechelen

I'm so pleased to introduce you all to fellow writer and book coach, Erik van Mechelen.  In third grade he colonized Mars while living in Jakarta, Indonesia -- through a short story. These days, he writes novels and non-fiction and helps others write better, exploring the depths of the human mind and heart through imaginative writing.

 

Since 2014, Erik has worked with more than 100 authors on every stage of their book writing and publishing process. Here, he discusses his craft:

 

Ami: How long have you worked in the publishing industry? What are some of the positions you’ve held?

Erik: After starting the first one as a teenager, I self-published two novels in 2018 in my mid-to-late twenties. My first audiobook (a strategy guide for my favorite board game, Diplomacy) came out in 2020. And my most recent book, published in 2022, explored elections in Minnesota. 

I've worked with fiction and nonfiction authors since the mid-2010s with writing, editing, marketing, and publishing. While helping over 90 authors choose the title and subtitle of their books gave me insight into many genres, working closely with independent clients as a book coach has lately been the most interesting. Why? Because I think these smaller scale engagements are not only the future of writing and publishing, but also storytelling more broadly.

I also recently accepted a role with Reedsy to help authors meet freelancers to bring their books to life.

Ami: In your experience, what is a writing coach?

Erik: A combination of project management, teaching, editing, and strategy to help a writer or author build a practice of writing and meet their goals. If they can imagine writing a book, I can help them write, design, and publish it. 

For me, a writing coach also provides an editorial lense, accountability, and strategic support to bring an author's writing into the world, whether in book or some other form.

Book coaching is definitely quite separate from ghostwriting. I'm able to distinguish the two because I've done some ghostwriting and ghostwriting-adjacent collaborations on book-length works. 

Maybe this analogy can help to understand how I look at it. 

I recently began group fitness coaching for a local gym. Now, imagine that during class I noticed a member using improper form on a dumbbell movement. Next, suppose I tried to help this member by taking her dumbbells and performing the movements for her. Would this actually help at all? No. And while it is apparent that demoing movements can help an athlete perform better, it is preferable for the member to practice and make adjustments for herself, with guidance. The role of the coach is to use various visual, auditory, and tactile cues to assist and encouragement improvement. 

This is my general approach to writing and book coaching too. 

However long it takes — and it will take a good amount of effort and time — I am there to support a book writer toward their good first draft and beyond. 

Whatever writing project or book an author or writer can imagine, I help them to make a plan to get there and hold them accountable to it.


Ami: How long have you been coaching other writers? How did you get started?

Erik: Very recently, officially, though I've long helped friends, family, and acquaintances with everything from short stories to essays to autobiographies.


Ami: What are three of your favorite things about coaching?

Erik: Seeing someone solve their own problems, teaching how to let go of limiting beliefs, and being a guide toward steady improvement as a writer. 


Ami: What kind of person needs a writing coach? What is their goal? How does a coach help them reach it?

Erik: [The best people to coach are] authors and writers who understand the value of continuous improvement in their writing. Writing is a stepping stone to better communication. Writing with a purpose leads to the manifestation of a story or book which changes how readers comprehend something inside themselves or in the world. 

 

The coach helps them to reach this by sparking a deep awareness of where one is at as a writer and where one wants to go, and then helping put together a route given one's current capabilities and potential for growth en route.


Ami: What is one of your favorite projects that you’ve worked on? What made it so special?

About 9 years ago, I bought my dad voice recognition software so he could speak his autobiography into existence instead of typing it. A few years ago, he finished it. 

 

Along the way, I read drafts and offered encouragement. I didn't know it at the time, but that was my first experience book coaching and the book my dad wrote helped me understand him, his history, and really how great a father he was. Side note: One  benefit of my dad's work was that my brothers and I grew up in places like Libreville, Gabon, Jakarta, Indonesia, and Beijing, China. Perspectives from those formative years I carry with me.

More recently, I helped an author evaluate his early draft of a book introducing new readers to the Bible. With the help of a mentor, I learned how to give critical yet constructive feedback that, instead of dissuading him, actually encouraged him to do the hard work of clarifying his writing during revisions. 
 

 

Ami: What do you envision for the future of publishing? Why?

Erik: Books, when well written, artistically designed, and strategically marketed, are a unique package of information that immediately impacts its readers. Books, whether print, audio, or digital, will remain a vibrant living aspect of our culture, perhaps in the future more than at present. Books teach, heal, and uplift. 

How books get created and put into readers' hands varies. 

Just as very few people would wish elections to be centralized and controlled by one entity, publishing, which is really just the distribution of information and stories, should be decentralized. This means, at an increasing rate, independent writers and authors will work with freelancers or small teams to get their manuscripts to completion, edited, and published to serve their ideal readers. While there are observable patterns in book creation, the magic happens on the author's internal landscape and on the external landscape traversed with trusted adventurers, all in service of sharing something thoughtful and meaningful with readers.

 

******
Thank you for reading!

 

If you've worked with a book coach before, what was your experience?
If you've thought of hiring a book coach, what do you expect to get out of the relationship?
If you are (or have been) a book coach, what are your thoughts on the process?

 

Onward and upward, my pretties! A.H.

Scribe has Fallen and Can't Get Up

(or: The Big Blog Reboot, 2023)

On May 25, I opened my computer, expecting to get to work writing copy for upcoming books from Scribe Media's authors.

I checked in on the company Slack feed, and discovered that most of the freelancers there were asking about a missed paycheck. I double checked my bank transactions -- sure enough, I hadn't been paid for the previous week.

That missed paycheck was my first inclination of anything wrong.

Only later (much later) did I discover that the company I worked for was in its death throes. The day before, on May 24, our much-lauded CEO, who clearly believes his own press, had posted some dreck on Linked In about why he's so excellent and why he has to work so much harder than everyone else shortly before firing the vast majority of Scribe's employees via Google Meet without any severance, PTO, or healthcare... and then resigning his position.

The few full-timers remaining (most of whom have since exited the company) tried valiantly to keep calm and carry on, but the iceberg of inevitability had already breached the hull.

In the past few weeks, much has been written and podcasted of Scribe's demise. I've heard many things that I can neither confirm nor deny. I wasn't privvy to the working of Scribe's Inner Circle. I was just a freelance copywriter. I showed up, wrote my copy, and moved on. And I LOVED my job.

I was not alone.

I can absolutely confirm that, once we learned the awful extent of how badly we were all screwed, the #1 topic freelancers worried about on the Scribe message boards was who would take care of their authors. No lie. Almost without exception, the writers wanted to continue working -- even if they didn't get paid -- at least long enough to contact their authors and let them know what was going on. Their commitment to excellence went far beyond their expectation for compensation.

"Don't contact your authors," freelancers were told. "We'll make sure they know what's going on. No one's going to miss their publishing deadline. Things will go on as usual."

All that was about as fact-based as the average AI-generated magazine article.

In fact, as of today -- more than three full weeks later, after Elvis has left the Scribe Media building (and the doors have been padlocked by the landlord, if reports are to be believed) -- many authors who had contracted with the company to do their books have not yet had anyone in a position of authority tell them the truth:

It's over.

It's been over for weeks.

In 2018, Entrepreneur Magazine rated Scribe the #1 Company Culture in America. The Scribe Culture Bible is still available online, for anyone who wants to compare their happy-dappy "we are family" words with their take-the-money-and-run actions.

Working at Scribe Media was, without exception, my favorite freelance gig ever. Every single person I had the pleasure of working with was an absolute pro, supportive, talented, and genuinely nice to work with. As I posted on LinkedIn: If you ever have the opportunity to hire anyone who worked for Scribe Media and who was summarily axed, you should jump at the chance.

In the past few weeks, as we've all been reeling at how quickly our airship went down, I have been endlessly amazed and inspired at the resilience my fellow Scribe-siblings have shown. 

They have finished courses and gained certification in new skills. They have dived head-first into entrepreneurship, opening their own businesses, reinventing themselves, and bringing tons of needed value, experience, and energy to the wild and wonderful world of hybrid publishing. And through it all, they have continued to worry about the authors who were caught up in the gill net of the collapse.

I predict that the fallout of the demise of Scribe Media will affect much of the hybrid publishing industry. I also predict some hefty lawsuits, as authors who have pre-paid get testy about little things like contract fulfillment, and former employees start to kick the tires of Texas' WARN Act. 

It's been a very long time since I've blogged. I've been doing lots of writing for other people, but put some of my own things (like this little slice of interwebs real estate) on hold.

Welp.

It's high time I fired the ol' girl up again. 

And I can think of no better way to kick things off than to introduce you to some of the fabulous things that former Scribe employees, freelancers, and authors are up to. I can't wait for you to meet some of the most driven, talented people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Good things are coming...

Onward and upward, my pretties.

Cynisca: Badass Horsewoman and the First Female to Compete in the Olympic Games

My admiration for Cynisca knows no bounds.

This Greek princess was born in the early 440's B.C.E to Archidamus II, the King of Sparta. She owned several race horses, enjoyed chariot racing, and -- thanks to her brother Agesilaus II, who encouraged her love of horses at an early age -- was an avid horsewoman.

Birth records are dicey here. Some historians put Cynisca's birth as early as 444, others as late as 440. 

Though women were forbidden from watching the Games, let alone compete in them, there was a loophole with regards to the equestrian events.

Since owners and trainers rarely  handled the horses during the actual competition, there was no rule against women being involved behind-the-scenes, as long as someone else did the actual horse-handling during the races.

So Cynisca got busy. 

She owned a string of race horses and trained them for the *extremely dangerous* 4-horse tethripon chariot races.

Though historians may not agree on her precise birthdate, all recognize that in 396 B.C.E., in her 40's, Cynisca became the first woman to compete in the Olympic games, as both owner and trainer.

And she won!

To prove it wasn't a fluke, four years later, at the next Olympic games, she entered another team and won again.

She may have been forbidden to be present while her horses were racing, and was unable to see their victory, but that didn't stop her from mopping the hippodrome's floor with the competition.

Xenophon, the quintessential Greek horseman, wrote glowingly of her accomplishments (however, he was careful to keep her under the shadow of her elder brother). 

    The base of Cynisca's statue from Olympia.

In Olympia itself stood a statue of the great horsewoman in a chariot pulled by her winning horses. 

Modern archaeologists have discovered the base of this statue, which includes an inscription with Cynisca's name and accomplishments.

So impressed were the Spartans with their princess that upon her passing, they built a heroön, or hero shrine, in her honor. Hero shrines were often used to instill long-lasting civic pride in a noteworthy member of the community. Cynisca was the first woman to have such a shrine built (other shrines were reserved for deceased kings). 

For years after her death, a hero cult of super fans kept her legend alive. Which is only right.

As I said before: BOUNDLESS admiration.

The Surprising, Stunning Seaweed Scrapbooks of Victorian Ladies

Seaweed.

You wouldn't think such a humble, slimy, smelly thing would appeal to Victorian sensibilities. But you would be wrong. 

According to conventional wisdom at the time, Queen Victoria kept a scrapbook of various seaweeds and algae when she was small. Since nothing says "influencer" quite like being royalty, soon the entire nation had adopted her hobby.

Seaweed scrapbooking had great appeal -- especially to women -- for several reasons. 

In addition to giving them something in common with their beloved queen, padding about the seashore afforded one of the few socially acceptable ways to be in public with ::gasp:: bare feet and bare ankles.

Detail of A.B. Hervey's lovely "Sea Mosses" book, c. 1881.

It also enabled them to indulge their astounding creativity in a way that did not involve sewing or needlework. Seaweed scrapbooking was not a mere matter of snagging a bit of algae and splatting it down on paper. Hardly! In order to be preserved, every specimen was carefully collected, washed, arranged, affixed on the page, and pressed for posterity.

The scrapbookers used special tools including needles, forceps, scissors, and tweezers to meticulously arrange every specimen on the page, fanning it out to display it in all its glory.

In 1881, Alpheus Baker Hervey wrote "Sea Mosses: A Collector's Guide and an Introduction to the Study of Marine Algae." 

This booklet contained 281 pages of text and stunningly gorgeous color plates detailing everything the avid collector needed to know to preserve their own specimens on paper, presenting both their delicate structures and their vibrant colors.

Some scrapbooks went far beyond mere seaweed samples. Creative artists used the seaweed as a medium in which to write words, do intricate decorative designs, and even construct images.

In 1848, Eliza A. Jordson fashioned a scrapbook that remains a work of art. The cover includes the words "Sea Weeds" in flowing cursive, spelled out with actual algae. 

In some parts of Jordson's book, seaweed explodes on the page like a beautiful Rorschach test. In at least two pages, she uses it to "paint" tiny still-lifes of houses and trees.

A few years before Jordson's scrapbook, Anna Atkins, a botanist and avid student of the brand new, developing (ha! -- sorry, not sorry) field of photography, created the first book of photographic images ever.

Its subject: British algae.

Photographs of British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions was painstakingly handwritten and illustrated with beautiful blue-tinted cyanotype photographs. Published in 1843, the book is extremely rare, with fewer than 13 complete copies in existence.

    A page from Anna Atkins' book.

For some reason (perhaps the Queen's interest?), though nineteenth-century women were excluded from most scientific studies, seaweed collecting was allowed, if not actively encouraged. 

Children's author, translator, and naturalist Margaret Gatty became enamored with algae collecting. In 1848, while convalescing at the seaside in Sussex, Gatty was introduced to seaweed collecting, which she described as her "consolation of consolations."

Three years later, she was so enamored with the past time, she coined the word "algologist" to describe herself in the census.

Though Gatty could not afford a microscope to fully explore the algae that fascinated her, she began corresponding with several noted scientists, including William Henry Harvey, the pre-eminent phycologist of the time. She borrowed books and equipment from Harvey and eventually worked alongside him.

 Margaret Gatty, 1809-1873

During the 1850's, Gatty wrote a manuscript discussing ways to simplify the classification of algae. However, the project was never published. Instead, she was commissioned to write and revise the prestigious Atlas of British Seaweeds Drawn from Professor Harvey’s Phycologia Britannica. 

Gatty suffered from debilitating pain throughout most of her adult life. Most biographers suspect she lived with undiagnosed multiple sclerosis. Though her health deteriorated until she eventually lost the use of her arms and her legs, she continued her studies.

Several species of algae bear her name, including gattya pinella, gattya humilis, and gattya obtusa. 

Gatty died in 1873. Today, her collection of nearly 9,000 specimens and over 500 plates has a home in the St. Andrews Botanic Garden.

The Tiny Squid that Pretends It's the Moon

The bobtail squid are tiny little ocean denizens. Some have a mantle as small as half an inch and most are less than 3 inches long -- just the right size for some fish's tasty snack. These tiny things prefer to live in open water with strong currents, so you'll rarely find them in captivity in any but the most specialized of aquariums.

In many ways, these stubby squid are similar to cuttlefish, though they have no cuttlebone (so: not cuttlefish, then) and a rounder mantle (the large blobby part of their body).  Bobtail squid are classified with coleoidea, which includes squid, cuttlefish, and octopus, but this classification is, evidently, a hot-button item currently under debate by those who know far more about these creatures than I.

In addition to all the cool things coleiods have, including eight little legs with suckers on, two tentacles, the ability to swim by jet propulsion, and ink, these little "dumpling squid" have two other nifty attributes. 

Firstly, their entire body is rife with chromatophores, a sort of shape-and-color-shifting freckle dotting the squid. The chromatophores pulse and change producing an ink-spreading or kaleidoscope effect.

And they also have a light organ. Which is about the coolest thing ever. This light organ, located deep inside the blobby head-like mantle, is a gated housing community for a specialized type of bacteria. (Vibrio fischerii, in case you were wondering. Which you probably were. Now you know.) 

Baby bobtails hatch from a clutch of eggs. When the newly-hatched squidlings hit the water, they are immediately surrounded by fischerii, which infiltrate the squid's body, swimming through thick mucous-like gunk, along a highly specialized series of tunnels, into the squid's light organ. There they set up housekeeping and remain in residence throughout the little dumpling's life. It is the start of a beautiful relationship.

V. Fischerii and the bobtail squid have a symbiotic relationship. The light organ fills with a solution high in glucose and amino acids that is perfectly calibrated for the bacteria. 

Photo by Nick Hobson CC BY-SA 3.0

Safely ensconced in the light organ, the bacteria feed on the solution and begin to glow. If they glow, so does their host. The bacteria's bioluminescence affects gene regulation in the squid's light organ, allowing the squid to ability to tinker with the feeder solution to control the light it emits.

You would think that a brightly glowing squidly glob would be akin to an "EAT HERE" neon sign for predators. Ah, but don't be so quick to leap to conclusions, Sparky. 

Essentially, the light from the little squid perfectly simulates moonlight or starlight filtering through the ocean. This counterillumination renders the squid virtually invisible while keeping it from casting a shadow. 

Lit up like a dance party, the tiny bobtail squid puts on a show that mimics the moon. Of course, if the party gets too raucous and the light becomes a bit too bright, the squid can always hit the "emergency ink" button and dim things enough to swim away so it can live to glow another day.

The Patron Saint of Struggling Authors

More Thoughts on the Life and Times of Rev. Robert Stephen Hawker

Last week, I mused on the pranks and practices of Robert Stephen Hawker, the Vicar of Morwenstow, in Cornwall, from 1834 to 1875.

From Hawker's antics early in life, one could be forgiven for thinking he was a hopeless jester or worse, a clown. In fact, some sloppy pseudo-biographical articles slant their content in such a way to suggest the whole Mermaid phase (see previous post) occurred while Hawker was a vicar, instead of during his student years. ::sigh::

Hawker was more complex than that.

He loathed the traditional black vestments the clergy wore. When he became a vicar, he refused to dress "like an undertaker," choosing instead to assemble his own unique outfit -- each element signifying his beliefs. 

For instance: he wore a blue fisherman's jersey with red stitching in the side, symbolizing Jesus' call to His followers to be "fishers of men," with a constant reminder of the soldier's spear that caused Christ's final wound.

He also believed he could communicate with spirits, both divine and demonic, which explains why he declared the long brown cassock he wore was "the exact hue" of both Mary's and Jesus' hair.

Sometimes he wore a "flamboyant fez" instead of his typical wide-brimmed hat. (I can find no record of what the fez was supposed to denote. Still: Hawker thought fezzes were cool...)

The Vicar hated black so much that after his death, mourners honored his wishes and wore purple during his funeral.

Hawker's generosity for others often caused hardship for his own family. He routinely dipped into the family finances to feed and clothe poorer members of his community. 

The Hawkers' generosity extended to their parish infrastructure. They built a bridge over a deadly river crossing. And they built a school and restored the 13th-century "Well of St. John," all at their own expense.

Hawker was also a conflicted creative soul. 

On the one hand, he craved quiet time alone. To facilitate that, he built what is now known as "Hawker's Hut," a tiny turf-topped structure with a stable door, tucked into the hillside, facing the sea. He assembled it out of driftwood and wood salvaged from shipwrecks. Today, it remains the smallest property on the National Trust.

He and Charlotte would go together to the hut to pray and meditate. He also spent many hours there alone, smoking opium or writing.

It is clear that he relished the solitude. However, he also recognized that his remote village was, in some ways, a cross to bear.

A passionate accomplished, prolific writer, he enjoyed little acclaim or recognition, though his work sold well. In 1824 he wrote "The Song of the Western Men," or "Trelawney," which was published anonymously in 1826 and which -- to this day -- is considered the unofficial Cornish National Anthem. (Credit Charles Dickens who, years later, told the world about "Trelawney's" authorship.)

In 1848, Alfred, Lord Tennyson visited Morwenstow. He and Hawker hit it off, connected by their mutual love of poetry and obsession with Arthurian legends (the Hawkers had honeymooned at Tintagel, associated with King Arthur since the 12th century). But Tennyson went back to the world of letters and publishing, while the vicar remained on the northern coast. 

Hawker desperately wanted to be known as a writer. He remembered the days of university, when his writing won awards. Lonely, keenly aware of the rapid passage of time, he blamed both his isolated location and gatekeepers in the publishing world for his inability to break in. 

One heartbreaking journal entry includes these words: 

"I have lived on among these faraway rocks, unprofited, unpraised, and unknown."

Every manuscript of his had sold, but "to no advantage of mine."

"And here I am at the close of my days," he wrote, "unnoted, unknown, and – worst of all – unpaid."

In another entry, he lamented his place "here among the rocks" as well as not having any publishing connections:

"I never had friends [in publishing]. In my whole struggle into manuscript, I hardly remember a word of encouragement."

{Ami's note: Brother, I feel ya.}

When his wife Charlotte died in February, 1863, Hawker was more alone than ever. He was 60 years old, widowed and childless. 

Still wrestling with both his talent and his purpose, he plunged into deep depression, wishing to create something that would outlast him. 

For the next few months, he wrote, furiously channeling his grief into a creative outlet. The result was "The Quest of the Sangraal," a Cornish-themed poetic exploration of the Arthurian legend of the Holy Grail. 

Published in 1864, the poem met with both critical and public approval. Even Tennyson praised the work saying, "Hawker has beaten me on my own grounds."

At the end of 1863, 60-year old Hawker met the 20-year old Pauline Anne Kuczynski, a governess. Though she initially considered him "slightly cracked," the two fell in love and married a year later.

They had three children before Hawker died at the age of 72.

But even in death, he colored outside the lines. 

An Anglican priest his entire adult life, Hawker converted to Catholicism the day before he died -- causing a country-wide uproar as people accused Pauline of undue influence. The conspiracy theories and general religious outrage lasted for years.

So ends the tale of the Rev. Robert Stephen Hawker, eccentric, talented, mystic, poet. A prankster, an animal lover, faithful husband, and natty dresser. Publishing anonymously, then craving recognition. Simultaneously embracing and eschewing solitude. Sometimes he used controlled chemicals for temporary escape. Sometimes he wallowed in self-pity. Sometimes he heard angels. And finally, memorably, he accomplished a bona-fide publishing miracle. For these and other reasons, I consider him a contender for Patron Saint of Struggling Authors.