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Results 1 - 25 of 236,774
1. Writing about topics I don't know too well...

Hi! I'm John (big fan of your page!), and I have a question that has been haunting me for a while and will not let me begin ANY book I try to write.

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2. Close to the Bone: KA

Hi, folks, I've been writing a series all about  a time in my twenties when I was part of religious cult. Last week I wrote a heart-breaking story from my past about G and his sad demise. This is my version of the Valley of Dry Bones from the Book of Ezekiel. I'm calling it Close to the Bone. This is the final in the series.

Toward the end of the dark days of the cult, I was failing around for purpose. A teacher from college, Dr. Van Riper, ran into me at the supermarket and demanded to know why I had three children instead of writing books for children. I had no answer. She'd told me what to do, and I'd ignored her.

 I was slowly waking up in these days. God's chosen people were now looking like a bunch of uneducated country folk, plus a bunch of kids that had choked on embracing the future after college. That's when I saw the ad in the newspaper about some group called SCBWI.

Fellow-shipping outside the church was forbidden in manipulative, oblique way, but this was business so I figured God would give me a pass. I remember heading to that first meeting and feeling so welcome. There were 8 or 9 women and they were so gracious and kind.  I remember the first conversation  in a long time without having to say praise the Lord or how God was directing me every third word.  I also remember KA. She was a real author and the leader of the SCBWI group. Her first picture book had come out but she talked to me like I was a colleague. Bam, I was in the inner circle.

I can not tell you  how much KA's leadership meant to me. I tried to keep secret from the church my fraternizing with the world.  KA was a Unitarian. That was something I was supposed to fear. Of course, by now, I understood that I was supposed to fear everything, and it was sort of ridiculous and tiring. KA believed in me as a creative person. She never let me feel like I was a little off with my long dresses and three kids in three years. She accepted me just as I was. It was the most Christian thing I'd ever experienced.

I remember being invited to another SCBWI member's house called DC. I had friends outside the church for the first time in almost eight years.  I was hanging out with a group of women, totally normal women with varied backgrounds. It was sort of dizzying. I was supposed to have left the world behind but now I sneaking back into it. Oh, and the big problem? I loved it.

SCBWI became an island of normal in my life. Like Phoenix, I was rising from my ashes. KA tried to convince me to go to Los Angeles for the annual conference. I chickened out but her encouragement planted a seed in me.  KA convinced me to volunteer for events, write letters to editors, and even submit my drawings to the SCBWI Bulletin.  My first credit was as an illustrator in the Bulletin.  I was so proud. I was engaged in the pursuit of liberty.  I had expressed myself.  I made $50.  It was mind-blowing.

When Tim and I decided to move away the place we had known such tragedy, KA continued to encourage me until I left town.  I have no idea if she had any idea of how lost I was, and how much I needed help to become a normal person again.  She never said anything when the sorry story of my entire life was reported in the local newspaper. KA encouraged me creatively, commenting on my work and giving me suggestions, and once she sent me a card stating there would be a day when she said she knew me when.  She bridged the way for me to absolutely normal. I turned into the funky person I had been before all the religious nonsense.  I came to my senses.

Well, this is end of these posts and also time for big news. My blog is moving over to Niume.com.  I hope you consider following me an my content there.  You will receive updates of posts if you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or tumbler.

One of those early drawings. I sent to the Bulletin on a notepad paper, a big no-no. Sm bought them anyway.




A quote for your pocket:

My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel.13 Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. 14 I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it, declares the Lord.

Ezekiel 37: 12b-14

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3. Show, Don't Tell

We've all heard the advice to show, don't tell, but how do you do that?

https://nerdychickswrite.com/2016/07/26/brushing-up-on-show-dont-tell-by-marciecolleen1/

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4. Time and Circumstance with Theresa Milstein

Please help me welcome Theresa Milstein, to The Storyteller's Scroll. We're revealing the cover of her new poetry and prose collection, Time and Circumstance. Publication date: March, 2017 Genre: Single Author Poetry & Prose Collection Paperback: ISBN-13: 978-1-925417-30-2 ePub: ISBN-13: 978-1-925417-31-9 Kindle ASIN: to come “The trunk of this family is lost to history / Photo

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5. A normal Friday at Uni...??

Friday wrapped up our first week back to Uni in absolute chaotic style. The morning began on the east side of town at the Minto House on Chambers Street. I haven't figured out the best path between Minto House and my studio in the Evolution House yet - although the southern-most path goes by the Brazilian Crepe Stand, Tupiniquim, one of my fave places to eat lunch in Edinburgh, so I imagine I'll be going that direction a lot. And it's flatter - that's a big deal here. Direct paths aren't always the best paths to take in this city as you can end up going UP and DOWN and UP!

Anyhow, MFA 2nd-year students (MFA2s) have Context (the academic/writerly portion of our studies) in a tighter setting than last year's lecture theatre. I know almost everybody in my group now, and we'll get loads done on our dissertations, which occur this semester. (In the UK you write a dissertation for your Masters and a Thesis for your PhD - it's opposite in the states.) My theme is "Comparing and Contrasting the US Caldecott and UK Greenaway Award-winning Picture Books to Identify Trends, Similarities and Differences Between the US and UK Markets." Wish me luck!
     After our Context meeting, I had a meeting with my personal tutor back at the main Art building. My tutor works in Fashion Design, which gave me all sorts of fun ideas for my Exit Show, which will happen this coming May.
     I then had my one-on-one with Jonathan Gibbs, head of our illustration department. He was extremely helpful guiding my direction for the upcoming semester.
     Then it was back to the Minto House for our breakout groups - called Seminar. (In the future, I'll use this in-between gap time to go to the main campus library and write.)
     Then back again to Evolution House for our semester kick-off project called EIEIO. All illustration students - undergrads and postgrads were broken into groups and given a nursery rhyme to dramatize in some creative way (leaving the audience to guess which nursery rhyme you had). My group was assigned "The Little Nut Tree." I wasn't familiar with this one, but apparently it was a political satire based on Catherine of Aragon, who originally married Henry VIII's brother Arthur, who proved to be infertile, so she became the first wife of King Henry VIII and Queen of England. Ironically, there were two Americans in my group. Our third member (English) came up with the idea to adapt the tale to American politics. This is what happened as a result:
We reworded the poem a bit. Instead of giving a golden pear and a silver nutmeg to the princess, as the rhyme states, the "prince" now gave a golden elephant and silver donkey to the "princess." OMG.
     The whole point of the project is to become familiar with the studio spaces and make friends, and that certainly happened! Turns out Harriet plays guitar. We went to lunch the other day at Hula Juice bar, then stopped by Red Dog music and jammed on their guitars for a bit - FUN!
     But my day wasn't over yet!
     Blackwell's Books hosted an amazing event that pretty much every kidlit fan in Edinburgh attended - An Evening with Oliver Jeffers, Sam Winston & Eoin Colfer (CLICK HERE to read more about it). Of course, that meant heading back over to Chambers Street again - seriously! A bunch of us met up at Revolution Bar to grab a snack before-hand, then head to the event hosted by our illustrious and dear Vivian French.
Hazel Terry did a nice write up of the event - CLICK HERE to read. I was pretty tired, must admit. Needless to say, when I finally got home, I went straight to bed!

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6. In Memory: Lois Duncan

By Cynthia Leitich Smith
for Cynsations

Author Lois Duncan, died in June while Cynsations was on summer hiatus.

Lois Duncan Obituary: Bestselling author of fiction for young adults, including the thriller I Know What You Did Last Summer by Julia Eccleshare from The Guardian. Peek: "She was born Lois Duncan Steinmetz in Philadelphia, and grew up in Sarasota, Florida. Lois wanted to be a writer from childhood, and submitted her first typed manuscript to Ladies’ Home Journal when she was 10."

Obituary: Lois Duncan by Shannon Maughan from Publishers Weekly. Peek: "After attending Duke University for a year... She entered her YA project Debutante Hill in Dodd, Mead & Company’s Seventeenth Summer Literary Contest and earned the grand prize: $1000 and a book contract."

Lois Duncan, 82, Dies; Author Knew What You Did Last Summer by Daniel E. Slotnik from The New York Times. Peek: "Though her books had their share of violence, Ms. Duncan said she was 'utterly horrified' when she saw the [1997] film adaptation of “I Know What You Did Last Summer,” which...turned her novel, about a group of teenagers desperately trying to conceal an accidental killing, into a horror tale in which the same teenagers are systematically dispatched by their hook-wielding victim." Note: To clarify, I heard Lois speak about this at an SCBWI conference. It wasn't the violence per se but rather the way it was trivialized for cheap thrills. Her novel had a strong moral center that was absent from its film adaptation.

I Know What I Read That Summer by Carmen Maria Machado from The New Yorker. Peek: "Her prose is unfussy and clean. She centered her books on young women, and her writing considers themes that have come to obsess me as an adult: gendered violence, psychological manipulation, the vulnerability of outsiders."

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7. Juncture Notes 07: coming soon

We're still in a bit of a farm-induced haze here at Juncture. Missing those writers we came to know on that slice of Central Pennsylvania earth. Imagining those stories flowing forward.

Our next issue of Juncture Notes will feature the scenes from and lessons of that workshop, as well thoughts on a new bestselling memoir. We'll send it out to our list in a day or so. If you'd like to be on that list, just sign up here. Juncture Notes, which combines Bill's art with my memoir obsession, is free.

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8. Saturday Sunrise

I woke up a little early Saturday - or maybe the days are indeed getting shorter here. At any rate, I was so glad to capture this out our flat window:


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9. Presidential Polar Bear Post Card Project No. 239 - 9.23.16


These two marine mammals would never meet in the wild, but today the Honorable Senator Bill Nelson (FL) became the 37th member of the Senate to sign to a Bill to protect the Arctic Refuge on Alaska's coastal plain. Manatees and polar bears. #wearethearctic

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10. Monster Eating Cake. Original Art for Sale

Monster eating cake
Monster in the rain
Monster eating cake again

Original Doodle (and doggerel) by me!
Special Offer £24.99 Post Free
Pen and Ink and Watercolour
Size is 6" x 4" in 10" x 8" White Mount
Will be created especially for you. Each one will differ slightly.
Use the Paypal button below to purchase!

Picture of a monster eating cake
Buy now! £24.99 Post Free

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11. भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच संबंध

भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच संबंध में लगातार खटास बढती जा रही है और इसका जीता जागता उदाहरण है न्यूज चैनल जो दिन रात युद्द कराने की फिराक में हैं   भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच युद्ध भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच संबंध में बढती खटास के चलते अब  भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच युद्ध […]

The post भारत और पाकिस्तान के बीच संबंध appeared first on Monica Gupta.

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12. दो पंक्तियाँ

किनारो सी है यह ज़िंदगी, खुशियाँ छूकर गुज़रती है,
हवाओं सी आती है हिम्मत, किरणों सी बिखरती है || Dr DV ||







लहर सी टकराई तू, मैं किनारो सा मौन रहा, बरसी बारीशों सी , न जाने मैं तेरा कौन रहा || Dr DV||







प्रचंड सागर में, एक नाव का सहारा था, ऐसा ही शायद कुछ, वो रिश्ता हमारा था || Dr DV ||








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13. डॉक्टर कैसे बने – मरीजो से किस तरह पेश आएं सीख रहें हैं डाक्टर्स

डॉक्टर कैसे बने पढ कर आपको हैरानी नही हुई होगी क्योकि कोई भी डॉक्टर बन सकता है पर यहां बात अच्छा डॉक्टर कैसे बने की हो रही है अच्छा डॉक्टर बनने का तरीका डॉक्टर कैसे बने – मरीजो से किस तरह पेश आएं सीख रहें हैं डाक्टर्स… यकीनन एक हट कर खबर है … आज अखबार में एक […]

The post डॉक्टर कैसे बने – मरीजो से किस तरह पेश आएं सीख रहें हैं डाक्टर्स appeared first on Monica Gupta.

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14. Hummingbird Farewell

The feeder's full; the hummingbirds
Have likely flown away
To find a better climate
For their wintering foray.

I've read that they fly solo,
Not like others, in a swarm,
To Mexico or Panama
In search of someplace warm.

I wonder how they fare in flight,
Their frenzied wings a'blur
And what they do if storms or winds
Or hurricanes occur.

I'll take my feeder down and dump
The sugar water out 
And hope next summer once again
I'll see them flit about.




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15. Sumatra: Brain Fever

I chalk it up to heat-induced temporary insanity. It could happen to any Canadian crossing the equator. I had a strong desire to make my way to Germany, dye my hair orange and drum for a punk band which specialized in industrial music. The desire passed as the bus followed the road through the lush jungle vegetation past rice paddies and wilted looking livestock. When I thought about summoning enough energy to listen, I was convinced I could hear the plants grow in the humidity. The whole island was a hothouse. The single minded bus driver seemed to be the only one expending energy as he missed pedestrians, livestock and other vehicles, leaned on the horn. We were used to the danger by now. A sort of fatalistic resignation takes over on breakneck bus rides through the countryside of Sumatra. It was too hot to care. We had left the craziness and heroin of Penang behind. The sweat dripped off of our noses. Everyone on the bus, even the natives, had a worn out, washed out look. We were travelling from Medan, where the ferry from Penang had taken us, down the spine of Sumatra to Lake Toba, thence to Padang, about halfway down the island, on the coast. In Padang we spent hours at the consulate waiting to get our visas renewed because it was cheaper there than in Bali. Of a dozen uniformed clerks, two were reading, the rest inspected the Western girls or stared into space, a paper clip twisting in their fingers. When they did stir to attend the sweating crowd of travellers they wanted to first see proof that you had a return ticket. It’s the only legal way to enter Indonesia. It didn’t matter that we’d entered days before at Medan. The passports and applications lay in a pile on a desk. They didn’t have to worry about an overwhelming influx of immigrants heading south since the island of Java is the most thickly populated place on earth, but it was one way for the government to get money from travellers. A Japanese girl told Joyce that she had tonsilitis and that they didn’t have toilet paper even in hospitals in Padang. Seventy-five cents for dormitory beds at the local hostel. Officially marrying before getting to Asia saves a lot of problems. Single women are targets. At Lake Toba, we recovered from the bus ride during which it was too hot to sleep. The soaking heat deprived us of every traveller’s last resort, the final escape from the tedium and discomfort ... sleep, oblivion. There, time stood still, then went backward. We had landed in a timeless, primitive existence. Surrounded by the jungle and jungle sounds. Old men wailed their night songs in the dark. It sounded like a Tarzan movie. Wild boar lived in the jungle, endangered humans occasionally, provided meat and tusks more often. Snakes and mongooses and their spirits were part of the diet and the mythology. Ancient Sumatran devils caused poor sleep, restless dreams. All the dwellings had horned roofs which intruded, then dominated. A reminder that no matter what it was like in the outside world, this was here and now. This primitive existence was the present. Reality. No luxuries, no concrete, no advanced plumbing or electricity. Rats made nests in the roof so when you woke up into the flickering darkness from a dream of ancient enemy skins hanging by the fire, you could hear them running along the rafters over your head. You could see their shadows on the thatched roof when the candle light caught them. Sleep again became a refuge along with a short prayer for the balance of rats. We finally boarded a freighter, in Padang, the cheapest way to travel from Sumatra to Java. The beginning of our sea voyage was normal. We watched the port, then the island of Sumatra fade into the distance behind us and with it, the confusion and brain fever. Deck space, a place to sleep beneath the canvas strung across the deck for protection from the sun and rain, was what we paid for. Two big, deeply tanned Aussies who were obviously used to the sea and travelling by sea, probably lived by the sea, told us they had accompanied fishermen from an island near Bali on an early morning trip. They witnessed, then tried, the eating of the raw hearts of the fish they caught. They found it to be a life giving experience with aphrodisiac powers. Meals were cooked in the tiny galley below deck; a green vegetable which had obviously been boiled, over a bed of rice, on a tin plate. Tasteless but necessary to settle the queasy stomachs everyone felt The sea looked calm enough. But a rhythmic sway began to get to everyone. Coconut oil smoke made it worse. Even the regular crew and the Aussies were hit by sea sickness. They laughed and made wise cracks between spews. The rest of us weren’t so lighthearted about it. Soon there were travellers and crew members staggering to the rail to vomit over the side. The unwary ones stood downwind from others puking over the side near the front, got splashed. One grain of rice, well soaked in the stomach’s digestive juices, inadvertently snorted while vomiting, causes untold misery in the nasal passage and a long lasting, unpleasant reminder of how sick you really were. Finally, that particular movement of the ship passed and so did the seasickness. The travellers and crew wobbled about unsteadily for a while, then settled down. No one offered the travellers rice after that. Our diet became the fruit we had brought on board with us. We settled down on the deck, tried to sleep through the hot days and windy nights. Serge from France, tanned dark brown, curly hair down past his shoulders, wispy goatee, regained his happy smile as he recovered from the seasickness. He wore a sarong like a native, always carried a flute attached to his backpack. Everyone commiserated with him when we found out he was on his way back to France to fulfill his military obligations. He had been drafted. These were his last few days of freedom. He had made his choice. He was tempted to keep travelling, but he knew that eventually he’d want to return to France. The army was one step above jail. He couldn’t go back on the run. He was a proud Frenchman, but that had nothing to do with the government’s army. His ideas and life were far from conformity, uniformity, the military. One night, in a Tull like performance, he started playing. Under the canvas, starry night above, the sea breeze blowing his hair in time with the tempo of his song, Serge captivated everyone. All the travellers stopped talking or sat up to look and listen, even some crew members, smoking by the dark rail, paid attention. He started in the familiar pose which we had all adopted... leaning, laying back against our packs and bedrolls, then he seemed to find something as he played the first few, hesitant notes. He stood up, still playing. His flute came alive. His song gained and lost volume and speed as he breathed life into it. It wasn’t recorded, probably forgotten even by Serge, a few days later. There was the soft soughing of the ship as it made its way through the water, the sea breeze in the wires, occasionally something would flap in the southern night wind. The notes of Serge’s flute seemed to linger and then be snatched away by the other sounds. His eyes closed, Serge stood and played to the night, to his humble companions, listened to the sounds around him and echoed them. He didn’t stand on one leg, but he carried us all away as he talked to the wind in its own language. Selamat Jalan...Good Journey. A fitting Indonesian goodbye to Sumatra. Then someone told us that we were passing Krakatau which erupted in 1883 killing thousands of people. It was just a lump on the horizon from the deck of the ship. A famous volcano which the world knew about because of the tragedy. Later that day, we landed in Djakarta.

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16. Multiple Points of View

Question: I've been told I'm head-hopping in my contemporary romance manuscript. How do you convey different characters' thoughts, feelings, or reactions

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17. Thoughts on the New TV Season, 2016 Edition

This week has seen the first inklings of the new TV season, as the US networks start trotting out shows in the hopes of success, legitimacy, or even the tiniest bit of attention.  And yet here I am, still talking about some of the shows of summer.  This is partly because, as we've all more or less accepted, network shows just aren't where it's at anymore, and there isn't that much to say about

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18. Author Rita Williams-Garcia & The Surely Do Dancers

By Cynthia Leitich Smith
for Cynsations

CSK Author Award Acceptance Speech by Rita Williams-Garcia from The Horn Book. Peek:

"...upon occasion, our histories are bound by peace and wonder as people of the planet Earth, looking up as we did on one night in the summer of 1969.
"In spite of some current rhetoric, very few of us on this soil can claim a separate and sole history. We are a joined people. Let’s keep looking up."

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19. वोट किसे दे

वोट किसे दे एक यक्ष प्रश्न है क्योकि कहने को सभी मेहनती, ईमानदार, हमारे अपने हैं पर हकीकत से कोसो दूर .. ऐसे मे पहचानना मुश्किल है कि  किसे वोट दिया जाए … कौन है सही उम्मीदवार वोट किसे दे कौन है सही उम्मीदवार … अभी थोडी देर पहले मणि बहुत गुस्से में घर पर […]

The post वोट किसे दे appeared first on Monica Gupta.

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20. रक्तदान का महत्व – आईए नया जीवन दें

रक्तदान महादान है और स्वैच्छिक रुप से किया रक्तदान सबसे अच्छा दान है रक्तदान का महत्व समझते हुए हमें रक्तदान जरुर करना चाहिए क्योकि रक्त किसी फैक्ट्री में नही बनता और एक नेक कार्य करने का सबसे बेहतर तरीका है रक्तदान करना रक्तदान करना मानो किसी को नया जन्म देना आज का दिन रक्तदान के […]

The post रक्तदान का महत्व – आईए नया जीवन दें appeared first on Monica Gupta.

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21. Halloween Decorations

The wooden skull and pumpkins
Dangle neatly by the door.
The ghost and owl made of felt
Add much to the decor.

The cat and witch are wishing all
A Happy Halloween
And soon a jack-o-lantern will
Give credence to the scene.

The skeleton quite jauntily
Holds court while on his perch.
The scary part was finding them
From last year - what a search!

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22. Critique Partners

Why is it so important to have someone else read your work-in-progress?

https://livibuglady.wordpress.com/2016/08/01/cps-and-why-you-need-them-meredith-ireland/

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23. And Now for Something COMPLETELY Different: A New Way to Record History!

Another message from Deedy. But at least it's not about her OTHER KIND OF WRITING for a change. Love, the Izzy Elves


* * *

As some of you might know, I usually write posts about historical events, historical fiction, and the like about the 17th, 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. Today I am writing about an exciting new form of recording history in the 21st century to be done by Smock Media Holdings, a film production company based in Venice Beach, CA. This is a company created and run by my sons, Hawk and Nate Jensen.

Hawk is an experienced, award-winning documentary film-maker. He has come up with a groundbreaking idea for recording historical occurrences using VR360 (for an explanation, read the text below).

 To put this into practice, Hawk and his Managing Producer bro, Nate, need some help.

Please click on the following link to watch a video explaining what Hawk and Nate want to accomplish, and to connect to the crowdfunding campaign to make this happen. 
Support this 21st Century History Project!

Thanks!

Dorothea Jensen (Proud Mother)

P.S. Even  a dollar helps!


 

The award-winning documentary filmmakers at Smock Media in Venice Beach, CA are raising $57,500 for a virtual reality project called PRIME OBSERVER®.  Our goal is to build Camerasuits® for our team of zany photojournalist / documentarian / adventurers to capture full 360 degree footage of spectacular cultural and historical moments that place you INSIDE
these events as we experience them.
 
Ever wanted to go back to relive Burning Man or Coachella? Wanted to know what it's really like to be in the middle of a floor fight at a political convention? Wanted to stand between rival protest marches and form your own opinion of what happened? Wanted to surround yourself by all the glitz, glamour and glitterati at Fashion Week but couldn't get on the red carpet?  Prime Observers® Hawk, Ramblin' Tom, Kalia, Ben, Dakota, Nathaniel, Andylee and Abba Austin will put you there.     
 
Virtual reality is a whole new medium to record history.  With over 150 years of combined documentary production experience we know where to place the camera to capture "the moment" but now we ourselves will become that camera inside that moment.  Filmmaking will never be the same.  Come step into the scene with us!

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24. VIDEO: They All Saw A Cat

I love this book, THEY ALL SAW A CAT by Brendan Wenzel. Check out the trailer on YouTube by clicking the image below.

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25. Presidential Polar Bear Post Card Project No. 238 - 9.22.16


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