Adisclaimer.    (Mocked up / real disclaimer to come.)

 I'll be adding to it, I'm sure., Victorian melodrama with rian melodrama with a vengeance, bu rian melodrama with a vengeance, bu rian melodrama with a vengeance, bu rian melodrama with a vengeance, burian melodrama with a vengeance, burian melodrama with a vengeance, bu a vengeance, but jam-pa

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-----------------------------------------------------------------   A few words on my Kitchen Sink style.  ------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

> I take liberties. I beg, borrow, and steal (I call it adapt) all kinda things. Concepts. Words. Whole sentences. After years of mucking with the stuff (I've been on Sly for decades), I feel I've managed to make it my own. Most of my snatches are out of mid-century and earlier discards, found at the library sales. Now, the classics are, yes, classics, still read. I tread lightly there. The second-tier stuff is pure gold, often pap, but the technique is almost invariably gorgeous. The Cloister and the Hearth, Victorian melodrama with a vengeance, but jam-packed with seductive description, is one of my very-very favorites.

 

> If the heirs of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. are upset that I've scavenged bits out of The Poet at the Breakfast Table, (that no one reads anymore, but for a nut like me), all I can say is, Take it as a compliment, eh? Margaret Cavendish, Countess of Something-Newastle. I do think you'd be hugely amused by what I've done with your  delightful scholarship. Some grabs, I remember the sources. Most, I do not. I wish I had jotted attributions all along, but until self-pub came along, I never dreamed my book could be foisted on the public. I've written for my own enjoyment. 

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> I've got a piece, In Search of Silly History, explaining my methods. Find it on page Odds and Ends. [A drop-down, under page A Taste of Things To Come.]

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> In one case, I've sought [and received] permission to lift some lovely bits on rocky landscape. A Fool and His Money: Life in a Partitioned Town in Fourteenth-Century France is a beautifully written history of a divided town in a mountainous area of southern France, not far from my imaginary Haute-Navarre. I reread it every year or so, that's how much I enjoy the prose style. Thank you, Ann Wroe. 

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> My contact info, for anyone who may want to sue me:  __________________. If and when the shit hits the fan, I'll probably be dead. I'm seventy-fucking-years old. I've had my fun out of this, which is all I ever expected of it.

 

> An offer you can't refuse? Getting my relatives to look at Sly is a fool's errand. If it hits, makes any real money, I'm leaving it to - maybe you guys. Why not you guys? Sign up for my newsletter, so I have you on record.

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