This article made me chuckle because Barry Dorr has the audacity to say that it’s only a few authors that are unhappy and that authors have a real chance at sharing in the profit by signing with Jojo. What a load of rubbish! There are 250 authors out there and as far as I am concerned none of them have been paid or “shared in profits.” There are at least 50 authors that invested between $10,000 – $40,000 of their own money and to add further insult to injury, just today after authors have placed calls directly to the Asian printers it has come to light that only 1300-1400 books were printed instead of the promised 3,000. So what were we forking all of that money out for again?! Oh that’s right, to fund Jojo’s overseas trips.
This article was published today in an online magazine called Bookseller & Publisher. It’s a shame it had to come in the wake of so much devastation for so many people (it’s not just the authors suffering, it’s also their families, friends and readers). It’s also come to our attention this week that Barry Dorr has been setting companies up, scamming people and liquidating since the ’80’s. The events of the past few weeks have left me speechless…
She liked to “rescue” the hopeless cases,
Or that was what she was told anyway,
But also, he had to have a way with words,
To read her soul, to woo her back as she was walking away,
Reminisce over the good times,
Talk to her about nothing, in particular, to relax her,
Gratefully receive her mementos of love (poetry mainly),
If all of these boxes were checked, then yes, she’d take it!
He would become the latest soon-to-be ex,
Completely worthy of her love.
I knew you before I read your words,
I sensed your spirit and spoke with you,
Before ever I saw your name,
And there you were shining like a ray of sunshine,
“Don’t get too carried away, though” I told myself,
“Life is still life, after all,”
This dark night of the soul has me drowning in plasma,
The scream from my soul piercing,
The eardrums of the Angels above Earth,
And I’m numb – so grotesquely numb,
. . . and there you were.
He called her his “Little Nut,”
Because every mighty oak,
Started out as a lil’ nut that just wouldn’t quit 🙂
So she spends her days waiting for him,
To wake up on the other side of the pond.
Her 3am became the breaking of the fast.
He was like lightning in a bottle,
On that screen,
And she had to drink it,
Had to feel it coursing through her veins.
Some of my dreams didn’t come true,
But then again, most of them did,
Every love seems better than the last,
And that’s because it is.
Had he been waiting,
For someone like me?
I’m a dime-a-dozen,
I can admit it, but him!
Even with his walls & his mess inside,
I am NOT REPELLED,
I’m still gazing from afar.