January 13th, 2012


Giraffe Call:pondering incentives

With a Giraffe Call coming tomorrow and a more-urgent-than-usual need for the income, I've been pondering the incentive levels.

The current donation incentives are:Collapse )

My questions:
Do the current incentives serve to incentivize people?

What might better encourage donation/participation, if anything?


This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/230397.html. You can comment here or there.

Giraffe Call is Open!

The call for prompts is now OPEN!

I am now taking prompts on the theme of In the City

When Evangaline’s Aunt died, it fell to her to clean out the old house where her Aunt had lived and, before her Aunt Asta, her Aunt’s Aunt Ruan (family history stopped there, but Evangaline felt as if, if she tracked it back far enough, there would be an unbroken line of Aunts back into pre-history). As a childless Aunt herself, she accepted that the house would now become hers, but not that she needed to keep the piles of accumulated auntieness that filled it.

Thus began Heirlooms & Old Lace (LJ), the first story in Aunt Family (LJ) series, from a prompt of "A tarot deck (or seer) that is possessed by demon(s)" See my Landing Page (LJ) for more of my settings.

I will write (over the next week) at least one microfic (150-500 words) to each prompter.

If you have donated, I will write to every prompt you left.

In addition, for each $5 you donate, I will write an additional 500 words to the prompt(s) of your choice.

For every linkback I receive, I will post another 50 words on a story (See the poll for setting here on DW and here on LJ

If I get two new commenters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll).

And, of course, donations are always well-received:

If I reach $35 in donations, I will post an additional 1000-2000-word fic on the subject of the audience's choice. reached!

If I reach $50, T. and I will have Indian take-out. At this level, anyone who donated $7.50 or more will have a copy of "Alder by Post" mailed to them if they wish

If I reach $65, I will write at least 2 microfics for everyone, whether or not they donated. reached!

If I reach $95, I will write at least 3 microfics for everyone, whether or not they donated. reached!

If I reach $120, I will record a podcast of an audience-choice story and post it for everyone to read. reached!

If I reach $150, I will release an e-book of all of the fiction written to this call and the last one. Also, everyone who tipped will get wordcount-and-a-half reached!

If I reach $201, I will have paid our furnace bill! I will hold a mid-month Call on a single setting of the readers' choice. reached!

If I reach $240, we'll get to eat delicious cake! I'll hold an ask-the-characters chat session. reached!

If I reach $286, after our detour into furnaceland, we will reach giraffe-kingdom! The giraffe carpet will be entirely funded, and I will post a bajillion pictures of the lovely carpet and half-complete room. I will also write another encyclopedia pages for a setting of your choice. A lucky prompter will get, also, their own 1000-word special.

If we reach $300, we'll have covered the hardware for the bedroom!

For more information on Giraffe Calls, see the landing page.

This Giraffe's Call's goal, $201, is to pay for my our recent emergency furnace repair bills.

Donate below

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/230631.html. You can comment here or there.

First Steps, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Dahob)

to @DaHob's prompt

I do not remember being born. Do you?

I don't really remember waking up, either, that is, being aware of myself for the first time. Knowing where my "fingers" were, where my edges were. When something hurt me.

That, that is what I remember first and strongest. I remember being hurt. I remember being damaged. The pain shooting through my nerves, making me recoil backwards.

They called it an accidental fire. They almost always do. They can't fathom, I think, that when I am hurt I must react. And when I am damaged, I have little way to fight back. Earthquakes hurt me as much as they hurt them. But a little fire, a spark here, a twist of a wire...
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/230947.html. You can comment here or there.

The Dark Places, the numbered streets, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Shutsumon)

To @Shutsumon's prompt.

There were places in the heart of the city even the cops didn't go, at least not without seven of their buddies and semi-automatic weapons, full body armour and a chopper overhead.

There were places, darker places, where they didn't go even with that sort of back-up, places where the roads had so fallen into disrepair or intentional sabotage that the large police cruisers could not make it in, where the buildings leaned so close together that flying a chopper in there would be suicide one way or the other. Dark places, everyone said. Scary places. Places where those people lived.

Ance had grown up in a safe locked community, but the safe locked community had overlooked, on one side, the cheap side, Ance's family's side, one of those dark places, the place called "the numbered streets." Since childhood, looking out the bulletproof glass down on the buildings that seemed so much older, so much more dignified, so beautifully scarred, Ance had wondered about the dark places.
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/231289.html. You can comment here or there.