Posts tagged ‘Rusty Nail’

Phoenix Fire: The Project

First, I would like to express my gratitude to all of you who have posted here to bring so many aspects of the matters to my attention. I appreciate all of you.

You might notice that I have now created a page to document all that has gone on with Mystic/Phoenix Fire since it’s inception. Anyone who can give me dates and information on matters should feel free to contact me at janraefrank (at) Please tell me whether the information is on the record or off the record, etc.

And a mea culpa. I used the word “slut” in reference to Tabetha. I did it to set up a semantics one to three and it turned out to be a far too severe trigger word. If I had given it more thought I would have come up with one that was far more  useful for illustrating my point and far less provocative. For that I apologize to my readers.

The nice thing about timelines is that they are devoid of emotion and just list absolute facts. Facts and logic can lead to clarity and a deeper understanding of matters.

Several years ago, I had a rather vicious stalker. I informed him that if he did not leave me alone I would make him my next hobby. Needless to say, he did not enjoy becoming my hobby.

I do have a complaint about all the glamour photos that female paranormal and horror authors seem to be addicted to. What you look like is no clue to whether you can write well or not. I much prefer the photos of science fiction and fantasy authors who would rather look endearing or intelligent or both.


Living with Diabetes

Last April I was diagnosed with diabetes type 2. I had been losing weight without changing my eating patterns. I’m very over weight, but not obese. I used to keep my weight off by exercising and taking long walks every day.  Then post-polio syndrome kicked in and I was unable to walk easily. less then five minutes of walking puts me into so much pain that I become nauseous from it.

I was never a big eater or a regular eater. I ate erratically, some times going all day without eating and then over eating the next day when my appetite returned.  I still have issues with food. Sometimes I have to force myself to eat.  Once or twice a year I’ll go four or five days without eating and then have to acclimate myself to food again.

In addition to the polio, I have PTSD (that has been discussed before in this blog). I think that there is a stress component to the periods in which I can’t eat.

However, once I could no longer exercise (I require a wheelchair to shop),  I put on ten pounds a year until I weighed 200 pounds.  I’m only five feet tall and that makes me a real tubby.  I have lost a lot of it since the diabetes arrived, mostly by changes in what I eat.  The hardest part of the diet is that I am supposed to eat three regular meals and three snacks. I take my glucose levels three times a day and I take metformin HCL.

I am still forgetting to eat some days, but I have begun using glasses of vegetable juice and sugar free fruit beverages that I create in my blender for the days I can’t bring myself to eat.  Regularity, as much as i can manage it, has curbed the binges.  My glucose levels are staying in the low normal range. I’m also making pots of soup and stews that are low carb.

I don’t miss the sweets. I have never been a big sweet eater, not even as a child. What I do miss is the pasta and potatoes that were the mainstay of my previous diet.

I am finding that the diabetes is manageable.  I had fish and fruit for lunch. In two hours, I’ll have half a banana with a tablespoon of peanut butter that contains no sugar. Reading the labels is a necessity. I was shocked at how much of our food contains high fructose corn syrup and/or sugar.

The older we get, the more physical issues we develop. I’m 58.  That means that they are piling up on me.

I was eight years old when I contracted polio, so I have very few memories of what it was like to be normal. In a sense, that is a good thing under the circumstances because I am very familiar with how to strategize around difficulties.  Over the years, I have seen how much harder it is for an adult to adapt to physical challenges after an illness or accident that disables them. They seem to be far less ready to cope than those who were disabled as children.



I have to ask myself why Dagstine started it up again with me when there had been five months of silence regarding him on my blogs.

No mention of Dagstine was made on my blogs from August 8, 2009 (when I posted a bit of satire in the form of cooking recipes) until my first post here.   I had stayed away from shocklines during that period also.  What brought me back was this which happened on the 11th of this month.  Before that mention was made on June 9th, 2009.

That’s five months.

Matt’s reaction was:   “I have let him know that if he posts anything about you again, I will ban him. Similarly, if you post anything about him in any capacity, I will ban you. Ergo, neither of you should mention each other in any capacity on my board. If you see him post about you on my board, you need to contact me. That’s all I can do.”

A slap on the hand.

Five months.

My method of retaliation had been to post something happy, knowing that posting something happy about my novels would bait him into attacking me again and show what a vicious SOB he is.

I have become loath to discuss my medical issues online because that appeared to be an invitation for him to come after me.

Blogging had become abhorrent to me because Dagstine showed up.

Five months of silence on the issue of Dagstine.

And then it starts up again.

On August 27, 2009, I remarked on my blog how nice the sound of silence was.

I will try Matt’s method again of reporting these Dagstine outbreaks.  I am making a note on my calendar and giving it until June.  If Dagstine starts up again there, and Matt fails to take it down, I will make good on my threat.

The board will get reported for TOS violations and if that fails to get me satisfaction, I will take the next step now that I know it can be taken.

Review of “The Overrated Pro” by Lawrence Dagstine

Allow me to introduce my review.  This story was written as a revenge piece by an author who had a lot of scores to settle.  I will be noting who the allusions are to as I write this.




Lawrence Dagstine

“Thanks, Colbert,” he said. “I promise I’ll leave you a tip next time.” He got a refill on his coffee. (Ref to Scott Colbert, a talented poet who has been published by Bandersnatch books and has had trouble with Dagstine in the past).

“When are you writing this next bestseller?”

“As soon as one of these organizations actually recognize me,” he said.

Colbert nodded. “I guess that means never.”

(Why would his next bestseller require recognition by organizations?)


“How’s your cat?”


Another one.”

“It’s okay.  I’ll just go down to the Humane Society and pick me up a healthier critter.  Anyway, good luck with your manuscript.”

(This is a rather cruel reference to the death of Colbert’s beloved cat, Odetta)


Being a writing celebrity was the most transient fame in the world, but it was magnificent while it lasted.

(And what would you know of this?  Considering that – as you say later – he’s writing genre?  Genre authors stay on top far longer than literary authors.  So get real, Dagswine)


A curious kind of aberrant, macroscopic reputation attainable because of the nature of the exposure, and the redundancy of the work routine combined.  Much of his life revolved around two credits, and much to his pub mate editors’ likings.

(Are you sure it’s just 2 credits?  And, do you understand what the word ‘macroscopic’ means?  Try using a dictionary once in a while.)


An amateur might write down a few interesting metaphors or pen just as decent a story—a beginning, a middle, and an end—publish a few in some low circulation or obscure quarterlies; it might a few years later change a portion of the face of the globe, and such a figure might or might not get to be known even inside the publishing community.

(Are you suggesting that you are writing underground classics?  And are you aware, Dagswine, that ALL genre authors have a beginning, a middle and an end.  That’s called plot.)


Internet crazies with drug addictions thought he was super-important, and he might think so too.  That spelled out Web Idol.  But there was a difference between the web idol and the literary idol.

(Having so often accused Janrae Frank of being a crackwhore, and combining that with her defense of the author characatured here, it is obvious that this is a reference to her.  What is it about “clean since 1988” that you fail to comprehend?)


…Carnesto felt embarrassed asking the amateur for advice; he even glanced over his shoulder to make sure Colbert and the diner regulars weren’t watching. “But these periodicals you’re in are mere fanzines,” he said. “Why do it for so little money?”

“Oh, you must be from the Old School,” the amateur writer said. “Because you only live once, and there are many other rewards and remunerations from this kind of writing.”

“No! I—I don’t understand it!” He actually clenched his hands into fists and grinded his teeth. “I—I don’t compute!”

(Old School?  Like having a beginning, a middle and an end with good grammar, spelling, and characterization?  Something that you lack, Dagswine?  And it is very obvious that this amateur is a Mary Sue.)


“Dear sir, I’ll have you know that I AM A PRO.” It almost sounded like he was doing a Colin Baker schtick. “I’ve appeared in these two publications and I was paid such and such a sum!”

“But look at the dungeon you’ve put yourself in.  There’s no key to the door, no crawlspace, no way to get out.  You get no satisfaction from it.  It’s sad.”

“How can I get no satisfaction when the credits exist?”

“But you obsess over something you’ll still never be.”

“Are you trying to say I’m pathetic?”

“When I look from afar, yeah, I guess.”

(So, you, dear author, express your contempt for real acheivement?  Is that because you have none?  And that your ‘creds’ are really a pack of lies?)


He stormed off insisting that he was this famous thing, trained by long forgotten grandmasters and alcoholic slush pile editors.

(Since when was Harry Harrison a long forgotten grandmaster?)


During these days, when he went on the Internet actively seeking people he hated or wished to be, or just couldn’t stand being happy because his own life lacked joy, his wife walked about with a deep inner upset.

(Hello, world!  But I’ve seen the archives on several places, including Silverthought and guess who started all the trouble?  Come on, Dear Reader, make a guess.  And just what is a ‘deep inner upset’?  Did she have a bad case of chronic indigestion?  That’s a chewing gum phrase.  The kind of chewing gum that you accidentally step on while walking through your personal ghetto, Mr. Dagswine.)


“When are you going to get off that fucking Internet! I didn’t marry a robot.  You’ve become this—this computer junkie.  I needed you yesterday!”

(Bad dialog.  More Chewing Gum.)


“Why? Because your friend Janet’s brother is in the hospital on a respirator?”

“That poor devil was in a terrible accident.  He might not make it through another night.”

“So let them pull the plug.  It’s not as if she cared about him anyway.  They had their differences.  If I’m a computer junkie, so’s she.  Tell me, how many hours does she spend on the Web? If you ask me, she’ll probably be relieved once her parents fly back and they take the fellow off life support.  Oh, and don’t ask me to come to the funeral.”

(A reference to the death of Rusty Nail’s brother.)


His wife came over and threw down some drug paraphernalia.  His eyes glanced it briefly as he typed away. “And where did you get this?”

“I don’t know where you got that, but it’s definitely not mine.”

“Smoking drugs with that crack whore.  I spotted you with her the other day, chatting about.  She’s the big druggie and floozy of the neighborhood.”

“You know her?” Carnesto asked.

“Who doesn’t! What are you doing with that meth head?”

(Another reference to Janrae Frank)


Christ, she said to herself, he hasn’t fucked me in a month.  I ought to go down to the pub or get a piece somewhere else.

(Bad dialog.  Women don’t talk like this.  Men do.)


“If that crackhead came along here, you’d be able to put out,” she complained.  As she headed for the office door, she added, “And make sure you don’t do anything with her here!”

(Janrae Frank is having an affair with a man she has never met face to face?  Kind of a long distance fuck, doncha think?)


“Fucking amateur! Fucking amateur! Fucking amateur!” He had become so obsessed with this other person’s writing career, that not only had he almost permanently forgotten his own, but he started checking his victim’s work for logistical and grammatical errors that either did not exist or just wasn’t to his liking.

(Hmmn, sounds like the way the author in real life stalks Janrae Frank, Rusty Nail, and others.  The stalker is claiming to be the victim of stalking.  Dear Mr. Dagswine, it’s called ‘google alerts’ no stalking required.  Especially when you go out of your way name their names and get them to notice you again.)


Sometimes he thought of his ex-wife—by now, she had dumped him and not only was his computer on constantly, but he always carried a whiskey bottle and a loaded revolver by his side—and his marriage to her had been his foundation to begin with, and she was the only woman he had ever loved.

(Bad jump.  No lead in.  Just wham.  POV inconsistent shift)


And his only friends? Well, they were crazies.

(REALLY?  REALLY REALLY REALLY?  Are you certain about this?)


The court awarded his ex custody of their little girl, and he must pay alimony until she remarried.

(Alimony is no longer paid until a woman remarries.  It’s paid until she gets a job.  Most women work, ya know.  And ya know something else?  Sometimes it is the wife who pays the alimony.  What century are you living in?)


He was entitled visitation rights….

(Awww, that’s so cute, Dear Mr. Dagswine makes an italicized reference to his self-published story that has nothing to offer the reader.)


She had her father’s haunting features and the same bone structure as he.

(Wait, you said he was ugly.  Where does this come from?  And ending a sentence on ‘he’ is both bad form and bad grammar in this case.)


His now-ex came along. “Honey, be careful.  You might fall afoul of someone like your father and get your life garbled before it begins.”

(Bad dialog.  Don’t ask me to explain it, it would require more words than it is worth.)


He grabbed hold of her and gave her an earthy kiss.  He held her tightly and his hands, from a lifetime of typing and not touching, found its way over her developing breasts.  His face flushed.  What the hell was going on?

(Mr. Dagswine, might I remind you at this point, that you said on Shocklines that as a 20 something you used to go to parties thrown by 14 year old girls in order to score some sex.)


That one particular shelf had been lined with all the anthologies ever created, all the books ever produced, all the periodicals of the writer he had been victimizing all these years, and he realized, “Holy shit! I’m your number one fan.”

(Is the ‘amateur’ a vampire?  Otherwise how did he end up in all these anthologies?  Have you any idea how many anthologies are out there and how long people have been publishing them?  I’ll be glad to give him a rolling pin to kill himself with.)


He swiveled around in his chair and let go of the trigger.  A bullet entered the center of his daughter’s chest, ricocheted off her shoulder and lung, and exited through her back.

(I suggest you get a good book on guns.  Bullets can’t richochet off soft tissue.)


Sitting and Wondering

The internet has issues.

Anything can be abused and is abused.  Too much freedom can be as  harmful as too much little.  To my mind, there is not much that can be done with the situation as it stands.  However, education can make tomorrow better.

I believe that the more internet savvy our youngsters become, the more they will be safe from the types of problems I have with it.

Case in point.

There’s a writer (I refuse to dignify him as an author).

All of his ‘sales’ have been to the 4theluv publications or the publications that pay substantially lower than the professional zines.

He claims to have sold over 400 stories, but he does not put up a bibliography to confirm his claims.

He claims to have written under numerous pseudonyms.

None of those pseudonyms have stories attributed to them (I have very good google-fu and I can’t find them).

His work is riddled with errors of logic, errors of fact (such as bullets ricocheting off a lung) , and bad dialog.

He tells lies about people with better credits than he has to soil their reputations.

He seems to choose his victims at random and then go on vendettas that last for years (six years is as far as I have been able to establish).

And yet there are people who believe him.

In this day and age, with the advent of the internet, there is no reason not to take the time to google people for the facts.  Somewhere beneath the lies and deceptions, you can dig out the truth.

Why don’t people do this?

His name is Lawrence Dagstine.

He seeks to make his name and career, not on his non-existent talent, but on the bodies and reputations of other authors with better credits than he has.

However, the truth has it’s own Lone Ranger, it’s super hero: The Rusty Nail.

Read it.

Nicky "Six Ports" by Rusty Nail

He’s got a new entry on Blogspot complaining about dial-up, but it’s far from a cross-post of his WordPress entry.

The failure of dial-up internet is the slow uploads; I am getting Verizon in the house well when I get it I can take the connection with me when I get it fired up. There are six USB ports on my computer, and I will be getting two more multi-ports which were carried over from my old computers.

Read more…

Verizon Wireless

Here’s a post from Rusty Nail!  We’re not going to let Nicky’s antics slow her down.

Nicky’s got another new entry on his WordPress.

I am signed for a two year contract with Verizon Wireless and the only thing I have with them is the internet.

Read more…