Georgelle Hirliman Bücher

While trying to write her first novel, Georgelle Hirliman found herself suffering a severe case of writer’s block. To break free she installed herself in the window of a bookstore with her typewriter and invited passersby to ask her anything they wanted. She found that responding immediately to unexpected questions freed her to write, and gave her joy, so for ten years she sat in bookstore windows in New York, New Mexico and Oregon, answering with grace and wit such questions as: WHAT IS THE ANSWER TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING? WHY ARE THE RICH SO RUDE? WHY IS LIFE SUCH A BITCH? WHY WON’T MY PARENTS BUY ME A HORSE? HOW MANY ROACHES ARE THERE IN NEW YORK? WHY DO PEOPLE FOLLOW THE GRATEFUL DEAD? WHAT HAPPENS TO ERASED WORDS? WHY ME? "At first I thought it was…a gimmick…but Ms. Hirliman’s impromptu answers…were as good as most books you pick up. Each reply was fresh and gave you a little bit of philosophy to take home." —Lisa Green, The Wall Street Journal “…the Writer in the Window is a…peripatetic troubador with an electric typewriter and a high-voltage imagination….Her answers are always interesting, often funny….” —Roy Sorrels, Writer’s Digest

Exploring the ancient wisdom of tarot, this book teaches readers how to effectively use tarot cards for personal growth and self-awareness. It emphasizes the potential for immediate application upon acquiring a deck, guiding users to harness the cards' insights for meaningful life progress.

The terror lasted for thirty-six hours. When it was over, thirty-three inmates were dead, all at the hands of their fellow convicts. It was an outbreak of inmate violence unequaled in the annals of prison uprisings. It happened at the Penitentiary of New Mexico�Time magazine called it �the nation�s most notorious prison.� W.G. Stone was there. He witnessed the beatings, the stabbings, the rape, the torture. �Tying the rope under his arms and around his chest, they strung him up on the basketball hoop for all to see. There he would hang for the rest of the riot…During those hours of madness that were to follow, inmates would come in and hack at his dangling corpse with knives, beat it with pipes, mutilating it so totally that it was beyond recognition, a raw, bloody mass of flesh, by the time the uprising was over.� The Hate Factory…