This apartment is located on the first floor of a characteristic building in the Trastevere neightbourhood, in the heart of Rome, ideal for whoever wants to breathe the air of the ancient city and walk in its typical narrow streets.
Trastevere is a lively and characteristic area, full of markets, little shops, nice restaurants, bars with squares and monuments that creates an unique atmosphere.
The flat has a wonderful view on Piazza San Giovanni della Malva: this location is convinient to reach easily most of the turistic sites such as the Coloseum, the Forum, Piazza Navona, the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, Campo dei Fiori and the well-known flea-market of Rome, Porta Portese.

RESTRICTIONS: no pets allowed

Included services:
Sheets, towels, Tv color, hair dryer, cleaning service.

CHECK IN: no check in after 11:30 p.m.

CHECK OUT:at 11:00 a.m. but with an agreement it can be done also in different times.

Optional services:
Ticketing for museums, concerts, theatres, restaurant.
Candle light dinners on roofs of Rome.
Transfer to/by airports or train station.

If you are interested in a cheap hotel in Rome, pls visit our catalogue of Hotels all over Italy, where you can find also a wide range of accommodations in Rome and Hotels in Florence, Naples and Venice, from cheap to luxury, togheter with Tours.
All the reservation are secure: in fact, we don’t ask you to give us your credit card information, but in order to complete the reservation, we will redirect you directly on a bank (we currently use Paypal, the eBay company) for the payment

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About the Author

Author Dan Brown has been active in internet marketing for the past 4 years. Dan currently is working with the Zabang search engine, introducing their new affiliate program which is due out July, 2005. Zabang

We were nine years old that bright, summer morning in 1933, when Norman told us about an airport “just on the other side of Crotona Park.” (When I was older, I learned that it was about thirty miles south of my home, on an island off the coast of southern Queens.) There were five of us in the group and the other four had just finished playing “off the bench.” This game is played with a “Spaldeen,” a pink, soft rubber ball which is thrown against the slatted wooden back of a concrete bench that stands on the park side of Fulton Avenue.

Our neighborhood consisted of one ‘block,’ from 174thstreet to 175th , the park on one side; on the other was a row of ten, 5-story buildings, with four apartments on a floor. (The average family had 3-6 children.) We were luckier than most ‘blocks’ that had 5 story tenements on both sides.

“Off the bench:” There are two players to a side and on the fielding team one player stands in the street and the other on the opposite sidewalk. (In the early 1930’s there was hardly any motor traffic or parked cars on Fulton Ave.) You scored when the thrown ball rebounded off a slat and bounced in the gutter or on the opposite sidewalk. One base for every bounce, four bounces, a home run. Since I was one of the worst players on the block I was not picked in the first choosing of sides.

The game had been long and exciting and it finished in great style when Norman hit a home run, an uncatchable smash which reached the building on the other side of the street and fell into the cellar. I cheered this magnificent shot and then announced that it was my turn to pick. I would choose the best player from the losing side to be my partner. Not to be.

Norman announced in his super-confident voice that there would be no more games since we would all go to Floyd Bennett Airport. “I know it is just on the other side of the park. We can walk there.” I was angry for not getting my pick and I argued loudly with him but as usual, his decision was final; there would be no more “off the bench” that morning. .

There were four of us sitting on the bench and Norman stood facing us. His spiel was seductive and easily led us to agree to going to the airport. I suggested that we take along sandwiches. This idea was happily and immediately accepted. We agreed to take sandwiches from home, telling our mothers that we wanted to have a picnic lunch in the park. The five of us dispersed homeward to prepare for this great adventure: Norman, Tevie, (Herby), Lobo, (Natie), Putzie, (Paulie), and myself, Itchy, (Irving.) I had never questioned the fact that Norman was the only one without a nickname

Flinging open the door of my house, I rushed into the kitchen, finding my mother busy preparing lunch. I breathlessly told her about our idea of having a picnic in the park and she bought it without any questions. I told her that Tevie, Lobo, Putzie and Norman were my picnic companions and they were bringing sandwiches, and I wanted to bring them too. Momma sliced four thick slabs of seeded rye bread and heavily spread butter on them. She made two jumbo sandwiches filling them with a “feinkuchen,” (omelet.) She put them in a brown paper bag and handing it to me she said, “Don’t go too far in the park.”

There were four of us waiting by the bench for Norman. He was late. We were eager to get going and as time went by I volunteered to go to his home to find out when he was coming. I ran up the double set of steps of the courtyard of Norman’s building, (the only building on the block with a courtyard,) and standing under his kitchen window I shouted up to him. His head popped out of the kitchen window, as if he had been waiting for me. He had a big bulge in his cheek and he was chewing slowly. In his right hand he was holding a banana and mustard sandwich. He told me to come up. I did.

He was waiting for me by his open apartment door and motioned for me to come in. We stood in the all of his apartment and he whispered to me, “You don’t know what happened. Somehow my mother guessed we were going to the airport and now I have to stay home. What lousy luck.”

She called from the kitchen, asking us to come in. When I walked in she bent down and gently pinched my cheek, saying, “I love your rosy cheeks and your freckles, Itchy.” She offered to make me a banana and mustard sandwich as she had for Norman; I backed up a bit and politely refused.

Norman supported his mother saying, “My mother is right. It’s no good to go past the Indian Lake. If you ask me, you don’t know what’s on the other side.” I mumbled, “It ain’t so far,” and ran out of the apartment. When I came out into the courtyard and was skipping down the upper set of steps Norman shouted behind me, “You can’t miss it. It’s just on the other side of the Indian Lake.”

The four of us entered the park, heading in the direction of Indian Lake and hopefully, the airport, on the other side. The park is about a mile wide and we were no more than half way across when we were attracted by the cheering noises of a large crowd coming from the city stadium. Putzie suggested that we detour there because “They have baseball games with uniforms and even umpires, guys in black suits.” Putzie was the best athlete on the block and his recommendation was quickly accepted. He led the way, running quickly and easily, with Lobo right behind him. Tevie and I were struggling to keep up.

There was a baseball game in progress and the players wore uniforms; this was the first time I had ever seen uniformed play. There were two men dressed in black suits, wearing small, black, peaked caps, and I easily identified them as the umpires. The contest was between two semi-professional teams, one from a west side neighborhood of the Bronx and the other from our east side. (The west side of the Bronx was the “rich” side and the East side was the “poor” side. Of course we immediately picked sides and lustily cheered the “East Bronxers.”

Putzie was the only one who had seen a major league game, the New York Yankees, the “Bronx Bombers,” at the Yankee Stadium in the west Bronx.. We knew about the Yankees from the radio broadcasts that I sometimes heard in the candy store, when the older fellows asked Mr. Nathan, the owner, to put on the game. Some of my bubble-gum tickets had pictures of Yankee players.

It was fascinating to see my first real baseball game, in a stadium, a small one, but still with a laid-out playing field. All the previous games I had seen were sandlot games. The stands were full and the noisy, enthusiastic crowd roared its approval at anything the home team did. The first base and third base foul lines were lined with children sitting on the ground. We found seats on the foul line just past third base and we settled comfortably onto the dry, dusty earth. The Indian Lake and Floyd Bennett airport were forgotten. After fifteen minutes of joyful spectating, something happened to make us continue with our original mission.

A grounder, hit just foul, down the third base line would have hit Putzie in the head but he ducked in time, avoiding a disaster. This near-accident prompted the umpires to clear both foul lines. We had to move behind the home plate wire-screen where the people and children obstructed the view of the game. Tevie, the oldest of our group, reminded us of our original destination by pointing in the direction of Indian Lake. “What about it, guys? Do we stay or go? Which is it?”

After a brief discussion, Lobo, the natural leader of our group, quietly resolved our conflict. Firmly, clearly, he said, “The airport. That’s where we’re going, right?” We were on our way. A few minutes later we found ourselves standing on the top of a hill, the Indian Lake below us, and beyond that, Boston Road and Claremont Parkway. The lake seemed so big and deep and there were rowboats. (That there was no airport seen, we didn’t even think about at that time.)

I had been to the lake the first time, the year before, with my siblings. We accompanied Zaydeh (my maternal grandfather) to the lakeside, so that he could “throw away his sins.” Just prior to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, Zaydeh, the president of our Fulton Avenue schul, (synagogue) led the male congregants pond-side, for the ritual dumping of their sins into the water. Afterwards, the men stood around talking, gossiping, mingling with hundreds of other sin-throwing worshipers from other schuls in the area.

While my Zaydeh was chatting, my brother Sid and I explored the lake. We walked to the end of the lake where the rowboats were tied up and heedless of the danger we tried to climb into one. The park attendant responsible for the boats gruffly growled at us, “Scram, you snotnoses before I kick your asses for you.” We ran back to the safety zone of Zaydeh’s area.

There was a roundish, six-foot high boulder adjacent to the lake, more than twice my height. This was the Indian Rock, with a brass embedded dedication plaque in its side, and little steps carved in its side, leading to its top. Sid was the first one up and for a few moments he wouldn’t let me climb to the top, shouting, “I am the King of the hill.” This brought a sharp rebuke from Zaydeh, who told my brother not to disturb the seriousness of the situation. It also allowed me to make it to the top.

Sitting peacefully on top of the Indian Rock, we talked about the western movies that we sometimes went to Saturday afternoons at the Deluxe movie, or the Fenway, both within walking distance from our home. Based on the good-guy, bad-guy movies, it was easy to project the Indian Rock into a fort.

Suddenly, coming out of my reverie, I realized that I was famished and the powerful odor coming from my butter-stained, brown bag enhanced my appetite. I took out one of the sandwiches, waved it around, saying, “Listen, guys, let’s eat something and then we’ll be ready to charge down the hill to the lake. What do you say?” There was a brief moment of hesitation but when Tevie took out one of his sandwiches and bit deeply into it, that was the signal for all of us to sit down to eat.

We ate quickly, except for Tevie. We were up and around, restlessly waiting for him to finish, anxious to make the charge down the hill to Lake and its besieged fort, the Indian rock. Even before Tevie took his last bite we began to run down the hill. Putzie was in the lead, with Lobo behind him and I was just one step ahead of Tevie. Suddenly I noticed a dollar bill lying on the side of the asphalt path and I stopped running, transfixed by what I had discovered.

I called out, “Hey, look. There’s a buck on the ground.” Before I could pick it up Tevie had scooped it up, saying loudly, “It’s mine. I found it. No aikies.” According to street law if he said this before anyone could say “Halfie no aikes,” then he didn’t have to share his find. I said, “It ain’t fair, no. I saw it first. C’mon Tevie, be fair.” He refused, repeating, “No aikies.” I doubled the loudness of my demand but he refused, finding a new excuse, sing-songing, “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Lobo mediated the dispute by convincing Tevie that the four of us should share the dollar; I accepted the compromise. The usually gentle Tevie grumbled his acceptance of Lobo’s wise decision. We forgot the airport, we forgot the lake, forgot the Indian rock. Instead we headed in the direction of the street on the other side of the park. There were stores there and we agreed that we would go to a candy story where each one of us could buy to his heart’s delight, what he wanted with his twenty five cents.

Just before we left the park we saw a man with a pony, selling rides for a nickel each. Without a word we made a new decision about what to do with the money. For the next hour we were living in the wonderful world of the Wild West. Each of us had five, rip-roaring, bronco-busting rides on the docile pony. It was like in the movies where my favorite cowboy, Buzz Barton, always got the bad guy; the only kiss at the end of the movie was to his horse. Then he rode off at the end, into the sinking sun, the lone rider.

When our money ran out we stood around for a few minutes watching other children have pony rides. Then Putzie brought us out of our western fantasy life by shouting, “The last one to the Indian Rock is a rotten egg.” I was the rotten egg, since I got a late start and even Tevie beat me.

While the other three were climbing onto the rock, playing “Cowboys and Indians” I took off my sneakers and socks and sat on the paving-stone lake rim. I dangled my feet into the cool water and by sliding slightly forward, I could just reach the muddy bottom. The soft sliminess of the silted bottom was pleasantly sensuous as I moved my feet in and out of it. The muddy waters coming up to the surface fascinated me.

I was shocked to hear a park attendant shouting at me, as he ambled in direction. I hastily withdrew from the water and gathering up my sneakers and socks I ran part of the way up the hill. He stopped and pointed his long arm accusingly at me and gruffly yelled at me, “What do you want to do? Get yourself drowned or something?” I retreated a little further up the hill. With a grunt of disapproval and a dismissing wave of his hand, he moved off.

Resocked and reshod, I joined my friends by the rock. They were playing “Cowboys and Indians.” Lobo and Putzie were on top, “in the fort,” and Tevie had been unsuccessfully storming it. I joined him and the both of us were unsuccessful in getting to the top. I complained loudly that it wasn’t fair so we switched. Tevie and I were the brave defenders of the fort and Putzie and Lobo were the Indians. Somehow, they succeeded in getting to the top.

I didn’t care because we were having a great time. After a while we got tired of the game and we began to play tag. When we tired of that game we walked to the end of the lake (that was about fifty yards wide and 25 across,) where the rowboats were moored. We watched two couples take out two boats. We discussed the possibility of getting a rowboat but realized that we couldn’t, because we had no accompanying adult and we had no money.

We moved to a new part of the lake and began to skip flat stones across the surface, competing to see who could get the most bounces. It was Putzie, of course. We watched a man fishing with a thin string and a u-shaped pin for a hook. He had a ball of dough at his feet and he pinched off a piece, finger-rolled it into a little bait-ball and put it on the end of his improvised hook. Then he threw it into the water.

Four times he pulled his line out of the water without the bait on it. Then it happened. The fifth time the line jerked in the water. He pulled gently on it and then more strongly. With a swift motion he pulled his hook out of the water and wiggling desperately on it was a two inch fish. He plucked the fish off his hook and put it into a glass jar, half-filled with lake water. I watched the little darter in his glass jail, feeling sorry for it.

Somehow, watching the trapped fish reminded me of Norman and I reminded the group that we never got to the airport. The rest of the group was just as surprised as I was that we had forgotten about it. We were hungry and it was too late in the day to go on. We decided to make the trip on another day. Lobo looked towards home, saying that it was late in the day and it was time to start back. Without waiting for the others I took off, shouting, “The last one up the hill is a rotten egg.” This time Tevie was the rotten egg.

The return trip was quick and uneventful. When we got to Fulton Avenue we saw a crowd of people standing in front of the new buildings. My mother and father were there, along with my two brothers and sister. In the same worried cluster were Putzie’s parents, Tevie’s mother and father and Lobo’s mother and oldest sister My heart began pounding and I had trouble breathing. I knew I was going to be punished.

I felt worse when Norman came running towards us, shouting, “You guys are in trouble. You’re going to get it. What took you so long? Did you get to the airport? Everyone has been going crazy looking for you.” Before anyone could answer he told us what happened. His mother told my mother and she had contacted the other three mothers. Putzie’s older brother was sent to look for us around Indian Lake but we were at the stadium at the time. Later in the day, as the anxiety increased, Tevie’s father and my father, both out of work at the time, went to look for us. We were probably wild-westing it with our pony at the furthest reaches of the park, and when they returned without us the rumor spread that we had been kidnapped.

My mother tearfully embraced me, kissed me repeatedly and thanked God for bringing me home safely. Then with a serious look and a stern command, she ordered me to go “upstairs.” My father’s red-faced angry looks made me fearful that I was going to get a beating. He had never beaten me before although he had spoken of it, occasionally reached for his belt, or gave me a stern look. That was enough to scare me into behaving.

When I was upstairs, sitting in the kitchen, hungry and apprehensive, my mother came in alone. She gave me something to eat which I was unable to enjoy because I didn’t know what form the punishment would take. Hanging on the wall above the table was the Lukshen Strop, (the noodle strap), the cat-o-nine tails, and looking at it made me shiver fearfully.

My mother decided to use her own instrument of punishment and I was momentarily relieved that it wasn’t going to be a whipping. She began her tongue lashing, constantly repeating in a quiet, tense voice, “How could you be such a bad boy. You’ll kill me. After all the sacrifices I made for you children.” I remembered that when I was a few years younger she had done the same thing when I was a “bad boy.” She talked and talked until I cried hysterically for her to stop.

I cried long, I cried hard. I promised again and again that I would never again do anything like that. That ended the first round. Then she started guilt-whipping me again about making her suffer, about shortening her life, and I cried and repented, and then repented and cried. Finally, I was sent to bed with a full stomach, loaded with remorse, promises to be good and heavily burdened with guilt.

The following day when the guys met, we decided that Norman had tattle-taled; one of the others called him a stool pigeon. From that moment he became Stooley. He finally had a nickname like the rest of us.

About The Author

Irving Itchy Bronsky

See my webste: www.irving-bronsky.com

bronskyirving@hotmail.com

This is about horses, or more to the point, why I don’t read books about horses. I read a book I like to get lost in the adventure. I can’t do that when the author introduces a horse as most don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about. I was born on a cattle ranch, I’ve dealt with horses all of my life, and there’s a room full of trophies and a bank full of money to prove it. For more information on my background go to www.authorsinc.com and look at the pictures, see the background and then decided for yourself. Now on to some myths that are just wrong.

Myth 1: You cannot guide a horse with your knees. To start with, there’s a quarter inch of leather, then there’s the cinch and buckles, and finally, the horse doesn’t know what the heck you’re doing anyway. I’ve turned out, this is the correct term for a horse that you’ve started, worked with for two to three years, and wound up with a finished product that is ready to go out and win. I’ve turned out roping, cutting, and reining horses. I’ve also turned out and ridden race horses into the winners circle. If you want one of these horses to go left, I assume you’re supposed to press the right knee, and they did turn left, they’re going to leave you off out at the right with your head stuck in the ground.

Myth 2: You saddle a horse, step into the saddle, and ride the bucking bronco until he quits.
I’ve never let a horse buck. There’s no reason to. First of all, they don’t know how and they learn by doing. Secondly, there’s no reason to terrorize the animal. Thirdly, my bones are too brittle for all of that exercise. Training a horse is no different then training any other animal. You wouldn’t terrorize a dog in training so why terrorize a horse. My experience in dealing with thousands of horses is that they want to be as big a pet as your dog.

Myth 3: The word Stallion is not in the vocabulary of horse people. To horse people it’s stud. It’s the only word they use.

Myth 4: You can disguise a horse by changing it’s color or some other such foolishness. Let me ask you this. If your best friend dyes his or her hair would you still recognize them? Horses look as different to horse people as your friends do to you. If you were to change the color of say, Smarty Jones, and a top flight trainer or jockey that had seen the horse walks by, sees the horse in a pasture a half mile away, the first words out of their mouth is ‘What did they do to Smarty Jones, and why?’ I know, Dick Francis did it once, and I did read Dick Francis, but he tried to disguise what he was doing, and in the end even he didn’t believe it, I could tell by the way he was writing. He did go ahead and publish the thing anyway.

Myth 5: There’s no such thing as a rodeo circuit. I don’t know where the term came from, but I’ve been going to rodeos since I was fifteen and I never heard anyone say that. The correct term is ‘I’m going rodeoing, I’m going to a roping, we’re going to the rodeo at Houston next week. If you’re going to write about horses I suggest getting a subscription to Horse and Rider. The articles are written by people in the field and not by writers researching an article.

Charles Montgomery www.authorsinc.com/

About the author:

I was born on a cattle ranch, have lived on one all of my life, and I have turned out thousands of horses.

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Market identification

Custom writing services market is a sector of the e-commerce industry. Custom writing services are fee-based.

Market size

The precise size of custom writing services market is unknown, though some rough estimate could be made. The number of competitors in the market approaches nearly 200. It is also known that around 30 percent of organizations in the industry have annual turnover equal amounting to $120,000 approximately, whereas other 70 percent have almost twice as low annual turnover. Total turnover, market size, is estimated at $10,800,000 annually. The size of the market in relation to the economy is yet unknown.

Segmentation

Segmentation is the process of allocation of particular homogeneous sub-markets within a heterogeneous market. A market is a multitude of sub-markets that have similar motivations.

In the case with the market concerned, segmentation is interpreted as follows. Companies that operate within the market could be divided in accordance to specialization differences into such categories: (a) generally-oriented companies; (b) particularly-oriented companies. Generally-oriented companies are those that produce custom-written papers on a wide variety of topics. As a rule, such organizations hire writers representing different specialties or simply those able to perform on appropriate level in one or several fields. Companies ascribed to another organizational category usually operate within a narrower framework. In the market there are companies that offer custom-written papers exclusively on math, physics, sociology, the African-Americans, William Shakespeare, Charlotte Bronte, etc.

Other products and services offered by the industry representatives include proofreading and editing services, and pre-written papers.

It is noteworthy that there are companies in the market that offer both custom-written and pre-written papers. This, however, may have nothing to do with violation of ethics, but what about privacy of those students who previously ordered a custom-written paper, which might have been later re-sold to another student?

Growth speed

Growth rates of the market are varying over the time. Thus, in 2000 there were nearly 25-30 companies offering custom-written/pre-written essays, term papers, cases studies, and other types of research papers. Over the 5-year period the number of companies in the market grew up to nearly a hundred and a half.

The leap in growth rates of the market is noticed to take place in 2003-2004 when sudden change in pricing occurred. The number of companies in the market increased almost 30 percent and now estimated around 80 companies. This leap was probably caused by the tendency towards ecommerce solutions being new to hoards of entrepreneurs in a number of developing countries like India, Ukraine, Poland and other countries. Companies with headquartered in these countries began offering similar services but with lower fees as compared to those located in the U.S., Canada, or Australia. More on pricing policies see in Pricing.

Today, market’s growth speed is rather low as the market is full-fledged due to a variety of services offered by market participants.

Geographical distribution of services

It is worth mentioning that the researched market is a subdivision of ecommerce industry. This gives ground to conclude that either products or services produced by industry’s parties are of intangible character rather than of tangible. This especially concerns custom writing services market, which offers its customers intangible products delivered to them mostly via email.

It should be clear that no matter where a company holds its general/backup office, it operates worldwide.

The only principle that regulates geographical distribution of custom-written papers is linguistic attachment. Among major countries using the service are: the United States of America, Canada, Australia, Great Britain, and some European and Asian countries.

Seasonal character of the market

Another aspect of the market is its seasonality. Seasonal character of the examined market is sharply defined. As services offered by the market participants are oriented at student needs throughout the academic year only, the season of active sales almost coincides with the academic year. The first half of September - usually passive - is compensated with several weeks in June.

Such seasonality of the market explains its instability of prices. It was noticed that prices for services increase throughout the year with peaks in December - January and April - May; and drop dramatically during the summer season.

Customers/Clients

Customers of online services such as custom writing services are usually students of high schools, colleges, and Universities, of 16 to 25 years old. As pricing in the market is relatively low, target group of the market covers the so-called middle class and higher. A research shows that in 2005 from 14 percent to 23 percent of students (considering seasonality correction) have in due time applied to custom writing services. In other words, one-seventh to one-fourth of students has bought at least one paper during 2004-2005 academic years. The same research provides data that gives ground to conclude about the growth of the market. It is declared that in 2003 peak rate of students who applied to the service at least once was 25 percent, whereas in 2005 it is estimated to reach 36 percent.

Customer loyalty

Customer loyalty is obviously a behavior demonstrated by frequent or systematic purchases of a company’s product or service. Customer loyalty could be achieved through customer-friendly pricing policies, various discount programs, incentive plans etc. Customer loyalty is also an aspect of a company’s customer retention or loyalty programs. Customer retention programs are usually complex systems that include two or more elements listed above. As regards the market of custom writing services, the following was noticed in the course of the research held by the author: (a) more than 80 percent of the market uses basic techniques in acquiring customer loyalty such as permanently variable prices that depend on demand for the product or service throughout the year, bonus plans (such as bonus key that allows up to 4 percent reduction), and other techniques; and (b) nearly 10 percent of companies within the market use complex customer loyalty programs such as flexible discounts (sometimes up to 30 percent!) in a combination with weekly feedback bonuses, personal selection of a writer, order status check, 24/7 customer care, and other modes of customer attraction.

Factors that influence buyer’s choice

Among factors that have impact on customers’ choice in the market of custom writing services are price, quality of products and services (including exclusiveness, professionalism, and compliance with the requirements), and delivery time.

As to price and quality of a specific service, these two factors are the most important. It is vital for companies to balance between price and quality values since optimum correlation between these two categories benefits both a service provider and a customer. It is worth mentioning that there are companies that offer papers written by Ph.D.s for “as low as $8.95 per page”. Quality of a paper is directly related to its price and vice versa.

In respect of the delivery time, many companies offer urgent order accomplishment within 12 (and sometimes even hours. Some of them limit the volume of an order to certain number of pages, though there are some companies that accept urgent orders without volume limitation.

Pricing

Custom writing services market has been experiencing a decline in prices lately. As it was mentioned earlier in this research, there had been fall in prices in 2003-2004 caused by sudden increase in market’s growth rates. By far, average fees are kept at the level of $15 per page for regular (5+ days) orders, $20 per page for urgent (24 to 48h) orders, and $30 a page for extremely urgent orders (within 24h).

There are companies offering custom-written papers half price as compared to average pricing. This fact may indicate that a company either hires instant workers from developing countries or is new to the market and provides such a low pricing policy in order to enter the full market and gain certain status.

Principles of operation

Principles of operation are the same throughout the industry. Intangible nature of products produced by competitors in the market implies single system of relationships between a company and a customer irrespective of an organization’s capacities.

Companies that offer custom-written papers (essays, term papers, case studies, literature reviews, executive summaries, dissertations) operate through their websites. Websites are supplied with all necessary and optional features such as credit card processing system (necessary), online customer service (optional), and auto-responder to provide existing customers with automated thank yous and newsletters, and other features.

A customer places an order, which is then forwarded to a writer. This step is omitted in small companies where two or three people wear several hats, e.g. one person could perform as an administrator, a writer, and a customer service representative. If there ARE a couple of writers working for a company, one of them accomplishes an order, which is then delivered to the customer via email.

It is worth noting that major attention is paid to a company’s website. It is common for a company producing custom-written papers to have as many webmasters as writers. Hard to believe? In your opinion, what is the correlation between webmasters/programmers and book reviewers working for Amazon.com?

Competitors and leaders

As mentioned above, the number of competitors in the market estimates nearly 120. Leadership in the market where companies offer custom-written papers of any kind is defined exclusively due to a company’s website’s ranking in various search engines. The most powerful search engines are Google, MSN, Yahoo!, Altavista, and Alltheweb. Moreover, websites are ranked in accordance to their content oriented at different key words. Thus, different websites could be leaders in the same search engine, though for different keywords or phrases.

Regulations

Being a subdivision of the ecommerce industry, custom writing services market is regulated by nothing but several codes like BBB Online that refer to web entrepreneurs. In general, ecommerce industry is poorly regulated.

Current trends within the industry and market success factors

Among current trends in the market particularly three aspects are worth mentioning: (a) constant fall in price; (b) constant increase in the number of competitors; and (c) diversification of services offered by companies.

Constant increase in the number of competitors is obviously caused by simplicity of operations and growing number of freelance writers who once decided to start out their own business.

Permanent fall in price is caused by growing number of competitors and similarity of services offered by companies in the market.

Finally, diversification of services is a logic consequence of the same increase in the number of competitors.

Among factors for success in the market the following issues could be mentioned: …

Full version of this article is availabe at http://www.personal-writer.com/overview1/

About The Author

Serge Chepurko is one of the best - though relatively young - writers employed by Your Personal Writer. Over a year that Serge has been writing for living, he has produced nearly 100 quality essays, case studies and term papers on management, sociology, and history.

http://www.personal-writer.com

s.chepurko@personal-writer.com

Odd question, I know. Voice is associated with sound not sight. Still, I’ve been looking for it everywhere: writer’s retreats, a bedroom converted into a chic writing studio, the refrigerator, which is filled with brainpower snacks, specifically chocolate-mocha Haagen-Dazs (They say it cures writer’s block. I’ve dedicated years to working out the correct dosage). Yet while my words arranged on paper proved that I can hold my own with a comma and I’m no slouch when wielding a semicolon, the words themselves felt to me like hollow echo chambers; they ran in place bouncing off the keyboard onto the page but went nowhere.

Then one day last autumn, I was strolling through a street fair. I noticed two women standing behind a table display of seed packets wrapped attractively as gifts. Muse impulse or poor shopping-impulse control, it no longer matters which, prompted me to buy five of them.

So as not to feel guilty for spending $10. on seed packets that probably had a unit cost of eighty cents each, I went home and found the addresses of five people I’d fallen out of touch with for several years. For each note card, I thought that I’d be clever and enclose an inquiry: “Where will love blossom next in your life?”

Several weeks passed with no acknowledgement.

Naturally, I pulled out my journal to bask in rejection. I’d show them. I’d answer this query myself and rejoice in my own smug self-satisfaction that I was a lone word warrior.

Where will love blossom next in my life? Hmm. That was a puzzler. I couldn’t work out the problem-solving angle or think my way around it. The emptiness of the blank page mirrored the emptiness within me. It was uncomfortable like scratchy underwear. I couldn’t turn back though. I put that query out there and if I ignored it myself I couldn’t justify my ego bruise.

‘Where’ meant going not to a retreat, my studio or the refrigerator, but to a place of vulnerability. Where did I feel that emptiness in my body? The question triggered my heart to race so fast it felt like a ping-pong ball trapped in my chest. I took several deep breaths and allowed it to lead the way.

I share with you five places to explore for meaning in your writing practice.

1. Make a list of five people whom you miss having in your life.

Pick up the phone and call each one. Start the conversation anew. Don’t allow anxiety about what to say stop you. Trust that the words will come.

2. Brainstorm 100 words about a person whom you love. Next, imagine that you’re creating a painter’s palette by group similar words together like hues of color. Then, with your pen as the brush and the paper as your canvas, create a message that speaks to who this person is in your life. Send this note.

3. Celebrate laughter. When people laugh in conversation with you, ask why what you said was humorous. Celebrate who you’re both being in that moment.

4. Listen with unconditional love. Where do you see pain among your family members or friends? Ask what is hard for them to be with. Listen without judgment, a proposed solution or comment. Simply be there and share the space.

5. Practice voice play. For one week, note all the different voices that surround you: birds, the wind, children, people and animals. What are they saying? What’s your heart saying back?

Without realizing it, my inquiry planted a self-discovery bulb last fall. Through the cold winter months, I felt the ‘wheres’ unfold gradually and I found that my voice within my heart. Now with the spring buds, I am grateful for the journey and I trust my heart along this continuous path.

I hope one or more of the above bring you to a new place in your writing practicethe place where your voice lives. Where love will blossom next in your life?

© 2005 Melissa A. Rosati. All rights reserved.

About The Author

Melissa Rosati is a co-active coach whose clients are writers, authors and creative artists. Prior to her coaching career, she was Director, Editorial & Production for McGraw-Hill International (UK). To subscribe to her newsletter, THE ESSENTIAL SOUL WRITER, please visit her website: http://www.melissarosati.com.

melissa@melissarosati.com

Copywriting Checklist

Okay, you know you have your product (or service) in front of you. Now it’s time to get the word out with an attention-grabbing sales letter. But where do you begin? Whether you hire someone to write your copy, pass it off to a staff member or learn to write it yourself, you need this checklist.

The Critical Steps to Take Before Writing Your Sales Letter

One of the biggest misconceptions new clients have when they come to me is I can whip out a sales letter in a few days. Wrong, wrong and wrong. A lot of preparation goes into writing copy. I spend on average 50% - 70% of my time PREPARING to write copy. If you don’t do your homework, the chances go up exponentially that your copy will fall flat on its face. Use this simple checklist to get you prepared for writing your own sales copy.

• Use the product or service yourself. I wouldn’t dream of writing copy about something I had never experienced. (If it’s your product, you may want to let someone else test it, then interview her about her experience.) It’s one of the fastest ways to get a complete understanding of its strengths and weaknesses.
• Research your target market thoroughly. If you know anything about the way I help others write their own copy, you know about the “tarket” concept. Basically it goes like this. Segment your market down by age, income, marital status, etc. Then write out a detailed description of ONE PERSON in your target market - your “tarket”.