Hello Everyone, I use a wonderfully VoiceOver accessible eBook creator called Storyist, on my Mac. The developer has taken every consideration into account with regard to blind and low vision users.
The thing I like most is that Storyist, assuming that you have used heading levels in your document, will generate a table of contents. If your document does not have headings, you can add headings from within Storyist. The direct URL for the Storyist website is http://storyist.com Now for my shameless plug: I am delighted to let you know that my latest novel entitled "The Dream Factory", has just been published. Just so you know, I write under the pseudonym of Mark Marcus. The website for the book, which includes an audio reading sample, a preview of the text, and purchasing options is located at: http://candleshorepublishing.com/dreamfactory The book may be downloaded directly to any Apple device, the Kindle, or purchased from Amazon.com in paperback form. The cost of the eBook version is $2.99 and the paperback version is $5.99. This book is intended for general audiences ages 17 and up. There is no "adult" content. The following link will play a short audio introduction to the book: http://candleshorepublishing.com/dreamfactory/bookdemo/DreamFactoryIntroComm ercial.mp3 To go directly to the book in the iTunes Store, click the following link on any computer or from within an Apple device:: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-dream-factory/id591504963?mt=11 After my signature, I will paste in the book preface and a short preview chapter. Thank you all for your support. Most Sincerely, Mark BOOK PREFACE: Welcome to the Dream Factory, a warm, cozy, and extremely lovely place where only the most visceral nightmares and pleasure-driven musings of its residents are mercilessly extracted and sold for the pure enjoyment of others. Step cautiously as you explore the dimly lighted, extremely narrow, and virtually suffocating hallways as groans, screams, moans, and indefinable exclamations of unnamed perpetrators, innocent bystanders, and unlikely victims, escape from behind coffin lid doors, reach into the very depths of your soul, lace icy cold fingers around the heart of your sanity and begin to squeeze. In this, the second tale from the mind of Mark Marcus, we are taken on a highly selective and undeniably insightful excursion into the unplumbed dark regions of the human psyche as it tears itself apart separating and exposing the raw untamed fury inside from the barely contained and seemingly unmarred and untouched flawlessly veneered outside. This book will appeal to all those who have ever screamed themselves awake, in the midnight hour, only to discover that the true nightmare, from which there is no escape, has only just begun. BOOK PREVIEW: CHAPTER NINE A: What is your first name? P: What? A: I said, what is your first name? P: What a silly question. You know my first name. (The discharge administrator looks at the woman seated in front of her, sternly.) A: I know I told you that nothing you say can or will be used against you but if you don't answer my questions I cannot approve your release. Do you understand? P (somewhat alarmed): Yes. I understand. (The discharge administrator returns her gaze to the paperwork on the table.) A: So, let's start again. First name? (The woman seated across from the discharge administrator opens her mouth to speak and then closes it slowly.) P: I'm not sure. (Tears fill her eyes and she raises her hands to wipe them away.) A (not looking up): That's okay. Just sit and think for a moment. It should come to you. If not, we won't worry about it. (The patient is visibly relieved.) A: Next question, age? P: I'm thirty-seven, yes, I am thirty-seven years old. A: Date of birth? P: It's--it's in February. I can't remember. I think it's February 6 but I'm not sure. A: Favorite color? P: I don't have one. At least, if I did, I don't anymore. A: What is your last name? P: Jax. My last name is Jax. A: First name? P: I don't know. A: Where were you born? P: Louisville, Kentucky. A: What is good? P: Pardon me? A: I said, what is good? P (with a look of confusion): I don't know how to answer that. I don't know what you mean. What is good? Am I to give you a definition? A: You may answer in any way you wish, Miss Jax, anyway at all. (The patient raises her head as if in some kind of unspoken defiance.) P: Getting out of this place is good. Good is anything that doesn't have to do with the Dream Factory. Is that an honest enough answer for you? (A slightly hysterical giggle escapes the patient, at this.) (The discharge administrator, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly, continues.) A: What is bad? P: Bad is not being able to recall my own first name. Bad is realizing that what feels like three years has only been three weeks. Bad is never wanting to close my eyes, in order to sleep, again. That's bad. A (with no hesitation): Marital status? P: I'm, uh. I'm married, I think. I am married. (The discharge administrator looks up and stares at the woman seated across from her, patiently.) P: What? I'm married. Aren't I married? (The administrator returns her gaze to the paperwork.) A: Children? P: None. A: First name? P: I don't know, I still can't recall it, not yet. A: Where were you-- P: Wait. Am I married? Is this a dream? Oh god. Is this another dream? A: This is not a dream. You are very much awake. P (with a touch of panic in her voice): How do I know you're telling me the truth? Oh God. How can I tell? I don't know what's going on. Why are you asking me these questions? (Lowering her head, she begins sobbing uncontrollably.) A: Where were you born? P: I was born in Louisville, Kentucky. A: First name? P: I don't know. I wish you'd stop asking me that. A: Marital status? P: I'm married. Wait, I'm, I'm a widow. My husband is dead. I'm a widow. A: Date of husband's death? (The patient slowly gathers herself and looks at the discharge administrator.) P: Uh, he's been dead for a little while now. He died a month or so ago, right? Yes, I'm a widow and my husband is dead. A: Cause of death? P (speaking in a low voice that almost escapes the administrator, she responds very slowly with): I killed him. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "MacVisionaries" group. To post to this group, send email to macvisionaries@googlegroups.com. To unsubscribe from this group, send email to macvisionaries+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/macvisionaries?hl=en.
