How It Feels To Float Epub Free Download

[Celedonio Miranda]

Okaythis dives pretty deep into EPUB export for Kindle and CSS override, so don't say I didn't warn you. I think the issue has more to do with Kindle Previewer and its conversion/display, but I want to start with the ID end of things before wading into useless exchanges with the EPUB/KDP crowd.

But if the frame holds text... it will only export as expected with float:right. If you apply float: left... it turns into a drop cap, more or less. I have tried every variation, !important, approach etc. and if you left-float a text frame, it turns into about 3em text with no frame, border, background or other defined styling. Here is the same exact doc, export, CSS code etc. with no change except a float flip from right to left:

Again, this is probably in Kindle's bailiwick, but any thoughts or notions of how to float text left and not have it 'reprocessed' like this would be helpful. (ETA: The ID code is identical in both instances, just the changed float parameter. It's definitely on Kindle. Now to figure out a workaround...)

(The EPUB level of the export has other issues, but will at least properly float where told. But if anyone knows how to get a drop cap into EPUB... please pass it along. Part of this whole exercise was working out methods to use graphics for drop caps in EPUB.)

We're so sorry for the delay in response. I found a similar discussion which you can refer to here -discussions/how-do-i-get-an-in-design-cc-epub-file-into-amaz...

Feel free to reach out if you need any further assistance or have any other questions.

1) Open the ePub File in an ePub Editor. Here I am using ePub editor Sigil, my favorite. You can see that an epub file is just like a mini web site. Here we can see the single page of XHTML content named Page_1.xhtml. We can also see the cascading style sheet named template.css. The top half of the display shows the WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get) editing screen and the bottom half is the XHTML editing screen

Note that the image is placed inline with its line of text. You can see the XHTML code for this image in the XHTML editing screen. This is all you can do with Adobe InDesign CS5. To apply a float left or right along with text wrap, you need to create and apply a float class to the image as we are about to do.

New York was bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake,country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnightevaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-grey atthe bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered inthe sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, tinderydust blew into my eyes and down my throat.

I knew something was wrong with me that summer, becauseall I could think about was the Rosenbergs and how stupid I'dbeen to buy all those uncomfortable, expensive clothes, hanginglimp as fish in my closet, and how all the little successes I'dtotted up so happily at college fizzled to nothing outside theslick marble and plate-glass fronts along Madison Avenue.

Look what can happen in this country, they'd say. A girllives in some out-of-the-way town for nineteen years, so poorshe can't afford a magazine, and then she gets a scholarship tocollege and wins a prize here and a prize there and ends upsteering New York like her own private car.

Only I wasn't steering anything, not even myself. I justbumped from my hotel to work and to parties and from partiesto my hotel and back to work like a numb trolley-bus. I guess Ishould have been excited the way most of the other girls were,but I couldn't get myself to react. I felt very still and veryempty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dullyalong in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

We had all won a fashion magazine contest, by writingessays and stories and poems and fashion blurbs, and as prizesthey gave us jobs in New York for a month, expenses paid, andpiles and piles of free bonuses, like ballet tickets and passesto fashion shows and hair stylings at a famous expensivesalon and chances to meet successful people in the field of ourdesire and advice about what to do with our particularcomplexions.

I still have the make-up kit they gave me, fitted out for aperson with brown eyes and brown hair: an oblong of brownmascara with a tiny brush, and a round basin of blueeye-shadow just big enough to dab the tip of your finger in, andthree lipsticks ranging from red to pink, all cased in the samelittle gilt box with a mirror on one side. I also have a whiteplastic sun-glasses case with coloured shells and sequins and agreen plastic starfish sewed on to it.

I realized we kept piling up these presents because it was asgood as free advertising for the firms involved, but I couldn't becynical. I got such a kick out of all those free gifts showering onto us. For a long time afterwards I hid them away, but later,when I was all right again, I brought them out, and I still havethem around the house. I use the lipsticks now and then, andlast week I cut the plastic starfish off the sun-glasses case for thebaby to play with.

These girls looked awfully bored to me. I saw them on thesun-roof, yawning and painting their nails and trying to keepup their Bermuda tans, and they seemed bored as hell. I talkedwith one of them, and she was bored with yachts and boredwith flying around in aeroplanes and bored with skiing inSwitzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil.

Girls like that make me sick. I'm so jealous I can't speak.Nineteen years, and I hadn't been out of New England exceptfor this trip to New York. It was my first big chance, but here Iwas, sitting back and letting it run through my fingers like somuch water.

I'd never known a girl like Doreen before. Doreen camefrom a society girls' college down South and had bright whitehair standing out in a cotton candy fluff round her head andblue eyes like transparent agate marbles, hard and polished andjust about indestructible, and a mouth set in a sort of perpetualsneer. I don't mean a nasty sneer, but an amused, mysterioussneer, as if all the people around her were pretty silly and shecould tell some good jokes on them if she wanted to.

Doreen singled me out right away. She made me feel I wasthat much sharper than the others, and she really was wonderfullyfunny. She used to sit next to me at the conference table,and when the visiting celebrities were talking she'd whisperwitty sarcastic remarks to me under her breath.

Her college was so fashion-conscious, she said, that all thegirls had pocket-book covers made out of the same material astheir dresses, so each time they changed their clothes they had amatching pocket-book. This kind of detail impressed me. Itsuggested a whole life of marvellous, elaborate decadence thatattracted me like a magnet.

'What are you sweating over that for?' Doreen lounged onmy bed in a peach silk dressing-gown, filing her long, nicotine-yellownails with an emery board, while I typed up the draft ofan interview with a best-selling novelist.

'You know old Jay Cee won't give a damn if that story's intomorrow or Monday.' Doreen lit a cigarette and let the smokeflare slowly from her nostrils so her eyes were veiled. 'Jay Cee'sugly as sin,' Doreen went on coolly. 'I bet that old husband ofhers turns out all the lights before he gets near her or he'd pukeotherwise.'

Jay Cee was my boss, and I liked her a lot, in spite of whatDoreen said. She wasn't one of the fashion magazine gusherswith fake eyelashes and giddy jewellery. Jay Cee had brains, soher plug-ugly looks didn't seem to matter. She read a couple oflanguages and knew all the quality writers in the business.

I tried to imagine Jay Cee out of her strict office suit andluncheon-duty hat and in bed with her fat husband, but I justcouldn't do it. I always had a terribly hard time trying toimagine people in bed together.

Jay Cee wanted to teach me something, all the old ladies Iever knew wanted to teach me something, but I suddenlydidn't think they had anything to teach me. I fitted the lid onmy typewriter and clicked it shut.

They imported Betsy straight from Kansas with her bouncingblonde pony-tail and Sweetheart-of-Sigma-Chi smile. Iremember once the two of us were called over to the office ofsome blue-chinned TV producer in a pin-stripe suit to see if wehad any angles he could build up for a programme, and Betsystarted to tell about the male and female corn in Kansas. She gotso excited about that damn corn even the producer had tears inhis eyes, only he couldn't use any of it, unfortunately, he said.

'We'll just go till we get sick of it,' Doreen told me, stubbingout her cigarette in the base of my bedside reading-lamp, 'thenwe'll go out on the town. Those parties they stage here remindme of the old dances in the school gym. Why do they alwaysround up Yalies? They're so stoo-pit!'

Buddy Willard went to Yale, but now I thought of it, whatwas wrong with him was that he was stupid. Oh, he'd managedto get good marks all right, and to have an affair with someawful waitress on the Cape by the name of Gladys, but hedidn't have one speck of intuition. Doreen had intuition. Everythingshe said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of myown bones.

Doreen looked terrific. She was wearing a strapless whitelace dress zipped up over a snug corset affair that curved her inat the middle and bulged her out again spectacularly above andbelow, and her skin had a bronzy polish under the paledusting-powder. She smelled strong as a whole perfume store.

I wore a black shantung sheath that cost me forty dollars. Itwas part of a buying spree I had with some of my scholarshipmoney when I heard I was one of the lucky ones going to NewYork. This dress was cut so queerly I couldn't wear any sort of abra under it, but that didn't matter much as I was skinny as aboy and barely rippled, and I liked feeling almost naked on thehot summer nights.

The city had faded my tan, though. I looked yellow as aChinaman. Ordinarily, I would have been nervous about mydress and my odd colour, but being with Doreen made meforget my worries. I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

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