Book Review: Murder Deju Vu by Polly Iyer

Any book published on my birth date has to be read. It was this in mind that I bought Polly Iyer's "Murder Déjà Vu," a book with a strong plot, solid writing, and well-drawn characters. The plight of ex-convict Reece Daughtry, trying to live out his life after an overturned conviction for murder on a technicality is compelling and his emotional upheavals believable. This is especially true once he meets a woman who trusts him at every turn, even when events put him back into the cross-hairs of various characters bent on Reece's demise. The story details surrounding the two major settings put you right there. And the romance intertwining with the mystery seemed unforced and true. This is a solid read with numerous twists, turns, and surprises worth the space in you library. It rates a solid 4 stars.

MMWUC: Are you in Writing School

As we mature, people tend to surround themselves with mirror images. Career, family, school, our social media trends, and outside activities create a homogenous lifestyle. As a writer that's both instructive and deadly. Instructive, if we keep our senses attuned like John Updike, in understanding at a deeper level what is happening around us, capturing nuances and subtleties that others outside our circle might miss. It is also deadly in that our world gets isolated and the process of like-think begins. People with similar values, beliefs, and actions glued together. For a writer, like-think is deadly. No matter what lifestyle we live in, we are a minority and slowly lose our sense of other lifestyles. Save us Chuck Palahniuk.

I'm too old, settled, and not brave enough to live life on the edge--sleeping under railroad bridges, drinking myself into a stupor, or bitch-slapping some puny guy I picked up in a bar only realize that she's a he and only after the $20 bill in my wallet. That's why I go to Writing School.

I watch Maury Povich, COPS, Judge Judy, and sadly, Jerry Springer, when doing brain-idling chores like folding laundry, cleaning, or cutting caramel wrappers. "Who are these people, Maury?" You may prove whether or not he's the father, but the children of these louts don't stand a chance based on the sad overall behavior they put on for 10 million viewers for a few guest bucks. COPS is instructive for both the idealized cop and the irrationality of the criminal mind. "I don't have no dope," says the guy with a joint tucked behind his ear. Maybe the double negative gave him away. "You’re an idiot," screams Judge Judy to someone who thought that wrecking a car got them out of paying for their loan. And still believes it! And Springer proves that just when you thought life couldn't be more weird, out pops the mom who abandoned you to an alcoholic father, and she's now a transsexual who's there to tell you that your wife is really your sister with whom your mom's been having an affair.

It's Writing School. Exposure to characters I have a hard time dreaming up. But now I know they are real and necessary if my books want to dip a toe into some realities that my like-think readers might not have been exposed to and might feel a bit uncomfortable being around. Where is your personal Writing School.

Guest Blog: "Deadly Deadlines or Power Prompter" by Sherry Gloag

Who, in their right mind, would want to work to a deadline? Well for many they have no choice.  It is part of their job description (so perhaps they did have a choice, after all.) But surprisingly many people thrive on working in just that way.  It’s not that they are disorganized, or forgetful, it’s not that they are slackers, and hope to pass the job to someone else before they have to approach it themselves.

No.  For many people the approaching deadline is the incentive they need to get ‘those juices’ flowing.  They are people who enjoy working under pressure to meet a deadline, and if done in the right way, they deliberately apply pressure to inspire themselves into action, even massive action. For these people putting themselves under pressure stretches them personally and breaks through the limits they’ve set themselves.

Most authors know all about deadlines, and believe me there are more of them than just turning in a manuscript on time. So why, you might ask, do they do it if they can avoid it? Well, sometimes they can’t.  Sometimes it is the process that creates the deadlines, but in many cases a little bit of organisation could avoid the additional stress created by looming deadlines.  But, and as ever there is a ‘but’ here.  Not a proven one, but an interesting one, never-the-less.

Authors, writers, are creative people, who have to provide hooks and conflicts in their stories to hold their readers’ interest.  Is it possible, on some subliminal level, they frequently work to the wire themselves because of the environs of their writing?

While adrenaline is mainly associated with the ‘fight or flight’ scenario, it is also naturally produced in high-stress or physically exhilarating situations, which is why so many people actually derive pleasure from leaving everything ‘till the last moment.

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The Gasquet Princes novels from Sherry, From Now Until Forever and His Chosen Bride from Astraea Press, are now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. She can be contacted at her website, blog, Facebook, or Twitter accounts.

Book Review: "Penelope and the Movie Star"

OMG! Penelope In Trouble Again

Tween mystery-solver Penelope Amour rises to the occasion again in Ron D. Voigts' "Penelope and the Movie Star". Back at Tiffin Prep, events unfold with Penelope constantly at odds with Headmaster Malcolm Merriweather, some teachers, cops, bad guys, and many of the other students. But troubles start to mount for Penelope almost from the moment her oversized suitcase pins her to the ground and her mother tells her to stop fooling around. Student alliances are realigned after spring break when a new girl starts classes. Dining is no longer a pleasure courtesy of the new cook who's cooking more than the food. And when a film crew comes to Tiffin to shot a movie, murder is once again in the air. Altogether, this gives Penelope another load of difficult challenges to surmount to solve a murder mystery that baffles the adults. Penelope's penchant for attracting trouble and getting out of it shines, as do the antics of some of the secondary characters. I'm serving PATMS a 4-star rating.

MMWUC - Taking It To The Edge

Your protagonist is in trouble. Things look bleak. And then you write...

Johnny's gone. Standing in the cheap apartment, she sighs. The ragged toe-nail has put a run in her stocking, but she finishes suiting up to do battle with the department store over the shoes she's returning. She finds the receipt in her purse before glancing at her leg. The clear nail polish trick has made the run fade into obscurity, empowering her. "I'm going to get my money back," she says and drives to the store.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? This is your version of taking it to the edge! Harlan Coben is turning over in his grave in New Jersey. Wait! He's still alive? Sorry about that homeboy, but you get my point.

If you want your reader to care, take them to the edge. If you aren't uncomfortable with the big dramatic scene in your book, then your reader probably won't be either. And you want the reader to feel something. In mysteries, you have to make the reader feel as though the protagonist can lose and has something worth losing.

The ragged toe-nail ruins her stockings. She sobs. It's her last pair. Tears fall unabated as her anger chokes her, and the face of that mousy little sales clerk who forced her to buy the shoes she couldn't afford crystallizes in her mind. "That bitch," she screams not caring who might hear her though the cheap walls. The sobs dissolve, and the anger turns to rage. She grabs a shirt and pulls it over her head, slams into jeans, pounds her foot into boots. The shoes are still in the bag, but the receipt is gone. Did she ever give it to me? Purse. She dumps the contents on the unmade bed. No receipt. "Dammit." She opens the nightstand drawer looking for it and Johnny's old snub-nosed .38 rattles in the otherwise empty draw. She hesitates before grabbing the gun and car keys. "Little bitch can have two-timing Johnny, but I'm damn sure going to get my money back, receipt or not."

Guest Blog: Alicia Rasley Defends Adverbs

As You Wish: Adverbing Your Verbs, or In Defense of Adverbs in Dialogue Tags

If we're trying to replicate the experience of a conversation for the reader, we want to convey more than just what is spoken. In an actual conversation, there are actions and body language, both of which can be described in the narrative, and will convey something about what the speaker means. (For example, if he grips his hands into fists, that's going to convey "anger.")

But "tone of voice" is another way we convey meaning in a conversation-- especially a meaning that is in contrast with the words being spoken.  A woman might say, "Of course you're right, dear. You're always right."  And you'd think, oh, she thinks her husband is infallible!

Of course, the speaker probably DOESN'T think her husband is infallible. She's probably saying that-- how? SARCASTICALLY. If we were in the room and heard her tone of voice, we would hear the sarcasm in her words.

In the past, tone of voice was usually conveyed through the quote tag, the actual verb used for the action of speaking.  Remember all those great synonyms for said?  He intoned, or she muttered, or he hissed, or she demanded, or he commanded, or she exclaimed, or of course, everyone's favorite:  He ejaculated. Alas (I love all of those! :), a couple decades ago, many writers reacted against the undoubted overuse of those quote tags and decided the only allowable quote tag was "said".  He said. She said. Simple. Streamlined. But unfortunately, too straightforward to convey any nuance, any subtext, even any conflict between what is said and what is meant.

The way in prose we convey tone of voice (if we don't get to use "expostulated!") is through adverbs. Said + adverb. No, we don't have to add an adverb to every piece of dialogue. Sometimes the speech line itself says all we need to know-- "I don't need any help!" for example. "Luke, I'm your father."

Examples of meaningful quote tag-adverb combos, from a few of the best dialoguists:

"I wish you'd go home," said Lethbridge wearily. (Georgette Heyer)

"Dad," she said, as gently as she could, "I don't need your support." (Susan Elizabeth Phillips)

At last she said unsteadily, "It's such a beautiful dream!" (Susan Howatch)

"Come now, John Bell," said the bosun reproachfully. (Patrick O'Brian)

"No, no," said Alverstoke soothingly. "No one is as stupid as Endymion." (Georgette Heyer)

Sure, if your characters say only what they mean, and are never mistaken, and never raise their voices or ask questions, or characters who don't always tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, you can probably get away with using only "said."  But if you're writing characters with conflicting desires and mixed motivations, who sometimes lie or sometimes express skepticism or sarcasm, or just have eloquent and expressive voices, well, consider amplifying the "said" with a handy adverb-- just when you need to, when the words they speak aren't enough to convey all of what is really meant.

Bio: Alicia Rasley is a RITA-award winning Regency novelist who has been published by major publishers such as Dell, NAL, and Kensington. Her women’s fiction novel The Year She Fell has been a Kindle #1 bestseller in the contemporary fiction category, and her newest book is Poetic Justice, available on Kindle. Her articles on writing are collected on her website.

Book Review: "Sleeping With Patty Hearst" by Mary Lambeth Moore

About ten years ago, my book club read six books in a row, all women's fiction, in which all the male characters were scum of the Earth. As one of only two men in a group of fourteen, my testicles were constantly on the chopping block. "Sleeping With Patty Hearst" by Mary Lambeth Moore made me think of those days. In Lily's coming of age story, no man has a positive character litmus test, and I saw it coming early on. She does, however, rise up over my lowered expectations of male bashing and weave a story about two half-sisters with a Patty Hearst fixation. Moore draws us in with details, details, and more details into small southern town life, painting a strong picture of Lily's attempts to have some measure of normalcy in a dysfunctional family. Her mother, Lorraine, clings to a dubious past and hopes for rescue for a glorious future while Lily's sister, Connie, seeks to chart her own course in the world. At times funny and at times heartbreaking, the story pulled me on longer into the night than I usually read with some well-played twists and turns. For this reader, the ending felt abrupt, and I'm not entirely sure I understand the Patty Hearst relationship, which, at times, seems up front and center, and at other times, seems to fade into the background of the story. Nevertheless, these are minor criticisms of a strong debut novel with well-drawn characters and vibrant images. If your taste runs to women's fiction, this is a solid 5. For me, it's a really, really high 4.

MMWUC - Free Versus Paid

Yesterday, I took a look at the top 20 mystery novels on Amazon by sales ranking. It was interesting to see so many FREE books with 4.0, 4.5, or 5.0 ratings, while so many books that had to paid for had rankings of lesser stature. In fact, the book ranked 18th overall, OVERALL for all Amazon mysteries had a rating of "2" out of 24 reviews.

How does a novel, with mostly scathing reviews, end up as the 18th overall best selling novel on Amazon?

It snowed for the first time this winter here. I need to set a story in the bitterness of a harsh and unexpected winter snowfall where everyone is inappropriately dressed and have forgotten the ability to drive and people sit on hoards of bread and milk going to waste while others survive on sardines, the only food left in the emptied southern grocery stores when the "s" word is mentioned in the forecast. Why is it that my memories of snowfalls in my youth weren't this traumatic to the structure of the world? We shoveled. Dad's went to work. School sometimes closed. We played. Built igloos. Sled on unplowed streets, down small hills, or off the low-hanging roof of a shed down at the end of the street. Heck, maybe I should write a snow memoir instead. So, what wintry mix story invades your frozen brain on a snowy day.

Guest Blog: Jeannette de Beauvoir asks "Why Write Historical Fiction?"

It’s a valid question. It’s hard enough telling a story in the here and now … without contending with whether or not some style of clothing, a city’s layout, or the presence of a certain technology is going to be anachronistic and break the spell one hopes to cast over the reader.

And yet I find myself constantly drawn to write stories that take place in the past.

Note that I didn’t say I’m writing about the past. That’s for nonfiction writers, academics, those who want you to understand what life was like then. I’m happy enough to give you a window on what life was like then, but the real function of the past, I think, is in its role as backdrop to the issues and drama that I want to explore with the story’s characters.

It’s something that historical fiction has in common with fiction that takes place “somewhere else” — it seems to me that putting one’s characters and stories against an unfamiliar backdrop serves to strip away readers’ assumptions and help them see the people and situations for what they are, unclouded by the presence of the familiar. The past is indeed a foreign country, and it’s sometimes by going somewhere else that we really understand who we are.

And it’s that connection that’s at the core of historical fiction. Look at it this way: we all keep photographs of our family, including our ancestors. It really doesn’t matter if Uncle Ernie was a terrible black sheep or if Grandmother’s eyes were slightly crossed … they’re part of who we are. Our family’s history is intrinsic to the persons we’ve become, and knowing about it is, in a way, knowing about oneself.

And in a sense the whole of history is our story, not just in the grandiose “birth of a nation” sense, but in the small things, the intimate details of life. We have a great deal more in common with people who live apart from us—whether the distance is created by miles or by centuries—than we may think. In one of my novels, one beginning in 1305, a father frets about his daughter’s involvement with unsuitable men, a young anarchist challenges the status quo (occupy the middle ages, anyone?), a sister-in-law gets nasty with her brother’s wife, a mother falls in love with the wrong person, and an unhappy cousin decides to get revenge over a property deal.

Could be 1305. Could be 2012.

What sparks my interest, as both an author and as a reader, is the thought of what people might do under certain circumstances, how they might react to certain events. The wealth of choice presented by history makes it easy to find a time and situation that presents any given challenge. How could someone choose betrayal? Place that character in an occupied country in WWII. How does someone cope with loss? Give her a ship’s captain husband in the 1700s. It’s easy to choose a backdrop where the character will absolutely be faced with the issues that I want to explore in my novel or short story.

So if you don’t already read historical fiction, consider it. It’s not just the dreaded list of England’s rulers, or the myriad battles waged by Napoleon, or the dates you were forced to memorize in school. It’s people, people dealing with the same issues, emotions, and decisions that we’re dealing with today.

And you may just learn something. If not about history, about yourself.

Jeannette de Beauvoir helps writers find their voices at Customline Wordware and writes her own historical fiction at http://www.jeannetteangell.com/ and http://www.jeannineallard.com/.

Book Review: "Volk's Game" by Brent Ghelfi

"Volk's Game" by Brent Ghelfi has the kind of plot twists that thriller readers will love, but that's where the love stops. VG is grim, violent, and with many events (the impromptu NYC to Moscow trip comes to mind) that snap the suspension of disbelief. The hero knows how to find anyone. He can go anywhere unimpeded or disappear into the shadows at will. And it is hard to root for a trained psychotic killer, existing in a world of paranoid, sick, and ruthless people. Despite some nice attempts to give us the feel of Moscow and St. Petersburg, and some past and recent history that shapes Russia, he sparks no desire in me to travel to such a cold, drab place where, seemingly, everyone is corrupt, bitter, or just plain evil. And though the author tries to show the human side of the protagonist, it's crumbs at the feet of a starving man. No one is left unscarred by the end of the book. Thriller lovers may like it, but it's a 3 from me.

Book Review: "Awakening Evarun (1 of 6)" by Tom Barczak

I should have looked more closely. "Awakening Evarun (Part I of VI)" by Tom Barczak is not the first novel of six, it is the first four chapters (30 pages) of the book. A marketing hook, I have to presume, like the old serials. While the first few pages of AE start out promising, it devolves into a series of fast-paced but confusing incidents that tap into a veiled reworking of dramatic incidences in the life of Jesus for meaning. Repeated imagery, vague scenes, a confusing stoning, and a boy (and angels) who come and go with no inherent logic pepper this teaser. Fantasy lovers may like the ploy and vague story line, but it's a 3 from me.

MMWUC: Literary Guild Gives Thumbs-Up for "One Promise Too Many"

On Thursday evening, 02/09, I met with the Oxford Hunt Ladies Literary Guild. They had chosen One Promise Too Many as their February read and invited me to their first grilling of the author. Fortunately, the spit I rotated on turned out to be only warm and toasty, peppered with interesting and probing questions, and seasoned by some insights to my book that warmed my heart. They read and understood the story, even down to some rather subtle details. What did I take away from the wonderful evening with the bakers dozen of avid readers? They loved the details; research counts kiddies. They loved the suspense; hold back, hold back, hold back turns of fortune or vital information--make the reader sweat with concern. They loved the hint of more to come; leave them wanting more. And in the end, I got brave. I asked, "What could I have done better?" I think the question surprised them, but I want to give my readers my best. After a long minute, they thought of two things: fewer named characters to follow and consistency when mentioning a character by name, that is, either the first name or last name, but don't alternate in a pattern only the author sees. Live and learn. Write and write better. Write on!

Bonus. Doubleday's Literary Guild page picked up my tweet. Sweet!

Double bonus. Writing buddy, Ron D. Voigts, published on Saturday the third book in the YA mystery Penelope series, Penelope and the Movie Star.

Guest Blog Day - Ashley Memory asks, "Who is Your Publicist?"

I was recently amused when another author posted the following comment on my LinkedIn wall: “Who is your publicist?”

This may or may not have been a compliment, but since it fell on the heels of a blog post on special events to promote my new novel, I had reason to believe that she meant well. My answer was short and to the point: “Me!”

While I’m very fortunate that an independent publisher agreed to publish my novel, nearly every event that I’ve attended has been scheduled by me. But I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Not only have I learned a great deal, I find it quite liberating not to be dependent on someone else’s labor.

Three Quick Hints for Finding the Publicist in You

1. Where are other authors going? Join a local writing organization (such as N.C. Writers’ Network) and find out where other authors read. I’ve been amazed by the variety of businesses and organizations that seek out writers, from bed and breakfast inns to retirement communities.

2. Find a connection between your book and a local business. My most lucrative event so far has been my first, when a local restaurant specializing in my main character’s specialty—French crêpes—agreed to host a signing and serve dessert crêpes for free.

3. Contact local civic clubs and ask to speak at their events. They’re always seeking speakers and are grateful for your time and expertise. Some will say no but all it takes is one yes. My first Rotary appearance led to three more invitations to speak.

Hollywood celebrities can afford to hire publicists because let’s face it, they’re far too busy to make cold calls but more than one of these relationships has ended acrimoniously. Fortunately for me and “my publicist,” we can’t part ways so easily. While not every event is a wild success at least I only have myself to blame. And if someone asks me who created this cheesy People magazine cover, I’ll just roll my eyes and say: “That crazy publicist of mine!”

Ashley Memory is the author of Naked and Hungry, which was named as one of the season’s most promising debut novels by The Library Journal on October 2011. For more questionable writing and promotion tips, visit her blog.

Book Review: "Just Like That" - Edgerton Hits Hard

Les Edgerton's "Just Like That" opens the door to the mind of a felon who lives by a code of ethics authored by the hardscrabble life with a meandering family in the post-WW2 era and edited by the schizophrenic penal system of the 1960s where "...the best blacks and the worst whites got to be hacks...." The protagonist, Jake Mayes, is the embodiment of Les from his time in prison. I love the Elmore Leonard directness and in-your-face style of this story, but am mystified why this was touted as an on-the-road buddy story--more than half of it is set in prison. Still, it comes at you relentlessly with tight conversational writing and Jake's own brand of truths. Incidences in Les' life are strung together to give us a strong story of finding freedom and tranquility within oneself in the most restrictive of environments by being the baddest mother around. While it is easy to get caught up in the story and root for Jake on many levels, one has to be reminded that on the street, Jake would rob you, stomp you, and maybe even kill you, just like that, amigo.

For me, this story flows with just enough blood, guts, and spare writing to dribble into the five star bucket.

MMWUC - The Groundhog's Super Bowl Valentine's Writing Day

Wake up! Groundhog's Day is over. We have six more weeks of wintry weather. That's some good writin' time. Super Bowl is over. Congrats Giants. Green Bay next year. 2016-it's the Detroit Lions vs. Jacksonville Jaguars. Yeah, Valentine's Day is coming up-a card and a few flowers covers it for most guys-it's a quickie. Some dead guys get celebrated-as they should-but now it's time for real writers to get to work. Seriously, we need some good indie books written.

Pretender's pepper their New Year's resolutions with goals like lose 100 pounds without being on America's Biggest Loser (can you imagine the pitch this guy had to do with that as the title), climb the highest peak in each of New Jersey's 21 counties, and write a best-selling novel. Real writers' mind closets are bursting with new story lines, characters, places, events rendered differently than the history books suggest. Real writers take a short vacations from pressing keys, but they are always writing. Real writers never run our of ink, they just find another tool. Give me that chisel and hammer. I've got an idea.

Real writers just write. As we say on Twitter #amwriting. Outta my way blank page.

WINTER LOVERS TORN ASUNDER
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February 2, 1887, Fred and Ernie lay in blissful slumber in the frosty domain until the mayor of Punxatuney ripped Fred from his beloved partner, held him up in front of a bunch of drunken Methodists, and proclaimed, "Six more weeks of Winter. Let's eat." Ernie bit the mayor on the ankle. Fred wiggled free and dove for cover deeper than before in their hidey-hole where they lay in each others loving embrace for another six weeks.

Friday: Guest Blog Day - by Nell DuVall

Given the opportunity to write on anything related to writing is daunting. However, considering this last year, one word comes to my mind: Persistence. I've been writing fiction for twenty-two years with indifferent success on the publishing front. Yet others have had similar experiences. Sue Grafton didn't sell until she wrote her sixth novel. J.K. Rowling suffered from many rejections. However, both women persisted.


What follows is my own saga. I started with short stories and found I enjoyed writing, but, despite sporadic efforts, I never managed to sell any. However, I won first place for a children's story that paid more than most magazines.

Turning to novels, I began with a sweet romance of around forty-thousand words. Then I progressed to several long novels over 120,000 words. Still no sales, but with a demanding, full-time job, my submission efforts were sporadic. I received a few letters beyond the generic rejections, but no acceptances.

Meanwhile, I wrote and sold several successful nonfiction books while also starting a small print-on-demand press to provide a place for local writers and artists to publish.

Determined to sell my novels, I approached a respected small publisher and sold one novel for a modest advance. It also made it into large print.

When that publisher discontinued the line, and, with my past lack of success with major publishers, I decided to try ebooks. I found a couple of ebook publishers looking for stories that fit some of mine and submitted two stories to two different publishers. Both accepted the stories. So, I sent off another four and three were accepted and published in a single author analogy. Best of all, both publishers liked my writing.

I've since written and submitted other stories, all accepted. So, I submitted novels to both publishers and they both accepted them. These were over 100,000 words and will appear in May 2012. In addition, another novel is scheduled for August.

Reviews have appeared of the three analogies and all gave favorable mention to my stories. As to money, that is yet to be seen, although I received an advance on one of the novels.

Writing is a craft and takes time and effort to learn. We have to expect rejection and still persist. Unrealistic expectations defeat a lot of writers. However, those who persevere and grow can succeed.

Some may ask why I choose to use an epublisher instead of the do-it-yourself approach. I'd sort of done that with my small POD efforts and wanted an established base and copyediting for my novels. I'd rather write than spend my time formatting and moving the product into the publication stream, something I share with Amanda Hocking who recently switched from successful self-publishing to a traditional publisher.

I and others on the Internet Writing Workshop are proof that persistence pays off for hard-working writers who want to be published. You can do it.

Nell writes romance, mystery, and speculative fiction. You can find her at http://www.spritepress.com/. Her works include Train to Yesterday Lrg Prt,Thorndike Press 978-1-4104-0878-5, Rg Prt(Five Star (Cengage)) 978-1-59414-663-3, "Corpulent Chiropteran" in Curious Hearts, Melange ISBN 978-1-61235-207-7, "Saving Christmas" in Warm Christmas Wishes, Melange, Dec 2011, When Lilacs Bloom, etopia, May 2012, Beyond the Rim of Light, Alex Stone, Melange, May 2012, Selvage, Melange, Aug 2012.

Book Review: Beneath the Dune

Walter Ramsay's slim book, Beneath the Dune, packs a lot into a small space as Tucker Lee Anderson, a local sports writer, is thrust into covering the finding of a skeletal body that is identified as the missing fifth victim of a convicted serial murderer of children. Tucker investigates beyond the surface facts of the case after meeting the death row inmate and feels that not everything is right with the official version of the investigation. Along for the ride, we are introduced to his family and a host of other key players that fill up his life that's on cruise control.

Soon, events have Tucker looking for answers using visions from a distant Indian relative at night and trying to keep the investigation alive in the daytime. Late onset maturity and a growing sense of civic responsibility might push Tucker in the right direction or into the path of the rich and powerful who play by a different set of rules.

A quick summer read, Ramsay gives us easily-identifiable characters, a few unexpected twists, and a final twist that was, well, a bit twistier than believable to this reader. Still, it is a solid, well-written debut novel that touches many sidebar life issues and provides some insight to this part of the Florida coast. A Solid four-star book.

MMWUC - New Year's Resolutions

Okay, it's the end of January in the new year, specifically 2012. Do you know where your protagonist is?

What? You have touched your book since you had the flu on January 2nd, and now your protagonist is hanging off the Matterhorn with the only known vile containing the antidote that can save the world from a deadly virus being injected by evil alien dinosaurs into all the deciduous trees in the world so that when the leaves fall and deteriorate they will cover the earth with the virus' toxic vapors! Get back to the pen and pencil, typewriter, computer, or tablet and save your protagonist. Send up a former female American Gladiator with the strength of Arnold Schwarzenegger and the looks of Megan Fox, nah, not her, too pouty, how about Christie Brinkley at 30, better. Have her rescue him so he can rescue her and they can rescue the world. Show Clive Cussler how it's done. It's time to recharge those New Year's resolutions and take a bite out of the alien dinosaurs.

I hear they taste like chicken.

The Danger of Sun Beams on a Writer's Protagonist

I fell today over sun beam. We haven't had much sun as of late, and I guess I forgot the strong winter rays have a tendency to trip people who don't pay attention. I also fell last November. Same reason. Sun beam. I hit hard last November. I actually thought I'd broken my knee, because I had nothing to brace myself with when I went down. It's still discoloured, and I don't walk right, but I think that's more the arthritis then the fall, though it hurts. But today's (Thursday) fall got me worried. Aside from the grapefruit looking ankle, a few marks on my side, and the glancing blow to my head when I head butted the car (car won), I find my wrist starting to hurt. It's several hours later, and writing this is painful, and I'm not sure that everything I wrote will make sense tomorrow.

I don't write about superheros. I must remember that when my detective has to hit someone, he might knock them down, but his hand is really, really going to hurt soon after, if not immediately. Writing lesson tucked away that's not part of Elmore Leonard's top ten rules.

#11. Dangerous sun beams and knockout punches have to hurt the protagonist as well as the villain. And the best example of it ever was Indiana Jones in the hull of the ship with Marion Ravenwood trying to find a place that doesn't hurt to plant a kiss on poor Indy. I could use her now.

Rick Bylina Interview - Indie Writing

We interrupt your daily activities to alert you to yet another interview of, well, ME, by Kris Wampler, author of "Love Train", on his Indie Writing blog. He can also be found also on Facebook and lurking on Twitter.

Book Review: Child of my Heart

Everyone's search for what is most precious to their heart takes twists and turns. Some twists are devastatingly tragic, some turns are lovingly wondrous, and some events in life are just plain magical. For Annie Lancaster in "CHILD OF MY HEART," the touchstone of her journey is being a nurse for damaged children with little hope of making that journey. Heartbreak co-mingles with joy in Annie's professional life as she nurses children suffering from the worst that life can dish out. Disappointment and hope punctuate her personal yearnings, which seem destined never to be fulfilled as time marches on. The combination would break a weaker person. Yet, Annie faces the day-to-day challenges head-on with an innate kindness in this literary novel that reads more like a heartfelt memoir of someone for whom you could really care.

A Heartfelt Read - 5 Stars

MMWUC - Super Bowl of Writing Awaits

Within the family at the start of the playoffs I wrote, "Whoever won the New York Giants versus Green Bay Packers game would be in the Super Bowl and lose to the New England Patriots." Well, it has come to pass and the final battle is set, even though both the Baltimore Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers gave the winners all they could. Four evenly-matched titans fought it out, but someone had to fall. The games kept me in my seat through dinner, the desire to go to the bathroom, and all the work that I needed to get done. It's a lesson to all the writers. You want drama, re-run the Giant/49er game. Just like this game, in your story the antagonist and protagonist must struggle to the bitter end, keeping the reader on their toes, giving them thrills and chills along the way, unexpected victims along the way, heroes rising to the challenge, and someone snatching victory from defeat, until the last kick in the ass at the end of the story, and the vanquished lay down before the victor.

I want to write the way they played. It's Monday. Let's get out there and write something masterful.

Book Review: Little Mountain

Little Mountain has a big story. Who is this Bob Sanchez and how did he write such a well-crafted story? "Little Mountain" mixes a sad piece of personal Cambodian history with the need to solve a present day murder for Detective Sambath Long. He has to try and bring closure to both his past and solve a heinous murder that dig into his haunting memories. The story has twists and turns that this mystery writer appreciated. His characters come alive on the page, the dialogue is crisp, and the descriptions of the backstreets of Lowell and the noirishly oppressive weather make you feel like you're on a ride-a-long.

Sanchez has carefully interwoven Sam's sad past with his desire to do the right thing in spite of significant obstacles placed in his way. Married, with a small child, he teeters precariously as many cops do between ensuring family security and doggedly pursuing his duty. Politics and priorities clash with the right amount of give-and-take until Sam has to do what he believes is right. And like all great stories or baseball games, "It ain't over until it's over." Sanchez pulls the story strings tight until...well, you'll just have to read this 5-star novel to learn the harrowing ending.

MMWUC - Surviving without Twitter, Facebook, and Linked-in.

Stop the train. I want to get off. Well, you can't. However, you do have options. You can step off the communications train for a day per week. And I plan to do so.

I've been thinking about spending some time with my protagonist sans the Internet, which means no email, Twitter, Facebook, Linked-in, blogging; my brand new Kindle safely tucked in it's cover; and, dare I write it, my cell phone in the recharger. I want to go for a long walk with my protagonist without electrons pulsing through my body. Find out, what he would do if totally cut off from the world, able to just think about the important things in his life or my life, not be at beck-and-call for 392 emergency queries that each day brings. I did not know I was that indispensable.

Sometimes it is okay not to have to answer the tweet, the Facebook message, the Linked-in update, the 243 emails that arrive every day. Sometimes your protagonist has more to say to you than your sixth cousin, four times removed who found you on Facebook and now wants you to buy a spot of prime land in Chad. "Need a decision today." Funny how tomorrow, the ability to make the decision is still available.

"Let's go fishing, Stark."

"Hear they're biting down at the coast."

And so we talk or not and find out that sometimes a quieter life leads to better thoughts about a story than an avalanche of information.

Interview: Kim Kardashian Wasn't Available But Rick Was

Sometimes people interview me. Why? Gee, I don't know. I think it's because someone like Kim Kardashian or Snooki or Steven King wasn't available. Lindsey Lohan is still working in the Coroner's Office, fretting how to settle her $90,000 IRS bill without dipping into the million dollars that Playboy gave her to pose nude so they could airbrush her sculptured body to make it perfect. So, it's easy to find an interview of KK, S, OR LL out there. Little harder for SK. As for me, it's getting easier each month, and this month you can find me on The Muriel Reeves Mysteries blog. I ain't pretty, but I writes okay. Check it out. Leave a note for me, or Kim or Lindsey (Wasn't she so cute in "The Parent Trap."). Maybe you'll even be enticed to by one of my novels. Wouldn't that be a novel thing to do. Did you see how I used both definitions of the same word, novel.

Book Review: The Girl in the Blue Beret

History buffs looking for insights into the resistance and readers of literary fiction who like to read about protagonists searching for their emotional centerpiece will enjoy Bobbie Ann Mason's novel "The Girl in the Blue Beret". Ms. Mason spent considerable time and energy trying to bring alive the stepping-on-egg-shells existence of those who helped the allies in a time when resources were scarce, but courage abundant. She did a fine job though the on-page tension lags at times. Marshall peels back time, revealing his past as he meanders through his present. He searches for post-retirement meaning and a measure of understanding about what he and those who risked their lives to save him went through to save him as a downed pilot in WW2. And at the center of his searching is the girl in the blue beret. I could fall in love with her. While I appreciated the back-and-forth of time and space, it sometimes felt abrupt, as did the ending. I even turned the page thinking there was more, sadly, there was not. This is a solid and enjoyable read. 4 stars.

MMWUC - Resolutions, Goals, and Promises

Ah, the freshness of a new year, which always coincides with my birthday and the making of resolutions, goals, and promises. First, thanks for all the birthday wishes in 2012 from my Twitter, Facebook, and assorted other friends. In the rear view mirror, 2011 was a somewhat bizarre year, which started out with a semi-reluctant re-emergence into the corporate world at a promising job in a "recession-proof" industry. Two months later, I was let go before my probationary period ended. No harm, no foul, no paycheck. It was a blessing in disguise, acting as the final push to take my future into my own hands and self-publish my novels. Plus, the vegetable garden was well-established and promised much in the way of back-up food stores.

Along with my buddy, Ron, we examined the horizon and decided to publish our respective books, found out that marketing is hard, and girdled our loins (gee that sounds nasty) after examining what worked and what didn't work to be better prepared for 2012. To quote Yoda, "There is no try, only do." No real resolutions need be made, no goals for anyone else to understand, or promises to make to family and friends about 2012. There is only do; and, I intend to do when it comes to my life as an author.

It's January 9, 2012, do you know what your protagonist's goals are?

MMWUC - Silence is Golden

I knew this day would come, but I didn't think it would happen so soon. I have nothing to say. I'm too busy writing about the affect of snow on the perception of the perfect Christmas. But I guess to be politically correct, it would be a perfect "holiday" season. I do like snow, and miss it here in North Carolina, despite the fact that the average kid gets 7 snow days a year. Want a snow day? Just get the forecaster to put it in the forecast three days in advance. But expect to lose some playing time being dragged to the store for milk, eggs, bread, and maybe some poptarts. Where was I at? Oh, yeah. It is a darn shame though that there are so many holidays jammed together in the cold of winter, right when we have the shortest days of the year, and the seasonal temperatures are still battling so that the snow is probably slushy, or icy in the south, or just a damn, cold rain. Religious leaders should get together and sprinkle these holidays out during the warmer months, so we can enjoy them more and pay attention to the message a bit more without freezing to death in a snowbank. I didn't have much to say, and like most pundits on radio and television, I guess I proved my point.

Holiday Stocking Stuffers

Try these new books in 2011 from mostly new authors to stuff stockings:

* Beneath the Dunes by Walter Ramsay - Mystery
* Child of My Heart by Shelia Rudesill
* Ghost on Black Mountain by Ann Hite
* Hungry and Naked by Ashley Memory - Mystery with a touch of humor
* The Kingdom of Childhood by Rebecca Coleman
* Little Mountain by Bob Sanchez - Mystery
* Marina Melee by Lynne Hinckley - Mystery with a touch of humor
* Penelope and the Birthday Curse by Ron D. Voigts - YA
* Penelope and the Christmas Spirit by Ron D. Voigts - YA
* Penelope and the Ghost's Treasure by Ron D. Voigts - YA
* Random Violence by Jassy Mackenzie (Shamus Award nominee)
* The Gospel According to the Romans by Robin Helweg-Larsen
* The Stasi File: Opera and Espionage by Peter Bernhardt
* The Teaching Man and Other Tales by Nell DuVall

* The Unhewn Stone by Wendy Laharnar - Historical Fantasy

* Trail of Destruction by Linda Johnson - Political Mystery

On Memories These Days

There was an old man who wrote a book.
And an old lady who took a look
She got a surprise
And widened her eyes
The story was her life that he took.
 
Did I write this or just imagine it? Sometimes you find things on your computer that no longer remain in the brain. Be careful what you read, it can kill you.

Nothing from Nothing is Nothing

Sydney is asleep on my knee, deeply asleep for a 20-year-old cockatiel. But alas, I have to go to the bathroom, really bad. Those seven diet cokes are catching up to me. His current peacefulness is that of a child after a long day of sickness, and he had a rough day yesterday. I accidentally pulled out a tail feather. It had blood on the end of it. He screamed. Hollered. Howled. Shook. He even flew a few feet before turning around and looking at me, cocking one head to the side, accepting, but questioning.

I had to hold him for hours on my chest as he cuddled up under my chin--the knowledge of how he ended up in agony long lost by his simple forgiveness (and short attention span) and superseded by the pain that hurt whenever he moved. I could hear him, 'Daddy, help me.' How can I disturb him now for my own sake? I'm in discomfort now; he's in peace. He's so innocent; I'm an ogre. I need to make him some comfort food: mashed potatoes and cheerios. I just wish I would have put on some Depends this morning.

Do you make your protagonist dig or feel so deep? If not, why not?

MMWUC - Back to Writing Basics

Writing basics - having an idea, inspiration, or thought about what you want to write. Just read an interesting tidbit. The oldest canned food ever opened and eaten was meat. It was 114 years old. It's sad that the article didn't indicate where it was canned or kept all that time or the type of meat (probably SPAM), or who the lucky person was who had the honor of eating it. At nearly the same moment, there was a NOVA story on the difficulty of various aspects of a manned flight to Mars. Fuel, air, water (very yucky), and food. Food seemed to be a particularly difficult issue to overcome. Not sure why. I had some great twenty year old WWII rations when I was in the army. But then again, I imagine the astronauts might get a bit bored of their food. These people should have consulted with the people who had the 114 year old can of meat. Oh, the secrets they could have shared.

Now, I'm thinking of a dystopian novel where a cache of really, really old food is found and what my seven survivors might do with it.

What weird ideas have slammed together in your head that lead to a story.

Do You Believe In Christmas Miracles (True Story)

For about an hour on Monday, I thought I would lose my mind. I also thought I'd ruined our Christmas. The day starts well enough with a trip to the doctor's office for a physical. Total cholesterol - 132; HDL - 55; Triglycerides - 143; blood pressure - 140/80; Pulse - 42 (I have an amazingly low pulse). Also, I drop off the office's homemade Christmas caramels. My other medical complications are in check. His advice. "Lose weight." He needs a parrot. He's been telling me that for years. Next, on to the in-laws at the assisted living center to gather packages to mail for them - check. I drop off more homemade caramels at the dentist's office. This always makes me feel evil for some reason.


Around the corner, I hit the bank for some spending cash and lots of cash for my wife. I hope it's for my present. Onward to Michael's for a box of special plastic baggies and find the last one. I head to Party City for some party trays to be used for house plants and notice the clouds thickening. I get the last three. The drive to my dermatologist, whose kid I feel like I'm personally putting through college, is uneventful as cars slip off the highway and clear a path for me. I drop off the office's Christmas caramels to a staff member who squeals with delight, remembering them from the previous years. Every light is green as I head back towards town and the Chinese store to pick up the last of the supplies for our annual New Year's Day party - our holiday present to our friends. I'm way ahead of schedule, though a few big drops splat on the windshield. I get out of the car, check my pocket, and find no wallet. The rain begins in earnest.

I panic. No wallet in the car, under the car, near the car. I drive away. No wallet at the Dermatologist's office. It's not lying comfortably on the ground, dangling in the bushes like the last bloom, or floating toward the sewer like a downed and drowned leaf. I'm ill. Nearly $600, credit cards, bank account numbers -- mine, my homeowner's association, ours. I try to center myself. I drive to the Party City with the closed satellite Police Station next door (budget cuts). It's not a bad area; it's just not a good place. It's the downside of the mall with seasonal stores featuring Halloween items no one wants at 90% off and a cornacopia of Christmas collectables of dubious quality, offices with no apparent clientele and stick-on signs, and stores with vacant-eyed associates. The wallet is not in the parking lot. I head for the door of Party City in a drizzle and walk in. A sleepy-eyed man in his early 30's stands near the unattended cash register. He looks bored stacking a few hundred boxes of candy canes.

"Do you believe in Christmas miracles?" I say to him without any preamble.

He looks at me surprised. Perhaps he thinks he misheard. "Huh, what?"

"Do you believe in Christmas miracles? Yes or no."

"Well, yes." A hint of a smile pushes out cautiously from the corner of his mouth. Is it really there or is he just humoring the distraught looking old, fat guy wearing a soaked, off-white USA sweatshirt and green gym shorts.

"Good. I'm looking for a wallet."

"Yeah, we found one." He walks to the register. "Your name."

"Rick Bylina."

Some of me must still be in the wallet. "Here you go." He hands me the wallet.

"Do you know who turned it in?" I want to give the person a reward or take him or her out to lunch.

"Nope." He walks back to the display.

I leave as the drizzle turns to a light mist. Back in the car, I let out a breath I have been holding and open the wallet. Everything, everything is there. I sit. The sun slices through the overcast as a parade of Santa's pass by, heading into one of the seemingly empty offices labeled "Santa Training." One waves as he walks past. I automatically wave back. He winks then bellows a hardy "Ho-ho-ho. Merry Christmas" before he slips into the office.

Yes, I believe in Christmas miracles.

Cyber Monday on MMWUC

This Monday Morning Wake-up Call includes a sale. ONE PROMISE TOO MANY and A MATTER OF FAITH are on sale for Cyber Morning for $.99. Why shouldn't I make you spew coffee with such a wonderful deal on your MMWUC? Do sales and gimmicks work? How the heck should I know? I'm just a marketing babe, but I do know that for one day, ONE DAY , the books are discounted at 2/3rds their retail price.

As far as writing the next book during NANOWRIMO, well, I'm going to all a bit short this year. With my wife's schedule eating away at mine, November has turned into a very bad month for me to write. However, I have about 30,000 words of a good story running with three possible endings and a very unusual bad guy. It does make me pause though and question is there any bad guy that hasn't been singled out yet for being written about? I'm thinking next time that a demented guinea pig goes about killing joggers because of the pig's repressed memories of being stuck in an exercise wheel that he couldn't get out of. No matter how fast he ran, it just went faster until one day.... I digress. Buy my book or two. :-)

Breaking Dawn - There's a story in all this.

It's breaking dawn, no, not the movie, the time of day. I was sleeping nicely after a frenetic Thanksgiving Day when my presence was requested at the local Home Depot by my wife to come and get "my" ten poinsettias for $1 per plant. Dutifully, I slip out of my heated waterbed and trundle outside to the frost-covered car and drive to the store to help out.

Upon arriving home, I scan the disaster that is my home. After eight hours of cooking two turkeys, 20 pounds of potatoes, making home-made stuffing (3 batches), and enough gravy to float a small boat, I washed and dried dishes for four hours. Sadly, there's still four hours of dish washing to go. I guess that's what happens when you have 26 relatives for the meal and everything is homemade and no automatic dishwasher. The turkey carcasses are being boiled down into broth for the next turkey day in April. We did bag 2,000 caramels in bags last night much to the chagrin of my visiting Wisconsinite nieces. And the Sheepshead card game was lively. It was nice to watch the 85-year-old Alzheimers-afflicted patriarch beat the pants off of his daughter, son, two grand-daughters, and a great-granddaughter (more interested in chewing and drooling on the cards than playing the game). Alzheimer's, such a weird disease. He can't remember what he ate two hours earlier (turkey dinner on Thanksgiving), but knew what each player had in their hand instantly and counted trump without fail.

The sun's up, and now I won't be able to sleep until the circadian rhythms overtake me around 2 p.m. It's a perfect fall day and there are plenty of leftovers for sandwiches, but not for at least a day, I'm full, and I have words to write before I sleep; words to write before I sleep.

Follow the Super Committee Example: Define Goals Then Fail

Super Committee
Does not exist in D. C.
Grade school fantasy

- - - END OF EDITORIAL HAIKU - - -

When I write, I try to follow the methodology I learned where the POV character of each chapter has a goal that is not attainable by the end of the chapter, thus putting themselves further from completing their quest and achieving their story arc goal. I don't always know what it is myself at times during the first draft, but when I edit what I've written, I find or insert it, and make sure it's there. The trick is not to necessarily let your reader know what the goal is on first reading, but to recognize it when the POV character fails to achieve the goal at the end of the chapter. It's kind of like subliminal goal setting. This doesn't mean hiding it in something like the last "5" in a Sudoku puzzle. The POV character may even state it explicitly (and I salivate when I put it out in plain sight).

MMWUC - The Message Is Simple

I've been spray painted with a lot of platitudes about writing lately, and I've been guilty of shooting off a few myself as I twitter my brains away on the social media platforms. But it's important to remember...

If you're a writer, the bottom line is:  Writer's write.

I need to remind myself of that basic simple rule every now and then.  That's the Monday Morning Wake-Up Call. If you're a writer, don't lose your sight of the lighthouse beacon guiding you through the rocky shoals of distraction to the port of creative development.

If you're not a writer, support your local writer, and find your own bottom line.

Australian Invader - Guest Blogger

Rick's vacationing over at Ron D. Voigts blog this morning, writing about the lessons learned from self-publishing, part 7 - What is Success? Join him there. Meanwhile, Sydney, Rick's 19-year-old cockatiel is guest blogging here.

"Got mashed potatoes? No. What kind of cheap outfit is this? Stop flashing that light in my face? I bite you know. Why am I here? I hatched. No mystery. No, I'm not from Australia, but mom was. I've never been out of North Carolina. I write, well, type. Gotta do something around here. Oh, wait! A good one. You're safe for another twenty minutes. Anyway. Here's a story I wrote. Took a year.



LOVE AND THE SINGLE GIRL
Dr. Frankenberry stared at the jellyfish and wondered if they were staring back.

"They're beautiful," he said to Inga.

"Oh, let me go, you’re mad." Inga, clad in a leopard skin bikini, which the doctor bought from Macy's using a seasonal coupon, jingled her silvery chains. "Pretty," she said, before remembering her situation.

"Just think," the doctor said, filling a needle with fluid from a jellyfish that writhed in obvious pain, "if this works, you'll be young and beautiful forever."

"I want to be free," she said emphatically.

The doctor added a yellow fluid into the needle then injected her. He waited. He waited for hours. Nothing happened. Inga finally went to sleep and snored like the town drunk on Sunday morning.

"Drat!" He turned to his desk then sat. He immersed himself in his notes, looking for what could have gone wrong. Hours passed.

He pushed his glasses up his nose. A squishy sound erupted from behind him.

He turned.

"My God!"

Inga slipped out of her silvery bracelets and approached the doctor, stinging him repeatedly before consuming him. She turned to the wounded jellyfish in the tank, slipped inside the aquarium, and made sweet love to her wounded hero.

If William Shakespeare Can, I Can

I'm going to read in public, specifically at Davenport & Winkleperry’s, 18 E. Salisbury St., Pittsboro, NC. on December 13, 2011 sometime between 6:30 and 8:30 p.m.. Since it is open mic, I need to get there early. Maybe I'll be late. Maybe it'll snow. This will be different from when I read at my Book Launch Party. Then, the 100+ persons in attendance were my guest, most on good behavior, none drunk. This time, I'm hoping it doesn't end up like a medieval egg and tomato throwing contest. I don't read in public, but now I must. But what to read? A snippet from a currently published novel? A few lines from a new novel? A short story? A poem? Haiku?

THE PERFECT PERCH
-------------------------
Grounded and forlorn
Bare oak down from nameless storm
Treeless vultures morn

I only have eight minutes. I could run a mile in eight minutes. That should be far enough to get away from any eggs and tomatoes thrown.

MMWUC - The Anti-NANOWRIMO

I'm having this incredible tussle with the evil internal editor (EIE). I write, and the EIE twists my words and makes the all sound like fingernails across the blackboard in school. "They vill be edited. And they vill be edited, now," is the commanding voice. I fight. Honest, I do. But yesterday, the muse, so patient, so kind, so full of ideas, and sometimes baloney, finally spoke up. "SHUT UP!" She offered a compromise. For the next twelve months the EIE will leave me alone, then, during NANOWRIMO 2012, the EIE is in charge.

So, as long as the EIE can play nice as of Monday, next NANOWRIMO is the anti-nanowrimo. I'm to offer up 112,327 (don't ask how we came up with that number) words, and the EIE has as a goal, the opportunity to cut 50,000 words out of that novel of 112K+ words in one month. We're all happy for now.

So, what kind of crazy deals do you make with your internal and external demons to get a story completed?

The Big Bra

Every now and then, a story pops up that catches my eye for no good reason. This model is wearing a bra advertised as costing $2.5 million. Have I even made $2.5M in my lifetime? I mean I could have read about Paterno (sad in so many ways) or Lindsey Lohan (just sad) or even the big Alaskan winter storm (bad, real bad). Yes, the model is cute, but I bet after this gig she eats a whole turkey like a Viking returning from the sea so that her body doesn't shut down from malnourishment. But a $2.5M bra! Who buys these things? Some how, some way, there's a story waiting to be written about this bra. And, at what point did wings become part of a bra? I must have missed that when Mr. Hayes taught Sex Education and Leon A. kept asking questions to which he already had the answers. But I don't think he asked about bras.

Self-Published Marketing

Well, it's challenging - Twittering, blogging, co-blogging, swap-blogging, Linked-in, Facebooked, reviewing, face-to-face showing, book clubbing, independent book store cajoling, little sleeping, some writing, sanity questioning, interviewing, articling, Book Launch Partying (well, that was fun), writer meeting, calling, writing, emailing, texting, selling (sold two in an assisted living center - relax, it was staff), visiting (sold 7 on vacation in the Wisconsin woods - woowoo - who knew bears read mysteries), praying, singing (praises), next comes You-Tubing. If you're gonna be a self-published author, be prepared to wear a lot of hats, and always, always, carry a copy of your book along to sell.

NANOWRIMO and Losing My Religion

Not sure why the title of this post came to mind. Perhaps I heard R.E.M. last night before going to sleep. Or, maybe it's because I'm starting to wander into that no man's land of novel writing. That area somewhere between 10,000 and 20,000 words where the original inspiration for the story starts to flag and the "really neat" stuff you planned for later in the book can't happen yet. It's the point where the reader starts to lose interest in your underdone book and lays it down. "How was it Myrtle?" Myrtle shrugs her shoulders and starts yammering about the latest image of Jesus she found in the crabgrass. The writer's goose is cooked. Forget about word-of-mouth marketing by Myrtle.

So, after 14,007 words, I did something drastic to my character that I'd not thought about doing before that moment of inspiration when the Muse whispered in my ear at 11:27 p.m. last night as the caffeine fix waned and the call of the pillow trumpeted brain-dead salvation. Muse, thou has not forsaken me yet. And the religion of writing is not lost. Write on! Write on!! Brothers and sisters, amen. Write on!

MMWUC - NANOWRIMO and Me

If you're a writer, you probably know that NANOWRIMO is upon us. I struggled on Sunday, but I managed, in between cutting 672 caramels, meeting with neighbors about neighborhood security, fighting off the shrill sounds of four hours of seven recorder players finalizing thirteen holiday tunes, making (and cleaning up afterwards) enough gung pao chicken four a family of eight, to raise my total number of words to 12,081. For NANO, that's about a quarter way to the finish line. For the length of novels I write, that's about 1/7th of the way. I need to write shorter novels. Herein, without fanfare is the first scene of the first chapter of my mystery novel that has not title yet. It is the fourth novel in the Detective Stark mystery series (or maybe the fifth), and I had no idea what the story was about when I started, but I do now. Writing, even for an anal-retentive, Capricorn, German/Polish, former project manager like me is sometimes organic in nature.
#
Chapter 1

I leaned my head out the window of the idling Ford Explorer to see a man in shorts and a parka running toward my car yelling, "Rabbits. They're everywhere. Huge rabbits." He dashed past my rented vehicle and kept on going for fifty yards before he fell down attempting to turn down a dirt road. He rolled over twice before he bounced up and sprinted from sight into the Newfoundland maritime forest.

Facing forward again, I shook my head. My stomach growled in response. I was hungry and ready for some good seafood, but fifteen or so cars clogged the road ahead of us. About ten of them had been in front of us since we had gotten off the last ferry run of the year at Argentia. The lead car held us captive on the squiggly highway 10A across the Avalon Peninsula for forty miles. I could not see the problem around the slight bend in the road, but, I hoped that whatever had blocked the slow parade of traffic would be gone soon.

I looked at my wife in the passenger seat. "Mary, are the rabbits really that big up here?"

"Yep," my wife answered, holding her forehead with her fingertips. Eyes closed. Lips curled up in a sardonic smile.

"Bunnies," Robert yelled from the back seat.

Mary turned to face our two-year-old son. "That's right. Bunnies." She laughed and poked Robert playfully in the belly before adjusting the car seat.

I stared straight ahead again. "Bunnies." I put the car into park and unbuckled my seat belt.

Mary reached for my arm, but I opened the door and slipped out of the driver's seat before she could grab me. "And just where are you going?" She positioned one arm akimbo, wrinkled her brow, and pouted.

I flashed a winning smile. She didn't formalize the question by including my name into her query. Good. Her fake anger at my inquisitive nature, when we were so close to our destination, was a good sign. The long flight from central Pennsylvania to Bangor, Maine and the fifteen hour ferry ride form Nova Scotia to Argentia hadn't taxed her stoic good nature to its limit. "There might be an accident. Besides," I said in a serious tone while shrugging into a warm jacket, "there might be bunnies."

"Bunnies," Robert yelled again then laughed.
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Y'all have a great day, and hope you made it to work on time.

TOO MANY PASSWORDS

I should be blogging about NANOWRIMO (I'm doing it), revising (I'm doing it), marketing my novels (I'm doing it), cleaning out the garden now that veggie season is over (I'm doing it), doing household chores (I'm doing it), fixing the cars--new battery for one; tires for both (I'm doing it), critiquing some chapters (I'm doing it), writing Sydney's biography (I'm doing it), spraying anti-deer stinky stuff (I'm doing it, although the last time I sprayed myself and even the mosquitoes didn't come near me), and cleaning house (I'm doing it).

However, what has taken top priority is getting my passwords and accounts in order. The computerized world has just gotten a bit out of control. I now have over 100 places that want me to have a user name/ID and password. And they all want me to change it on a regular basis. Yeah, I'm doing it, but it's taking a long time. Perhaps there's a story in it, but who has time to write it.

MMWUC - Adrenalin Junkie

Can the coffee; stash the soft drink; close the bag of chocolate. Having a Book Launch Party for my novel, ONE PROMISE TOO MANY, as the official kick-off to my new full-time career as a writer is the best adrenalin rush of all. Otherwise, how can I write this at 5:20 a.m. after having knocked off 238 emails since 11 p.m. Sunday night? The reality of the hard work will soon settle upon me. The two-headed beast of production (writing) and marketing (street book pusher) will force me to make tough decisions about the time commitments in is new life, but for now, I rush forward into this brave new world armed with a book and one heck of an adrenalin rush.

And the Monday morning wake-up call for today...never lose sight of your goal. In ONE PROMISE TOO MANY, Detective Stark has to fight through a lot (disappointments at home and work, lots of unknowns, and the number of hours being awake) to reach his goal. So what does your protagonist have to overcome to reach his goal? What stokes his adrenalin rush? Are you making it too easy for him?

Book Launch Party, ahoy!

Saturday is my first ever Book Launch Party (BLP). I invited Stephen King, Amy Tan, Salman Rushdie, Clive Cussler, and many others in my head. But, knowing that they are busy writing, hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and the famous who are famous for being famous, think Kim Kardashian, I'm excited that my friends, family, and boosters of my career are going to be there with me. It's amazing what you can do when you have support and encouragement. Make sure you encourage someone who has a dream today, tomorrow, and every day. That's how dreams really come true. Yeah, I'm sloppy with sentiment this morning, but I'll fix that. I've got to put my protagonist in harms way, and it's not going to be pretty. Someone dies. You'll find out who in about 18 months.

Get out there and make this day count.

A Tribute to Writing 101

Character's bold; first lines that incite.
Stow back-story, drop clues in plain sight.
Far flung locales with twists dynamite.
Readers want more through the darkened night.

Scene and structure; a voice to ignite.
Arc, spark, and start, motivated flight.
Injured hero with poisonous bite.
Readers need more through the darkened night.

Compose words spare; type sentences tight.
Sling power nouns, strong verbs flexing might.
Byzantine plots with dialogue slight.
Readers crave more through the darkened night.

Nostrils aflame; taste buds burning bright.
Sounds cascading, exploding eyesight.
Fingers aglow with textured delight.
Readers cry, "More!" through the darkened night.

McGuffin twist; obscure victim's plight.
Elusive clues, raising tension's height.
Solutions wrong with thoughts not quite right.
Readers plead, "More!!" through the darkened night.

Mirrored images; good/evil insight.
Black moment bleak, then climatic fight
Lessons revealed with dénouement's rite.
Readers scream, "More!!!" at morning's first light.

Waiting out the Bad

Finally, the rain cleared and the clouds parted at sunset yesterday. We paddled around the lake, catching up to a mom and pop pair of eagles; one dipped and caught a fish bigger than any I'd caught since I'd been up at the lake in the cabin in the woods in northern Wisconsin. A yearly followed behind, begging for food that they probably didn't give him. "Find your own," mom yelled. No otters this year, but some loons dove under the silent canoe near a small island in the lake as the dull sunset burst into oranges, reds, and purples to match the changing leaves on the shoreline. You'll have to take my wife's description of the colors; I'm colorblind. A bat skillfully dipped near us to capture unnamed bugs hovering in the wake of our relatively warm bodies. Soon it was almost dark and the owls started. I do a good owl impression and had a lovely chat with a Bared (sp) owl until he realized I was also a boy. Fifteen minutes later, he had impassioned love with a cutie. They screamed like monkeys in a jungle. Then the stars revealed themselves slowly. The first one for a wish, and then they all clamored for attention. A few even fell to Earth, streaking across the sky. Finally, time to dock and for once, she didn't dump me into the cold water. "Make me a fire." She batted her eyes. I did. A glass of brandy later, she was out like a tired sled dog after the Iditarod. Some times you just have to wait out the bad to get to the good.

MMWUC - Tighten Up

No, this post is not about Archie Bell and the Drells and their signature song. It's about tightening your story. It is my #1 guideline, because, well, because (yeah, that can be tightened) most writers I critique haven't done so. I've not perfected tightening yet, but I know it doesn't happen on the first draft. Don't throw that first draft out for critiquing, put it under your pillow for a week. Gain distance from the love you have for your words. Then, after you've taken out the awkward sentences and confusing words, you might get a critique that will really help your budding piece. Following the guideline to resources that can truly help you out.

Define Success

Aside from personal satisfaction, I wonder now what would be considered the threshold for success for a self-pubbed book (electronic and/or paperback). Before the onslaught of electronic and paperback self-pub options that exploded on the scene 4-6 years ago, I read that 500 sales was considered a best-seller for vanity press -- with most of those successes being cookbooks not novels. After only a two months with a published book and watching the rise and fall of rankings on various sites, I can believe 500 would be considered a best seller. 500 sales, I'm hoping so with ONE PROMISE TOO MANY and more.

The Other Half Speaks Up

My better half has finally finished NAKED AND HUNGRY by Ashley Memory and PENELOPE AND THE BIRTHDAY CURSE by Ron D. Voigts. She enjoyed both calling Naked and Hungry an entertaining read and just the right length for a long plane ride. full of those "special" characters you'd find in any southern town. Penelope was a humorous, page-turning read that kept you guessing who the murderer is. She found it a refreshing tween read that returned her back to her younger years in spirit, but found the story enjoyed as an adult. So, there you have it from the north woods of Wisconsin. Page turners for your enjoyment.

MMWUC - NANOWRIMO

I see my NANOWRIMO friends getting eager to write by a slow increase in the email chatter for kick-off meetings. "Hey! Write now." They shouldn't wait; they should write all the time. Lecture over.

But, for those who don't know about the NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth, it's a month long competition to write a novel, generally considered to be 50,000 words in length, in a month. It has mutated over the years. It's as much about the journey of writing and the camaraderie of writers, along with the celebration of anything related to writing. I've participated since 2003, and even though I haven't "won" each year, I always get a good start on a new story. A MATTER OF FAITH was a 2005 winner of 68,000 words and is now a published novel, alongside ONE PROMISE TOO MANY. METEOR MAGIC got its start in 2009 and will be out in early 2012. The stirrings of an idea for this year has begun. The biggest point: I will have published two books more than Snooki.

Are you making the leap into NANO writing? Is there a book eating your brain before zombies get to it?

Voices in the Wilderness

As comes as no surprise to anyone, I've been tweeting. I can't believe the number of writers out there in the twittervesre: wannabe writers, good writers, bad writers, writers begging you to read their masterpiece, writers wanting to help you (usually for a price), writers frustrated (stand in line), elated, cute ones, and desperate ones (buy my book or I'll kill myself). I didn't buy the book. He's still out there tweeting.

I'm this tiny voice in a vast arena with what I think is a good book, as do all authors think about their books. I guess I'll have to run naked through an airport screening in a couple of weeks when I return to North Carolina so I can get on the evening news and attract a larger audience.

So, what are you going to do to get that bigger audience?

To Kill A Mocking Herd

Me and the four Ms. Daisys returned from a Ham Hock and Blood Sausage eating marathon (I had chicken.) at Dixie's Dinner in Antigo and found both doors to the cabin locked and us keyless. So I call sister-in-law. "Oh, there's no hidden key to the cabin." I've been searching around the cabin for five minutes while the Ms. Daisys (85, 84, 83, and 78 years old) unfold themselves from the car, gather canes and walkers, and uneaten food in boxes. They're conspiraring: the usual multi-decibal chatter has dulled to the click-clicks of some African tribe that you catch on a public TV special. Eventually, the decision is made. Bust in the screen on the only window left open. After retrieving the ladder from the garage, the fight is on for the honor of making like a second-story criminal on a one-story house. All had reasons to want to go: "I'm the oldest." "I'm the youngest." "Well, I take yoga." (She bends to pick up her cane to demonstrate her flexibility.) "It's my cabin," my mother-in-law screeches, making her way with her walker from the outhouse. Thank goodness we still have the two-seater. I'm no spring chicken, but I'm up the ladder. I win. I didn't want to bend any window parts, so I work on the screen methodically while wondering how theives would get it. Finally, brut force wins. The screen pops inward, and I tumbled in through the window. The geese honk; chipmunks chatter; loons call; the heard does some weak redition of Arsenio Hall's "woo-woo." No one asks if I'm hurt.

I find the keys in the pocket of the shorts I changed out of just before we left hours ago. It is my fault, and now, I'll never be able to live it down. Too many witnesses. Unless...

How does your antagonist go about getting rid of unwanted witnesses to a crime and what's the best way for me?

MMWUC - Do Writers Really Vacation?

I don't think writers really vacation. How can you? I'm here in the northern woods of Wisconsin. A placid lake reflects sunrise's promise of a gentle warm day when a hodag emerges from a nearby cave and devours a carelss chipmunk, chirping like a leaky faucet announcing a call to a breakfast he'll never eat. But this is a baby hodag and an eagle swoops down to carry him off for her babies, born too late in the year though they are nearly as big as she. Excuse my wandering mind.

Chipmunks chatter
Echo leaky sink
acorn clatter
noisly kerplink.

Old cabin groans
legacy years past
honeymoon moans
ensuring it lasts.

I really need to get some food in the cabin, but this is story, and to keep the tension high, a cannon goes off deep in the woods. I'm under attack from the boy scout camp down the road. They're actually zombie boy scouts looking for little old ladies to help across the street and chomp down on their well seasoned brains (don't get mad at me! that's what zombies do). They're in luck. Four octogenarian women are coming to visit me for five days and extol the benefits of blue hair, walkers, and favorite memories of hodags they have known. Perhaps therein lies inspiration for the next story. I guess writers really don't vacation.

And how are you falling into your next story?

Life Grabs Rick

A writing lesson this morning in trying to do too many things at once. Must write now about these feelings of having to be in two places at once. In the book, of course, there's a huge disaster. His mom gets killed, but he saves his kid. In my case, if the leaf mulch is dumped in the wrong spot, my wife kills me because we'd never get it moved in time for the Book Launch Party for my two novels, ONE PROMISE TOO MANY and A MATTER OF FAITH. The opposing event, there's a sale that ended at noon at the grocery store for Extreme Moose Tracks ice cream and the mulch guy comes at the same time as the end of the sale. Naturally, I saved the ice cream. It will be the fuel to help me move the mulch during the middle of the night. Sometimes a win-win is really a win-win.

Remember, put your protagonist in a can't win situation. It's painful, but you need the squirm factor in your novel.

MMWUC - Labor Day

What does your antagonist do on labor day? In ONE PROMISE TOO MANY, mine is executing the crime of the decade no matter what Detective Stark does. In A MATTER OF TIME, mine was planning the murder of a rich man. Just what do master criminals do on holidays? Okay, I'm stretching things here, but my power keeps going on and off for no apparent reason, and the letter "f" refuses to cooperate.  I had to type that one four times.

Justin Beiber, Lady Gaga, Selena Gomez, one of the Obama girls, me.  What do we have in common? All will release a book in 2012. Michele O'Bockman will call for a congressional inquiry over the Obama girl book. Nancy Pelosi will fall down a flight of stairs while reading Lady Gaga's book. Justin and Celene Dion will hook up. There I've made my predictions. Now, time to make breakfast since I can't whack weeds.

Blathering Badly?

I'm in the early stages of marketing my books, "One Promise Too Many" and "A Matter of Faith". It takes up a lot of my time and energy being restrained and not overly blabbing about them on Facebook (but I'm pretty darn excited about it) or blogging each time about them (but I'm pretty darn excited about it) or shouting about them on Twitter (but I'm really darn excited about it). Well, actually, I think that's the purpose of Twitter. It's the ultimate social media where the primary purpose seems to be shouting about "me, me, me" and how clever I am, even if most of it is just bad banal blathering. Other sales avenues are slowly opening up. But the question remains...

...what do you do to ensure the rest of the world knows you have written the best book ever?

Box in the Mail

I received a box in the mail today. Books. My books. My books that I must sell. "Yippee," and "Oh, crap," collided in time and space like two electrons going around the CERN Superconducting Laboratory and trying to occupy the same slice of bologna that some careless worker left behind. It got me thinking though, as most things do in my overly-charged brain, about having a character in my story receive a mysterious package.

How would your protagonist react to a mysterious package ending up on his/her desk? Open it like a Christmas gift or call Homeland Security to blow it up?

P.S. I also can't believe this is the last day of the summer months.

MMWUC - Rain with that Hurricane?

Hurricane Irene came and went. The outer rain bands stopped at the county line, about 1/2 mile from my house. I got .15 inches of rain and two downed branches. Thirty miles to the east, they got 3 inches and some trees down. Near the coast, one town drowned under 19 inches of rain in just over one day. Reporting on Irene has been weird and reaction weirder. I could say, "Irene, a bust." I had to water my plants the next day. However, some of the media and individual-centric comments about the storm have been, well, stupid, calling Irene, much to do about nothing. Lift your head people. Just because your little island of reality wasn't affected, millions were. Just water your plants or ride your bicycle and be very, very thankful the storm didn't creep over the county line and put your life on hold for the next few months.

Writers: How have you used the weather in your story to enhance the readers experience?

Hurricane Writer

Hurrican Irene. 'Nuff said. Write your hurricane story. Make your voice heard. If you're somewhere else, write an anti-hurricane story.

Eye of the Storm

I stood near the open garage door, as a garbage can flew past me. "Close one," I yelled, over the huffing and puffing noises. I should really take shelter inside and wait until this blows over, but I was hypnotized by the rage and fury. I wondered what next? I didn't have to wait long. A sturdy shrub, that had grown millimeters into my neighbors yard was yanked out the ground. Dirt and twigs slammed against the side of the house, then slid down like a figther who'd take his last punch. Paralyzed the the display, I squinted in defiance. A cop car cruised down the street, eyeing me. Without warning, a calmness overtook the entire scene.

My nextdoor neighbor came over. "I'll clean up the mess, but next time," he leaned into me, "make sure your herd of hamsters poop on your yard, not mine.

Inspiration

Inspiration has struck in the midst of trying to get A MATTER OF FAITH prepared for publication on Amazon, CreateSpace, and Smashwords. What if -- A dozen people are trapped in a high-rise building after an historic earthquake while a powerful hurricane barrels towards them, and one of them is disposed dictator bent on revenge. Oh yeah, and another one is a hunky vampire. Oh yeah, and there's the famous newly-weds who are paparazzi-crazed, because, well, that's all they're famous for, being in public. And don't forget the two old, fat, white guys who can't agree on any solution to their problem. It's like this story was ripped from the headlines. Can I have the NBA now?

MMWUC - Is Your Protagonist Is Mad At You

Book #2, A MATTER OF FAITH, is officially done. No more revising, editing, or tweaking. It's production time on Monday, which will spill over into Tuesday and finally wrap up on Thursday. In between, I have to replace the car that died on me, take another in for maintenance, visit my dermatologist so she can tell me I have more skin cancer, find an endocronologist, and prop up the loofahs that are overrunning the garden. Lots to do, but I really should spend some time with the co-protagonist (he really hates to be a "co"...thinks he can carry the whole book) of my next book. He's lonely and swears he won't cooperate with the writing.

What do you do when your protagonist won't cooperate? Bribe? Spank? False praise?

Nothing about Nothing and That's Something

I'm going to rest today. I'm going to build an arch under my loofahs, weed whack weeds, finish mulching a section of the bush bed that is 95.34% complete, and I may even cut some errant small trees and the one that feel during the windstorm the other night. I may go to the dump. I may even move some of the dirt pile at the end of my driveway...yeah, right...dirt. It's good old, heavier than gold, red clay. I've got to have a day away from the computer. Will I be successful. Probably not. My name is Rick. I'm an addict. It has been three hours since I last touched my keyboard. The shakes aren't too bad, but...

Scaring Yourself With Sounds

I have a dentist appointment this morning, so why am I thinking about Marathon Man! You know the scene with Dustin Hoffman, the 64th scariest scene of all time. It's the type of scene that would make everyone cringe, except, of course, Jack Nicholson in the original The Little Shop of Horrors. (Not to be confused with Susan Goodwill's Little Shop of Murders, a most excellent cozy mystery novel.) There's something very unnerving about that high-pitched, whirling sound with which most everyone can associate.

What other universally disturbing sounds are there that make your readers cringe?