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Christmas Decorations by Morgan Mandel

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 04:03:00 +0000

Though I don't really like snow that much because it has a tendency to get in my way, I'm still very partial to snowman decorations. You can tell from these photos. Except for the set with the dog, the rest are from my own house. I use the snowmen because they look cute and cheerful and that's reason enough for me. They were probably made at factories. I do know there's a place not far from my house where pottery classes are taught, but I buy them instead.

Descriptions can be important in manuscripts. Make sure to add enough to give the reader a feel of what the characters are like. From what I've described about my decorations you can tell I'm a busy person who isn't patient or talented enough to attempt making pottery decorations.

Another example is I'm using a small fiber optic tree this year because of our dog, aptly named Rascal, and also because I can't find room in the house anywhere to put a large one. Many choose real trees and go to great lengths to decorate them, matching the ornament colors, using certain types. Some use garlands that look like old-fashioned tinsel. Others actually string popcorn or use real or fake cranberries as garlands. There are tons of variations of how to decorate trees and other Christmas season items.

How a person decorates a tree can hint at if they're nostalgic, modern, a perfectionist, or happy go lucky, busy, or just impatient. I'm sure there are other decorations that also demonstrate character traits.

So, when you mention a season or holiday, remember to mention details of the decorations and see if you can tie them in somehow with the characters' personalities.

What about you? What type of decorations do you use and what do they say about you? Or what do your characters use?

For a completely different topic, check out Spoiled Milk also on Wednesday at http://bloodredpencil.blogspot.com/ - what about that book you eagerly awaited reading?

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Morgan Mandel

http://morganmandel.blogspot.com/

http://www.morganmandel.com/

http://twitter.com/morganmandel

http://facebook.com/morgan.mandel

A Christmas Carol

noreply@blogger.com (June) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Charles Dickens published A Christmas Carol in 1843 and it has become a Christmas tradition for many families. The story tells the tale of a man who basically doesn’t like Christmas or anyone around him for that matter. He changes his tune when he is visited by ghosts who let him see what he has become and how he will end up if he doesn’t change his ways. And change his ways he does.

I always feel that London is actually a character in Dickens books. He breathes life into the city that creates and shapes his characters. So without further ado, here are some London pictures I took that are somewhat Dickens related. I hope you enjoy the journey and I wish all of you a Happy Healthy Holiday season!

London Street all decked out for the Holiday's and advertising the new movie!!

Here we have the Royal Exchange which, according to David Perdue's Charles Dickens Page, Ebenezer Scrooge would have come here.

I'm sure he would have also found his way to this place...The Bank of England.

And although Piccadilly Circus is not mentioned in A Christmas Carol, it is in London and so was I. (Notice the Starbucks!)

Thanks for reading!

June

www.junesproat.com

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Debra St. John) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 14:41:00 +0000

With a little less than a week to go, things are really starting to be Christmasy around here. School's out for the holidays, which is a good thing, since I'm the teacher, and two weeks of R & R mixed in with visits with family and friends is a heavenly thought!

Yesterday we had a beautiful snow fall. Not only was it gorgeous to look at, but we didn't have to travel anywhere in it, which made it all the more appealing. The old song is true, "Since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" This is the view from our front porch and the wreath on the side of our garage. Picture postcard perfect.

Some of the present wrapping is done, with just a handful more to go.

The cookies are finished. My hubby and I spent the day yesterday puttering in the kitchen, listening to Christmas music, and baking three different batches of "kiss" cookies: chocolate with mint, peanut butter with chocolate, and oatmeal with chocolate chips. (We just couldn't find the caramel kisses we usually put in those anywhere this year.)

So, all in all, the Christmas spirit is upon us. I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas. May your hearts be filled with all of the joys of this season.

Until next time,

Happy Reading! Check out Mistletoe and Folly, a free read from The Wild Rose Press.

Debra

www.debrastjohnromance.com

Costco and the Holiday Season by Margot Justes

noreply@blogger.com (Margot Justes) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 14:34:00 +0000

I love Costco anytime of the year, but there is something magical about the giant during the holiday season.

It may have something to do with the fact I buy my desserts there, to be sure I still make my rum balls, fudge and poppy seed cake, but everything else comes from Costco, along with appetizers, chips, and anything else that makes the holiday table a delight to behold. Yes, plates and knives and forks too.

Tonight is our annual holiday party, I'm expecting 16 to 20 people for dinner. Abt at this very moment is installing a dishwasher, mine went out after only five years and would have cost too much to repair. Gotta love the planned obsolescence working full speed ahead.

At any rate, I saved my trip to Costco for today, pick up the stuff I need to complete my menu and along the way maybe buy a pair of jeans.

It is snowing and the white fluffy stuff sticking to the branches is beautiful, peaceful and calming; a perfect day so far. Assuming I can wash dishes tonight.

I would like to extend holiday wishes and 'Peace on earth' is such an overused slogan, but it sure would be nice.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Till next time,
Margot Justes
www.mjustes.com
A Holiday in Paris

The New Rival to the Davinci Code is SILVER says Robert W. Walker

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 10:43:00 +0000

The New Rival to the DaVinci Code -SILVER

(a review of Steve Savile’s International Thriller Novel)

I recently read a book that was so absolutely riveting, that I loved so much, that I have decided to place my review of this international thrille right here at Acme Authors to help young author Steven Savile launch SILVER –due out Jan 19th of 2010 and up for preorder at Amazon, B&N, Borders, and elsewhere now. Here is the information on the book and the review; I was careful not to give anything in the way of plot.

SILVER – an International Thriller by Steven Savile/ISBN – 13-978-1-935142-05-8;415 pgs. 25.95 Hardcover, pub date 01/19/2010 fromVariance Publishing

Let me begin by sayng that Savile’s Silver is the best thing since Forsythe’s Day of the Jackal. Better than Dan Brown in every respect, Steven Savile’s SILVER is not a DaVinci Code imitator in any sense of the word; rather it is a fantastic plot twisting about a brilliant premise and a story wonderfully woven with no missteps, no gaffs, no holes or crazy leaps. The astonishing historical theme is interspersed perfectly as a foil for the modern day story of a dangerous cult as horrifying as any terrorist cell one can imagine—a secret society among us that makes the Knights Templars pale by comparison. After capturing the reader up with a powerful opening scene that plays out so vividly and visually as to read like a film script, Savile’s deft writing carries the reader along a plotline that has the feel of fate at every step. Part of that feeling of fate is the fact of an author completely and wholly in control of his craft.

Vivid characterizations of an international team of heroes with a plethora of flaws and Savile’s smart dialogue and well-wrought inner monologue held together by action at every turn provides the reader with every pleasure a reading experience requires (but so often lacks). Savile’s premise is uniquely tied to the history not of Jesus and Mary so much as Judas and Mary, and it is cleverly and efficiently woven that it brings up comparisons to one of the most well-crafted international thrillers ever -- Forsythe’s The Day of the Jackal.

I hope it is OK for this veteran professor of English, this lifelong reader, this author of some fifty novels to say I loved Silver…loved, loved, loved it and could not put it aside. Without giving away the plot or the surprises, let me add that no book has left me as surprised at its ending as has Silver. In closing, I will add one more caveat: If you love international thrillers replete with theological puzzles and a team pitted against true evil that mirrors our world today, you can't beat SILVER. Steven Savile is not afraid of a complex plot. This plot beats Dan Brown for intrigue that feels authentically scary.

Silver is masterfully accomplished work and should win awards if there is a God in charge of awards. And finally, if you like authenticity in settings that traverse the globe, you’d love the travelogue here as characters roam from the US to Israel to Germany to Paris and to Rome.

Again and again, Savile puts us in danger and impossible traps only to see our heroes emerge alive and fighting. Savile creates characters we care about, characters with their own personal code to live by, and each as deadly and quick as vipers. You might throw the book across the room at some point, but I guarantee that you will crawl over, pick it up again, and begin reading onward.

And now dear Acme Reader, Have a wonderful Christmas Season and Happy HoliDAZE, and do keep on reading and keep on writing

--Robert Walker, author of Dead On & Children of Salem, the INSTINCT and RANSOM series

http://www.robertwalkerbooks.com/ and find me on Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, and Google me!

I'm Making a List and Checking It Twice!! by DL Larson

dllarson_60518@yahoo.com (Deb Larson) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 14:20:00 +0000

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

I counted four lists on my kitchen counter this morning and that doesn't count the grocery list I had in my pocket last night. If I lose my lists I will be peeking into my wrapped packages wondering exactly what it holds and cleaning something I already cleaned but was too preoccupied to notice. Please tell me I'm not the only one who can't remember what I've done and what I've yet to accomplish. Did I make the magic bars already or was that for the library program last week? I can't remember. And I promise I will never again buy groceries for the church's live nativity and my caroling party at the same time. I'm talking about my grocery list from last night! It took two carts to get everything to the car. The young gal who toted the second cart asked me if I was having Christmas. I laughed knowing I would be back for more next week.

As I was making my grocery list I referred to my favorite cook books. I learned a long time ago to write our favorites on the inside of the cover along with the page number. It saves unbelievable amounts of time, plus I only have to glance into the front of the book to see if it holds the recipe I'm looking for. When I'm in a hurry, which is most of the time, I'm so proud of myself for coming up with this easy time-saver. I have accumulated lots of cook books over the years and you guessed it, I can't remember which book holds which recipe or its exact name. I also draw in a star if the recipe is a big hit, that way I know to make it again sometime.

My church's cook book is a favorite of mine and the splats and smudges prove it's been used alot. One particualr recipe has two blue stars and one red one marked in the spaces around it. I've handed out this recipe more than all the others put together. It's wonderful any time of year, but especially great for parties. It can be an appetizer or a dessert. How's that for a hard working recipe! Plus it's quick and easy!!!!! As a small present this Christmas season, I'd like to share it with you. It's called:

DIP FOR FRUIT
1 (8 oz) pkg. cream cheese
3 T. orange juice concentrate
1 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1 (8 oz) container Cool Whip

Soften cream cheese; mix thoroughly with next 3 ingredients. Fold in Cool Whip. Serve with fresh fruits such as apples, pears, strawberries, pineapple, etc.
OR
Serve with unfrosted sugar cookies and a bowl of thawed (frozen) mixed fruit (the berry medley is my favorite) Have guests build their own cookie; spread dip over cookie and top with fruit.

This has been a big hit served either way! Actually I could eat the dip right from the bowl and forget the fruit and cookie. I confess I've done exactly that when it comes to clean up time. But don't tell anyone!

My wish for each of you this holiday is that your lists be met in a timely fashion so all can enjoy the season in its fullest!

Blessings ~

Til next time

DL Larson

What About Facebook Fan Pages? by Morgan Mandel

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 06:03:00 +0000

Suddenly everyone I know is very much involved with Facebook. I've had an account there for a while, but hadn't paid too much attention to it, since I also belong to zillions of egroups, Twitter, MySpace, Bebo, LinkedIn, and who knows what else. It started out as promotion for my books, but has become a great way of meeting lots of good friends.

Now that I'm getting more hooked on Facebook, I'm wondering is it better to have a Fan Page or just keep a regular Facebook account? In a way a Fan Page seems a good idea, but then it seems I'd be splitting my attention, or isn't that true?

What's your take?

Morgan Mandel
http://morganmandel.blogspot.com/
http://facebook.com/morgan.mandel
http://twitter.com/morganmandel

Holiday Gift Idea

noreply@blogger.com (June) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 15:39:00 +0000

Here's a holiday gift idea, even if it's for yourself!

Chicago North's
SPRING FLING WRITERS' CONFERENCE
April 23 - 24, 2010 Deerfield, IL

Think Spring, Think Fun, Think Success! Find all that and more.

Register today at http://www.chicagospringfling.com/ don't put it off another day!

Have a great week,

June

Shopping and Cards

noreply@blogger.com (Debra St. John) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 17:40:00 +0000

Well, I'm at that point. The I'm-almost-done-with-Christmas-shopping-but-can't-find-the-last-few-gifts-I-need point. Let me tell you, this is not a fun point to be at. With commercials, the internet, and various other places counting down these final shopping days to Christmas, I am frustrated. Everything went so smoothly at first. I started early. Found what I wanted. At reasonable prices. And now I'm stuck. I have the feeling that finding these last few items is going to be the death of me. Because it doesn't help that many shoppers are in the same predicament as me. The stores are crowded and people are crabby and rushed.

I think I need to slow down, take a deep breath, and focus on the joy of Christmas.

So today I'm writing my Christmas cards. I love going down the list of addressees and reflecting back on the past year. Some people on the list are those I see everyday. We've shared life's ups and downs on a regular basis for the past 365 days. Then there are those on the list who I see every-once-in-a-while. It's fun to remember times gone by and catch up on recent activities. Then there are those who I don't ever get to see, but we faithfully exhange cards and news every year.

Sending cards is almost as much fun as receiving them. Each card and picture that comes in the mail is displayed on the kitchen door, allowing me to revisit them from time to time and experience the pleasure of communicating with friends and family during the season. They remind me of the joy of life, especially as the pictures show how various children have grown over the years and families have expanded.

What a wonderful time of year.

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra

www.debrastjohnromance.com

Mistletoe and Folly - A FREE Holiday read from The Wild Rose Press

Tea at the Chicago Peninsula Hotel by Margot Justes

noreply@blogger.com (Margot Justes) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 13:20:00 +0000

During the holiday season we do something special, this year it was tea at the Peninsula hotel.

We arrived at the hotel on time, but because the staff was still setting up our table and the kiddies were tired and hungry, I asked the hostess if we could have a couple of pieces of bread to feed said munchkins, she graciously said yes.

We never saw the bread, now she could have said we can’t, it’s not possible, but she said yes and promptly ignored us. We were seated about ten minutes later and I reminded the waiter that we ordered the Peninsula teddy bear for the kids. I asked that it be brought with their order. I was assured it would be. It wasn’t.

I expected the bear to be wrapped up nicely, maybe even just a bow, something to make it a bit more special. Nope. Nothing. It was just handed to them when they were half way done with their meal.

The food was excellent, plentiful and the scones the best I’ve had since England, the presentation was superb. My grandson let out a big ‘Wow’ when he saw his plate. I’m sure everyone in the lobby heard him. He was delighted as was my granddaughter.

But the service was slow, uneven and disappointing, we waited quite a while for a refill on the hot water, and when you’re munching on those delicious finger sandwiches you do want that hot tea to be right there to sip as you munch.

The Peninsula is a 5 star hotel the prices match the rating however the service falls short. If I order a meatloaf at a diner, my expectation is not perfection, not even close however when I’m at a place like the Peninsula, my level of expectation rises a notch or two or three, it is commensurate with the numbers of stars.

I love high tea and have had it all the Chicago downtown hotels that offer it, and by far I have enjoyed the Drake Hotel the best.

Till next Saturday,
Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris ISBN 978-1-59080-534-3
Art brought her to Paris, then a stranger’s death changes her life.
Missing ISBN 978-1-59080-611 1
www.mjustes.com
available on amazon.com

Hitch's TV rant - What's yours? It may be valuable - By Robert W. Walker

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 11:30:00 +0000

Discussion on a chat group that purports to have 4,000 subscribers turned to the question what mystery series would you like to see become a TV program? This got me to wondering what my friend Hitch—an avid reader—might answer if given a place to fully vent, so here is Hitch’s take on the question, a rather wonderful rant if you ask me…and it gave me an idea for a contest here. Here is the deal. You can win a place in my next book – your name gets to be one of my characters if you can provide the neatest, coolest pet peeve rant about TVs shortcomings. Use Hitch’s rant below to get your spleen spleening and your eyes popping Be aware that you are not asked to beat Hitch’s rant as that is highly unlikely, but the best other comment will win the contest. Hitch, pictured on the left, is not a contestant, only a standard. Here is Hitch on the subject of what’s wrong with TV programming and her suggestions for a better series.

Hi, Rob:

Vis-à-vis Bones: I know that – cute as David Boreanaz may be – every time I see an episode of Bones I think of what could have been, had they actually used Kathy Reich’s BOOKS and created the series there-from. I know I would have liked it a lot better than what they’ve put on the air. (Or am I the only person who finds the whole “poor-pitiful-genius-me-abandoned-by-my-folks-raised-by-wolves-so-I-have-no-social-skills-but-am-in-charge-of-the-“Jeffersonian”-laboratory-when-I’m-barely-out-of-puberty-and-isn’t-it-inexpicably-great-that-everyone-on-this-show-just-seems-to-think-I’m-amazingly-hot” thing just nauseating?) In fact, there are very few shows that I can stand to watch at all (I admit I’m a Fringe fan – love the cow), simply because they are just sooooooooooooo bad. I was channel surfing just a night or so ago, and – I kid thee not – I saw a scene in one of those CBS CSI shows in which a character says to a bunch of cops “everyone turn their cellphones off. This place has been used for a meth lab, so we can’t risk the slightest chance of a SPARK,” while they were entering a building with their guns drawn. I laughed so hard I actually had to run to the bathroom – which I suspect wasn’t quite the emotion the producers and writers intended to evoke.

Perhaps it is a function of age; maybe after you’ve seen the same plotline 100 times, it’s just intolerable due to redundancy, but I genuinely believe that shows are increasingly insipid, tailored toward a commensurately illiterate audience. (Sigh)…I’d still love to see Davenport , though. And Flowers.

Don’t get me started about freaking CASTLE. As I posted to the list some time back, I was not able to make it through the first episode, I thought it was utter dreck. White Collar? As someone else stated, it’s just It Takes A Thief without the wonderful Robert Wagner or Malachi Throne, and frankly not as interesting. The CSI’s, particularly the two “spin-offs” ( Miami is literally unwatchable) are horrible. The Forgotten? Fuhgeddaboudit. “Lie to Me?” At least it has whats-is-name, who is a wonderful actor, and makes the series, even though the premise is totally absurd. Criminal Minds? On a bobsled to obscurity without Patinkin, and now too soapy for words. House has turned into Soap Opera, which I absolutely despise. Hell, I am now waiting practically BREATHLESSLY for Jack Bauer and 24, which tells you how desperate I am, along with Burn Notice, which I really do love (can’t turn down anything with Bruce Campbell in it). Tried “V,” gave that up quickly. Gave up on Lost several seasons back. Hell, I can’t find ANYTHING I like on TV since they couldn’t get whats-is-name (David Milsch?) to continue writing Deadwood. I *am* watching “DaVinci’s Inquest” reruns on Sleuth, though; THAT was a decent series, wish it was still on.

(Sigh)…enough of a TV rant. What do you expect in a society in which everyone is willing to watch “reality TV” which is nothing more than 8th grade all over again? Popularity contests in which so-called “contestants” get “voted off the island” or “off the show” or whatever? I have never watched a single reality show and never will; I think it’s an abuse of the FREE airwaves. See, now I’m ranting again, I’ll shaddup NOW.

Bye, Hitch

AND so I got an earful, which I decided must be shared with all my acme friends; it was too good not to put to use. SO now what pet peeve about TV programming or a single program, especially mystery-drama drives you up the wall? Please leave word on what book series you’d like to see as a TV series? At present Hollywood is looking at my Instinct Series. Whether anything comes of it or not, like Kathy Reichs, I will probably lose all control of my characters and plots if anything comes of this admittedly shaky deal. Reichs is even a producer on Bones but I can’t imagine that she’s happy with the direction the show has gone in…wrong turn TV.

To win a place in my next book, leave a maliciously funny or spirited rant about what bothers you most about TV today? I will check back all week long to see what my net catches.

Rob Walker

http://www.robertwalkerbooks.com/

Christmas Traditions! by DL Larson

dllarson_60518@yahoo.com (Deb Larson) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 13:56:00 +0000

Each year my husband and I make a "memory book" for our granddaughters Alex and Kylie. We started this the year they were born and have enjoyed documenting each year as it unfolds. This will be our eighth memory book. Sometimes we put pictures and stories in a photo album, other years we have taken our selections to be laminated and bound. Each year we write a little something in the new memory book. Sometimes it's silly, other times more meaningful depending on the year and what has happened. The book is our special gift at Christmas. I don't know if it's a gift just for them, their parents or for us! It is relatively inexpensive, yet priceless. A year's worth of memories are stored and preserved, and just like many mothers and grandmothers too, if there was a fire in the house, I'd be running to save our memory books. Silly, I know, but that's how precious they have become to me.

In an economy where our budgets are smaller, many are turning to alternative ideas for gift giving. One gift giving project my family did for over a dozen years was drawing names with each other. There were five of us. We couldn't buy the present, we had to hand make it. My kids groaned at first, but it grew to be a special time for secrets and an imagination stretching experience. We still use the first present I ever received. My husband drew my name and on Christmas Eve we all presented our gifts to each other. I had to go outside to recieve mine. It was cold and snowy, but out we went, clomping down the slippery steps and I noticed right away the barnyard was lit up. I remember all five of us standing there in the cold dark looking up. On top the silo (a 60 foot storage bin) was a Christmas Star about four feet wide. It shone down on the whole countryside neighborhood. We've used our Christmas star for over twenty years now and it's my favorite Christmas ornament.

Spending money is not what Christmas is all about. It's about spending all right, spending time with family and friends, spending time reflecting on what's important in our lives. I spend time giving thanks and praise to the Almighty. I spend my energy prioritizing ~ what is really important to me? What do I want to do that's meaningful this Christmas? My answers vary, just as they do every Christmas.

What about you? What is meaningful for you this Christmas season?

Til next time ~

DL Larson

PS: The top picture is my granddaughter Kylie, the second is our Alex. They are singing at the church Christmas program! Another of my favorite things!

Children's books

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 11:34:00 +0000

I keep saying this, but I do mean it. When I get some time, and I believe that time will be coming soon, I'm getting my children's book about my dog, Rascal, finished. Whether or not I self-publish it is still up in the air. I've never written a children's book before and have lots to learn first.

I'm mentioning this sidenote for a purpose. On Tuesday, Mary Cunningham was my guest at my personal blog, http://morganmandel.blogspot.com/. She left an excellent post about her new children's mystery book, The Magician's Castle, part of her Cynthia's Attic series. She's also got one of the most entertaining book trailers I've seen in a long time. I've left her post up for more people to enjoy.

If you haven't seen it yet, we'd both be happy if you dropped by to check it out.

Rascal says for now she'll wait to take center stage. That's unusual for her, because she loves being made a fuss over.

Morgan Mandel

http://morganmandel.blogspot.com/

http://www.morganmandel.com/

Now it's getting interesting

noreply@blogger.com (Terri Stone) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 00:15:00 +0000

The author loops and chat rooms are buzzing with the recent annoucement from the Mystery Writers of America (MWA) about removing Harlequin and all of its imprints from a list of approved publishers effective immediately.

What's the big deal?

Well, here's what Publishers Weekly noted in a recent article:

"By de-listing Harlequin, MWA is barring all Harlequin authors from using their Harlequin books as a basis for active status membership. No Harlequin book will be eligible for Edgar Award consideration, although books published by Harlequin under contracts signed before December 2, 2009 may still be the basis for membership and will still be eligible for Edgar consideration."

The catalyst for all this change was Harlequin dipping its publishing toe in the waters of self-publishing and while changing the name of its self-publishing venture from Harlequin Horizons to DellArte Press appeased most of the concerns of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), the MWA hasn't been as flexible.

Again, what's the big deal? Well, I'd like to say you the reader be the judge but that's not how the publishing world operates, especially with regards to distribution. Now, DellArte (and other so called vanity presses) asserts at their website (http://www.dellartepress.com/) that they have access to these distribution channels for those who publish with them but only time will tell how affective this proves to be. There are issues of promotion, built-in readers through their traditional publishing channels based on the Harlequin brand, book signings, return policies and so much more. I hope someone out there who publishes with DellArte Press contacts me and lets me know as I'd love to do a follow-up blog on their experience.

Another issue - and the one I hear the most - is the lack (real or perceived) of editorial oversight in the world of self-publishing, especially with regard to fiction. Most people in the publishing world from those who work in it to the writers themselves believe that having an editorial process provides a layer of quality control that produces a better final product - the book itself.

Again, I'd like to say you the reader be the judge and perhaps that is more attainable than ever before but, again, only time will tell. I do think that the sands are shifting, however, because there are more and more self-published writing contests and even many self-published authors that have gone on to be published by traditional publishers and even have their works made into movies.

So, let me say that you the reader and you the writer be the judge and that this is a topic that I will be watching very carefully. I'd love to hear from everyone out there about their thoughts on this topic. But, above all else, readers keep reading and writers keep writing.

Take care.

A Thousand Memories

noreply@blogger.com (Debra St. John) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 16:24:00 +0000

Now that the Christmas season is upon us, I thought I'd share of couple of my favorite parts and traditions of the holidays with you over the next several weeks.

I'll begin today with our Christmas tree. We have two trees in our house. A real one downstairs that gets decorated in a somewhat fancy manner: white lights, gold ornaments, bows, and ribbons. But it's the one upstairs that's very special to us. I like to call it the tree of a thousand memories, as it holds recollections of two lifetimes on its branches.

This tree is decorated with colored lights and ornaments that we've gathered throughout the years, both from our childhoods and our life together. Whenever we travel to someplace new, instead of buying a T-shirt or a mug or some other souvenier, we buy a Christmas ornament. I label each with the date we visited that particular place, and then stow it safely away until it comes time to put up the tree.

Decorating this tree is truly a trip down memory lane each year as we pull all of the ornaments out of their boxes and remember the events they represent. By the time we're done, the tree is really more ornaments than branches. It's a chronicle of our lives, and I'll spend hours just sitting and gazing at it, looking at the ornaments over and over again, remembering and reliving. Even the tree itself is special, as it came from my family home while I was growing up.

So during this holiday season, I wish you the joy of remembering those special times, whatever they may be. And while you're cozied up to your own Christmas tree, curl up with my free read, Mistletoe and Folly, from the Wild Rose Press.

Until next time,

Happy Reading! (and Happy Remembering!)

Debra

www.debrastjohnromance.com

A Hotel in Paris by Margot Justes

noreply@blogger.com (Margot Justes) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 13:30:00 +0000

I missed the excerpt blog last week, but thought I'd include the piece below today.
Peter Riley on his way to Paris to investigate the murder of a British Peer and artist Minola Grey.

Yves Lanier, of the Police Nationale, was a man with a mission. His dingy grey office with matching furniture was so littered with papers and books that he couldn't find the phone on his desk. It was here somewhere, he knew. Damn it, I used it yesterday. He momentarily stared at the mess…then, with quiet efficiency, slid everything off his desk to the floor and heard the ping of the phone hitting the ground. He bent down, picked it up, and dialed a London number he knew well. A quiet voice answered: "Peter Riley."
"Bonjour, Peter. How are you, my friend?"
"I know that tone, Yves. Interpol at your service. What's going on?"
"Peter, Yardleigh was murdered sometime late last night or early this morning. I think your investigation into money laundering just veered off track."
The silence at the other end was palpable. "What the hell happened? He was cooperating. What do you have?"
"We have nothing, mon ami. He was shot once in the chest with a small-caliber gun. No exit wound–the lab's still working on that. Purely as an observation, it looks like he knew his killer. No surprise or fear…there's nothing reflected on his face. Nothing stolen. Everything, as you English say, was neat and tidy, save for the corpse on the floor. We secured the crime scene and did all the other things we are supposed to do. The bastard was not nice enough to leave any clues." Lanier spoke with the confidence of a seasoned cop.
"Let me talk to Clivers, my superior. Murder is out of our jurisdiction. I suppose that leaves Scotland Yard in the game."
"Peter, this started in England."
"Don't I know it. I will call you back." Lanier heard the phone click in his ear.
* * *
Peter Riley ran a hand through his hair and swore. As he reached for his phone, it rang. "Riley," he recognized the brooding voice, "what the hell is going on?"
"Sir, I just spoke with Lanier. I assume you know as much as I do."
"Scotland Yard just filled me in. As of right now you are on loan to Scotland Yard. Riley, get over there…yesterday."
"Sir, just what am I supposed to do? We can continue the internal investigation here…" Peter was cut off again.
"He was killed in Paris. You will go to Paris, do I make myself clear?" The voice at the other end softened perceptibly. "I can't think of a better man to handle this mess. Keep me posted."
"Yes, sir, I am on my way," Peter responded, and hung up the phone. "Bloody hell," he murmured to himself. He made a couple of phone calls and prepared to leave for Paris.

Margot Justes
www.mjustes.com
A Hotel in Paris

Robert & Miranda Walker Share More on the Writing Life at Acme

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 05:08:00 +0000

Author Robert Walker does an incredible job of making Iden Cantu one of the scariest characters I’ve ever encountered in a mystery novel. Every time he appears he gives me goose-bumps. Walker is known for writing dark stories and this one definitely doesn’t disappoint. The quick and terse dialog keep the story moving at a surprisingly rapid pace and the characters all have faces. Another winner for Walker.

Robert W. Walker and wife Miranda Phillips Walker are here today to answer some burning questions, such as how they’ve managed to kill off only fictional characters with two crime novelists under one roof. Rob’s latest is DEAD ON, Five Star Books and his self-published ebook Children of Salem, an historical thriller, and Miranda/s latest and first is The Well Meaning Killer from Krill Press, sequel in the works. Both Dead On and The Well Meaning Killer were recently reviewed at www.myshelf.com .

Reviewer Dennis Collins, author of The Unreal McCoy said of each book: Author Miranda Walker’s debut novel is quite compelling. It is decidedly character driven. Every person in the cast is vivid and interesting. If Walker is planning to turn this into a series, she’s off to a wonderful start because people will want to hear more from Megan McKenna, Agent DiTrapano, and McKenna’s Labrador Retriever sidekick Max.

Collins says of Dead ON: Author Robert Walker does an incredible job of making Iden Cantu one of the scariest characters I’ve ever encountered in a mystery novel. Every time he appears he gives me goose-bumps. Walker is known for writing dark stories and this one definitely doesn’t disappoint. The quick and terse dialog keep the story moving at a surprisingly rapid pace and the characters all have faces. Another winner for Walker.

Now for the Interview:

1. In various interviews on the web, both of you have recommended that writers do not quit the day job. Is there a story behind this recommendation?

M: As an ER nurse, I get a lot of my most exciting and frightful scenes on the job!

Still, if I had my druthers, I’d happily be writing full-time and retire from that arena as it is extremely taxing, despite the reewards as in saving lives and not just on paper! But to be frank only a handful of authors in the US and the world make a living soley via their writings.

R: As a professor of English one barely gets by in this economy but at least it is a known, a given to see the paycheck at the end of the month, whereas writing has enormous ups and downs monetarily as well as emotionally. One year I saw four titles come out in a single calendar year, but some years none! The extreme few who can live on author earnings have had major backing from Oprah and Eastwood calling to having a celebrity hold up their books to the camera. Such luck is rare. Now if President Obama were to tell folks he is reading my Shadows in the White City then yeah, I’ve won the lottery.

2. You are very active in promoting your books. What are some of the toughest lessons you’ve learned about the “art” of self-promotion.

M: You have to throw all caution and shyness out the window; perhaps ladylike-ness, too. You want to be yourself but you also have to find a comfortable sales person lurking within. Sitting behind a desk and failing to make eye contact won’t cut it at a signing, and figuratively doing the same online won’t either, but I am trying at the same time not to sound arrogant or self-important as I am anything but.

R: Oh I have to stop “tossing” books into people’s baskets, especially those in wheelchairs, but darn I just know they will love the book and not regret “discovering” it for themselves. I kid with people online and in person, and the lesson I have learned in this business is that you don’t sell the book, you sell yourself. If folks like you, they will open your book and read it, hopefully after purchasing it. Marketing one’s work also takes time. Smart ideas can be found in Jeffrey Marks’ Intent to Sell.
3. What is your favorite writing-related subject to give advice on?

M: That if I can do it, anyone can. It’s a struggle, not easy, and made harder often by circumstances--I have four children, and I also have to contend with Rob! But I did it--I got my novel written, educated myself on the markets, shopped it around and found a publisher and now I hold my book in my hand with the hope others will be entertained by it. Other health professionals love it from the informal reviews they’re giving me as feedback. But it all requires a great deal of research and education about the business.

R: Craft matters, working on elements of style and finding one’s voice that perfectly fit’s the story at hand. I also push the fact every young writer ought to write a mystery as it is the fastest, surest way to learn plotting for any type of novel. Finally, how to write one’s own pitch and or back-flap copy or the shortest most important story you will ever write, the story about your story. It must be effectively done. This becomes a useful tool in all marketing endeavor for the book from query letter to News Release.

4. List three of your favorite writing self-help books.

M: Rob‘s recently published DEAD ON WRITING, a wordclay paper book and a kindle book I read in rough draft. David Morrell‘s excellent book on the subject. Tom Sawyer‘s great book on writing.

R: — Chris Roerden’s book,Don’t Murder Your Mystery and her Don’t Sabotage Your Submission/ J.A. Konrath’s free ebook, A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing, Robin Carr’s Tips for Writing Popular Fiction, Dean R. Koontz’ Writing Popular Fiction, and Jerome Stern’s Making Shapely Fiction. Oops! I went over three.

5. Both of you have written about the importance of learning how to write romance and incorporate it in your stories. Why do you feel it is important to include romance? How did you learn how to write romance? And is there a book or course you would recommend to other authors to help them learn how to incorporate quality romance writing into their stories?

M: Romance is at the heart of every good story in my estimation. Characters like people want to find romance in their lives, don’t they? Not sure of any books on the subject or courses on how to write romance except to say Rob writes great love scenes, and I aspire to do the same or at least create an intriguing triangle.

R: I learned what NOT to do by reading a book called The Romance Writers Handbook. Actually it was a complete listing of descriptive phrases for every body part from the nose to the toes--what’s been said and done and done, so I tried to avoid these “clichés” in romance writing or put a new spin on them, use the old wine but put it into a new bottle. I love to pair a hero and heroine and let them go at it as in the TV program Moonlighting….I think that ought to be an author’s verb--Moonlight your characters as you would Gaslight another character. The darkness of a dark mystery or even a horror novel can be balanced by an intriguing romantic development between two characters as in Dead On, and in Miranda’s Well Meaning Killer. I do the same in near about all my books.

6. You have recently been reformatting some of your stories for use with Amazon’s Kindle. Is there anything you have learned the hard way in this process that you can share to help the rest of us as we move into this new format?

M: In my case, my publisher took The Well Meaning Killer, a returnable POD to a Kindle version, and as it is my only book thus far, I am taking a wait and see attitude. I have learned from Rob, who has had far more experience with it that the cost of a kindle book needs be far less than a hardcopy book or else no sale!

R: The kindle titles I have up are three that HapreCollins put up, and 13 ebooks at Fictionwise.com have been formatted for kindle sales, or kindalized, but more recently, I have placed ten titles on kindle all on my own, and I have found it to be an easy process with some glitches in step three, converting your file to html format. Directions I followed are found at www.dtpamazon.com What is great about it is that you are your own publisher, art director, PR person, and you sink or swim based on your choices and not those of some person in a conglomerate who thinks your title needs be changed to sound more like a Stephen King title or decides it ought to be 90,000 words when it is in fact a 140.000 word book, and so it is in the end liberating freedom from constraints I have faced for thirty odd years.

7. You are very giving of your time, rarely asking for anythingin return. Why do you enjoy teaching and helping other authors?

M’s A: Pay it forward is just how I operate, and I’ve seen such generosity in other mystery authors, and have been the recipient of it. How can I be otherwise?

R’s A: Ahhh…the teachable moment, and I am a born teacher. What can I say? My and Miranda’s blogs and sites are all about sharing the knowledge and know how, skills and tools to become successful. The only time I charge for it is when a client seriously wishes for me to copy edit and make developmental changes or suggestions, or to ghost write and this is done at way under market costs.

Brief bios:
Robert W. Walker grew up Chicago, IL but was born in Corinth, MS, and as a graduate of Northwestern University, and the NU's Graduate Masters in English Education program, he has been a lifelong learner and writer, penning over forty novels. Three years ago he met Miranda and he has resided here in Charleston, WV ever since. He teaches at WVSU in Institute and continues to write, speak, edit, and ghost write. In the mid-eighties Rob began writing his eleven -book Instinct Series with Dr. Jessica Coran, ME as his lead, and his four-book Edge Series with Det. Lucas Stonecoat, Texas Cherokee investigator. Rob most recent original work appears at the Kindle Store on Amazon.com, Children of Salem, and now on traditional publishing shelves, Dead On is available. Rob can be found online at www.robertwalkerbooks.com and in all the usual places where one finds writers online.

Miranda Phillips Walker a WV born author who lived in Baltimore for some 30 years is uniquely qualified to pen The Well Meaning Killer, a suspenseful mystery and an expose of the corruption and graft in the underbelly of our Nation’s foster care programs and systems. Walker, a Registered Nurse, also holds a Psychology degree with a minor in Sociology and has been a Registered Nurse for over seventeen years. Her life in medicine has been far more exciting and colorful than any program on TV such as ER or Grey’s Anatomy. Miranda says of The Well Meaning Killer, “I understand the demons that drive Crusher, the killer, and I have insights into the Child Protective Services that few possess. Going into the writing of this novel, I was armed with the right tools and weapons to make it work. I trust that the reader will agree. Miranda has enjoyed writing from an early age, using writing and the love of music to comfort her from her turbulent upbringing. When asked about her childhood, Miranda laughs and says “I’d;ve been better raised bya pack of wolves.” But being a positive person, she has used her life experiences to help her patients, and now to hopefully bring entertainment to her readers. She can be found everywhere on the web and at her site website at: www.mirandaphillipswalkerbooks.com

Happy HoliDAZE and hope you enjoyed the insights here. Acme makes leaving a message easy as pie - so don’t hesitate to leave comments --

Rob and Miranda Walker

PROMISES MY LOVE excerpt, by DL Larson

dllarson_60518@yahoo.com (Deb Larson) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 14:33:00 +0000

The following excerpt is the beginning of my book, Promises My Love,
my unpublished work. I'm looking for a good home for this historical that faces real life issues.

CHAPTER ONE

June, 1846
Shadow Creek, Kentucky

Francis heard the laughter. His grimace was ill placed, he knew. His family was entitled to their fun, even if he wasn’t a part of it. With careful precision, he combed his hair, not bothering to meet his own reflection in the mirror. He never took part in their discussions, never participated in their rowdiness.
He’d finished shaving in the alcove off the kitchen and knew his family couldn’t see him with the curtain drawn. His wife Christine told Jimmy and Crystal about the expected trip to the Douglas farm, Christine’s family home. He slipped on his shirt, carefully buttoned it. Jimmy wanted to take his horse.
“Of course, silly,” Christine’s voice filtered past the drape. “We couldn’t leave Sassy behind. This is a special trip. My whole family will be there for several days. We’ll stay, too.”
“We’re gonna stay at the farm for days?” Jimmy’s voice was full of wonder and excitement.
“Yes! Won’t that be grand?”
Francis grimaced again, not liking her easy answer, knowing it was inevitable they’d stay. He adjusted his tie, taking slow deep breaths, smelling toast. His stomach growled. If only he could slip past the curtain and join his family. Laugh and joke.
He didn’t dare. He might lose control. Damnation would reign down on them again. Best to maintain his distance and enjoy these moments of hearing the happiness of his family. It would have to suffice.
He shrugged into his jacket and stepped past the curtain. His family all turned, each with their own warm smile for him. He swallowed, cleared his throat.
“Daddy all clean,” Crystal sang out, laughing.
He smiled, sort of, grabbed his ledgers and stepped toward the back door. The heat from the stove had warmed the dampness in the room, the rain from last night bringing a bright day beyond the door. Jimmy’s gaze grew hesitant and Francis forced himself to speak. “Are you ready for your piano lessons?”
“Yes, sir!” Jimmy grinned and turned back to the table.
Crystal hollered a bit when she said, “Bye-bye, Daddy.”
His features tightened again knowing he had no way of escaping their morning ritual of telling him farewell. He waved, forcing a smile to his face, knowing if he didn’t acknowledge Crystal’s sweet good-bye she’d wilt in her high-chair with a dejected scrunch to her face. She waved back with vigor.
He didn’t look at his wife, he couldn’t. Her endearing smile would linger in his mind if he did. As usual, she was disheveled, still in her bedclothes and her tumbled down blonde tresses were half in and half out of a braid. She looked about sixteen and so damn beautiful he couldn’t breathe.
She waited on the porch while he saddled his horse. She waited every morning. It was the worst and best part of his day. When he emerged from the barn she smiled, stepping toward the end of the porch where he’d have to pass by in order to leave.
“Your breakfast.” She held out a wrapped package. He had no idea what was in it, but knew it would taste wonderful.
He mounted his horse and stepped up to the railing she leaned against. He took the waxy paper without touching her, his eyes downcast.
“Francis?”
His gaze lifted slowly to hers. He wanted to tell her to get back inside and for heaven’s sake find a pair of slippers at least. She shouldn’t be standing there in her flimsy open robe for all the neighbor’s to see. She shouldn’t be so caring. Nor so damn appealing.
Her smile lit up her dark green eyes. “Have a wonderful day, my love.”
He nodded, too tersely, he knew. It was the best he could do. He nudged the horse onward, his breakfast warm in his hand. He wanted to look back at her, but that would only encourage her outrageous behavior of affection. As much as he admired her determination, he feared it more.
Control. He took a deep breath; he simply needed to maintain a level head. Unwrapping the paper, he bit into the sandwich. Ham, fried egg and a slice of cheese, partially melted on the toast. My god, he was in heaven and he wallowed there for a moment in her devotion to him. Restraint kicked in by the time he finished the last bite. His wife would merely smile if she knew the unsettling effect she had on him. He loved that Chistine snuck past his defenses, and he idly wondered what scheme she was contemplating. His muscles relaxed thinking about her.
His thoughts fumbled to a stop. Control. Yes, he had to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t dare drop his guard with his family. It had proven too dangerous in the past.
The mask of decorum settled over his face by the time he entered the bank. He crossed the small lobby to his office, not bothering to close the door. No one approached him. Another day had begun.

Til next time ~

DL Larson

PS: your comments are welcome, plus any ideas of who might be interested in such a story.

An Excerpt from Killer Career by Morgan Mandel

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 11:36:00 +0000

This excerpt continues right after my excerpt at Make Mine Mystery, so if you wish you can hop over there and read that one first, but don't forget to come back here.

Here it is -
“That son of a bitch.” Dade heaved Jensen’s book onto the chair in his office. It bounced off the black leather edge and landed open on the floor.

He glared at the offending present. His partner wouldn’t admit it, but the mystery writer was after her. Danger rang loud and clear in Jensen’s autograph.

When it came to book smarts, Julie ranked high in her class. Unfortunately, she was a kindergartener around guys and would be easy pickings. She didn’t realize how sexy she looked with her wispy blonde hair, long legs and kissable mouth.

“He won’t get away with it,” Dade muttered.

Since grammar school, he’d acted as Julie’s protector, steering the scum away from her, as well as his sister, Avery, another looker. Only the few and the brave had dared approach them.

Avery had recently found her soul-mate, a fellow reporter. Dade wanted that for Julie, but his gut told him Jensen wasn’t the one.

“Radison’s on line five,” Nora Hampton, his efficient secretary, cut in on the intercom. He glanced at the digital clock on the phone. Half past eight, the start of the office day.

“Get rid of him. Hold my calls.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Donovan.”

He gritted his teeth and jammed the files into his briefcase. Three trials ahead and every one of them a mountain to climb on bare feet. Well, that suited him just fine. He was itching for a good fight. Watch out world.

Julie turned as she was heading out the door. “Come on, birthday boy. Get moving.”

He took in her appearance with approval. Her flyaway blonde hair made her look fragile, but that was a facade. The true indicator proved to be her navy blue suit, with the crisp white blouse turned back at the neck.

A Madonna-like smile lit up her face, but this Madonna balanced a briefcase, not a baby. A twinge of guilt hit him. Maybe he had protected her too well. Julie was thirty. By her age, many women were married with kids instead of facing a daily work grind, carrying heavy case loads and wearing power suits.

As they stepped into the elevator, she flashed him a nervous smile. He squeezed Julie’s free hand to reassure her. He wished he could rid her of her claustrophobia, but that battle she must face alone.

They darted into the modern octagonal shaped glass building known as the Thompson Center. As usual, Julie bit her lip as the elevator sped upward to the eighth floor. Once at the Illinois Workers’ Compensation Commission, attorneys milled about the open area, networking and exchanging rumors and sports scores. As they headed toward their respective hearing rooms, the slim-mustached Barabat, in a tailored gray suit, brushed past Dade and Julie with a perfunctory remark. “Well if it isn’t Dade the Devil and his Avenging Angel.”

“Your ass is grass, dude,” Dade hissed back. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Julie flashed a stern look. “I can fight my own battles, thank you. The counselor will learn his lesson soon enough.”

Dade smiled widely. “You’re so right.”

They stopped at the door to one of the small courtrooms. Dade wished he could join Julie inside, but only in special instances were those other than the attorneys of record, the Arbitrator, court reporter and witnesses allowed.

Rumor had it Julie at trial was a sight to behold, blonde hair flying, eyes flashing, as she annihilated her opponent. He was proud of her but couldn’t take credit. She did it all with hard work and a sparse social life. She deserved her victories, but he still enjoyed sharing them with her.

As he continued down the hall to his designated courtroom, Dade fought back a vague uneasiness. He sensed a change in the air, with Jensen as the catalyst.

Hope you liked my excerpt.
Morgan Mandel

http://www.morganmandel.com/
http://morganmandel.blogspot.com/
Signed copies for Killer Career are available for EZ Order at The Digital-Bookshop, in print & ebook, also in print at Amazon (unsigned) and on kindle.

Self-Publishing, e-books and traditional publishers - oh my!

noreply@blogger.com (Terri Stone) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 15:42:00 +0000

Some recent events have rocked the publishing world, specifically the efforts of a major traditional publisher - Harlequin - to go deeper into the world of e-books and all things digital, as well as the world of self-publishing.

Flash back to ten or fifteen years ago and e-books and especially self-publishing were like four-letter words to most traditional publishing houses. It wasn’t unusual to go to a conference or otherwise mingle with writers (published or not) who considered authors of e-books and self-publishing as not "real" writers.

Now flash back a hundred years or more to writers like Mark Twain, George Eliot and my great-great grandfather Wallace Bruce and these writers would take their written works to a printer and have their books published that way and then they would be acquired through a variety of venues to include small shops or even via hand-selling. Wallace Bruce would tour the US and Europe along the lines of Mark Twain and give a serious of orations related to his books, mostly of poetry. The Honorable Wallace Bruce (the titled earned for many reasons to include his tenure as Poet Laureate of Scotland while also serving as the US Consul General) provided an evening out for the generation at the time that provided both entertainment and enlightenment.

So why such strong feelings today about self-publishing in particular? Well, back in Wallace Bruce’s day he had access to other writers and they would mentor and nurture each other providing the one thing that most self-published works lack - a level of editing that provides product improvement and therefore commercial appeal. That doesn’t mean that all self-published books fall into this category. In fact, there have been many, many successful self-published books, especially in non-fiction. It’s the works of fiction that have everyone rattled with Harlequin’s effort to delve into the world of self-publishing. The concerns are laid out in this article from publisher’s weekly:

http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA6708233.html

So, when is self-publishing a truly viable option for an author? Well, non-fiction works are more often published this way, especially in niche markets. I met an author who became an expert on a disease that affects a small population because it has affected her. Others with her disease were so hungry for information that she would give talks to groups about how she coped with the disease and from that she developed an audience that wanted her books. She couldn’t find a traditional publisher to take her on because the subject matter would not sell the minimum quantity that suited their business model, so she self-published. The old saying that there’s a time and place for most things is true when it comes to publishing whether through traditional channels are unconventional ones.

The bottom line for all writers is that what we do first and foremost is write. We can’t sell or even self-publish something that isn’t actually written. For new writers in particular, write the best darn book you can. Network with other writers, attend conferences that attract agents, editors and publishers and then prepare yourself for rejection because that is part of the gig. Even if you self-publish, when you try to sell your book you will face those who will reject your attempts to get them to buy your precious work. I for one want to keep all my options open because after all is said and done, the most important part of this journey, at least for me, is the writing.

Stay tuned and keep writing.

A Sweet Taste

noreply@blogger.com (June) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:45:00 +0000

A little taste of something sweet from my YA Ordinary Me.

The main character Kate is with her drivers ed instructor and...

Coach must have seen me eying the backseat because he said, “Got a big game Friday, wanted to strategize a little with Minder here.”

I nodded and drove; they strategized. This was fine with me. I thought Steve would be busy talking and not looking at me, but every time I looked in the mirror, there were his brown eyes looking back at me.

I was so going to melt.

Of course I didn’t, melt that is, because I was distracted by the sirens. They sounded like they were coming toward us. Then I heard more sirens coming up behind us. I um…I kind of panicked. Yeah, I panicked. But not as much as when I actually saw the squad cars heading toward us from both directions. Then I would have to say I was beyond panic.

“Make a right here, Sterns, and get out of their way.” Coach said.

I clenched the steering wheel and felt my stomach tighten. I don’t know if the coach knew that I was in a state well beyond panic. He didn’t sound like it and I couldn’t look over at him because I was not taking my eyes off the road.

I moved the car forward to follow his easy instructions. Easy, that is, if they were given to anyone other than me! The problem was quite simple; sometimes, when I get nervous, I get a little confused about the right and left thing. This, I found out, happens to other people, too. I know because I Googled it. I’m a Googleaholic.

I was totally nervous. I mean I thought I had done something really wrong, not to mention the really hot stowaway in the backseat.

I gripped harder trying to keep my sweaty hands from slipping off the steering wheel. I hit the gas and pulled the wheel hard to the left, instead of the right.

Coach totally did not expect this, since he told me to go right. It seemed like it took forever for this to register in the Coach’s brain, which gave me enough time to hit the gas again—hard. Coach was slamming that extra brake on the passenger side that’s installed on Driver’s Ed cars; and our car started skidding.

I jerked the wheel back the other way, still sliding across the wet pavement like we were on ice, and stopped directly in the line of the police cars. Oh yeah, we also did a complete 360. This was actually kind of cool, except that is for the sirens and the cops.

I couldn’t help but think this day couldn’t get any worse. I was losing control of the car, my mind, and I guess, my mouth, too. I started babbling about Chemistry and Mums, and, oh yeah, the cute guy in the backseat, who doesn’t even know I’m alive. It really doesn’t matter because I’ll probably be dead soon anyway!

I prayed this wouldn’t affect my grade, although I knew it would. I mean who could make a mistake this huge and still pass Driver’s Ed? Not me, that’s for sure! I didn’t see that the car the police were chasing crashed into a fence and that the driver jumped out and was running full speed—in my direction!

The driver, or I guess now the runner, was looking behind him, instead of looking where he was going.

I just want to say that that is what normal people do; you know, look where they’re going. Before I even knew what was happening, the driver/runner ran smack into my car. He turned his head at the last second, ran right into the driver’s side door, banged his head on the roof and fell backward to the ground.

I’m totally sure he broke something.

I stared out the window. Now I’d really done it. Not only was I going to fail Driver’s Ed, but I think I just killed someone and I wasn’t even moving!

Is it still a moving violation if I wasn’t technically moving?

I dropped my head down against the steering wheel and closed my eyes. I fought the urge to pinch myself. Well, really, it could have all been a dream.

“Sterns, you ok?” I heard Coach say. Nope, I sighed, not a dream.

I just nodded my head yes; I knew if I said anything I would cry. That was just one more thing I couldn’t handle right now.

“Stay in the car,” Coach said and got out.

Outside on the ground was the driver/runner the police had been chasing. He was laying there with blood running from his nose. They rolled him over and put handcuffs on him, which to me was a good sign. Not for him, of course, but for me, because it meant I hadn’t killed him!

I heard a throat clear behind me and looked in the rear-view mirror, directly into the brown eyes I’d been staring at right before the accident.

Steve.

He was in the car, which means, he totally saw everything.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

June

www.junesproat.com

Excerpts

noreply@blogger.com (Debra St. John) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 16:22:00 +0000

In keeping with the Acme Authors excerpt share going today, I have two excerpts to share with you. The first is from my upcoming release WILD WEDDING WEEKEND. It will be available April 23, 2010 from The Wild Rose Press.

“I really am sorry.” Abby's mind whirled. The thoughts tangled. The Noah she’d spent the last couple of days with wasn’t anything like the man she’d imagined him to be. The man even he claimed to be. Who was the real Noah?
She didn’t have time to ponder the question, because he took both her hands in his, drawing her attention back to him. “Know this. While we’re married. For this week, this trip, this asinine show, I am committed to you.” He paused and raised one hand to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Totally. Completely. Committed. To you.” With each word his voice and head lowered, until the last was a whisper against her lips.
His hand slid around to the back of her neck, then up into her hair, unfastening the clip and tossing it aside. He tangled his fingers in the strands that fell free, using enough force to keep her from pulling away as he deepened the kiss.
Abby had no thoughts of moving even the slightest bit away. She wrapped her arms around him as the tip of his tongue teased the fullness of her bottom lip. When she opened to him and he dipped inside, she almost melted from the instant flood of liquid heat that suffused her body. The warmth spread to her limbs and made her pliant as, his mouth never leaving hers, Noah lowered them both to the bed.

Then I'd like to share an excerpt from THIS CAN'T BE LOVE. This manuscript is currently under consideration with my editor at Wild Rose. It's a spin-off of THIS TIME FOR ALWAYS and features Zach as the hero. This is Zach and Jessica's first kiss.

They laughed together, then fell silent. Crickets chirped in the darkness. The scent of Zach’s aftershave drifted to her on the light breeze.
After a while, he turned toward her. “Do you?”
“Do I what? Like apple pie and ice cream?”
“No,” he said softly. His gaze dropped to her lips. “Do you kiss and tell?”
Jessica’s heart kicked into a fast rhythm and she caught her breath. “I…”
“Shhhh.” He leaned closer. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered before his mouth claimed hers.
His lips stroked over hers, not aggressively, but softly, tenderly. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, but brushed her mouth with gentle intent.
Her first instinct was to pull back, but something stirred deep inside her. A feeling she’d nearly forgotten. Whispery shivers danced along her nerve endings and fluttered in her stomach. Without meaning to, the action was purely a reflex, she opened to him.
The kiss deepened. Their breath mingled. Her palm slid up his chest, feeling the play of muscle beneath his shirt. she fisted the flannel of his open collar in her hand.
His knuckles grazed the sides of her face.
Her body tingled with awareness. Scattered thoughts flitted through her mind, but she couldn’t hold onto any of them. Not while Zach kissed her. Not when his mouth fitted so perfectly against hers. Not when the pulse racing at the base of his throat matched the cadence of her heartbeat.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. Had felt anything.
Should she be feeling this way about Zach?
Almost as if sensing her conflicting emotions, he softened the kiss, tenderly brushing his mouth over hers one last time.
She waged a silent war within, trying to calm her racing heart.
She still clutched his shirt. She relaxed her fingers one at a time, releasing the twisted fabric from her grasp. Finally she drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
Her eyes found his.
Zach’s gaze searched hers, then he smiled. A smile as soft and tender as his kiss. He touched his finger to her lips, then rose. “Good night, Jess.”

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

A Taste Of ...Rules of Fog by Robert W. Walker and Jerry Peterson

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 06:08:00 +0000

Today's Blog and Some Others to Follow are short stories and excerpts by ACME Authors. Jerry Peterson Is a fellow Five Star author of Early's Fall. This is a Dr. Jessica Coran, FBI ME short story Scene One…to read the entire short story visit me at http://www.robertwalkerbooks.com/ and thanks all --

R U L E S of F O G
by Robert W. Walker & Jerry Peterson
short story inspired by the fog and medical examiner Dr. Jessica Coran of the Instinct Series files

Dr. Jessica Coran lifted the lungs from the dead man’s chest cavity. As she did, she marveled at the shredded condition of the pair of sacks now like pizza dough without cohesion, threatening to slip through her gloved hands. The lungs, pockmarked with countless rents and tears where membrane walls had caved in, was the worst she’d seen in her twenty-five years of autopsying questionable deaths.

Jessica guessed that this one had chained smoked five, maybe six packs a day, the sort unfazed by the Camel Tax, undeterred by reason or facts or statistics. Jake Helspenny, the paperwork said, nickname’d “Smoke.” Coran guessed he’d lived in a perpetual fog of cigarette exhaust and carbon monoxide. He’d traded breath for addiction.

Her auburn hair tied back and tucked beneath a surgical cap, Jessica stowed away a fact that Smoke Helspenny’s lungs told her: he’d’ve been dead inside a year or two had nothing untoward happened. But what had happened?

The ex-marine had been found dead in Arlington National Cemetery, once General Robert E. Lee’s family homestead, confiscated by the US government as “payback” Lee’s having commanded the Southern armies in the War Between the States – Arlington, a cemetery consecrated to the dead of all wars, where heroes slumbered within sight of the tomb of the Unknowns.

Jessica examined Smoke’s liver. She concluded it had been in less peril than his lungs, but not by much. The man had been also been a heavy drinker. The organs never lie, she thought. The condition of a man’s organs at death stood testament to his life and frequently his character. Often the sum of the injuries a man did himself damn near outweighed the thing that killed him.

Jake Helspenny’s epitaph: He’d come out of the Marines a broken man, missing far more than his left leg, right hand, and a piece of his skull and brain from what his wife called “the incident” in Iraq.

Jessica had met the woman before she had begun the autopsy, had interviewed her – a buxom blonde, whose once pretty features sagged from forehead to jowls, telling the tale of a rough life alongside Smoke.

“All that Jake’d gone through in Iraq,” the woman – Katherine Helspenny – said, “tooth-to-nail fightin’, facing death every day, acceptin’ the death of buddies—brothers.”

An Arlington homicide detective – Kyle Jensen, in possession of his gold shield for less than a year – had been with the wife. He’d pushed Coran, the Commonwealth of Virginia’s medical examiner, to do the autopsy rather than assign it to one of her juniors. “Sounds like he was a good marine,” Jensen had said to Mrs. Helspenny.

“He was.” Katherine Helspenny dabbed at tears. “But Jake never got over being the only survivor in his squad. Had nightmares. . . . Now this.”

Jessica studied the woman. “Do you know anyone who’d want to harm your husband?”

“Not a soul, except Dooley.”

Jensen, a thin, wiry youngish George Carlin-type, swiveled. “Dooley, ma’am? You didn’t mention a Dooley before. Who’s he?”

“Went by the nickname Spider. It was always Smoke and Spider in their time in the Marines. . . . Dooley blamed Jake for walking out of ‘the incident’ that killed all the others.”

Jensen and Jessica exchanged looks of concern.

Katherine Helspenny pulled at a her wedding band, as if by habit, but it wouldn’t come off her pudgy finger. “Yes, Smoke’s so-called best friend, Dooley was.”

Jessica turned to Jensen. “Looks like you’ve got a lead. Find Mr. Dooley and you may well close your case.”

“Maybe?” the wife said. “What do you mean ‘maybe.’ Dooley hated Jake.”

“Enough to kill him, his old war buddy?” Jensen asked.

“That ‘buddy’ business was a long time ago. People change. Dooley sure did.”

“Devolve,” Jessica mumbled.

“De-what?”

Jensen put up a hand. “Never mind that, Mrs. Helspenny. Do you know where I can find this Dooley.”

“I’m not sure. Somewhere out in the cemetery, in the fog.”

“He’s not likely still out there.”

“Dooley wanders among the graves – reads the headstones, searching for men from his old outfit, the outfit Jake was in before ‘the incident.’”

Jessica motioned for Jensen to step aside with her. “Were you in the military?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I’d go out to Quantico, get someone to pull up Dooley’s service record. That might get you a lead on where this guy ended up.”

A fourth person bustled in, a stubby little man named Roth – Mrs. Helspenny’s lawyer. Moments before, on seeing the corpses on gurneys parked in the autopsy room, Roth had run for the men’s room and retched. “Theopolis,” he said, picking up on the end of Jessica’s and Jensen’s conversation. He mopped at his face with a lavender handkerchief. “Theopolis Alexander Dooley is the man’s full name.”

“You’re sure?” Jessica asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Abolutely.”

“Jensen,” she said, “there can’t be two with that name in the record dump. Your job just keeps getting easier.”

Roth wound himself up, to earn his fee. “This woman’s suffered long enough.” The lawyer waved a hand in the direction of Mrs. Helspenny. “Dr. Coran, I expect you to get on this autopsy right away, and I expect you to give it your top priority. Anything less and you can expect to see Mrs. H and me on the Today Show with Katie and Matt.”

Now it was Jensen who raised a hand. “Back off,” he said. “I’ve been told Dr. Coran doesn’t respond well to threats.”

“There are rules – protocol,” Jessica said, her hands braced on her ample hips.

“Rules?” Katherine Helspenny asked.

“This office’s policy book says we don’t autopsy a body unless there’s clear evidence of an unnatural death. The detective told me on the phone, before the three of you came here, that when he examined the deceased at the cemetery, there were no gunshots, no knife wounds, no signs of a struggle, nothing but a body slumped over a grave stone.”

Roth pushed into Jessica’s personal space, his face inches from her. “Mrs. H found her husband dead in Arlington cemetery. She’s convinced this Dooley character lured Jake there to kill him. That’s premeditation!”

“All right, the body’s here somewhere. I’m willing to do a preliminary, but if I don’t see any obvious indications of murder . . .” Jessica turned palms up, as if to say ‘that’s it.’

Roth’s face hardened. “We don’t want a preliminary, we want a complete autopsy, down to examining the man’s last whisker.” Roth tried a mock softening of his voice, adding, “Look, we were told you’re the best, and that you deal in unusual cases. This is an unusual case, doctor. The man was killed in the most famous cemetery on the planet.”

Which explains your interest in the case—potentially high profile, she thought but said, “Be that as it may, counselor, the Commonwealth doesn’t just start cutting on a corpse without some probable cause, some indication of foul play.”

Roth, angry, took to pacing like an Irish setter in heat, his long, flowing gray mane whipping about.

Jessica thought she’d won the argument, but then Mrs. Helspenny shouted, “You government types’re all alike! Took us forever to get the VA to deal with Jake’s depression, his panic attacks, the living pain in his stump, all of it. Maybe if you’d stepped in earlier – maybe he’d never’ve felt compelled to…to go out there to find Dooley.”

Roth placed an arm about the distressed wife and helped her into a seat. Jensen offered her a stack of napkins, and she began blowing her nose. The wife looked up at Jessica. “Took us even longer to get my Jake’s pension, and they give it out like it was some kinda fund he had no right to, like he didn’t have it comin’.”

Jessica held up both hands as if under attack. “Please, Mr. Roth, Mrs. Helspenny, let me put this as simply as I can. Until I’m satisfied that Mr. Helspenny died a questionable death, he stays on ice. I did take a quick look at him, and I’ didn’t find a mark on him to suggest murder.”

“But you have my word,” Mrs. Helspenny said.

“Alone that’s not enough, ma’am.”

“Rules is rules, huh?” The woman’s glare cut wounds in Jessica.

“To you, the rules may seem a bit absurd, but they are in place for a reason.”

“It’s protocol first,” Roth offered up, “before the wishes of the surviving spouse?”

“Procedure, yes.”

“So what you really need to do a full autopsy is a go-ahead.”

Jessica didn’t respond, and her silence only fueled Roth’s ego and tongue. “Well, by damn,” he said, his nostrils flaring wide, “I’ll get you your go-ahead. I know your superior.”

“Bully for you, counselor, so why don’t you just do that?”

“Good Lord, hasn’t anyone ever been murdered in a National Park before?” Mrs. Helspenny asked.

Jessica shrugged. “Many times. The most egregious are the young women and girls who go missing, their bodies are found in shallow graves.”

“Never happened in Arlington – ever,” Jensen said. “Hey, I looked it up on Google. No one in the history of the cemetery has ever mugged, raped, or murdered within its confines.”

“If Google says so, it must be true,” Jessica said. Google. She didn’t know whether to laugh at that one or cry.

Jensen went on, an enthusiasm building in the detective. “You see, I belong to a Confederate reenactment group. Relieves tension.”

“Playing soldier, no real consequences.”

“If by that you mean no one gets hurt – ”

“That’s what I mean,” Jessica said. “All the battlefield dead get up after it’s over and walk off to the nearest bar for lite Bud.”

“Well, it’s fun. How about you join me some weekend? You’d look great in the uniform.”

Ooo, was that a pass? A bit obvious. She frowned rather than smiled. “My interest is in the genuinely sincere dead, detective.”

“Ahhh…the authentic murder.”

“Besides, if I went to one of those things, I’d stand with the North.”

“You’d look just as good in a blue uniform.”

“OK, I’ll make myself clearer. I’m not interested in those who feign death. I’m too busy with the real thing, detective.”

Comments are Welcome...

Giving Thanks for the Gift of Writing by Morgan Mandel

morgan@morganmandel.com (Morgan Mandel) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 05:15:00 +0000

Sometimes I get aggravated when I can't think of the words to say exactly what I want. Often, I wish I had more time to spend creating new worlds for others to enter.

I've faced discouragement, wondering if I can complete a manuscript, wondering if I have enough talent to whip it into shape, wondering if readers will like it after it's been released.

I've been plagued by worries about book covers, blurbs, reviews, and all sorts of other concerns, like how to tell others about what my books are about so they'll want to read them.

Despite all the scary or bad times, I still can't deny I love writing. Now that I'm hooked I can't conceive of ever doing without it. Writing is a friend I can turn to through tough times. It's an escape from the real world into whereever my imagination will take me. When I write, at times I can express myself better than in person. It's an outlet for my emotions, be they happy, sad, envious, angry, or confused.

This Thanksgiving, I'm not only thankful for the blessingsof my family, my dog, my house, my friends, food on the table, a job, my relatively good health, but also for the joy of writing. I'm very lucky to have this wonderful gift. My life would have a big hole in it if I couldn't write any more.

If you're a writer, have you ever stopped to think about what a wonderful gift you have?

A London Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (June) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I've returned from London, which was just as rainy as Chicago but slightly warmer. I found that just like Chicago, if you wait a few minutes the weather will change. We had one day with heavy rains, but other than that, it was very nice. But I digress, as we are not standing in an overcrowded ballroom being forced to make polite conversation about the weather, I will share the adventure.

Just to make it interesting, meet Lady Rosalind Reming from the historical romance I'm writing.

ME: Lady Rosalind, thank you for assisting me with my blog today.

LADY ROSALIND: Certainly, I am pleased to share what I can with your delightful readers. Having lived most of my life in London, except for rusticating in the country for the summer, I am sure I can share some delightful insight into a few spots our author has encountered.

Buckingham Palace

Buckingham Palace, which I know as Buckingham House, is the home of the current Queen, Queen Elizabeth II. Although I am not familiar with this woman, as King George III is the current monarch and Prinny (the Prince of Wales) lives at Carlton House It does appear that this Elizabeth takes great care of the place. Everything is so shiny.

This lovely monument sits across from the palace and is honoring another great monarch I do not know, a Queen Victoria. Although this is the first I have seen of the sculpture or heard of this Queen, I must say, it is truly marvelous and this Victoria is a lovely woman I am sure.

This serene setting is in the oldest Royal Park in London, St. James's Park.

To see the park in this light it is hard to imagine that, and this is just a bit of gossip, a certain Lord R was in this park creating a bit of scandal. However, being a victim of a vicious scandal myself, I am loath to repeat the details, at least just yet.

And now, I must part as my cousin Louisa is preparing for her come out ball and I, unfortunately, must participate in the grueling preparations. One would think I would enjoy the preparations, however spending any time in the presence of the ton is never pleasant for me. Even after six long years, they never forget.

ME: Thank you Lady Rosalind, and readers, I hope you enjoyed the first look at what is only the beginning of a wonderful adventure.

Thanks for reading,

June

http://www.junesproat.com/