E.J. Findorff's Blog

Again with the sex...

2011-11-22T10:03:00.000-08:00

Can a writer create a hero that isn't good in the sack?

I was just thinking about all the flaws a character can have to make them more accessible, but could our FBI agent who always gets the girl have erectile dysfunction and still win over the reader? Can the hard-boiled detective be a "quick draw" and still inspire passion?

Certainly James Bond could never be written like that, but his entire persona could be considered unrealistic in terms of his accomplishments. Some people like to read about the gratuitous sex between a book's main characters while others prefer to hint at it and let the imagination run wild. I'm willing to bet that imagination never includes clumsy sex with no foreplay.

I would love to see an amazing character that has the world on a platter, can solve every mystery and be handsome, witty and charming and then fail in the bedroom and then have the couple deal with like any normal people would; whether is be by ignoring it, talking about it, or trying again until they get it right. Would the plot come to a screeching halt? Would one spy tell the other, "its alright, it happens to a lot of guys"? Would that ultimately take the reader out of the fantasy?

Women are always sexy and sensual, too. What if you didn't get off that easy (no pun intended) in a book? What if the heroine couldn't dance and their bedroom moves were awkward or they slip off the bed or just do something REAL. I can't speak for the female reader, but I would assume a guy reader wouldn't care as much about how it went in bed as long as they ended up there.

So, can we be left with two extraordinary characters that live in a world of intense intrigue, action, and conflict, who fall in love on the beaches of Frances, meeting by circumstance, each working for separate faction, trying to topple governments and have them fall short of bedroom fireworks? Could Jason Bourne mix up a cyanide pill with a Viagra?

Um, I don't think so.

My Take On Penn State

2011-11-12T13:25:00.000-08:00

So, I'm a fiction writer. I write thrillers with sinister characters that do really evil deeds. My imagination has to create senarios that are implausibly plausible if that makes sense. One storyline I attempted a long time ago dealt with child pornography and even skirting around the issue, I found it difficult. I couldn't do it and ended up changing it to human trafficking where I take great satisfaction in who gets saved and how the villain gets it in the end (yet to be published).

So, this thing with Penn State comes to light. I'm a big LSU Tiger's fan, which means I'm a fan of all college football and it makes me sick to think football is the reason this was kept quiet. But, I'm not going to make commentary on what's been rehashed in the news hourly for the past week, but there is one thing I keep coming back to.

This Mcqueary is a good sized man. He was a football player. He had a chance to be this kid's hero. He walked into an opportunity that gave him free reign to bust this guy up. If I wrote him as a character, I would really have to develop either a detachment, a cold persona, or some childhood tragedy of his own to make it believable. Is it self preservation? Is it the mighty hand of Penn State football? It's crazy. Get in front of it, practice the HONOR that you preach, take the dent to the program and move forward, knowing you upheld your ideals. What the F????

How do you walk away from what Mcqueary described? I put myself in his place and after I get over how sureal the scene must have been, I run in there, pull the kid away from Sandusky (who will hopefully be in the prison's general population) and proceed to beat the crap out of him. Maybe he gets the better of me, maybe he doesn't. Either way, I kick and punch for every child that has ever been taken advantage of. Do I see myself leaving, distraught, telling my boss and then wiping my hands of it? No, I don't see that.

At least pull out your phone and call the police...at least! The only good that will come from this is that bringing to the public's attention what SHOULD have happened. The next person in this situation may think about handling it differently.

You should have been that boy's hero, Mcqueary. How many chances do we get at that?

A Real Ghost Story

2011-11-02T18:32:00.000-07:00

They say many New Orleans residences and buildings are haunted, but its a great place to create spine tingling stories that may or may not be true, but are somehow more believable in that locale. Well, I have my own ghost story (or at least a story that has yet to be explained) and whether people think I've made it up or not, I know it to be true and it still gives me the creeps.

When I was eighteen, I moved into a friend's house after his mother died. We also worked together at a Winn Dixie supermarket, so the arrangement was perfect. His brother lived out of state and he had this small two bedroom to himself, so why not? I ended up having his mother's old room, which not believing in haunted houses, I didn't care.

Things started out great. We were young, partied, and had lots of fun, but through those first few months, the normal "ghostly" things started happening; missing keys, doors being closed or opened, wierd sounds at night. Again, I didn't pay much attention to it; explaining it away.

Then, it happened. My friend left for work at 9 a.m. I was due in at Noon. Before I left, I got the mail and brought it to my room. I remember this like it happened yesterday. I had five envelopes and put them in a stack on the dresser. I got dressed, locked up, and went to work. My friend had a double shift. He did not leave work at all. When my shift was done and he was still there at work, I arrived back and went to my room not expecting to see the five envelopes spread several inches apart in a perfect semi-circle on the bed. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

His brother was out of state and he had no other family. None of our friends had a key and I know he didn't go back home. There is no other way to explain it. Plus, I knew my friend and knew his reactions. So, was the house haunted? I personally believe so.

Thoughts on Typewriters

2011-10-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

Typewriters may as well go up there with the old time cash registers. I'm old enough to have used a typewriter when I first started banging out short stories in high school where I took a class to learn to type. I'm proud to say I was at 60 words a minute.

I was thinking about all the paper I used to waste and the bottles of White Out I had smeared across mistakes. Putting together a good page that didn't need edits was an accomplishment. For me, having an immaculate ream of a finished manuscript was impossible.

Soon words processors took over and that lead to computers. Today we can keystroke carefree, knowing the delete button is a mere pinky away. That leads me to believe that before computers, a writer had to take care in the words they chose; in their sentence structure. Paper cost money and editing was extremely time consuming.

So does that mean we would be better writers if forced to use a typewriter? Let's say you were given an exercise where you have the first draft of a manuscript and you had to retype any page that had edits - the entire page. I don't mean from scratch. Just make a copy and retype it word for word. Would you be more careful with your grammar? Would you examine each sentence closely?

Of course, I'm speaking for myself when I say that I can blast through a bunch of pages, knowing I will go back and make sweat-free editing. I don't mean to accuse any writer out there of not trying to write their best. I just wonder if those young writers who have never used a typewriter would benefit from a little manual labor.

Feeling a little inferior?

2011-09-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

Those of us that are aspiring writers have probably read someone else's work and sat in awe, wondering if we could ever write that well. I'd say most people have felt that way about something in their lives, whether it's acting, music, art, etc.

It would be natural to try to emulate the people who inspire you, but I don't know if that's a good idea. Do you really want to be the "next" somebody? Do you really want fans to say you could never be the "next" somebody?

Thrillers come in all shapes and sizes. Too much description, too little description. Not enough action or too much time between the action. There are words you don't know and don't feel like stopping to look up (unless you have an ereader), making you either feel...less educated...or make you feel like you're really missing out on a good read. Plot driven, character driven. Believable or even plausible. Boring, stiff, fluid, fast, suspensful, interesting and best of all...thrilling.

I don't know all the big words and I'm not much on the smaller details that many like and some don't. When I write, I wonder how I'm going to fill up a 80,000 word novel with the story I've created. It's difficult and takes a lot of time and I can see how others do it. They detail the hell out of things, which I do enjoy reading. I've read pages on characters that really don't affect the story. However, it really sets the scene and environment. And for a while that made me feel inferior. My vocabulary might not be conducive to the details. I feel like I'm boring the reader because I don't know the words that make people go to the dictionary.

But, as people have read my manuscripts, I've learned they liked my style. They like blazing through a story that doesn't let up. I've heard many times how it was hard to put down and they were 100 pages in before they knew it.

Aspiring writers should stick with their style and not try to "copy" someone else's. Sure, they can influence and there can be comparisons, but let it happen naturally. It took some time to accept that, but I can see how my style might one day be one of those styles that another author might aspire to.

That would be awesome.

Seven things I've learned so far.

2011-08-07T04:46:00.000-07:00

I'm taking this idea from a blog by Chuck Sambuchino, an editor who posts other blogs by agents and writers, which have been very useful and inspiring to me as a writer. I'm trying not to use the obvious lessons, because its all been said over and over. Hopefully, I have a couple of useful tidbits here.

1) You're always improving...Unless you're one of the lucky few whose English and grammar skills are beyond reproach. The editing process will only be finished once it has been published. Don't just re-read and think it sounds good. Examine each sentence, the tense, the point of view, word conservation, eliminate cliches, don't repeat, show don't tell, don't repeat words...oh, so many tweaks to be had.

2)Don't write when you're not feeling it. Some advice would be to write on a schedule or write when you're having a block and that might work for some, but for me, I find it counterproductive. Find ways to be inspired to write. For me, it usually happens when I finish reading a good novel. That pumps me up to sit a pound out a story.

3)There is no instant success. This is a long process; at least for fiction. Even if you write a story in two months and get a publisher a month after that (good luck). It's going to be at least another year before your book comes out. For most of us, it takes years just to get to this point...if ever.

4)You friends and family don't know what it takes to get an agent or published. It might be nice to hear praise from those around you, but that is not going to advance your knowledge of the industry. You need a real editor or other writers to critique your work, which is usually a sobering experience. Once you're over the shock of your writing being torn apart, then you'll be that much better the next time around. Find writing groups or workshops put your thick-skin on.

5)Step back from your work. Yes, once your finish, you want to get your queries out there, dreaming of your first royalty check. No. Put down the manuscript for a few months, then come back and program yourself to read it as if you didn't write it. This will allow you to see where the flow is awkward or the sentences are redundant or the point of view is wrong. Its a shitty feeling to know you sent something out that will turn an agent off.

6)Networking. This won't happen overnight, either. In my years of putting myself out there and attending conferences and querying and contacting other writers, I've met many in the industry and find that I can return to these contacts for advice or support. Slowly, but surely, names start to become familair. Plus, building these relationships lets people know you are serious about your craft.

7)Research your options. Oh, man. There are so many ways to get your book out. Do you get an agent? A traditional publisher? An ebook publisher? POD? Do I self-publish? Small press? Independant press? Publish through Amazon? Barnes and Noble? Kinkos? How can I market my novel without help? It might be very enticing to get your book out by any means available, but choose wisely grasshopper. You might regret letting your best-selling first novel fall into the depths of obscurity because word just isn't getting out. THERE IS NO RIGHT WAY. What works for some will not work for others. If there is a number 8 here, its to develop your filter; use the advice you can and discard the rest.

There are so many more things I've learned, but I've already named the piece, so we're stuck with seven.

How I got my agent

2011-07-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

I guess it's okay to put this out there with no risk of a jinx (I shiver as I write this).

I have finally, after years of searching, signed with agents Al Longden and Cynthia Manson, who will share in my representation. It was a long, angst-ridden path, as many aspiring writers are aware.

It started when I saw the profile of an author on the International Thriller Writers website. He listed Cynthia Manson as his agent, so I did quite a bit research to find her email because she does not have a website or advertise. She responded to my email favorably, but was interested in how I found her. I hadn't run across an agent like this before, one that didn't have a big internet presence, which I thought was fantastic.

My contacting her must have been a timing issue. As luck would have it, she was interested in the full manuscript. I waited patiently until she sent an email regretfully turning down the project, but actually wanted to talk about it over the phone! This in itself was an amazing opportunity. We spoke for twenty minutes about why she didn't want to take on the manuscript even though she liked it. Through this we collaborated on a story that would take place during Hurricane Katrina.

Against the advice of others, I took on this task and within six months had a manuscript prepared; not just because I had an agent's attention, but because this novel was labor of love. It was amazing to write and I enjoyed every minute of it. I eagerly sent it off to Ms. Manson, who then unexpectedly rejected it (insert dissappointing cartoon music). But, I couldn't blame her if I didn't write the book she was looking for.

I knew this novel was going to be the one. I felt it in my bones. She graciously suggested that I sent it to her collegue Al Longden, which I did. She suggested if he liked it, they could possibly share the duties in representation.

Mr. Longden loved it.

I spoke to each of them again in that highly coveted call regarding representation; glad that they couldn't see my happy dance - the type seen after one scores a touchdown. Now, the leg of my journey begins...

Writing is certainly the fun part.

2011-06-21T09:16:00.000-07:00

Once your novel is about to be published, there is so much more you need to do.; especially if its your first. Social networking is obviously the big thing. I just got on Twitter. I just need followers.

I had business cards made up to pass out to anyone interested. I’ll be setting up GoogleAds and pay per click ads on Facebook. Medallion will be fronting some money for ad space on a few websites, so that’s good.

I got my website and this here blog, which I don’t post as much as I should. It seems useless at times, seeing as I don’t have a fan base, but if one happens to show up at my doorstep, I’ll have this online presence, otherwise it would be difficult to put one together at a moments notice.

The one thing I romanticized about isn’t going to happen. I’m being published as an ebook, so there won’t be any book signings. Maybe if UNHINGED sells enough, they might want to print it, but otherwise, I’ll have to wait for my second book to come out.

So, no one’s knocking down my door for an interview and I’m not making any bookstore appearances. In the middle of all this self-promotion, real job, and balancing my personal life, I need to find time to write because that’s the enjoyable part of the entire process.

I have to admit, the marketing portion has been a great experience so far; fun in a way. I have to hope for a favorable response and word of mouth. That’s what its all about, isn’t it? A good product will be recommended to friends.

So, fellow aspiring novelists, prepare thyselves for uncharted territory. Your job has yet to begin.

My First Review

2011-05-22T15:27:00.000-07:00

I will not use this forum to advertise my reviews (at least not individually), but I recently got my first on UNHINGED from www.singletitles.com. I figured reviews to be part of the normal publishing process and expected to get them at some point, but it's more exciting that I imagined (because it was a great review, obviously).

The person who gave me 4.5 stars out of 5 is named Candy and that's all I know about her. Someone who wasn't my friend or family or part of Medallion Publishing actually read it and liked it. It's affirmation that I really didn't think I needed, but appreciate nonetheless. I can proudly point it out to everyone on Facebook and send the link to my family. This website I've never heard of before has made this real for me, almost like a slap to my face.

Sure, this "first" will be one of many in the process. There will be my first interview, my first reading, the first novel purchased, etc. If this is any indication of things to come, I know I'll value every aspect of the journey. That's the reason I'm keeping this blog after all. One day I might have fans, some aspiring writers, that find this blog and think its cool to look back to the beginnings when I was struggling to have my work read. As insignificant as all this is in relationship to well-established, proven authors, the first good review they ever got probably brings a smile to their faces also.

If interested, check it out. Again, www.singletitles.com and search for Unhinged.

Fish or cut bait?

2011-05-07T05:42:00.000-07:00

I just received a very flattering rejection from an agent that had been exclusively looking at a new manuscript. I was sure she would take me on. Of course, I was disappointed, but also energized, as now I have an awesome manuscript to shop around, while I go back to edit previous novels.

I'm sure many writers are at a point where they have to consider the timing of things. How long do you let that finished novel sit, waiting for an agent or publisher to pick it up. Die hard writers, like myself, are probably thinking each book is like a bullet in thier gun. If the fourth or fifth book gets published, then they can fire off the others.

But, having success with one book might not convince an publisher that the previous books will be saluable. So, as a writer, do I decide to publish it myself as an ebook? Maybe there's a chance I could build up a following if I do all the marketing and advertising myself. If I don't, then my books may never see the light of day. Oye!

The ebook craze is still in its early stages. Things are in flux. Agents are scrambling. Publishers are leary. Non-fiction is exclipsing fiction. What the hell?

Settle down. Breathe.

For any inspiring writers that read this, if your writing is at a point where other writers (not readers) are complimenting your work, then stick with trying to go the traditional route. If your writing is not there yet and you are being (honestly if not roughly) critiqued by your writing peers, then you need to listen to them and not be stubborn or hurt, but understand the why.

As I write this, I'm thinking blah, blah, blah. What am I saying? Boiling it down, if you do this for pleasure, then ebook, by all means. If you want a career as an author; get an agent.

To explain or not to explain

2011-04-13T08:16:00.000-07:00

A gave my manuscript to a friend in Chicago to edit because he’s pretty good at the details. The novel is a historical thriller that takes place during Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. If anyone reads this blog, they know I’m from the Crescent City and all of my novels take place there.

So, I try to incorporate the customs and character that makes New Orleans special to me, like sno-balls, crawfish boils, coffee and chicory or saying hi to strangers you make eye contact with. And for the most part they are well received, but my friend pointed out something in my manuscript that he didn’t think was believable.

Simply put, I have a sixteen-year-old female character who kisses a twenty-something year old family friend on the cheek – several times - since they end up linked together during the storm. He wrote down ‘I’m not buying it’ and ‘not believable.’

I told him that kissing good friends on the cheek hello and goodbye is perfectly normal in New Orleans and nothing is thought of it. He understood and told me I should write a few sentences explaining that and he is right. I'm assuming that the average America knows these things.

This gives me pause as to how much I should explain and if that would bog down the story. Like if I write ‘neutral ground,’ should I explain it’s the median between the streets or actually give its origin?

I think I’ll leave those questions hanging in the air until an editor tells me they don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

P.S. New Orleans natives don’t call their city The Big Easy.

How do you get your ideas?

2011-03-25T08:11:00.000-07:00

…Is a question many people ask, writers or not. Plus, I'm sure every writer worth their blog has posted something along these lines, but if this helps anyone out there, then its worth it to me.

I was drinking (a lot) the other night with a writer friend and he was curious about my process because he is only half way into his first book, whereas I have a couple collecting dust.

Getting the idea is pretty easy because everyone can come up with a cool storyline. I told my friend that what works for me is after you know what your story is about you need to create characters that you believe to be real.

And then it’s as simple as this; the world gets created as your character does what they need to do. Ex: he needs to borrow money from a loan shark, then you create that loan shark and his environment. There’s a chapter.

The world gets bigger and more complicated and before you know it, these characters are deciding things for themselves and taking the story in a direction you would have never known. If your characters are well developed and deep, then how can they be predictable?

As long as you don’t lose sight of your final goal, you can stay on track. Imagine a line that represents your story from start to finish. Don’t let your tangents run too far off of the line. Always work your way back to that line and you won’t get lost.

The alcohol probably didn’t help me explain it, but this is what works for me and I’m sure every writer has their own process. Good luck to millions of writers who read this.

Email Correspondence with Anne Rice

2011-02-15T07:09:00.000-08:00

One of my all-time favorite books is Anne Rice’s The Witching Hour. When I read it, I wasn’t a big into books, reading maybe one every few months. But this book grabbed me and pulled me in enough to where I read Taltos and Lasher, the two follow-ups to The Witching Hour. I didn’t feel they were as good, but sometimes you just need closure.

I have never read Interview with a Vampire, but I saw the movie. I am not a big vampire or religious fan, so I never continued to buy her books.

I love that Anne Rice is about New Orleans. I’m not up to date on her present status, but last I heard she was living in Metairie, which is basically a suburb of New Orleans. Since I have a book coming out, I was naive enough to think that she might want to throw a quote at me, being that we were both from New Orleans. You don't know if you don't ask, right?

I emailed her, wondering what assistant would read it and then get back with me months later. I was surprised to see a response the same day, graciously declining the quote, of course, but very kindly. I emailed back thanking her, but joking ‘if it really was her’ writing me back.

Big mistake.

Anne Rice practically yelled at me through the email that she answers all of her email personally and goes to great lengths to be available to her readers. I was very embarrassed. I wrote back telling her it was a joke and that I believed it was her and was telling my wife and friends that I had corresponded with Anne Rice. It was a misunderstanding.

She calmed down and apologized for getting worked up and we had a little laugh over that. After a few more emails back and forth, I signed off telling her that I would be seeing her in similar circles and that we’d laugh again about it.

I can’t wait for that day, but let me tell you; you do not want to make an enemy of Anne Rice.

The cover of UNHINGED

2011-02-04T14:23:00.000-08:00

Medallion Press just posted the cover they created for Unhinged, my detective thriller ebook coming out in May. I think it's pretty sweet.

Now the clock is really ticking. I'm trying to get all of my marketing ducks in a row; advertising, Facebook, the website, business cards and anything else that goes along with it.

I'm still trying to land an agent and kind of tapered off on going straight to publishers, so for all I know, this could be my one and only shot. If this thing gets going and word of mouth spreads, I think it will easier to convince an agent to take my work seriously.

I still have the Katrina project going and is coming out fantastic. I will surely blog on what my potential agent has to say about it.

In the meantime, I've got lots of creative marketing to do!

Crawfish in a Hurricane

2011-01-03T09:28:00.000-08:00

This is the first chapter in a book that I don't believe will ever be published. BUT! If after reading this chapter, anyone posts that they would like to see more, then I will continue to add chapter after chapter until the entire book is posted. Just one reader...

Chapter 1

The cremation casket was a Shaker. It was plain, ash brown with an ivory crepe interior and the least expensive Milt could find before taking his last breath. Carol Benoit could not deny her dying husband’s last cheapskate wish. Milt refused to pay over a grand for something they were going to incinerate. None of the mourners would ever see the inside anyway because Milt had requested that his coffin remained closed until they burned him into ash and his bones crushed to dust. Only his immediate family could take a morbid peek if they so chose. He had expressed that his granddaughter Phoenix just might.

There would be no tomb above ground as the more affluent New Orleans deceased were usually laid to rest. Being buried in this city wasn’t an option, either, as seeing loved ones eventually rise from the saturated ground wasn’t very appealing. To Milt, there was no closure in remaining above the ground. Katrina had been a testament to that as he saw dead bodies floating away from their tombs on the news.

His son Jason had chosen a suitable picture from Milt’s youth to blow up and display on an easel. It was hard to uncover a snapshot where he actually wore a smile, but Jason settled on a photo taken when Milt was 55 years old and had made a hole in one on a par-three at City Park. He still had hair, thin as it was, and blonde as the day he was born. No one had noticed the transition to baldness, or at least they never spoke of it.

Jason and Beth had four children; Vail was the oldest at twenty-five, London was twenty-three, their only daughter Phoenix was eighteen and Rome was sixteen. Each of them could not be more different.

Phoenix had isolated herself, sitting on a metal foldout chair, away from consolers. The cool steel felt good against her calves. Her idea of dressing appropriately fell into the realm of less Goth make-up and a paisley sundress that she hated having to buy for the occasion. She felt uncomfortable and a bit sexy at the same time.

Every moment between Phoenix’s thoughts came a staggering, slow motion encore of the pillow she had placed over Milt’s face as he lay dying of prostate cancer in the hospital room. Her muscles tensed as if she was still pushing it, applying the pressure, taking Milt’s last breath in payment for all he took from her. The veins in his hands had bulged with struggle within the bed’s restraining straps. She let herself breathe and relaxed on the chilly metal chair, wondering who was watching her. Someone was always watching her.

The room itself made Phoenix uneasy. It appeared as if it had been decorated for a movie set. Cheap oil paintings of old men hung between windows with curtains of questionable flowered patterns. Pedestals of Wal-Mart vases held plastic flowers with linen petals. Standing in small huddles were a few mourners with suits or nice dresses and she knew they were the relatives with the good jobs. For the most part, for funerals and weddings, their people wore collared shirts, jeans and their dressy gym shoes, or at best slacks and button down dress shirts.

She tried to follow London with her eyes, as he looked to be avoiding everyone. Perhaps if he could stay on the move, he wouldn’t have to speak. She knew the interaction was killing him. She was reminded of London’s hidden handsomeness, as he was dressed in a pressed Polo shirt with his favorite blue silk tie.

London’s new cop-chick attempted to hang on his arm from time to time. “Jesus, let him go. You’re not on a date,” she whispered. She was pretty, though, but all wrong. No one was ever right for him, but isolation was his choice. London seemed to want to drive them away, one by one. Phoenix knew that her brother’s problem stemmed from witnessing his first girlfriend Nicole’s mysterious and blood-riddled death when he was thirteen years old. It had destroyed his teen years and now in turn, was spilling into his adulthood. No one ever got close to London again during those years; no one except Phoenix.

Eve the cop was a strong woman, it seemed to Phoenix. Eve looked like she knew what she wanted and London would let her be in command for a little while, but it would end the same. For one, she was too old. London was twenty-three and she had to be thirty, at least. Eve clung to him unnaturally, sizing people up as they approached as if she was a bouncer. Could they have had sex already? No, she would have sensed the change.

There was something odd about Eve and Phoenix knew odd. She was married to odd. Phoenix watched Eve and London whisper in each other’s ear and then they agreed to something. After that, the cop-chick left the premises. She must have realized that he couldn’t give her his undivided attention.

Over the next ten minutes, London had glanced at Phoenix once and a while, as if he was going to eventually come over to keep her company, but for some reason he kept circling. She thought he looked guilty, apologizing to the distant relatives who stopped to give him a quick hug or handshake. And her disdain deepened for those relatives not spending much time with her, although she couldn't condemn them, as she had always been the scariest freak in the bloodline.
You make your own environment, then bitch when you have to live in it, right?

The youngest sibling, Rome, wasn’t in attendance. He was sixteen and mildly retarded, yet had movie star good looks. Most teenage girls found themselves attracted to him at first – until they spoke to him. There had been a discussion with Elaine, Rome’s therapist and teacher on whether he could handle his Paw Paw’s funeral. Phoenix guessed they had decided not. She pictured Rome sitting next to pint-sized Elaine on the new two thousand dollar sectional couch as she tried to explain death with her Ken doll.

Poor Rome, Phoenix thought, amazed she was entertaining the foreign concept of sympathy. At least he would be able to say hi to his relatives as they woofed down food back at the house after the service. The long-lost aunts, uncles and cousins will be able to see how a family can remain stagnant their whole lives even while their surroundings constantly changed. They’ll get to see how old, used furniture bought after Katrina can look next to brand new luxurious purchases because Mommy can’t handle money. Oh, but Daddy could replace his boat at the Lakefront Marina, complete with wheelchair accommodations.

Still bored, Phoenix picked Mom and Dad out of the crowd. Beth and Jason Benoit have been married for twenty-seven years and they couldn’t look more like strangers. Her Dad was the picture perfect mourner; sad and attentive, giving his I’ll be okay smile when appropriate. Being paralyzed and wheelchair bound since Katrina, he spent most of his moments with his close friend Detective Shanahan or his mother, Carol, just like a good son should.

Phoenix made slits with her eyes, peering though her lashes as if they were bushes in a jungle and she was stalking her prey. She began a little game of predicting her mother’s movements around the room. Beth fixed her hair when Phoenix thought she would. She showed off her only pair of diamond earrings to some blue-hairs that should be shopping for coffins themselves - another true physic prediction. Okay, Phoenix thought, lift up your bra when no one’s looking, then go chat with the gross funeral director Mr. Nolan, who had been giving her special attention all day. Done and done.

A commotion caught Phoenix’s attention from across the way as a group near the entrance suddenly parted. Like Venus in a clamshell, Christine Peralta, Milt’s nurse of the past three months, had just made an appearance, wearing her dress scrubs no less, and making a direct path to her father, Jason.

She was a striking woman, having a face that could appear in a Noxzema commercial. How does anyone get skin so perfect? Phoenix could see most of the males trying to get a discreet peek past their wives at Miss Voluptuous and once again, she felt for Rome not being here to see the woman with whom breasts he had fallen in love.

But, why would she show up? Maybe she went to all her patient’s funerals. She could be the grim reaper in disguise. Death might be that beautiful. Instead of wearing a dark robe with a sickle in hand, it’s a set of scrubs and surgical gloves, gliding in as if on a conveyor belt to take her place behind the coffin.

Still, it was nice of her to hug her Dad. She just may be a terribly compassionate person. The kind of woman her dad wished his daughter was. Phoenix hated her, wanted to be her and wanted to kiss her all at the same time. She closed her eyes. Stop, she thought. Just stop it. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?

Phoenix scanned for London once again, but spotted the oldest brother, Vail, instead. His perspiration was thick as he crept up to her. “How are you doing, ‘Nix? You’re not going to be sick?” Vail questioned. The buttons on his dark striped shirt looked as though they were going to pop off under the strain of his fat. It was time for him to add another “X” onto the size of his wardrobe.

“I’m alright.” She didn’t believe big brother was actually concerned. The last time they had any meaningful exchange was when he had asked Phoenix to convince her best friend Angie to be in his homemade porno. Ever since he had strong-armed himself into owning an adult bookstore, his next logical step was to create a movie company and become a porn star. She had ranted about what a pervert he was and then stopped speaking to him altogether other than random small talk in front of her family.

Vail nodded, then looked around and spied Christine by their Dad. “Okay, let me know if I can do anything for you. Say hi to Angie for me, okay? Say hi to Angie.”

She parted the bangs away from her eyes with her middle finger as Vail waddled into the mix. What was it about death that made people marshmallows? Under any other circumstances, Vail the smut peddler wouldn’t have even said hi. Was it the fact that she had witnessed death? Did that make her more interesting or popular? Maybe Vail knew what she had done. Her stomach rumbled, not having eaten all day, but that was a constant. She knew there was a big difference in being a thin rebel and a fat rebel. The latter was just pathetic.

“Hey, ‘Nix.” London rubbed her shoulder and finally sat down beside her. “You okay?”

Her face didn’t flinch, but inside she was ecstatic that London had showed. “I’m anticipating nightmares that I’ll wake up screaming from every night for the rest of my life.”

He let that statement settle as he looked around at the milling waistbands, plump and skinny, shuffling back and forth, sitting and standing, trying to keep busy until they could get to the food buffet at their house.

“Eve wanted to come by the house later, but I convinced her that I was going to be busy with family.”

“Eve’s hanging in there, eh?”

“It’s hard to say no to her.”

“How does she like the periods of long silence?”

“Oh, she does most of the talking, which is perfect. I just have to say yes now and then.”

“It’ll be harder to say yes when you’re resenting her for it.”

“Get out of my head.”

“I wish I could get out of mine.”

“At least you fought the urge to kill him,” London proclaimed seriously. “I’m sorry you had to be the only one in the room when he died, but, honestly, we all know he was evil.”

“I guess.” Phoenix was close to tears and that pissed her off.

“You look good. I’m glad you didn’t wear your black lipstick although here, it might be appropriate.”

Phoenix giggled, then sniffed when she felt a drop coming from her nostril. She quickly wiped it away, “I want to know you’re okay, London. This isn’t anything like that day at the canal with Nicole. I don’t want this to bring back those feelings you had at her funeral. You know what I mean.”

“This funeral is a breeze compared to confusion I went through with Nicole’s. I dream about her sometimes. Everything’s always washed in her blood and I can’t make out who killed her…if I killed her.”

“I know it drives you crazy that you can’t remember that fucked up week, but I don’t know if you should remember. What if it’s that knowledge that sends you over the edge?”

“All I know is one day we’re riding our bikes and the next day, I’m at her funeral. I have a dream where Nicole’s alive and we’re playing in the lot. Then she rides off alone and I’m stuck in a ditch so I can’t follow her and she leaves with saying goodbye. Then, I turn into a crawfish and there’s crawfish all around my feet, except y'all are the crawfish.”

“Even Vail?”

“Yeah, he’s a fat crawfish. And y'all are shooting into your little crawfish holes because you know a hurricane’s coming. Then a hurricane does come and I’m immobile. I want to curl my crawfish tail and shoot into the mud hole with you guys, but I can’t. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Weird. Now I'm hungry for crawfish." She smiled with sincerity. "Look, something horrible happened to Nicole. People do terrible things and your brain is wired to protect itself. The electrical impulses up there are being rerouted around the memory of Nicole’s death. You’re not ready to remember that evil. We see other evils every day. Take Vail, well, he’s just sinister. Paw Paw was practically the devil. And seeing Paw Paw actually die, I’m going to be having my own bad dreams for a while.”

“I know Dad wants you to talk to Elaine about that, but even though I don’t have your genius IQ, you can talk to me about it - anytime.”

She put her hand in his as she leaned on his shoulder. She didn’t want to talk anymore, but she didn’t want him to leave, either.

Please post a comment if you like.

Progress on Katrina Novel

2010-12-30T10:45:00.000-08:00

So, in a quick nutshell, a big time agent is interested in a thriller that takes place during Katrina that I am currently writing. My problem had been getting a cop that had gone through it, so I could be accurate. The NOPD has been dragging their heals in getting me a source.

But, to hell with waiting. What I’ve found is better. I found someone (not a cop) that has accounts of the days before and after Katrina that is pure gold (from a writer’s perspective). I don’t want to glorify that horrible experience or make light having lost the home I grew up in in the flood, but his stories are incredible.

What I’m excited about is this fictional story that is taking shape during the flood. It’s basically about a crime that is being covered up by Katrina and the protagonist takes a heart wrenching, soul-searching journey in trying to solve this crime. I’m not half way done and yet, I’m eager to read the end result (and I’m the writer).

I just sent off the first 100 pages to this agent and I’m waiting for her response. If she poo-poo’s it, I’ll be very disappointed, but I won’t give up. I know deep down that this book is meant for big things.

I don’t want to give my source’s name or occupation just yet. I’m conversing with him with questions via email and hopefully, I’ll get to meet him soon.

So, being a couple of days before New Year’s, I hope everyone has a happy and safe one.

My First Published Novel Drawing Near

2010-12-24T08:21:00.000-08:00

I recently received my edited manuscript from Medallion Press to accept or decline changes. For the most part, I trust the editing and they did a lot of polishing - about 8000 words worth. Some of it was large chunks of sex and other things not pertaining to the story, but what I still considered an entertaining part of the read.

Oh, well. I'm not going to argue fluff right now. I have visions of this ebook taking off by word of mouth and eventually, at some point, if I want extraneous information to remain in my manuscript because I think its interesting or fun, I'll fight for it. It's funny how many avid readers don't have the problems that real editors do with content.

Anyway, I'm happy to have changed what they wanted because they were right in most cases and I've learned a lot about excessive words, repeating words, and point of view. Writing this next book, I can see so many of these mistakes and am able to correct them now. This is the Katrina book I blogged about earlier. I have lots of new on that, which I will post soon.

It's Christmas Eve and busy. I'm editing UNHINGED, I'm writing TOXIC CITY, I'm wrapping gifts and reading numerous hard covers for a contest I agreed to judge for 'Best New Hardcover' for the International Thriller Writers. It's a fun, busy time.

To all my fans (ha ha) have a great (insert religious holiday belief)!

A Katrina Novel?

2010-11-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

To write about Katrina or not, that is the question.

Over the past few months, it seems I'm as close to getting an agent as I ever was before. Before the Katrina idea, I had a very prominent agent read a different manuscript and even though she rejected it, she had me call her to talk about why. It basically boiled down to the subject matter and not being unique enough to sell. I was disappointed, yet inspired. She gave me the name of another agent that might like the manuscript and I jumped on it (but have yet to hear back).

When we talked on the phone, she told me if I could come up with a detective thriller that happened during the Katrina tragedy, she could sell it, or try to. I came up with an outline of a story and she approved, so I started writing it.

Now, there are things to consider. What if she doesn't want it? Will anyone else want it? If it was to get published, will too much time have passed for people to want to read it? Will my fellow New Orleanians want to read it? A friend of mine who lost her house and moved away said she would NOT read it because she lived it. Is it worth the time and effort when I have other projects I'm neglecting?

I have another agent who requested my full manuscript, but said she wouldn't read until after December. And I recently got two rejections from agent that told me they loved the writing but it wasn't for them. THAT is progress in a writer's world of seeking representation.

For the time being, I will continue to write my story because honestly, I am loving it. I just found a great source; a cop who was there for the rescues. I'm surprised at how well my fictional story is fitting in with the Katrina events. I am going to make this more than just a novel. This is going to be a love letter to New Orleans. This is going to show the NOPD as heroes. I want this to be sad, thought provoking and inspirational.

I think I might've bitten off more than I can chew.

If anyone that lived through Katrina wants to respond with any of their experiences, I would surely want to listen.

Backspace Conference

2010-11-14T15:48:00.000-08:00

It was an amazing New York trip. I'd like to thank my New Orleans connection for the free accommodations and general hostess-ness.

From losing a piece of my molar on a delicious bagel to having the best fried chicken a Korean restaurant could ever produce, I had a great time. Oh, wait - I went there to snag an agent or at least learn a few things.

What did I learn and in the order I learned them?
1. NY cab drivers can navigate within an atom's length of other cars as well as pedestrian's knees.
2. There's a slight price difference in food.
3. The hotel doormen are trained by Navy Seals.
4. The Backspace agents were informative, brutal, nice, sincere and brutal.
5. I needed brutality.
6. The most well-hidden restaurants are the most crowded.
7. Don't walk slow.
8. Don't sleep on an air mattress with a leak.
9. With a hangover.
10. The fellow writers at the conference are the best (you know who you are).
11. All Indian food is not hot nor gives you the runs (Whew).
12. Bagels can crack teeth (it wasn't the bagel's fault).
13. There are black squirrels - yes, there are.
14. Baby's can projectile vomit (but missed me - whew).
15. It was all worth it.

I plan to fix some things and query my other projects to a few of the agents I met and I will let my many readers know who said what and was the most brutal.

Coming Back Stronger by Drew Brees

2010-07-15T07:59:00.000-07:00

I just read Coming Back Stronger by Drew Brees, quarterback of the New Orleans Saints. It might appear that I’m a bit biased since I am a die-hard Saints fan, but in reality, it makes me a tougher critic because I would be very disheartened by a lack-luster attempt at an autobiography.

By age thirteen, I proclaimed myself an atheist, then a few years later agnostic, but now, I’m back to atheism. I had always told my friends that if God is who they say, then he/she won’t mind as long as I live a good and moral life. If there is a God, he/she will tell me, ‘hell, you lived at a higher standard than those who chose to represent me.’

Drew Brees is very devoted to God and it is reinforced throughout the book and that is not an issue with me. It’s perfect for New Orleans as most of its residents were raised Catlick. Religion is an argument that you cannot win, but can only respect. What Brees triumphed over is an inspiration in itself, but there were certain parts of the book when he talked about New Orleans and the people and the detestation that I had to stop reading because of my tears.

It doesn’t take much for me to become emotional about my home town and what they went through (I live in Chicago now, but I was involved in my family’s plight) and I have the same appreciation for the team that the current locals do. I teared up when they got into the Superbowl and when they won it.

Brees maps out his rocky road to success with all the speed bumps along the way. I loved the details of his draft and his injuries and his dealings with Miami. He was an underdog and fought through where many would have given up. This book has just enough football, mixed with a perfect portion of inspiration and he gives a lot of credit to his faith and God. Like I said, I don’t mind that. He says God, I say good.

The Creative Process

2010-07-03T06:55:00.001-07:00

A lot of people have asked me how I find the ideas for my novels and the process that gets me to a full length book. It has to be different for every writer, but in my case, I take several factors into account.

First, know what you like and what excites you, because if you lose interest half way through, you're done. I like to think of an overall concept or the big picture and if I think it is interesting, then I break it down into an idea - a specific idea. Then, I need a beginning, middle and climax.

If I can get that far, then a main character has to be developed. Who is this going to happen to. He or she has to be likable and has to have flaws. They need a personal life and they need conflict. If a reader doesn't care about your character then they don't care what happens to them. I make a list, create some names and make some general points of personality and looks.

Create the outline. Like I said, you need the start, middle and end. From there, I interject moments, situations and plot specific points that need to happen to reach the conclusion. This is the hard part because you don't want any boring, non-related paragraphs that the reader will want to skim over. It might be fine to do for a fully developed story at first, but I tend to weed them out in the final editing.

Plus, the outline is usually trash half way into the book. Things change. My characters start making decisions for themselves and I can't help it. Once your characters are developed, they will write themselves and then your story will start taking a tangent, but its very important that if you slice, you curve back to the main thread of your story.

If you find you have a rough draft of your novel at the ready. Try this, go into the first few chapters and find a spot where you can start the novel and cut out the original beginning. Most times, my introductory beginnings can be assimilated into the following chapters and if I find a place where intrigue or action starts, then that's where you want to be in chapter one, line one.

Finally, edit - edit - edit. Every few months, go back and read it as if you had bought the book and edit. And finally, this was very unexpected; with every one of my novels, I've found that X-factor idea, that glue or uniting concept that had been missing long after I thought the book was finished. It's like a light goes on and then after incorporating that, I feel I've finally finished.

Getting fat? P90X

2010-06-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

A little over a month ago, I weighed myself at 200lbs, which is 20lbs over my normal weight. Since I refuse to buy pants larger than a 34 waist, I decided to get back to working out.

I’m in my 40’s now, but back when I was in my twenties and early thirties, I was a gym rat, going about 6 days a week to weight train. Nothing bulky, just staying lean and in good shape.

After I moved to Chicago, I stopped working out because of all the times I had to stop and start for various reasons. So, here I am, needing to do something. A friend suggested P90X and I started doing the DVDs. Now, I eat relatively healthy, but I’m not following their strict diet or maintaining their schedule, but so far, I’ve lost almost 20lbs and my pants are loose again.

It’s a great workout, but you need at least an hour a day to do it. I found the only time I can do it with a clear mind and uninterrupted is to get up an hour earlier every morning and force myself. You do what it takes or it just doesn’t get done. All I’m doing is replacing sleep with a workout, so I’m not loosing any of my daily routines.

Besides the normal cardio and weight training, there is also a jump training DVD, a martial arts type routine and YOGA, which I’ve come to like a lot. I recommend it highly and just remember, after 90 days or when you complete the schedule, you can maintain with a normal workout of about a half hour a day as long as you eat like a normal human – or a normal human in the 1950’s.

Ahead of publishing schedule!

2010-06-02T10:05:00.000-07:00

I just received word from Medallion Press that my ebook pub date is being moved up to May 2011 instead of December 2011. That means I have less than a year to market and promote UNHINGED into being the most downloaded ebook ever!

Is it wrong to dream?

Writers use their imagination, so I can easily fantasize about word of mouth and the demand being so high for UNHINGED that it eventually goes to print and then becomes a movie. It reads as a movie.

In case you don’t know what UNHINGED is about, it’s about a New Orleans detective chasing down a serial killer that is murdering women from his past. One twist is that they find out who the killer is rather early and the other twist is that FBI is sabotaging the investigation because they don’t want this killer to be caught.

Anyway, the plans for its release has now changed and I have to get a move on. First thing? By an ebook reader.

The Agent Search

2010-06-01T11:22:00.000-07:00

When I first started sending query letters out to literary agents years and years ago, I really didn’t know how to write them and I thought that quantity would be better than quality, so I had received many, many rejections and wasted so much postage.

These days, I still don’t believe that I write the perfect query letter, but I hand pick the agents and I customize the query to that agent after doing sufficient research. Have I landed one, yet? No. But I have received personal feedback from some of them and that can be very valuable also.

Case in point – I’ve had Pam Ahearn on my radar for some time now. I queried her early on and then years later apologized for that attempt and tried again. Ms. Ahearn has responded most recently with a letter telling what she liked and didn’t like about the first 75 pages of a detective thriller. Although it was a rejection, she gave me the inspiration to change some things that I’ve been scared to up to this point and low and behold, the book is better. The flow is better and the action is better and she will welcome a re-submit.

Building the relationship is what will get me an agent. Letting them know that I will always be around and that I am willing to work with them and change things up. I have to think that way, or I may as well quit.

Literary Speed Bumps

2010-05-22T07:05:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm still getting published in ebook format, but not print - unless my sales are awesome and they chance their mind. In the meantime, I need an agent to try to sell my books to other publishers for me and the first step in doing something positive towards that goal was taken away from me this week.

I was accepted and paid in advance to go the PEN TO PRESS RETREAT in New Orleans, my hometown, where a small group of writers would get instruction on how to pitch to agents and editors from established well known authors and at the end of the retreat, we would get to pitch to these agents face to face.

I knew this was the way to go as the "query letter" is just so - so blah and generic and "one in a million" that they receive and reject.

The CEO of Medallion Press, the publisher that is supporting my upcoming ebook is a keynote speaker, so I was going to meet her. I was going to visit family and friends and my birthday falls on the Saturday of the last day of the retreat. New Orleans, my birthday, Saturday night - are you kidding! Anticipating this trip was probably the first time I had been this excited about anything since my wedding ten years ago.

Then, it happened, but I don't want to speak about it. If you remember when Lennon was shot, it was because the shooter wanted to be famous, so it came to be that the shooter's name was never to be spoken (although everyone still knows his name). I want to treat this situation like that. The person that screwed me will never be spoken of publicly.

But, you get the drift. I was screwed over and had to cancel my plans a week before I was to leave. Compared to some, I have no right to bitch as I lead a pretty good life, but even so, everyone has to deal with disappointment and those like me, the "bright side" people, will go on and continue to smile. As for the pessimists? I can't speak for them, as I don't know how that feels.

I will find another conference to attend and as for this retreat? There's always next year!

Ebooks verses printed paperbacks

2010-04-06T10:12:00.000-07:00

Bad news?

In my journey to be published it has come to my attention that my publishing company has been making some major changes, which not all authors are happy about, but I will only speak of my situation.

My publisher is cutting out mass-market paperbacks and gearing to make a huge dent in the ebook industry. I’ll admit, I’m disappointed that my book will not be traditionally printed, but after talking with my publisher, I’m very excited about where ebooks are headed and since it is my first novel, I’m still happy to have a publisher. Whether I become a success with my publisher or not, I still believe it’s a great stepping-stone.

It was also fun to talk about new marketing strategies for ebooks and what avenues have been taken and the one that haven’t. This is my first opportunity and I’m going to make the most of it. I can’t poo-poo what I don’t know or haven’t experienced, right?

With the all of the digital reading devices out and those to come out, more and more people will accept the convenience of having all their books in one place, to take wherever they want. Each generation will view ebooks as the more widely accepted medium and print on demand technology will make it easy to get a paperback if you really wanted one.

Open Mic - part 2

2010-03-14T07:28:00.000-07:00

Besides pushing the religious envelope or being dirty or gross for a laugh, I wanted my open mic to be clever comedy, so the following was my attempt of that. Through all of this, it was hard to gauge what was really funny as most of the audience was other open mic comics and they were very supportive. Here we go...

Dental Advancements

Talk about overkill.
There’s a razor with five blades called Fusion. Five blades!

Here’s the deal with Fusion. After the fourth blade scraps away your cheek, the fifth blade gets the plaque off your teeth. Fusion has to be short for trans-fusion. Fuck that, I’ll shave over the same spot twice with my twin blade.

Speaking of teeth. The British have a reputation for horrible teeth. But that reputation can be traced back to Stonehenge. Historians think it was a calendar, but it was actually a monument to their gum line. Each stone was a rotting tooth. It was an open mouth built into the “FACE” of the earth in order to yell up to the gods, “WE NEED BETTER DENTAL CARE!”

My apologies to the British.

Open Mic Jokes - Part 1

2010-03-13T05:57:00.001-08:00

I went through the Second City program, both improv and writing and had a blast. Once a week, you're in a group that trying to be funny and make each other laugh. It's a great stress reliever. Then, afterwards, you meet up at one of the bars and drink and be funny. I would recommend this for anyone looking to have fun, or just has a fear of public speaking. And of course, during this time that I was immersed in comedy, I decided to give stand up a shot at an open mic, because I want a life with no regrets - or at least with many experiences.

This is a taste of my routine, which I will probably follow up with more. While you read this, try to imagine a comedian delivering this with that comedic enthusiasm and timing.

What if Jesus owned a present day drug store with his disciples?

They’d get paid with bread, putting a slice or two away into a 401K.

Mother Mary would be pushing the early pregnancy tests on the virgins ‘cause you just never know.

Plus, Dateline would be nosing around wondering how they sell so much wine without ever getting a delivery.

Judas would end up being fired him for stealing money from the register.

And Jesus would have a little joke every time he saw Moses coming. He would turn off the electronic doors so they wouldn’t part for him.

Thank you, folks - I'll be blogging all week.

World's Fair Adventure

2010-03-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

Someone brought up the 1984 World’s Fair in New Orleans the other day and it reminded me of a little adventure my best friend and I had. We were seventeen at the time and decided to take the bus to the fair, see if we couldn’t get drunk, and then take the bus home.

Luck was with us as we had gotten ourselves into one of the bars (actually, at that time, you didn’t need much luck to be under age and get into a bar) and got pretty lit up. When the time came to leave, we staggered to our bus stop, which drove us all the way down Elysian Fields and let us off at the campus of UNO where we thought we were getting transferred, but the bus route ended and there were no other buses running. It was midnight.

WHAT?

Those of you from New Orleans will understand this trek, but I will try to explain it fully. There was no way we were calling our folks, not that we had cell phones, so we decided to hike it. We walked from the campus of UNO along Leon C. Simon until we hit the Sea Brook bridge, which was about two miles.

Remember that we were loaded.

We came down off the bridge and got onto the levee that overlooked Hayne (Haynes) Boulevard on the right and Lake Pontchartrain on the left and walked about a mile before having to sit down and there we nodded off in the grass. I remember my friend shaking me to get up so we could keep going. Plus, this was the East, which was predominately black and a fairly high crime area, but we grew up there, so we thought nothing of it. But in the back of our minds, we knew two skinny white kids were easy targets.

The next mile my friend finds a joint that ended up in his pocket some time during the night and we thought it a good idea to light it up and smoke it in order to get rid of the evidence. Whether it helped or not, I have no idea, but we made the four miles down Hayne to my street and the two blocks up to get to my house and passed out in my room at about 3 a.m. I don't know if we woke my parents or not 'cause it was a small house, but they were cool, so it didn't matter.

I have never been so tired in all my life.

Never assume anything.

2010-03-05T10:10:00.000-08:00

To any aspiring writers out there, don’t think that if you get your first novel published that your next one will, also. I didn’t assume, but in the back of my head, I kind of expected it would. But no, my next novel was rejected and now I’m trying to land an agent on the merits of my first novel getting published, but it seems like I’m starting from square one again.

I figure that now is the time to get all the help I can, so I’ve decided to go on my first conference, or retreat, as it is called. The Pen To Press Retreat in New Orleans – www.pentopressretreat.com -. I’ve read Deborah LeBlanc and liked her stuff, being from Louisiana, too, and she’s put this together, so I get to meet her. I hear it’s intimate, one on one, and a great learning experience. Plus, you get to pitch to a few agents and editors and I’m from New Orleans, so it should be great.

Writing the synopsis and query letters are my biggest weaknesses. I have two books that I feel are ready to go and two that might need minor work, so I’m locked and loaded. If anything, this will give me experience if I need to go to ThrillerFest in New York next year to pitch to agents out there. I hear good things about that, too.

Too much of a good story

2010-02-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

Here’s another example of how the press, particularly sports journalists, can ruin a good thing.

I am from New Orleans and a life-long, die-hard Saints fan and have endured all the hardships that went along with it. This year, the magical year, was marred by the over-coverage and over-documented Katrina tragedy.

Hell, there was a drinking game made up for the Saints coverage.

Of course, the New Orleans fans love affair with the team is a feel good story along with turning to our beloved Saints while holding on to hope that New Orleans is going to return to its original state, little by little, year by year. And this year was inspirational and uplifting.

But having the rest of the world with no ties to New Orleans listen to the analysts and journalists talk about it over and over could make the most sympathetic person roll their eyes. I get it.

I can only hope that you can tune out the sportscaster and hold on to the story, because in truth, it is a good one.

What would you do?

2009-12-29T07:54:00.000-08:00

I know it has been a while since I last blogged, but things get hectic sometimes. The only update I have on my novel is that it will begin editing in June and we think its going to remain UNHINGED. It is such a slooooow process.

In the meantime, however, some friends and I were playing that “would you do this” game and came up with a few good questions. When you read these questions, don’t just answer them on the fly without giving them consideration. Think hard and imagine if the scenarios became a reality. Don’t think of these questions as a game; think about them as a psychological test in order to learn something new about yourself.

Would you accept a twenty-year journey to explore the universe in a spacecraft that wanted for nothing, except you would not be able to return home?
If you were one of the wealthiest people in the world, worth hundreds of billions of dollars, where making money was no longer a goal; what would you do then?
If you had the chance to go back in time and kill Hitler when he was a baby, knowing that butterfly effect would bring about the end of democracy in America, would you do it?
Would you rather be a great looking star athlete that dies in their forties or a smart physically challenged person that lives into their eighties?
If you accidentally killed someone, but couldn’t prove it was an accident and had the opportunity to hide the body and get away with it, would you?
If your spouse gave the okay to have sex with one celebrity and the opportunity presented itself, would you do it?
How much money would it take for you to have sex with someone you are disgusted by? If you are straight, with someone of the same sex?
While you are still young, would you want to learn all the mysteries of mankind if you were to die afterward? Or if you could live, but could never share that knowledge?
How would your life change if it was proven that there is no God?
What if at eighty years old, you lived an unsatisfactory life and had the opportunity to go back and do things differently, would you? What’s stopping you now?

I like this top ten thing. Maybe I'll do some more. Move over Letterman.

Coincidence #2 What are the friggin' odds?

2009-10-30T08:16:00.000-07:00

Is it merely a coincidence or was it destiny unfulfilled. I have no idea, but the story is great.
I was doing basic training for the Army National Guard in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. One day in the cafeteria, another soldier that was from New Orleans had his girlfriend and her friend Keri visiting and he was introducing them to everyone. I had met her briefly and that was that.

After I was back in New Orleans, I was starting my first semester at UNO and found myself on the third floor in my Spanish class. I sat next to this girl and before the teacher arrived, we began talking and found ourselves on the subject of the Army and I discovered that this was Keri, the girl that I had met that day. What are the odds that I would sit next to her?

We talked every day for about two weeks before I found out that I was sitting in the WRONG Spanish class. I should have been on the first floor and I had to leave her class. If I had sat in the right class, I would have never met her again.

I liked her and wanted to date her but she had a boyfriend. We stayed friends, meeting up at the campus bar to drink between classes. She was one of the coolest, funniest people I knew. I mean, wipe away tears funny.

A semester or two after that, my friends and I decided to go to Astro World in Houston just for the hell of it. One night we went out to a club and as I was scoping the chicks and I practically ran into Keri and her date. It turned out that her mother lived in Houston and she was visiting and we happened to run into each other. Okay, what are the odds that we would both be in Houston and go to the same bar! I’ve seen this girl in three different states at this point. Crazy.

The following Spring Break, I go to Fort Walton, Florida. Keri and I had lost touch at this point, so I had no idea what she was up to. One night, I’m running down the hallway of my hotel (I’ve been drinking) and when I turn the corner, there is Keri. Four states! Oklahoma, Louisiana, Texas and Florida. Not only were we both in Florida, we were at the same hotel! We were in disbelief. I found out that she had moved to Houston to live with her mother and even though we were both single, the timing still wasn’t right.

The very last time we saw each other, I was mobilized for the Gulf War and had to do some training in Foot Hood, Texas. I got a hold of Keri and for the five or so months that I was stationed there, we managed to get together on several weekends and when the war ended, it was all over, Keri and I were over.

At the time, I did wish it could have worked out, but long distance things usually don’t and if really was destiny, then this story would have a different ending. The final coincidence isn’t as dramatic, but we both ended up married and living in neighboring states, Illinois and Ohio. Oh, well.

Coincidence story #1

2009-10-30T07:21:00.000-07:00

I love strange, out of the ordinary coincidences.

My very first job was at the Thom McCann shoe store in the Plaza in New Orleans East. I was sixteen years old and they had me working in the warehouse. I was doing such a fine job that they allowed me to integrate myself onto the floor as a salesman and since I was especially good with kids, they gave me all of them.

I was working this girl that I developed a crush on. I’ll call her Tanya Kelly. It took me weeks to work up the courage to ask her out. She was around twenty, much older than me relatively speaking and I know I came off as a pizza-faced nervous teen, but I managed to ask her to a movie without throwing up and she turned me down and I scampered off with my tail between my legs.

Fast forward to Winn-Dixie. I must have been nineteen or twenty and my acne had cleared up and I was working out, so I had gained a little more confidence over the years. I ended up asking out the older sister of Tanya Kelly. Her name was Jessica Kelly. I believe Jessica was around 27 years old and she accepted and we did go out. Did I have a thing for older chicks? Not really, if they were cute and legal, I was interested.

On one of our dates, we stopped off at her parent’s house to get something and I had the opportunity to meet them. They were dressed up in some kind of Mardi Gras-hippie getup and were on their way to a costume party. It was a fantastic first impression.

Okay, fast forward to the following semester at the University of New Orleans. My friend and I were taking a Geology course and who was the professor? Martin Kelly, the father. I leaned over to my friend and told him that I had dated this guy’s daughter. As a joke, my friend told me to drop the class. Mr. Kelly then looked up to me and nodded and I waved back. I didn’t think he’d remember me having met just once, but he did.

I think I got a B in that class.

PS – I also working with his son at the same Winn-Dixie.

Comic Collecting led to writing

2009-10-16T08:51:00.001-07:00

I was trying to think back to when I first got interested in writing and it seems it all comes down to Marvel comic books. My best friend Pat lived around the corner from me in New Orleans East and as early as I can remember, probably around eight or nine years old, we began collecting comics back in the 1970’s.

The first thing we did was set up our collecting rules. We each chose our favorites like we were each picking for a football game. I chose Captain America first and Pat chose Daredevil. I chose Hulk and he chose Avengers and so on. Little did I know that Pat picked all of the good ones and I got the not so good ones. His prize collection? X-men. My prize comic from this entire endeavor? Hulk 181 with the first appearance of Wolverine.

So, the next obvious thing to do was to start drawing our own comics, which meant writing them, too. I must say, we both became quite good artists. I was so into it that art was my major when I went to college, eventually going into graphic design. Writing was only a hobby at this point - short stories and the attempted novel. But the comic book writing had been the fantastic part. I’d assemble of group of superheroes, male and female and give them villains to fight as well as their own personal shit they had to work through. We were sure we’d work at Marvel Comics in New York.

Comics were a major part of our lives. I remember constantly riding our bikes to the K&B to purchase our new issues. We would put our valuable comics in plastic bags with cardboard backers and then we discovered an older kid on my block that also collected. He was about five or six years older than us with long hair and a beautiful girlfriend and he became sort of a hero to us.

Over time, it was less about the stories and more about completing the collections and purchasing the valuable ones. Once Pat and I lost touch, I sold most of my comics, keeping the best ones, about 100 in all. I sometimes pull them out and relive those glory days, when caring about comics meant you had no cares in the world.

Add a little sex...

2009-10-12T12:01:00.000-07:00

This blog entry is a little blah, so I’ve decided to pepper in a little sex with it.

I’ve been trying to alternate my blogs about writing and about New Orleans. It’s getting difficult to update my journey to being published, as there is nothing going on. It’s a waiting game. My publisher has my manuscript and they will contact me when they are ready with the edits. What I have been doing is working on the follow up novel and checking my phone every so often for calls I may have missed and telling my friends that there’s nothing new to report.

SEX!

It’s been a little hard to motivate myself to write. I feel like this should be a stepping back period, but there’s the anxiety of having my next book ready. So, what do I do to motivate myself? I read a good book and when I put it down, I find myself wanting to get on the computer and start tapping away.

Seeexxxxxxx.

I just finished The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown and I have mixed reviews on it, but it did inspire me. Of course, I don’t write about that kind of subject, but I do love the historical facts, the religious aspects and, of course, the chase.

Sexy!!!!!!

So, now I’m ready to write again, but I’m pretty sure that my next few blogs will concern New Orleans or Chicago or subjects pertaining and not necessarily my writing.

S-S-S-Sex, sex, sexy sex!

Man, this is a really boring blog entry.

Sex.

Those days are gone…

2009-10-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

My Maw Maw and Paw Paw (grandparents) used to live in a double shotgun house in Gentilly (a suburb of New Orleans) and my Maw Maw’s sister lived on the other side of her. Across the street from them was her other three sisters, living next door to each other in their own double. My grandmother was one of 13 children and at any part of the day at any time of the year, you could find them sitting on their porches bullshitting.

People would walk up and people would leave, rotating to keep the conversation alive. Most would get a beer or go out for sno-balls and talk about things relevant or inconsequential. It didn’t matter.

I was a child back in the 1970’s, but going to their house meant chocolate and it meant dollar bills. It meant great home cooked New Orleans food and I remember the mellatons on the vine in their backyard.

Sometimes my Dad would take me around the corner to the barbershop where there were Penthouse and Playboys mixed in with the regular magazines. I thought I was slick in hiding them inside other mags, but later I realized that they knew. They had to have.

When I grew into my late teens, my visits were less as I had more important social issues, but one particular memory sticks in my head of bringing a girl I had just started dating to my grandmother’s house and my Aunt Myrtle offered us a couple of Miller Ponies and when I refused, saying that I was driving, she called me a sissy – right in front of the girl I was trying to impress.

I do miss those days.

Early P.O.D. Experience

2009-10-01T14:48:00.000-07:00

While I was still new to Chicago back in the mid 90’s, I found an ebook site that wanted to publish my book as a POD. At the time, I thought this was my break. Print On Demand was a growing business and was going to revolutionize the publishing industry. Finally, the rejected masses had a course of action!

My book sucked and I realize this now, but back then, I thought I had something. I had called it PARALLEL WITH MORALITY and it wasn’t edited properly and the storyline wasn’t good, but it was a book I wrote and I had high hopes.

So, I met the staff of this company as they bought space at the Book Expo America in Chicago and they were great people, my publisher. Well, I got a few copies of my book and the cover was terrible (I designed it myself on the fly, not giving myself any options) and soon after all of this, the company went under. I had to start from scratch.

I put that book aside and started another novel and this one, built on the experience of the first one, was a lot better. And this time, I had other people read and edit it and over the years of my trying to get it published, it continued to get edited and polished. Then one day an online company called Another Chapter said they wanted to publish it online to subscribers where they get one chapter a week to read. It sounded unconventional, but it was the internet where you could strike gold with the right venture. Well, after a couple of weeks, it went under. Groan.

So, I started my third book and then my fourth, still trying to publish and still editing every one of them. I tried started my own company and stopped when I realized it was too much work. A few years went by and sick of rejections, I started the publishing company again, and if you’ve read my previous blog, you know how this finally turned out. The book I printed and was trying to sell was placed into the hands of a real publisher and I got the call.

My book is being published for real.

A New Orleans - Chicago comparison

2009-09-28T08:35:00.000-07:00

About fifteen years ago, my friend and I moved to Chicago into a sublet in Lincoln Park for the first four months. There was plenty of traffic and people walking around, as there were so many shops, restaurants and bars. The young people hustling and bustling was contagious and exciting.

So, here’s how I compared New Orleans to Chicago when I first arrived:

I tried telling people hi as I saw them on the street and the reception was not so positive. I was ignored, looked at funny and even avoided. I quickly learned to stop greeting people for no reason. But, come to find out, the people here are just as friendly as New Orleans once you know them.

Driving was strange. I was flipped off for the first time in my first week and not because I was driving poorly. I just wasn’t in a rush. People that are bad drivers in New Orleans are oblivious to it and the bad drivers in Chicago do it on purpose. I do find it very irritating when people in bumper-to-bumper traffic won’t let you merge in front of them. I think it’s either a control thing or a power thing or an entitlement thing.

My accent was either charming or a source of ridicule and throw in pronunciation like “C-ment” and it was the funniest thing to them. I’ve since lost most of the accent.

Chicago is clean and New Orleans is not so clean.

Overall, I love living in Chicago or I would’ve moved back a long time ago. Every now and then, I run into a New Orleans native and the connection is instantaneous. We can spout off locations and in many cases, people we know in common. There is one girl I met in Chicago that had eleven people in common with me and we had never met. I think I’m very lucky to have had the experiences in New Orleans as well as Chicago, two of the greatest cities in America and possibly the world (I can’t say for sure until I experience them).

The Famous To-Go Cup

2009-09-24T08:27:00.000-07:00

I in NO WAY encourage drinking and driving, but I will preface the following by saying that if you are leaving a bar and have a drink in your hand, you are either going to finish it all at once or, as in New Orleans, going to grab a to-go cup and leave with it in your hand.

When I first arrived in Chicago, we had gone out to some bars in Lincoln Park and I could not get used the fact that there wasn’t a stack of plastic cups by the door. I’m not a fast drinker and I had to stand at the door of each bar and try to down my beer or throw it away. What the hell?

In New Orleans, it is perfectly normal to walk around with your alcohol and when I was in my late teens and twenties, it was also normal to drive around with your alcohol. I’m not saying the cops didn’t bust DWI drivers, but my we were never worried about having that cup of beer in our hand. If we weren’t drunk, we were fine. We even had drive through daiquiri shops (but you weren’t supposed to put your straw in it – wink wink).

In the French Quarter, it would make sense as everyone was walking, but outside of the Quarter is where you took your chances driving around. My friends and I have never been pulled over while bar hopping, but I attribute that to lax law enforcement at the time. Like I said, it was normal. A lot of times, the cops working the door would be the one’s to hand you the cup.

Yes, to an outsider, this may seem bad, but I will only speak about my own case, because we weren’t black-out alcoholics and we didn’t drive like fools. Whether you don't agree, or think I was lucky, you may be right. I probably was in some cases and I would never do, or condone this now. But I was smart and an awesome driver. No tickets, no accidents – ever. My drunk was never a sloppy drunk and at that time, in the late ‘80s and early 90’s, the New Orleans kids 18-25 years old, lived the life that they knew.

Finding a publisher does not mean finding an agent

2009-09-23T09:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I got the call from Medallion Press to publish my first novel, which will be out in two years. After I the shock wore off, I thought to contact a few of the agents that I really wanted to represent me. You know, let them know that I was making things happen. I figured if my first book does well and Medallion accepts my second book, then an agent may be in order to tweak the contract.

I was a bit disappointed to learn that they didn’t care. I told them (in not so many words) that I had done half their work for them. I was going to have a published novel and they would be able to represent the rest of them. No dice. They wanted submissions, just as any unpublished writer would have to do.

I suppose it’s good business to want to believe in the work of the author they’re representing, but I’m entitled, right? Nope. Reality had set in. I need to have a real money-maker first or interest from a major publishing house.

After a few more weeks, it sunk in that the agents are doing the smart thing. There are as many one book authors as there are music groups with one CD you’ve never heard of. The risk is still there, along with their time and effort. I don’t blame them and I’m not offended, but after more than ten years of struggling and finally getting a publisher, it’s a bit discouraging to know that the battle isn’t over and then comes the marketing and getting the word out, which I’m learning, is the actual hard part.

But by the looks of things, I won’t need an agent for a long time.

My Katrina Experience (Part Two)

2009-09-22T05:51:00.000-07:00

As soon as people were allowed back into New Orleans, I drove down to help my parents try to retrieve any items that might have been salvageable. It was extremely creepy driving into our neighborhood as it was a ghost town. There was no law and every time a vehicle came by, we had to be ready. We’ve heard terrible stories of robberies and murders from people offering help.

We looked around the house first, wearing rubber gloves and facemasks. There wasn’t much to save. Everything was lost; pictures, greeting cards, everything made in elementary school by my sister and me. It was all gone. Gutting the house was a gut wrenching experience, but I couldn’t let it show. Eventually, we had dragged everything we could to the curb. This was a requirement of Road Home buying the house.

My parents, grandmother’s, sister, her husband and child had lived in the one bedroom apartment in Baton Rouge for a while. I called constantly, getting updates on how FEMA’s assistance was coming along. A month or two into it, my parents managed to get their own apartment within the same complex and that saved their sanity for the short term.

My sister had the patience of a saint, dealing with the entire situation. She called FEMA everyday, making sure my folks wouldn’t fall through the cracks. One of my grandmothers was able to move into a FEMA trailer on her property in Slidell while my other grandmother continued to stay with my parents.

Eventually, FEMA came through with Road Home money and my parents started a new mortgage on a house in Baton Rouge and my sister also got her first home just a mile away from them. Although they are still adjusting to a new life, their new home is in a better neighborhood than the old one and the house is nicer, but it’s not the same, so they tell me. They miss their old life, as would anyone. The way I see it, Baton Rouge has gained a lot of character.

My Katrina Experience (Part One)

2009-09-21T08:19:00.000-07:00

At the time of Katrina, I was working at a print shop in Niles, Illinois, just north of Chicago. My parents, who lived in New Orleans East, pretty close to the Lower Ninth Ward, got out a day early, going to Baton Rouge with my grandmother to stay with my sister. They only took enough items for a two-day stay.

After I found out that the levees broke and they couldn’t leave Baton Rouge is when a life changing reality set in; my hometown was under water. My experience was a lot different than my parents and those who still lived in New Orleans. I had the guilt of not being with them and of my life not being turned upside down and the deep sadness of knowing that the home I grew up in was no longer.

My parents lived in the same house in New Orleans East since I was three. I moved out when I was eighteen and my grandmother moved into my old room. After I graduated from the University of New Orleans, I waited tables in the Quarter until I moved to Chicago for a job at twenty-six, about ten years before Katrina.

New Orleans East was a lower-middle class area that was mostly black, with some gangs, but overall, not the worst neighborhood to live in. There were shooting and robberies that you would hear of, but luckily, my parents were never involved in a crime statistic. After Katrina, my parent’s house, which was two blocks off Lake Pontchartrain, had about five feet of water and was totally ruined.

So, at this point, my parents and two grandmothers were staying in my sister’s cramped one bedroom apartment in Baton Rouge with her husband and child and they had no where else to go. I could only imagine the heartbreak and tension they were feeling, not knowing what their future held or what they had to go back to. They had no clothes and their medicine was all at back at the house.

The following weekend, I took off work and drove down to Baton Rouge. I don’t know why I did this to myself, but I listened to New Orleans and Mardi Gras music and I found myself crying at different moments during the thirteen hour drive. It became scary when I hit Jackson Mississippi, as every gas station off the interstate had long lines of cars waiting for gas. For a while I didn’t know if I’d have enough gas to make it, it was getting dark and there was no cell phone reception.

Along the way, I encountered many service vehicles, fire engines, and such heading down. There were campers and SUV’s with Katrina relief written on them. When I finally made it to the apartment complex, I ran up to my family and hugged them and cried, trying to tell them it would be okay, but here I was, feeling that guilt; feeling like an outsider, but this wasn’t about me, it was about my parents and my sister and the hell they were going through.

I stayed with them for few days. There was nothing for me to do but offer support. They told me I shouldn’t have come, but what could I do? I needed to be there with them, if nothing else, but to be a distraction. When I left, we hugged and cried again and I continued to cry on the way back to Chicago. The total shock of all of these events and the adjustment to a life to follow was going to take a huge toll on them. This was a long way from being over.

The "DO's" didn't work, but the "DON'Ts" did.

2009-09-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

I started with the "DOs."

When I began to submit my first novel to publishers and agents, I had no idea I was doing everything wrong. Like most first time novelists, I looked up how to submit and learned about the query letter, the synopsis and the style of double-spaced manuscripts with an inch border, headers yadda yadda. My query letters sucked. In the beginning I wasted a lot of money in postage trying to convince the publishers of my talent in my queries. All rejected.

I continued to polish the letter (and the book - always go back and edit) while working on my next book. I read more info and eventually had a query that publishers and agents wanted; a no-nonsense description and bio that was intriguing and well written. Years of rejection followed, but I did get some personal feedback, which I learned was a step forward. I let more than forty people read my book with flattering reviews, so I know I had something. I was at the point where I had three other books nearly finished and I was still trying to hock my first baby.

I became desperate enough for the "DON'Ts"

It became clear to me that I had to self publish. At first, I printed several versions and had them bound just so that I could see my novel in real novel form and thought, maybe that's what the publishers needed to see, but then I learned that publishers and agents wanted their submissions in basic manuscript form and would not even look at a printed version made to look like a real novel. Every source I looked into told me that publishers and agents would not touch a self published book or a print on demand and it would be near impossible to get it on the shelves.

So, what did I do? I created my own publishing company, bought ISBN numbers, printed the book, designed the cover and began to sell my book on the internet. I didn't like this. I had to take matters into my own hands, but soon I learned the publishing business is a lot harder than it seemed (and expensive). My new plan was to try to get a publisher interested in taking over my book (I had collected some great reviews) and as luck would have it, The Book Expo America was coming to New York.

I bought my ticket and went to the Expo with ten or so copies of my book (which looked like a real novel) and planned to convince these people in person. The first day went well, I handed out eight of my books and was told they would check it out and I should call them back. The next day (I wasn't even going to go) I spotted the Medallion booth and remembered that I had submitted to them years back and they rejected me. What the hell? I talked to the vice president and told him my story. I had not signed a contract with my own company, so the book wasn't legally anybody's property. He took the book and told me to call him in two months. And as I posted in the previous blog, three weeks later, they called me to tell me that they loved the book and wanted to publish it!

I did exactly what I wasn't supposed to and finally had success! Now, this is not meant for any inspiring writer to do the same. I truly believe this was right place, right time for me. I don't go back to the Expo on Sunday and I'm still on square one. You could conceivably ruin your chances if you follow my lead, but if anything can be taken away from this is that after you've exhausted all of your legitimate options, you need to find what works for you. If your work really has merit, maybe you need to make it stand out from the slush pile.

My Very First Blog

2009-09-18T06:52:00.000-07:00

I’m 42 years old and just signed my first publishing contract, so I guess that means I need a blog, right? It has taken over ten years of rejection, but when Medallion Press called to tell me they wanted to publish my book, I couldn’t believe it was real. That moment will forever stay in my memory. The book is called ABSINTHE and it is a detective thriller set in New Orleans. Right now, the plan is to make it a trilogy, but each book will stand on its own.

The book was written before Hurricane Katrina and has been revised to fit in the New Orleans of post-Katrina. I don't preach about the aftermath of Katrina or anyone's lack of involvement or the suffering of the residents. I just tell the story with the after-affects in the backdrop. I try not to beat the reader of the head with it, is what I'm trying to say.

I was caught off guard when my editor told me Absinthe was slotted to come out at the end of the year – 2011! I did some online checking and I guess this is pretty normal, but I’m telling you, the anticipation is going to kill me. But, it does give me plenty of time to get the other books in order and from what I understand, there is some marketing that I need to plan for.

So, this blog will document my journey into the world of publishing, my efforts to get my book into the public eye, as well as be the release valve for crazy thoughts that go through my brain - and I've been told that I am a bit crazy.

After they read Absinthe, they made add twisted, also.