Writer's Sanctuary

Coming Up on Dellani's Tea Time!

2012-02-09T20:43:00.003-05:00

Monday, February 13th at 4:00 PM Eastern (3:00 Central, 2:00 Mountain, 1:00 Pacific) my guest will be
author Jon Magee, Paradise Island, Heavenly Journey and From Barren Rocks to Living Stones.
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2012/02/13/rfk--dellanis-tea-time

Jon Magee - My youth has been very nomadic, having been in 14 schools by the time I had completed my secondary education, and by the time I reached the age of 30 was never anywhere more than 3 yrs max from birth. Reflecting back, I notice that I was at:

* Singapore in the 1950's during the Chinese riots
*Germany 1960 - 62 at the height of the cold war
*Aden (Yemen) 1966/67 during the conflict and terrorist activity at the time, and the British evacuation in 1967
* As a young adult in the early 70's, I arrived in Malta as their Prime Minister decided he did not like us British
* 1973 -75 was in Cyprus, where they had a military coup and Turish invasions in 1974.

It seems that wherever there was trouble there was one common factor ............... ME!! However, it has resulted in having plenty of material as a writer, writing about situations as they really are on the spot.

I am currently a Baptist Minister in Scotland, am married to Joan, and have 3 daughters, 2 sons, and 5 grandchildren

I have 2 published books. "Paradise Island, Heavenly Journey" tells of life in Singapore in the 1950's, but also includes the stories of local people who lived through the horrors of the occupation by the Japanese. Very topical this week, the 70th anniversary of the fall of Singapore.

"From Barren Rocks to Living Stones" tells of a Bitish teenager trying to work through the issues of living at the heart of the terrorism in the middle East of the 60's, and the British evacuation. A true story, I was that teenager.

Molly Hacker is Too Picky! Says Who?

2012-02-03T19:23:00.001-05:00

I hope you'll join me in applauding Lisette Brodey as she presents Molly Hacker is Too Picky. I can't wait to read Molly's latest escapades!

At thirty-two, newspaper reporter Molly Hacker vows to never attend another wedding until she has had her own. And that’s a problem because Molly’s younger sister, Hannah, is going to be married in one year. Armed with snark, wit, and fabulous good looks, “Picky Molly” embarks on a quest to find Mr. Right in her hometown.
Things get complicated fast. In no time at all, Molly has four “men of interest” and the memories of a lost love to send her overanalytic, befuddled mind into serious overdrive. Determined not to let her “helpful” girlfriends help her right out of another relationship, Molly tries to keep mum on the state of her love life. Her BFF male coworker, Randy, becomes her closest confidant as he stumbles over romantic issues with his new Mr. Right, Kyle. Meanwhile, Molly’s BFF gal pals aren’t too happy about being left out of the loop.
Tweaking Molly’s last nerve is the town’s most visible socialite, Naomi Hall-Benchley, who, for self-serving reasons, is hell-bent on setting up “Picky Molly Hacker” and she doesn’t care who she has to manipulate or hurt to do it. Just how far will she go?
“Molly Hacker Is Too Picky!” takes the reader on a yearlong romp through Molly’s mind and a joyride through her life. Her dating life, town secrets, a group of quirky, crazy characters, and Naomi’s machinations collide head-on at a holiday gala that will change the social landscape of Swansea forever. As the New Year rolls in, Molly gets earth-shattering news. Can she go on? Will life ever return to abnormal again?

Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! (as well as my first two novels, Crooked Moon & Squalor, New Mexico) can be found here on Amazon in both editions: http://amzn.to/pcIexE

E-book editions of all of my novels can also be found on Barnes & Noble (BN.com), KoboBooks.com, Apple, and all major e-tailers.

For those of you who don't know, for most of 2011, I blogged as Molly at www.mollyhacker.com. And, if you'd like to see Molly rap about her crazy life, here's the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIGYIsSQ4Zo

Stairway to the Bottom - Michael Haskins

2012-01-29T06:00:00.001-05:00

Chapter One

If I hadn’t gone to watch the comedy showcase at the Key West Fringe Theater, I wouldn’t have silenced my cell phone. If I hadn’t silenced my cell, I would have answered Dick Walsh’s first call at 1:10 A.M., and then things might not have gone so badly. If is a damn big word for only having two letters.

I unplugged the cell from its charger in the morning and the lighted screen reminded me it was on silent mode and that I had five messages.

Each of Dick’s messages was more frantic and pleading than the last. He needed help, but didn’t say for what. By the third message, he was cussing but still wanted me to call and that was at 3:15. He didn’t sound drunk, like most three in the morning callers do, he sounded scared.

The fifth and final message came at 5:36. He had calmed down, asked me to come by his house as soon as possible and gave me the address. His composed voice assured me I would understand the problem after I arrived and he would be in touch later.

“Mick, I need you to believe me, it isn’t what it looks like. Please help me,” his message ended with a quiet plea.

I dressed quickly in last night’s clothing and swallowed cold water from a bottle out of the cooler. Before I got into my Jeep and drove to Dick’s house on Von Phister Street, I called his cell but it went to voice mail and I left a message. We were playing phone tag.

Von Phister is a narrow, tree-lined street in a quiet neighborhood of old and new houses. Dick’s was an old two-story house with a large gumbo-limbo tree in front and two more in back. He actually had a decent-size backyard, something that is at a premium in Key West.

The house was dark. It was almost six-thirty, about an hour since his last call. The sky was a light gray with a reddish-purple sunrise pushing the dawn westward. Only a large yellow tomcat crossed my path on the empty street.

I parked in front and noticed Dick’s scooter was gone. I went up the steps to the wraparound porch, rang the bell, and then knocked. Nothing. I looked into the living room window. Nothing. I knocked again and when no one answered, I tried the door. It was unlocked so I went in.

The stench that greeted me in the hallway was familiar. The smell of death was strong and that told me somewhere in the house, death was very recent. Death, if left alone long enough cloaks all other odors, especially in the tropics – violent death even more so.

I called Dick’s name but no one answered. I walked into the living room and it looked lived in – a big screen TV, stereo with CDs stacked next to it, a sectional sofa set. A hallway led to a kitchen, small dining room, and bathroom. The stairway on the right went upstairs to the bedrooms.

Dick used the dining room as his office – medium-sized desk that was too big for the room, a computer, a printer, and a two-drawer file. I walked through into the kitchen. There was a table for two off to the side, dirty dishes in the sink and a woman’s body on the floor.

She lay face down and a large part of her head was gone. Pieces of shattered skull, along with parts of her brain and blood, tarnished the otherwise clean kitchen wall.

Blood and human waste soaked the tile floor and stained her clothing.

The stench of death filled the kitchen. I didn’t bother looking for a pulse.

An automatic with a silencer attached lay on the floor, her arm stretched out toward it as if reaching for the gun that had a small stream of brownish blood curled up next to it.

I ran upstairs to check the two bedrooms, calling Dick’s name. Both rooms were neat and the beds made. Nothing broken or seemingly out of place. Dick’s closet looked full with only a couple of empty hangers in the mix. The guestroom closet was empty.

Dick shot this woman, I thought as I looked down at her body. Whose gun was it on the floor? I didn’t touch anything, though I wanted to. My curiosity was getting the best of me.

I’m Liam Murphy, a semi-retired journalist and fulltime sail bum, some say. Key West has been my home for almost eighteen years. Before that, I lived in Southern California and reported on Central American civil wars and when they ended I covered the drug wars for a weekly newsmagazine so a dead body wasn’t something that frightened me it intrigued me.

In Key West, I’ve made friends with all kinds of characters, including the chief of police, Richard Dowley. We have a two-sided relationship. One side is Richard the cop, the other is Richard the friend. He considers me a friend but always thinks of me as a journalist. He says I only have one side. I called him on my cell, sure of catching him at home, and knew I’d be talking to his cop side.

I told him where I was and what I’d found.

“What are you doing at that nut’s house?” I could hear him banging around in the kitchen.

When I explained about the messages and Dick’s plea, he sighed loudly enough for me to hear on the phone.

“Don’t touch anything and I’ll call it in,” he said. “Best thing is go outside and wait for the first unit, and I’ll make it there too.”

“Okay, Richard, but tell the ambulance it doesn’t have to hurry,” I said and he hung up without replying.

Outside, I sat and waited, thinking of Dick’s last message telling me it wasn’t what it looked like. It looked like murder.

Madness & Murder - Jenny Hilborne

2012-01-22T06:00:00.021-05:00

Jenny Hilborne has worked in a variety of fields, including the retail music industry, residential real estate, commercial real estate and finance. She is the second of four daughters, born and raised in Wiltshire, South West England, and relocated to Southern California in 1997. Jenny is a member of Sisters in Crime, San Diego chapter.

Madness and Murder is her first novel, set in San Francisco. Her second suspense novel, No Alibi, is also set in San Francisco, featuring homicide inspector, John Doucette; an experienced inspector plagued by personal betrayal. Jenny is working on her third and fourth mysteries; the fourth being a break from the norm and set in England.

On the rare occasions Jenny is not writing or working, she catches up with family and friends and enjoys reading, travel, and a good movie – usually a mystery.

With the body count at five, and the blade marks left on the latest victim determined to be have been made by an eight-inch blade, Mac Jackson had little doubt in his mind that they had all died at the hands of the same killer. Another serial killer on the streets of San Francisco, but this one left no cryptic clues or taunting letters, made no demands to the police or the general public. He didn't appear to want attention or recognition. Jackson suspected he had a particular grudge, or some type of personal vendetta, only he hadn't been able to figure out what.

Exhausted from working through the night–even with a little extra civilian help to which he'd consented–he rubbed at his eyes, and took a slurp of coffee that had already turned cold. He'd been making notes and sifting through the scant evidence left behind since the young woman's body had been found by a lonesome jogger, during the early hours of Tuesday morning. What the hell is your motive? He set the mug down, sighed, and looked at the photo of the deceased. If he'd been called to the scene half an hour sooner, he might have been able to ask the killer that question. Her body had still been warm.

"She was just a kid," he said to Red. "Twenty-four. Only two years older than Bryce."

Red shook his head, no more enlightened than Jackson. "I know. There's no pattern. He butchers men, women, old, young, but never rapes them or robs them. What's the motive? What the hell does this bastard want?"

"I wish I knew," Jackson said, grimacing at another mouthful of cold coffee, "but one thing's becoming clear; he's getting careless or cocky. Thirty minutes sooner and we'd have had him."

"Doubt it. That was deliberate, Jackson. The bastard knows what he's doing. He doesn't want to get caught until he's ready."

"Well, so far he doesn't have to worry about that. We've got extra cops patrolling the streets, and he still manages to leave us a warm, dead body and no witnesses. There's something we're missing." He pressed his hands and finger-tips together, hooked his thumbs under his weary chin, and closed his eyes, trying to get inside a killer's head.

"This is his arena, man, his stage," Red said. "He's killing right under our noses like there's not a damn thing we can do about it. And the warm body?…he's performing. That's arrogance."

"Or anger." Jackson opened his eyes. "Or maybe he's bored."

"He's not bored," Red said, shaking his head. He strode around his desk to sit on the front edge of it, facing Jackson. "He thinks he's superior. He stays one step ahead, but barely, he leaves virtually no clues, and he seems to murder at random."

"And always in a busy location." Jackson drummed his long fingers impatiently on his desk. "Why do you think he makes no effort to conceal the bodies?"

"He wants them to be found. He wants us to know he's killed again, and we've failed again."

"Failed?"

"To protect the city. To do our jobs. He's not just satisfying some sick thrill, you know, he's making fools of all of us, of law enforcement."

"So, maybe that's his message. There's a reason for the killings, I'm sure of that, but the real anger is against the law. And he wants us to figure out why."

"I'm going out on a limb here," Red said. "Call it one of your hunches, but I'd say he's never done time. He's not going to be in the database."

"What makes you say that?" Jackson looked at his partner with interest.

"Something tells me he hasn't reached his zenith. He's leading up to something, and until we figure out what it is, he's not going to get caught. He wants to get caught, but not just yet, not until he's ready. And another thing…I don't believe he kills at random. He picks his victims."

Jackson nodded, thinking, pinched the bridge of his nose while he contemplated. Finally he looked back at Red, still perched on the edge of his desk and looking as beat as Jackson felt.

"You know," he began, "I can't stop thinking about the tongue. He'd already slit her throat, so she'd have been dead already, bled out, so why cut it out? And why didn't we find it?"

A thorough search of the area where the body had been found had not turned up the missing muscle.

"I'd say she pissed him off," Red suggested. "Maybe she said something he didn't like."

"You think he knew her?"

Red shrugged. "Maybe, probably not. But I'd say he'd been in close proximity the night he killed her, maybe listening to her conversation."

Jackson picked up the report on his desk and reread the notes about the young woman's last night. "She'd been out with friends," he read aloud, "celebrating a promotion, according to her friends." He searched Red's face. "They work in finance."

"Jealousy?" Red suggested.

"Possible. Except her friends state they were all doing well."

"Yeah, well maybe one of them thought she wasn't deserving, thought she got promoted out of turn. She was considerably younger. They were in their forties. Hell, I'd probably be pissed if I got overtaken by a kid in her twenties."

"But if they're all hot shots, I'd say it's unlikely," Jackson said. "Anyway, they all checked out. They all left together, without her, and went straight home. She'd had too much to drink, apparently wanted to walk it off."

"Some friends."

Jackson shrugged. "It happens. None of the other diners remember anyone suspicious. Nothing we could use."

"What about credit cards?"

Jackson shook his head. "Slow night, only a few transactions and they checked out."

"So he paid cash."

"Maybe. No one remembers a lone diner. No one paid her group any attention."

"Well, someone did." Red pursed his lips, removed his legs from the desk, and walked round to the other side to sit down. "If the guy was there, he looked like a regular. He fitted in. No one noticed him."

"And a regular guy can fly under the radar, mingle easily. That's how he does it." Jackson slapped a hand down on his desk. "We're looking for someone who fits into society. Someone with a job, maybe even a few friends. On the one hand he kills, has an aversion to the law, but he also lives a part of his life normally, like everyone else."

"Could have been someone she worked with. One of the group. Or a schizophrenic."

"Not a schizophrenic. I don't believe there's any distortion of reality for this guy. I believe he knows exactly what he's doing."

Red nodded. "You're right about him being local."

Jackson pulled up a fresh sheet in his notepad and began to scribble. "Here's what we've got," he said to Red, "I think he's a white male, probably late twenties to early thirties, strong, agile, social to an extent but really a loner."

"Family?"

"Little or none."

"Think he killed 'em?"

"His family? No. If he's local we'd have gotten something on that. He's from this area, so they're either dead already, or they've moved away."

"Why d'you think that?"

"Hunch. Plus, he can go about his business more easily with no one keeping tabs on his hours, his comings and goings. My gut tells me this guy is a loner, not one of her group."

"Good enough for me." Red yawned behind his hand, and rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and stretched in his seat. "I'm beat." He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk. "Still think it's a thrill killer?"

Jackson sighed. "I don't know. Yes…and no. There's an underlying motive, but he's a sadistic bastard. He enjoys the violence."

"The tongue?"

"That, the genitals, and the fact he mutilates them after they're dead. The two back in ninety-five…I believe it's the same guy." He locked eyes with Red, saw his furrowed brow, and could almost hear the cogs turning in his partners head. "What is it?"

"The fact her body was still warm."

"What about it?"

Red unlaced his fingers, removed his feet from his desk, and leaned forward in his seat, his face taut with concentration. "The jogger found her at four-thirty, Tuesday morning."

"Right." Jackson watched his expression with interest.

"If he'd been inside the restaurant and followed her out, killing her on her way home, her body would have been cold by the time the jogger found her. We know the jogger didn't do it because he'd only left the house ten minutes earlier, confirmed by his wife, and he had no blood on his clothes."

"Ok." They'd been through this already, but Jackson didn't mind going over it again. Maybe they'd missed something the first time.

"We know she'd been dead for only about thirty minutes, so, if time of death was four in the morning, we've got six hours to account for from the time she left the restaurant to when she died."

"Well, we know she went for a walk, she was drunk, and she was alone. Maybe she fell asleep somewhere, and maybe he didn't follow her. He might not have been in the bar at all; no one remembers a lone guy, so maybe it was purely random and he stumbled upon her sleeping it off."

"It's possible," Red said, "but it doesn't fit with the tongue. That kind of violence had to be provoked. It wasn't random. She said something to piss him off. He was in that bar, and he followed her out. Know what I think?" He didn't wait to be asked. "I think he tortured her for a while."

Jackson sighed. "No marks on her body to suggest it, no ligature on her wrists or feet."

"Mental torture. I think she felt comfortable with him, trusted him. She went with him willingly."

"She was drunk," Jackson reminded him, a headache beginning to kick around at the back of his eyeballs. "She wouldn't have had the same fear she might have had sober."

"That's true, too, but…if he was mad enough to hack off her tongue, he wouldn't waste six hours idly chatting. Somehow, he gained her trust before he killed her, and he took six hours to do it. There's a reason for that, and I want to know what it is."

Jackson scratched his head. "We've been over this. I don't know."

"Jackson," Red shot him a dry look, "you're the master of hunches, and maybe it's rubbing off. My hunch: he's testing himself."

"Red." Jackson stared at him in astonishment, his headache suddenly vanishing. "That's it. You're brilliant." He punched the air.

"What did I do?" Red stared back in surprise.

"You hit the nail on the head, that's what you did." Jackson smacked his hands together triumphantly. "He is testing himself, not us." He laughed out loud. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"See what?"

Jackson grinned at Red's puzzled expression. "You see how the murders have been escalating? Both in frequency and violence?" He didn't wait for Red to comment. "I figured he's been working his way up to something." He pulled open the file on his desk with the old notes from the earlier murders. "The ones in ninety-five…those were homeless, nobodies…their bodies could drift about for days, months, and no one would miss them. He was warming up, getting a taste for murder. He didn't care if anyone found them."

"And these latest ones?"

"These victims have families. He knew they'd be missed. He wanted them to be found. He wanted to know he could walk into a crowded area, somewhere like the Embarcadero, choose a victim, and kill them without getting caught, and then watch how the case unraveled. See what he could learn from the moves made by police."

"If we don't believe the victims were chosen at random," Red said, Jackson's sudden enthusiasm rubbing off on him, "then there's a common link, something that makes him snap, something that ties them all together."

"Yes." Jackson smacked his desk again. "We need to find that link." He grinned across at Red. "We're finally making progress."

Red seemed to be on a roll. "And if the victims were chosen by something they said or did, he upped the stakes each time, increased the violence, let us get closer. He tested himself to see how far he could go before we start closing in."

"And that tells me something else. Red, when he abducts his final victim, he's going to do it in a public place. He's been training for it, building up to it. He's going to try to snatch him or her from right under our noses."

"Think he's following the reports on the news?"

"I don't doubt it. The vicious bastard has enjoyed destroying those families."

"That's it." Red leapt from his chair, wide-eyed and without a trace of exhaustion.

"What?" Startled, Jackson stared at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Jackson, you're fucking brilliant." Red grinned.

"Piss off, Dennis."

"Don't you get it?" Red flicked a paperclip that hit Jackson on the nose. "You just figured out the motive."

Running with Chaos - Elicia Clegg

2012-01-20T20:38:00.002-05:00

Elicia Clegg, who was born in the small town of Spanish Fork Utah, affectionately known as happy-valley, moved, at age four, to Ogden Utah; a town riddled with a dark past of opium dens, brothels, and business with underground tunnels constructed for criminals’ and prostitutes to escape police raids. Not only was Elicia’s environment surrounded in historical intrigue her family has long whispered about a Curse as many have died in strange events. To name but a few: her grandfather was thrown off a building in New York City, her great-grandfather “fell” off the historic Radisson in Ogden, her father was shot in the head, her brother died in a work explosion, her great-uncle had a truck load of lumber crush him to death, her maternal great-grandfather was hit by car and died, a cousin who served two tours in Vietnam died on route home from his heart bursting, her maternal great-great-grandfather disappeared without a trace, and her grandmother, while volunteering, was stabbed to death at the State Mental Health Institute.

It is no wonder she grew up with an over active imagination and soon released her first psychologically-thrilling suspense novel Vexation in March 2010, which has been followed up by three more titles. Find out more information by visiting her website: EliciaClegg.com

Excerpt from Running with Chaos:

The organic reality of the situation was grim. Sam was back more than three years. The concept of times colliding made her head spin and gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach which gurgled and clenched in pain. She popped her neck and spun around to find another campsite. Anyone at all would be better than a family she should not meet for another three years. She was an unruffled individual, taking all this in stride, yet deep inside she felt herself slipping up a bit. She rationalized a great need to contact someone soon, get some kind of help, and learn the truth of the situation.

She was however, at a loss, she did not know whom she should contact. Her eyes shifted up and to the left as she turned and spied a different group of people in another camping site. The campgrounds as a whole had many different and very private campsites blocked by large trees sprouting out from the ground, creating circles and natural enclosures. It was secure enough to get help without Erin seeing or hearing, thus keeping their meeting safely intact for the future.

She approached cautiously, eager for help. “Hi, hey, my friends played a cruel joke on me; do you care if I borrow your cell so I can call my mom?” She asked in the nicest of tones.

“Are you sure it was your friend’s darling?” One woman said as another man stood up and threw his phone at her saying, “Sure thing kid.”

Sam smiled, wanting to keep up the ruse she replied, “Not after today, and thank you sir, I appreciate it, I am going to call my mom real quick.”

She caught the cellphone with her left hand while she moved to the right. She blinked; her eyes had caught hold of Erin’s in the distance. Sam turned her head, not wanting to cause any more rifts; she could not have Erin recognize her in three years from now. She opened the cellphone to dial the first number coming to mind; which was Chaos’s. She cursed at herself, though he wasn’t her least favorite person, he surely wasn’t her favorite. She went to press the buttons. Frustration rose up; the phone must have not been one she had seen before because there were no buttons.

“Umm, how do I dial out?”

“You okay honey?”

“Yes I’m fine.”

“You dial like any other phone.” The lady said as the others slightly laughed.

She felt herself cracking more on the inside, crying was not far off. She looked up at them, perplexed by the phone when she noticed they were all slowly beginning to fade from sight. Isolation surrounded her; everything in sight was fading away. Everything was becoming more and more blurry, all evaporating right before her. Her brain began to ruminate, the gears kicking in, and all at once she knew it wasn’t they who were fading into the backdrop of nothingness, it was her who would soon be no more. She dropped the phone, her hands disappearing more rapidly; her world began to go black.

She went to let out a scream, but could not as her mouth began filling and became inundated with pond water. Her eyes jutted open, tiny bubbles of air surrounded her. Her hair flowed softly in front of her and fanned out like a wave of ocean mist colliding with the rocks. She flailed her arms, kicking with all her might as she burst out of the water, gasping and coughing for air. It wasn’t the same kind of confusion as before, yet she was shaken all the same. She was right back where she had begun. She quickly twisted her body, kicking herself around until she could see the old rope swing. She gazed, her eyes squinting to block the sun, seeing the same boy who had jumped before was in the water, and was occupied with another friend, they were cheering on yet another boy who stood shakily on the top platform. She took a moment, her mind took a step back; she smiled at herself, the wisdom coming slowly, the puzzle pieces coming together.

“It would seem dear Sam time has moved forward, but you have not, wonderful.” She said to fish which swam in and around her, she gazed longingly at each of them, they would never have to put up with something like this.

Deadly Traffic by Mickey Hoffman

2012-01-15T13:19:00.000-05:00

Deadly Traffic by Mickey Hoffman - excerpt from Chapter 2

Sandi found Win leaning on the bar counter, waiting for her when she came out of the Ladies’ room. A greenish glow from the wine bottles above the bar accented the planes of his handsome face. The young bartender smiled as she returned his change. A hostess led a party of three toward a table along the wall. He frowned at the receipt in his hand and stored it in his wallet. She couldn’t see him turning it in to his boss; since when did petty criminals ask for meal allowances? More likely, it would be kept to demonstrate how well he treated her, right after he told her she didn’t deserve dinner at such an expensive restaurant.

He plucked a toothpick from a shot glass near the cash register and used it like a wand to direct her toward the door. Sandi winced as a punishing blast of hot air struck her face, giving a longing look back at the cool interior of the restaurant. Win slid a stiffened palm to the small of her back to make sure they stayed hip to hip as he chose a pace that suited his long legs.

As they walked, Sandi kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, on a distant point that existed only in her mind, so she could pretend not to see the shock on people’s faces when their eyes landed on her, the ungainly girl at his side. He, as usual, basked in the attention he drew from passersby. Impervious to the heat, he wore all black, chosen, she knew, to complement his hair and highlight the three diamond studs that sparkled in his left ear. A manicurist, outside for a smoke, paused mid-puff and stared in admiration, as if Sandi’s companion had stepped straight off the glossy cover of one of the People magazines in her salon. Sandi wished she could hold that fantasy cover in her hands and shred him to bits, starting with his complacent smile. Why didn’t anyone ever see him for what he really was?

Of course, Win got a kick out of seeing her humiliation. The way he played up his resemblance to Bruce Lee only served to accentuate her inadequacies—skinny legs with thick ankles, a sway back, and pudgy cheeks that refused to go away no matter how much weight she lost. The only thing that marred his perfection was a gold tooth that showed when he smiled. But women didn’t consider it a flaw, they liked it, said it gave him character.

Sandi tracked away, pretending she wanted to avoid a bike rack, but he steered her back to his side as they joined a group waiting for a traffic light at a busy intersection. On the far corner, a steady stream of customers went in and out of the Arbor City Gourmet Deli. A wiry blond man stepped toward the curb, sipping at a large coffee. He barely caught her attention until she saw him retrieve a dog from where he’d tied it to a street sign. In a flash of recognition, she quickly sidestepped into the recessed doorway of a clothes boutique.

“Where do you think you’re going?” barked Win in Burmese, catching up to her in two strides.

“Hah! Not really ‘all American’ yet, are you?” she replied in English. She pressed her nose to the glass, feigning interest in the merchandise. She needed to do something to gain more time. Playing to his vanity, she said, “Look here, these leather jeans would look good on you.” As he checked out the jeans, she chanced a look down the block, starting to breathe again when she saw that her “uncle” hadn’t seen her. He was leading his dog in the opposite direction.

Win opened the shop door, but stepped away as a red-haired woman came out. She brazenly brushed against him, the filmy cloth of her skirt teasing at his leg, then looked over her shoulder to throw him a suggestive look before proceeding into the adjacent shoe store. Sandi hoped he’d follow the woman, but he didn’t respond to the lure. Instead, he was staring at the wall clock inside the boutique.

“Let’s go in and you can try the pants on,” Sandi suggested.

She had a moment of hope while he appeared to consider it, but he frowned and said, “Not now, I have to get you back.”

He took her arm in a firm grip and set a fast pace back toward where they’d parked. She saw with dismay that in spite of her dawdling, they were in danger of catching up to the demon now only a block ahead and paused in front of an art gallery, sipping his coffee while his dog sniffed around an outdoor sculpture.

Sandi prayed for a distraction and for once the gods listened. From across the street, at a table set under the awning of an outdoor café, a triad of raucous coeds noticed Win and began to wave. How she loathed those women. They embodied everything she hoped to be when she reached their age, but would never become. She envied their carefree laughter, hated them for their self-assurance, but silently thanked them for being flirty. She felt the grip on her arm relax.

“Hey there!” Win called out to the women, moving slowly toward them while framing them in the camera of his cell phone.

Sandi dropped back a few paces and eyed the alley up ahead, on the near side of the parking lot where they were headed. It had to be now or she’d lose her chance. The alley was a dimly lit canyon where she felt she could lose him, especially if he didn’t immediately figure out where she’d gone.

A few more steps to increase the distance between them…good, now he would lose sight of her as soon as she ran between the tall buildings. She curled her toes so her sandals wouldn’t flop off and darted to the right. Suddenly, a bicyclist rounded the corner and swerved in front of her. She shrieked reflexively, losing the advantage of surprise, but she kept going. She heard his boots hit the pavement as he ran hard after her, shouting her name. She pushed down her fear and kept moving, into the alley and toward her goal, the little park beyond where she planned to disappear among the throngs of people gathered for a 10K charity run. She ran not for charity, only for her life.

She lost one shoe, heard him closing the distance. She spotted a line of dumpsters and flung herself into the darkness behind, landing hard. She inched backward, feeling the way with her hands. Then the ground beneath her tilted and she slid backwards until she hit a wall. Upended wooden pallets ringed her like a three-sided cage. Her pursuer let out a yelp of pain and his footsteps halted. Was he hurt? If she ran again, would he be able to chase her? Her answer came quickly.

“Don’t move! You’ve got two choices, you can let me get you out of there before the rest of those things fall and crush you, or you can wait and leave in a body bag.”

She froze, sprawled on the broken planks, skirt rucked up, legs askew. She felt a sharp, hot wetness on the palm of her hand and she licked at the blood. There wasn’t enough to really taste, not like when she cut herself. Her ankle was twisted, the sole of her remaining sandal caught in a crevice between two pallets. She slid a hand down to free her foot and found her wristband; it must have unsnapped during the slide.

“Why…are you…running from me?” Win labored to catch his breath.

“You brought me to downtown to hand me over to him, didn’t you!”

“Who’s him? What’s wrong with you?”

Sandi wanted to scream back, “What’s wrong with you?” but she already knew the answer. She sat there in despair, relishing the pain of the wooden splinters in her skin as penance for her own stupidity.

He leaned in, stretching a hand toward her. She recoiled and, in spite of the shadows, pulled down her skirt to conceal the pattern of partially healed bruises on her thighs. When she felt the touch of his fingers on her foot, she threw her wristband at him. He swore at her as it bounced against his head, but managed to grab on to her ankle and reeled her in. She made a last attempt to shake loose, but his arms clamped around her so tightly she could hardly breathe. She’d lost.

“You won’t run off again?” he asked, but it really wasn’t a question.

“Not so you’ll catch me,” she said under her breath.

From a near distance came a muffled cry.

“Someone’s coming,” said Win. “Keep quiet or I’ll make sure you can’t scream.” With a new urgency, he half-carried her through the alley emerging a mere block from the park that no longer was her refuge. Somewhere along the way she lost her other shoe. Eyes cast to the pavement, she numbly let him walk her back to the parking lot.

“You’re bleeding. I think there’s tissue in the car.”

Sandi wanted to believe the concern in his voice but she no longer trusted anyone. For that, maybe she should blame herself. She was angry, but also ashamed, and she couldn’t tell him or ask for help. Not anymore.

When they reached the car, he pushed her into the passenger seat, then got in the driver’s side and reached over to fasten her seat belt. Sure, she thought, don’t damage the valuable cargo. Why doesn’t he just throw me into the trunk like he does with the others and be done with it? Or do the other girls just go along with him?

Win found a package of Kleenex under the seat, took one out and put it in her lap. She picked it up and bunched it in her fist, wondering what he’d do if she rubbed the blood from her wound all over his handsome face.

“We’ll talk when you calm down. I don’t have to tie you up, do I?” he asked in a tone indicating it was an option.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” she spat. “Then you can charge extra for delivering me.”

“You’re sick. I’m taking you home. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He turned the key in the ignition.

She gave him a look of scorn. “You never did, brother.”

Deadly Traffic - Review

Kendra DeSola is back and ready for action! Sort of. After the previous year's debacle at Standard High (School of Lies) she's taken time off from her teaching job. Complications with eye surgery have isolated her even more. Needing an income, she starts a dog walking business.

Enter Roger Rhus. Slick, handsome, charming and rich, Roger seems like the perfect client. Impressed with Kendra, he hires her to walk his Labrador, Jackson.

Kendra has gone so far as to move and change her number to get away from her stalking ex-boyfriend, Brian. Her new house isn't in the best neighborhood, but she likes it well enough until someone puts a rock through her backdoor. Rushing out to investigate, she literally runs into her new neighbor, Win Ni. Also handsome and charming, Kendra finds herself attracted to a much younger man.

These two chance meetings lure Kendra into another mystery. The accidental discovery of a dead body once more puts her at odds with her police detective adversaries, Detectives Howard and Tapia. And as before, Standard High plays a role in the complex action.

Kendra DeSola is curious to a fault. Scrupulous and trustworthy, she always seems to be getting herself into dangerous situations. Her distrust of the police keeps her from going to the authorities with what she's learned.

Maretta Edwards, Kendra's closest friend, joins her for some of her investigative jaunts. Though she says she hates to be involved, she's right there in the thick of things.

Deadly Traffic is an exciting sequel to School of Lies. Hoffman's characters are engaging, their actions skillfully pulling the reader into the suspenseful plot. I highly recommend Deadly Traffic to anyone who loves a great mystery. Five Golden Acorns.

Excerpt from "Shakazhan" Book Two of the "Lone Wolf" series

2012-01-08T06:00:00.003-05:00

I'm currently editing Shakazhan the second book in my sci-fi series. It's a big job, bigger than Lone Wolf in some ways, but at least this time around I have some help and I know more what I'm doing. My daughter read the entire book and made a lot of really helpful notes. With those in mind, I'm attacking the manuscript with renewed vigor and an added perspective. It's still a long haul, but it doesn't feel quite so daunting as editing Lone Wolf did.

Anyway, during my latest session, I came across one of my favorite scenes. Those of you who have read Lone Wolf know who Emmelia Spenser and Ben Drexel are. For those of you who haven't, a brief recap. Chairman Emmelia Spenser is head of the Galactic Mining Guild. Because of the actions of John Riley, the Commandant of the Mining Guild, her life is in danger. Benjamin Drexel is sent to protect her. In the brief time they're together, they fall in love.

Ben leaves when duty calls, as it always will for a captain of the Galactic Marines, and Emmelia is left with her memories. However, three years later, he's able to contact her. Below is the scene where her best friend, a sentient praying mantis named Sslyvenia, finds her as Emmelia listens to Ben's message.

Ssylvenia walked into Emmelia Spenser's office on Aolani, wondering why her friend sat in the dark. Instead of turning on a light, her superior eyesight saved her from a few painful bumps on furniture concealed by shadows.

"Emme," she chittered. Her translator's toneless metallic voice couldn't convey the deep concern of the speaker. "Emme, it's not like you to sit here in the dark like this. Let me turn on the light for you."

"No, Sissy, I want to be in the dark. I keep hoping that it will get easier if I sit here awhile."

"Why, whatever is wrong, Emme? I've never seen you like this!"

Emme's hand fumbled over the console, hitting a coded sequence. "This just came from Chairman Aisulov's office. He said he was asked to send this to me today." She choked back a sob.

The Tri-D image flickered and then solidified before her. Ben's handsome face, with his piercing dark eyes, smiled at her in a way that melted her soul. Reaching out a hand, he touched what would have been the screen of his Tri-D recorder, holding his fingers for her to touch.

"Hello, Emme, it's been far too long." He sighed, turning away from her, his strongly chiseled profile highlighted by the console light. "A lot has happened between Aolani and here. I guess you're wondering where here is. I'm sitting in a sentient ship orbiting Shakazhan. We're about to go explore its surface. Pretty unbelievable, huh?"

He laughed sardonically, hanging his head a little, then glancing up at her, his chin down. Did she imagine a tear in his eye?

"I miss you, Emme. By God, you're the most amazing woman I've ever met. I can feel your skin, satin smooth. I can taste you. It's kind of funny, you know? An old soldier like me, so toughened by combat, and I'd give up everything I have in this life, to be back there with you right now.

"Emme, every man knows he might not come back from a battle. There are no guarantees, but I make this promise to you before God, if I live through this, I'm leaving the Marines, and I'm coming back for you. If you've found a better man than me, I'll understand. It's not like I've been there for you."

Squaring his shoulders, he looked full into the Tri-D, his dark eyes bottomless, like swirling black holes, drawing her inexorably forward. His familiar smile flashed across his face.

"I love you, Chairman Emmelia Spenser. Keep the Dracos Ale warm for me, because I will come back for you." He touched the screen. This time, her hand rose of its own accord, touching the air in front of her. Tears washed away her carefully applied makeup, dark rivulets of mascara cascading onto her desk.

"Oh, Sissy, why did I ever let him go? He's got to come back. There is no better man." Sobbing hysterically, the usually composed Chairman Spenser became for that short time, the frightened and insecure Emme who had always been too tall, too full breasted, too bright and too self possessed for any man to love her.

The Tri-D flickered off, leaving them in complete darkness. Sissy couldn't cry, but she could feel sorrow and compassion for her friend. Putting her spindly, brittle arms around Emme, she held her gently to her shiny, armored body, crooning softly as if she sang to a child. Gradually Emme's sobs ceased and she slowly pulled herself together.

How like Ben to remember that today was the anniversary of their first meeting, the first time they'd made love. That had changed them both, somehow. She knew in her heart, she'd never be the same Emmelia Spenser, but that was alright.

This Monday on Dellani's Tea Time

2012-01-05T15:55:00.000-05:00

Join Christina and me as we speak to Ralph Gallagher, Jo Ramsey and Kira Harp as they discuss their joint project Life Skills. We will also talk about Kira Harp's stories, Intervention and The Benefit of Ductwork.

Helping Hands was the brainchild of Featherweight editor Ralph Gallagher, who saw a need for stories that would support and encourage GLBTQ teens. All royalties from each story in the line go to a charity, chosen by the author, that supports GLBTQ youth.
In Life Skills, Brian Monahan starts a Spread the Word to End the Word event at his school after seeing students in the school's Life Skills class being bullied and called "retard." The event encourages students not to use that word. Brian draws on the skills he's gained as a co-organizer of the Day of Silence event at his school each year, which encourages support and tolerance of people who are GLBT. Brian is bisexual, so he's had his share of being bullied as well.
Royalties from Life Skills are being donated to the Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network, which sponsors Day of Silence. A one-time donation is also being made to Special Olympics, which sponsors Spread the Word to End the Word.

Jo Ramsey is a former special education teacher who's permanently stuck in her teen years, so she writes young adult fiction. She started writing stories at age five, and has a drawer full of manuscripts in spiral notebooks to prove it. Jo's first YA novel, an urban fantasy titled Connection, was published in January 2010. Since then she's had several other novels published. Jo lives in Massachusetts with her two daughters, her husband, and two cats, one of whom occasionally likes to help her type.

Ralph Gallagher is one of the editors at Featherweight Press. He has worked in publishing for two years with houses like Silver Publishing and Charles River Press. He is also a full-time student pursuing a plethora of degrees.

Kira Harp - I've been writing since I could put words together. Early stories were about dolls and horses and kids who surmounted the odds and came home with a kitten. Gradually I learned about punctuation and point-of-view and my characters grew up. But real life came along, with forays into psychology and teaching and then a biomedical career and children. Writing happened in my head, for my own amusement, but didn't make it to paper.

Then several years ago, my husband gave me a computer. And my two girls were getting older and developing their own interests. So I sat down and typed out a story. Or two. Or three. Now I have adult novels published, and my love of Young Adult fiction has led me to Featherweight, and the chance to share some of my YA stories.

I currently write constantly, read obsessively, and share my home with my younger teenager, my amazingly patient husband, and a crazy, omnivorous little white dog. I can be found at my author page on Goodreads, and look forward to sharing many more stories with YA readers in the future. My first published YA story, Intervention, came out from Featherweight on January 1^st 2012, and my second, The Benefit of Ductwork, will come out on January 5^th. Both are part of the Helping Hands line of books with the profits going to LGBT charities.

Nine Questions for Wil

2011-12-30T16:39:00.000-05:00

Recently, a friend of mine shared a list of nine questions to ask your character. I decided to delve a little deeper into the mind of the Lone Wolf. (It's a scary place!) His answers are below.

Dellani: How do you learn best?

Wil:I learn best by doing. I've always been a hands on learner. The things I learn quickest & remember best are things I learned that way.

Dellani: How open are you to new ideas and information?

Wil: In my line of work I can't survive without innovation and information. A good commander plans for every contingency. Without information, I can't do that. I use the tools best suited to the job. Without new ideas & equipment, I'm screwed before I get started.

Dellani: When you walk into a room, what do you notice first?

Wil: I process everything more or less simultaneously. However, most important – how many exits besides the way I came in? Next – number of people and level of threat each presents. After that, I usually plan how I'd take them down and prioritize the order I'd take them on. I rarely eat in a crowd. It's too easy for someone to slip you something. Unless I bring my own, I don't drink either. No such thing as being too paranoid.

Dellani: Is one sense more highly developed than another?

Wil: All my senses are highly developed. What I didn't have already, the Marine Corps doctors enhanced. One thing I've noticed though, I have a very sophisticated sense of smell. I can filter out extraneous scents and follow one specific one. Your perfume is intoxicating, by the way.

Dellani: Do you usually notice problems around you?

Wil: Baby, I'm usually the one causing the problems around me. If it's one not of my making, I analyze and deal with it quickly and efficiently. I abhor chaos.

Dellani: Would you say you are an optimist or a pessimist?

Wil: People will tell you I'm a pessimist. Piss on that! I'm a realist. After all the shit I've seen in my life, I'm probably willing to think the worst of everything and everyone. If that makes me a pessimist, so be it. That glass half full crap is bullshit.

Dellani: Are you more interested in the past, the future or living now?

Wil: Since the past and the now affect my future, I'm looking at all three. I'm one of those rare individuals who sees the long term big picture. I can assess the consequences of my actions as well as everyone elses'. I have to know what to expect and what my team can do. That means knowing what they've done in the past because that affects the now – and that affects the future of whether we live or die.

Dellani: How do you decide if you can trust someone?

Wil: I don't trust easily. It has to be earned over time. There are only a handful of people in this life that I trust and most of them earned it by walking through hell with me.

Dellani: Are you a deliberate, careful speaker, or do you talk without thinking first?

Wil: Depends on the circumstances. Mostly I think about what I'm going to say very carefully. Words carry weight and should be used sparingly. I used to be very impulsive and said what I thought. After nearly getting myself killed a few times, I learned.

Writer's Sanctuary: Frank Wharton's Merry Christmas

2011-12-24T18:46:00.000-05:00

Writer's Sanctuary: Frank Wharton's Merry Christmas: I got this idea from talking to the young man who rings the bell for the Salvation Army outside our local Publix. He's so pleasant and frien...

Frank Wharton's Merry Christmas

2011-12-24T06:00:00.003-05:00

I got this idea from talking to the young man who rings the bell for the Salvation Army outside our local Publix. He's so pleasant and friendly, we always speak to one another as I go in. No matter how little I give, he smiles and thanks me, wishing me a Merry Christmas.

This story is my way of saying thank you to all my friends and fans who read my books and blog. Thanks for a great year! I hope that you have a wonderful, blessed Christmas. ~ Dellani

Frank Wharton dashed under the portico out of the bone chilling drizzle of rain that was turning to snow. He stuffed $5.00 in the bell ringer's bucket before heading toward the coffee shop door.

"Thank you, sir. God Bless and Merry Christmas."

"Oh, I don't celebrate Christmas."

"Are you Jewish? Same God, sir."

"I don't really believe in God."

"Well, I'll pray for you anyway." The young man flashed a cold tinged smile. "If you aren't a believer, why do you give?" He asked, his cheeks cherry red, his lips blueberry.

"It's the right thing to do," Frank replied. "Say, you look mighty cold, kid. Don't you have a coat?"

The young man shook his head. Frank paused.

"Hold on a second. I was on my way to drop off some boxes.... Be right back." He walked back to his car, wondering what the hell he was doing.

All the wanted was his morning coffee and to drop his father's clothing at the Salvation Army. But the kid looked like he was freezing. Dad's old Pea-coat, leather gloves and Adirondack cap would fit the boy well—perfectly, in fact. His father would want them to go to a good cause. Frank couldn't think of a better one than a young man chilled to the bone. Picking out the items, he put them in a grocery bag, adding warm socks, wool jacket & pants and an old scarf.

The scarf held memories. He'd given it to his father when he was 10. He hesitated a moment, wanting to keep it, but heard his father's voice in his head. "It kept me warm even in the coldest weather. Your love drove off the chill. He needs it more than we do, Son."

Adding it to the bag with tears in his eyes, Frank walked back to the door. Handing over the bag, he accepted the young man's thanks with a slightly sad smile.

"Dad wants you to have them."

"Is he here? May I thank him too?" He craned his neck expectantly, looking.

"In a manner of speaking," Frank replied. "Dad died a week ago. I'm giving his things away."

The young man grinned. "That makes it an even more special gift," he replied. "God Bless."

"I don't believe...."

"I know, but I do. Thank you."

They shook hands and Frank went in for his coffee. While there, he impulsively bought hot chocolate and a bagel for the boy outside. Handing it to him earned another "God Bless." Frank nodded, turned up his collar to the cold and headed to his car.

Before dropping the clothing at the Salvation Army, he went through the bags again. He found more clothing to fit the slender young man. In one pocket, he stuffed a $20.00 bill. "So he can have a good meal."

He set those things aside and took the rest to the clerk. She went through them all, smiling.

"So sorry to hear about your dad, Mr. Wharton. He was a good man. He used to volunteer in our soup kitchen."

"I know. I used to drive him down. I knew he'd want his things to come here where they can do some good."

"Here's your receipt! Merry Christmas!

"Thanks, you too."

The next morning, the young man was at the coffee shop door, this time wrapped in his warm clothes. He smiled and said, "God Bless. Merry Christmas," when Frank gave him another $5.00.

"I've got a few more things for you. When are you done here?"

"Six."

"I'll bring them by then."

"That would be great. Thanks."

"You hungry?"

"A little."

"Bagel or muffins?"

"Surprise me."

Frank got him another bagel and a coffee. The parting "God Bless" left him smiling. Once he got home, he

went through more of the closets, looking for things the young man could wear. He hated to see his father's clothing go to waste and he couldn't stand seeing a man suffer because he was obviously down on his luck.

When he went back to see the young man at 6:00, he had two bags of clothing, as well as a bag of non-perishable food from his father's pantry. Frank had enough food at home, he didn't need all this too. He pulled up and parked at the curb.

"Hi there. I've got those bags I promised." Seeing the young man struggle with his tripod and bucket, he paused. "Can I give you a lift? He asked conversationally.

"I need a ride to the office," the young man said. "Usually, someone comes to pick up, but today she's sick."

"Hop in. I'll take you there. Frank Wharton," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Gabriel St. Peter," he replied, taking Frank's hand in a firm grip.

Frank dropped him and his bags at the Salvation Army office downtown. Gabriel wouldn't accept a ride home, but thanked Frank for his help.

"Not a problem. Here's my number. If you ever need a ride, you let me know."

"Thank you."

They parted with Gabriel's heart felt "God Bless" in the air between them.

Almost two weeks passed and Frank saw Gabriel nearly every day. From time to time he gave the younger man a ride and always bought him something to eat. One cold, blustery day, Gabriel wasn't a lone. A delicate young woman with fair hair and vivid blue eyes was with him. She sat in a battered camp chair. Her red, chapped cheeks stood out in her pale face. She wore the pea-coat, not buttoned quite all the way down, because of her very pregnant belly. She also wore the scarf and gloves. Gabriel wore the wool jacket and pants with the hat. Frank stopped to drop his $5.00 in the bucket and spoke to Gabriel.

"Who is this lovely young lady with you?"

"My wife, Marie. Honey, this is Frank. She's been wanting to meet you," he admitted shyly.

The pretty blonde stood awkwardly, holding out her arms to Frank. He accepted her hug with a grin.

"When is your baby due?"

"Christmas," she said, beaming.

"A Christmas baby! I was born on Christmas too. My father always made a big deal about it, making the day special I two ways."

"What about your mother?" Marie asked.

"She died having me," Frank replied. "A rare disorder...."

"I'm so sorry. Any brothers and sisters?"

"Just me and – and Dad." He gulped, fighting tears in earnest.

"So you're alone? Honey, he can't be alone at Christmas," Marie appealed to her spouse.

"I was gonna serve at the Salvation Army kitchen," Frank replied.

"Us too," Marie said joyfully. "After, you can come for a visit. No one should be alone at Christmas."

"What if you've had your baby?"

"Then you celebrate with us at the hospital."

"Are you sure? You hardly know me."

Marie touched the scarf tenderly. "We know you very well. It would mean so much."

Frank allowed himself to be talked into it. Honestly, he didn't want to say no. It was the first Christmas in his 47 years that he'd be spending it alone. It had always been him and Dad. For awhile, there'd been Nancy, but she'd never understood why he and his father were so close. She had a huge family, she didn't know what it was like to be the only one the other person had. She'd left him after five years of marriage—alone, on Christmas.

Two nights later, it was Christmas Eve. Frank hadn't made it by the coffee shop that morning, having been tied up with his father's lawyer. He was now, officially, owner of everything his father had owned. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with his father's house. He had his townhouse, so close to work, he could walk. The house was in an old neighborhood. It wasn't rich, but it wasn't a ghetto. He had no idea if he could sell

the house or if he should rent it out.

With much on his mind, he went to Christmas Eve mass at the nearby Catholic church. It wasn't that he was religious, but it was the thing to do. He and his father had always gone to the early mass on Christmas Eve.

Stopping in the corner bar on his way home, he had a drink of homemade eggnog and went home. He watched some TV, finding "It's a Wonderful Life" too much to take on such a sad occasion. He missed his father horribly and didn't know what to do with himself. He thought about a drink, but that would lead to many, and his father wouldn't have approved of him drowning his sorrow that way. He was sitting down to a microwave meal when his cellphone rang. It was Gabriel's number.

"Hello?"

"It's Gabe. Frank, I'm worried about Marie. She's not feeling well. I think she's in labor, but I don't have a car. I can't get her to the hospital."

"I'll be right over. Keep her comfortable and warm. I'll be right there." He hung up and grabbed his coat and keys.

Driving over to the tiny one room apartment, Frank found himself muttering prayers. He wasn't a religious man, but he was worried about Marie. When he arrived at their door, he grew even more concerned. Marie's face was pale and pinched, her breathing shallow. Her hands trembled and she'd been vomiting. He and Gabriel bundled her in blankets and put her in the backseat of Frank's car. He drove as fast as he dared to the hospital emergency entrance. Parking the car, he ran in to get someone with a gurney.

When he got back, Marie was unconscious, bleeding profusely. The staff rushed her into the emergency room and did their best to stabilize her. All Frank could do was pace and try to calm down the horrified Gabriel.

"I should have called you earlier," he kept saying. "She's been bad all day. I didn't even go to work."

"You did just fine. She's okay. You have to have faith." Meanwhile, his mind did frightened flipflops. This was exactly how his mother died, bleeding to death as she gave birth. "She'll be fine."

Hours later, the doctor came out. He wasn't smiling, but he looked slightly hopeful. "Mr. St. Peter, your wife and son would like to see you now."

"Aw, Doc, I was supposed to be in there!"

"I know, son, but it was very tricky. We weren't sure.... We thought we might lose them. I couldn't have you see your wife and child die...."

"But they're alive?"

"Yes. Marie's weak, but she's stable. And your son has the finest set of lungs this side of the Mississippi."

"He's crying? Is he hurt?"

"No, he sounds like he's saying 'Da' over and over. Never heard a baby so young vocalize. You the grandfather?"

Gabriel answered in the affirmative before Frank could even open his mouth. The two men followed the doctor to Marie's room. She lay in bed, pale but smiling. She gave Gabriel a kiss and held out a hand to Frank. Gabriel kissed her and Frank held her hand.

Beside her in the clear plastic bassinet lay their son. He was red faced, blue eyed and had a shock of black hair that put Frank in mind of his own baby pictures.

"Nearly nine pounds," she said. "Would you like to hold him?" She asked her husband.

Gabriel picked him up, holding him carefully. The baby gazed up at him and touched his father's chin.

Gurgling, crosseyed, he smiled and cooed, "Da".

"He knows me! How can he know me already?"

"Some babies are exceptional," the doctor said. "I'll leave you alone now. You call if you need me."

"Thank you, Doctor," Gabriel said. "For saving them."

"Modern medicine's a wonderful thing. Fifty years ago, I'd have lost one or the other or both. Merry Christmas," he said.

Frank glanced the clock. It was 12:15 on Christmas morning.

"Want to hold him?" Gabriel asked.

"I'd love to, if you don't mind. I haven't held a baby in years."

Gabriel handed the child to him. It gazed up at him and smiled, but didn't speak.

"What's his name?"

"We wanted something old fashioned,"Gabriel said. "We named him Josiah."

Frank gasped, nearly bursting into tears. "That was my father's name," he replied. "I'm honored. Though you didn't know. I thank you."

"His middle name is Frank," Marie said.

"I never had a namesake before. But wouldn't you like to name him after your fathers instead?"

The young couple exchanged a look. Marie nodded at Gabriel.

"I was raised in foster care," Gabriel replied. "Marie's mother took me in. I think we loved each other as soon as we could walk. Marie never knew her father, he was nothing but a name on a birth certificate. Her mom divorced him without even telling the poor guy she was pregnant."

"All that time and he never knew?" Frank's tears fell and he nuzzled the baby's head. "I can't imagine growing up without my father. He was my best friend."

"And a child should know his grandfather, don't you think?" Marie asked expectantly.

"Absolutely. My grandfather was the greatest."

"We thought the same thing, Frank." Marie continued, bursting into tears. "So when we found you like that, just out of the clear blue, it seemed so perfect."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

Gabriel took Josiah from him. "Marie's your daughter," he replied. "Her mother's name is Nancy."

Frank nearly fell down. "My daughter?" He burst into tears, hugging the beautiful young woman in the bed.

They clung to one another, crying until their chests ached.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"I don't know," Marie said, wiping her eyes. "She never said. But why don't you ask her yourself? She should be here soon. She had to take a cab from the airport because Gabe couldn't go get her."

"Nancy? Is coming here?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Over 20 years had passed since he'd last seen her smiling, pretty face. When he looked into Marie's eyes, she saw shades of her mother. Nancy's smile twitched her daughter's lips, the same little line creased her forehead when she was thinking.

"Does she know? About me?"

"She does now," Gabriel said with a smirk as he nodded at the door.

Frank turned to see an elegant, slightly older version of his ex-wife standing at the door, her hand to her throat. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears as she advanced into the room.

"Frank? Is it really you?"

"Nancy?"

They embraced, kissing as if two decades hadn't passed.

"I missed you so. Why did you leave me?"

"I didn't understand about you and your father. I always thought I was intruding."

"No, never! You were the other part of me! Life was never the same without you. Why didn't you ever tell me about Marie?"

"I was angry and hurt. We had that huge fight and I walked out. I didn't know at the time I was pregnant. When I found out, I was even angrier and couldn't bring myself to tell you. By the time she was born, I was so ashamed about keeping her from you, I couldn't say anything. It was wrong. I should never have kept her from you. After seeing other children and their fathers, I finally understood. But by then it was too late."

"It's not too late," Frank assured her. "It's never too late."

"Just think," Gabriel said. "If we hadn't met by accident that day, we wouldn't be here now."

"Yes," Marie said. "We would. Because God would have seen to it."

"You're right," Frank agreed, taking her hand. "I think He did."

"You said you weren't a believer," Gabriel said.

Frank touched the baby's head, smiling happily for the first time in years. "I'm a believer now."

Writer's Sanctuary: I've Got an After Christmas Treat!

2011-12-23T19:38:00.000-05:00

Writer's Sanctuary: I've Got an After Christmas Treat!: Even if the paper's crumbled and the gifts are no longer under the tree, Dellani's got a gift for you! Three excellent authors will join Chr...

I've Got an After Christmas Treat!

2011-12-23T19:37:00.000-05:00

Even if the paper's crumbled and the gifts are no longer under the tree, Dellani's got a gift for you! Three excellent authors will join Christina and me on Wednesday, December 28th at 1:00 PM Eastern for a fun & informative chat. Be sure to tune in when I talk to J. Conrad Guest, MJ Goodnow and Stephanie Osborn.

J. Conrad Guest is the author of the January trilogy, composed of January’s Paradigm, One Hot January and January’s Thaw. One Hot January is available from Second Wind Publishing and the latter is forthcoming in early 2012. Current Entertainment Monthly in Ann Arbor, Michigan, wrote of January’s Paradigm, “(readers) will not be able to put it down.”

In 2008 he completed Backstop: A Baseball Love Story in Nine Innings, which is also available from Second Wind Publishing, as well as from Amazon in both book and Kindle formats and Barnes and Noble (book and Nook).

In the novella Chaotic Theory (available from Amazon), J. Conrad explores the conjecture of how the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil might result in a tornado in Texas.

In April 2010, he completed his fifth novel, The Cobb Legacy, a murder mystery that spans two centuries written around baseball legend, Ty Cobb, and the shooting death of his father by his mother.

Death is considered a universal ideal in fiction writing, so you’ll want to check out his last project, A Retrospect in Death, which is now being considered for publication.

J. Conrad is nearing completion of his current project, 500 Miles to Go. Set during the golden era of motor racing (the 1960s), the story revolves around protagonist Alex Król and his efforts to find love while making his dream to win the Indy 500 come true.

MJ Goodnow was born in New London, Connecticut March 26, 1975 as Michael James Scaniffe. In 1978 he was adopted by his godmother Rose Christina Goodnow and her husband Wallace E. Goodnow. MJ grew up in a wonderful, fun and heart filled family who supported his dreams.

During his school aged years, MJ became a victim of bullying. He began writing to escape and help him overcome. Now as an adult MJ gives back to his community in Monticello and surrounding areas. Speaking to adolescents about the effects of bullying and how it can devastate a person.

MJ was inspired by the Spirit and led into ministry, studying to become a Jesuit Priest. He worked for a while as a security guard and expanded his writing skills as a singer and songwriter for the bands Dark Autumn and Monster Zero.

Music soothed the soul as he wrote the rock opera Knights and Sorcerers soon to be recorded and preformed by the band Fingerbone.

MJ was destined for authorship as he found healing in writing and penned his first book Evolution of the Fallen. Evolution of the Fallen is about four young patients in a mental care facility overcoming their stigma.

When asked about the inspiration of this tale MJ said, “As a young adult counselor at an agency in Connecticut, I saw the horrors of mental illness and trauma. I too suffer from PTSD, which in-fact, is the reason I write. To let go, get it out, and to find recovery through my writing and hopefully inspiring others.”

Finding inspiration and encouragement by teacher Wally Lamb, and other inspirations to name a few, George Lucas, Clive Barker, Stephen King, Ann Rice and Anna Crispin, MJ has taken the calling of author.

He co-authored the first book of the Red Storm Regime, book one of the Regime Guard series, with Maria Pacha. In this Young Adult novel eight pre-teen children hold the fate of the world in their hands.

With his faith as an ordained minister and the life experiences God gifted him MJ Goodnow hopes to inspire others to greater heights. When asked what he would like his readers to gleam from his prose MJ said, “There is always pain and suffering, but we always must rise against it, to defeat it.”

There is much more to come from this author’s heart and pen in the near future.

Stephanie Osborn is a former payload flight controller, a veteran of over twenty years of working in the civilian space program, as well as various military space defense programs. She has worked on numerous Space Shuttle flights and the International Space Station, and counts the training of astronauts on her resumé. Of those astronauts she trained, one was Kalpana Chawla, a member of the crew lost in the Columbia disaster.

She holds graduate and undergraduate degrees in four sciences:
Astronomy, Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics, and she is “fluent” in several more, including Geology and Anatomy. She obtained her various degrees from Austin Peay State University in Clarksville, TN and Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN.

Stephanie is currently retired from space work. She now happily “passes it forward, ” teaching math and science via numerous media including radio, podcasting, and public speaking, as well as working with SIGMA, the science fiction think tank, while writing science fiction mysteries based on her knowledge, experience, and travels.

Keeping It Real - Writing Fight Scenes

2011-12-12T21:27:00.000-05:00

As an author, it's important to feed your imagination. What do I mean? I mean that you need to read and watch what others have written. This sparks your own ideas and helps you in your own writing.

I write a lot of fight scenes. What can I say? I like fights! Some are hand to hand, some with swords, some with guns. I've even written battles between spaceships. It's fun, but it can be a challenge, especially for someone like me. I don't take martial arts. I don't know how to shoot a gun and I've never used a sword except with a Halloween costume.

For my fight scene in "Indian Summer", I was still inexperienced in writing such scenes. My boys were taking Aikido at the time, so I went to Sensei Tom for help. I told him what I wanted in the scene and using his son as an opponent, he acted the scene out for me in slow motion. I wasn't sure how to get my character out of particular hold, he gave me a suggestion which I used. His help was invaluable.

Not everyone has access to a martial arts expert. Unfortunately, my boys don't take lessons anymore, so I've had to figure this out for myself.

With that being the case, how do I write convincing fight scenes? I watch a LOT of movies and action packed TV shows. Let me repeat that A LOT! I love shows like "Alias" and "Nikita". I love watching Jackie Chan and Wesley Snipes. I could sit here all night and tell you how many action movies or TV shows I've seen, provided I could remember them all.

Watching isn't enough. While you watch, you have to examine the moves, analyze them and figure out how to express those moves in words. As a visual medium, film can portray a fight scene eloquently, since one picture is worth a thousand words. Unfortunately, an author doesn't have that advantage. We have to use those thousand words to express a clear picture of what's happening. So, we watch, analyze and express.

I've been told a time or two that I write good action scenes. Thank you. I try very hard to do so. It's not easy. A lot of action has to occur in a short space of time. Rapid exchanges of punches, ducks, feints and kicks have to have a rhythm and musicality to them. It's like a dance, only people are trying to kill one another. Unfortunately, not all punches are the same. There's a distinct difference between a front punch, hook, uppercut and elbow punch.

A martial artist will attack differently from a brawler. And depending upon the martial art will determine whether the person attacks, defends, grapples, tackles, kicks, punches or chops. Someone who is a black belt in Aikido is more likely to take a defensive stance than one who's skilled in Krav Maga. A bar brawler may break a bottle, use a chain or hit with a chair. Then we get to the super special guys like the assassins in "The Bourne Identity". They use a mixture of styles, disciplines and weapons. Their entire approach is to kill the other person before they can be killed. Another type character may be more likely to disable than kill.

Once the style has been decided, the environment enters into the picture. Are the characters outside? What kind of terrain is under foot? Are they inside? How big is the room? Are there obstacles? Is there cover?
Are the characters using weapons? If so, what kind? An exchange of gunfire moves differently from a martial arts fight. Sword fights are nothing like guns or martial arts. The attacks and defenses aren't the same, nor to they sound alike.

Some authors go into great depth laying out a fight scene. With that, like everything else, I play it by ear. The scene unfolds before me like a movie. I see the movements and listen to the words in my head describing them.

Not everyone uses this method, but it works for me. I enjoy writing fight scenes to my stories. They add an interesting dimension to the novel. Experiment with them and find what works for you. In the meantime, I'm gonna go watch "Burn Notice".

Aileen Stewart Is My Guest on Monday December 12!

2011-12-08T15:34:00.001-05:00

Introducing Aileen

Although she holds a degree in Business Administration and a certificate in Sales/Marketing, Aileen Stewart chose to become a stay at home mom. It was during those early years while watching cartoons with her daughter Emily that she noticed most of what they watched was based on books. This was the spark that re-ignited her passion to write and led to her book Fern Valley – A Collection of Short Stories. Aileen loves to show her creative side in her many other endeavors like amateur photography, cooking, sewing, and the children’s display case which she is in charge of at her local library.

Fern Valley- A Collection of Short Stories

Fern Valley is home to a group of wonderful animals who have fun and face some of the same problems children everywhere do. Roberta and Mildred Cornstalk are creative chickens dealing with the loss of their beloved granny, and they’re looking for something to do to cheer them up. Want to know what adventures they find? Want to know what happens to Roberta and Mildred’s brother, Edward, when he goes fishing, what birthday surprise is in store for Betsy Woolrich, or what lesson Kimmy Curlytail learns when she keeps something that isn’t hers? Then follow this endearing cast of characters as they enjoy their time together and learn important lessons.

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2011/12/12/rfk-dellanis-tea-time

Yes, I Know It's Over!

2011-12-04T10:06:00.000-05:00

I know NaNoWriMo is over, but it was such a HUGE part of my life for a month, I want to share another snippet of the story with you. You're probably tired of reading it, but here goes anyway. This scene is between Ralan Hendrix, the hero, and his friend & coworker, Romy Cross (who is featured in another novel of mine.) The dialog is fun and the exchange between the two men shows a lot about their personalities.

A tall, lanky man sauntered into the office and flopped in a wingback chair. He wore an old fashioned, brown canvas duster. Damp leather boots with heavy heels, thunked on the counter of the faux mahogany desk. Heedless of the no smoking edict in the building, he drew a cigarette from a battered pack of Marlboro's.

"Thought you quit," the dark haired man growled.

"I did. Just like to fiddle with it. Helps me think." His broad Manchester accent made the words almost indistinguishable to the untrained ear. "So, tell me. Why are we following that bird?"

The dark haired man rose from his desk, swatting the boots off the edge so he could pass.

"Karen."

"Your sister? What about her?"

"Wants me to date her."

"We're following some chick your sister wants you to date? Are you completely mad?" He leaped up, standing toe to to with his friend, his face mere inches away. "You do know what Givens will do when he finds out? And he will. Temple's sure to blab. He's an idiot."

Ralan Hendrix shook his head. "There's more to it. She's involved in this case somehow."

"How do you begin to know that?"

Ralan slowly pushed his friend into his chair and sat on the desk, avoiding the damp corner.

"Romy, you've known me forever. When have I been wrong about something like this?"

"One of your famous hunches, eh? On what do you base this? Himself will want a rationalization." He flicked a finger at t heir boss' office.

"Something Karen said. Daphne's at their office to do an efficiency study, but they had one done two years ago. And the information I got on this girl says nothing about that."

"So? Unqualified bird passing herself off as an expert?"

Ralan shook his head. Picking up a soft rubber ball, he bounced it against the dark wood wall. "Aslani's not a fool. He'd check out someone like that. No, best I can ascertain—she's an accountant."

"A bean counter?"

"Yup. Some experience in forensic accounting. Minimal, but still.... Her college professors speak highly of her. One said she was somewhat of a genius with numbers. Above average in every field, but she could spot number patterns quicker than anyone he'd ever met—including himself. He'd never had another student so adept at tracking an error."

"No kidding?" Romy said, in awe. His manner changed abruptly. "What did you tell the professors when you talked to them?"

"Background check for a federal job. Can you imagine her on the scent of a crooked CEO?" His dark eyes glittered and the ball fell forgotten to the floor.

"Well, shite," Romy said as he picked up the ball. "Don't tell me Ralan Hendrix, super spy, has fallen for some bird he's never met!"

"Not exactly!"

The ball hit him in the chest—hard.

"Yes, exactly! You're an idiot!"

"And who moped about for three years over some girl who was engaged to another man? A man, as it turned out, hooked up with her to watch you!"

"I got her in the end though, yeah? Shagged her good and proper too. And married her!" He grinned proudly.

Ralan punched him. "The point is, she has no idea what she's walked into."

"Do any of them? Your sister's in a pickle too. How did you cotton to all this muck?"

"Karen told me in passing they'd signed with a couple big companies to do their yearly psych evaluations. Coronado Enterprises and Toledo Exchange."

"Holy shite! Don't they know those are fronts for organized crime?"

"On the surface, both companies are legit. To the doctors, it was a good move. Guaranteed bank. Mob uses its employees to filter drug money through them. Clients pay cash up front. Everyone's happy. Until... someone in the office gets greedy and starts to make the money disappear."

"What?" Romy jumped up again, leaning close. "You're sure?"

Tossing the ball in the air, Ralan nodded. "Someone is stealing from the mob."

"Death wish, that. Think they know?"

Ralan shrugged. "But you see my interest now?"

"Oh, yeah. And the fact she's got a great arse and is fucking gorgeous don't enter in?"

The dark haired man chuckled. "Maybe a little."

"So, why didn't you meet her that night at the bar?"

Exhaling slowly, Ralan caught the ball. "Rom, you know Karen's track record fixing me up."

"Yeah, so?"

His friend sighed, shaking his head. "Dunno. Maybe I lost my nerve after Solange."

"Not just your nerve, mate. You almost lost your...."

The ball hit him in the chest and Ralan walked out of the room, slamming the door after him.

Another NaNo Finished!

2011-11-25T22:16:00.001-05:00

It's official, another NaNoWriMo novel complete! I typed "The End" at 9:30 PM November 25, 2011. Not sure that the ending is exactly what I want yet, but at least it's complete. I've got the satisfaction of knowing I have finished another novel.

The only downside to finishing a novel is that now I need to figure out what to do with myself. I'm excited & pumped that I finished this story, but if I'm not careful, I get slightly depressed at the same time. Those lives are closed to me now. Unless I use the same characters in a sequel (which I often do), I won't see them again. We've passed through one another's lives and have come to our final destination.

I'm very pleased at the way "Full Measure" came out. It's very close to what I envisioned. That rarely happens. Usually, my novels take off in a direction far from what I intended. I did get myself into a bit of a bind for a little while. The heroine, Daphne, got interested in a guy other than the intended hero, Ralan. Fortunately, the characters helped me out with that and she ended up with the right man. HOORAY!

I posted one excerpt from "Full Measure" recently, so here's another one. This is the first time that Daphne and Ralan make love. They meet over Thanksgiving vacation at his cousin's house. They decide to workout in Ian's home gym and find their attraction to one another stronger than they'd counted on.

"We can swim, do yoga, Pilates," he said with a slight sneer. "Spar...."

"Name your martial art," she challenged.

Ralan raised an eyebrow. "Chun Kuk Do?"

Daphne smiled. "That's cheating."

"Chicken?" He held out his fists.

"Not even. Don't wanna hurt you, Chun Kuk Do-boy." She tapped his fists with hers.

Ralan grinned as he took his stance. Before he'd settled into it, Daphne did a high kick, stopping just shy of his raised fists. He batted her leg aside, grabbing the ankle to throw her off balance. With a hop, Daphne spun, nearly kicking him in the shoulder with her other foot. Landing lightly, she danced away from him, fists and arms guarding her torso.

Eyes narrowed, watching her carefully, Ralan advanced. Too late, he realized she'd led him forward to throw him off balance. He ducked just in time to avoid another kick. This time, he successfully grappled her leg, knocking her to the mat. Holding out his right hand, he leaned over to help her up. The anticipated and expected jerk on his arm didn't catch him off guard. Instead, he pulled her up, tossing her across his shoulders, dropping her on the other side.

Daphne flopped on the mat, falling short of hitting her head on the floor. Glaring, she swept at his legs, catching him by surprise. Ralan toppled, falling into a shoulder roll. He came up, fists leveled, elbows tucked in. He swung with his left, following with his elbow. She blocked him with her forearms, hooking her foot behind his left knee.

Ralan almost fell again. Instead, he grabbed her shirt, pulling her to him. He barely kept his balance. Daphne, sensing an advantage, did the same maneuver, adding her weight to it. She knocked him flat on his back, keeping his head from hitting the mat. She landed on him, feeling his lean, hard body under hers.

Momentarily distracted by the touch of his body on hers, she lay there as if stunned. Taking control once more, Ralan rolled over, pinning her to the mat with his superior strength. Daphne could feel his desire. Her pulse raced as his face hovered an inch or so above hers. Pretending to acquiesce, she lay still, waiting. Ralan's mind had suddenly clicked into sex mode. He was completely unprepared for her next move.

Daphne bucked, tangling her legs with his. Levering herself up, she flipped him on his back and sat on his thighs. Stunned, Ralan lay beneath her, totally subdued. His want and need for her was even more severe. Eyes dilated, he stared at her. She pinned his hands with hers, holding them out to the side. Her body covered his thighs, her lower legs splayed over his shins. He could have gotten away if he'd had the ability to think.

They stared at one another, panting. Beads of sweat dusted her upper lip. Ralan couldn't stand it anymore. Wrenching his hands free, he curled his fingers in her hair, pulling her face down. Kissing her deeply, one hand struggled roughly under her loose sweater, fumbling for her breast.

Rolling over, he pinned her to the mat, lying between her legs. Daphne wrapped her lower legs around him, holding him close. Heat flooded her insides making her wet. Ralan's desire was obvious, his need great. Struggling with her pants, he yanked them down.

Daphne pulled at his zipper, tugging at the fly of his jeans. Gasping and laughing, they undressed one another. His kisses grew more passionate as he stripped her. Daphne struggled with his underwear, so he helped her. When they were both naked, she took control once more, pushing him onto his back.

They came together like wild things. Daphne straddled him and he sank into her so suddenly, she cried out. At first, he thought he'd hurt her, but her movements told him it was a cry of pleasure. This was sex at its most carnal. They each took what they wanted, giving back in full measure. Grinding and moaning, they brought one another to their mutual peak.

The first orgasm started as a warm tingling low in her belly. Daphne could feel it build gradually until the wave broke, making her shiver. Another onslaught made her moan loudly, the next made her scream.

Ralan clung to her hips, thrusting upward, deep inside her. He roared when he came, growling her name as she screamed his. Shaking and laughing, they held one another as Daphne collapsed onto his chest. Ralan caressed her breasts, kissing her. He rolled her onto her side, facing her, their legs still tangled. His kiss was deep and satisfying. Daphne touched his lips with her fingers, gently caressing. He pulled her hips close to his, nibbling her neck.

Excerpt from "Full Measure" 2011 NaNoWriMo novel

2011-11-12T21:16:00.001-05:00

Daphne Winstead is a young accountant desperately in need of a job. When Dr. Aslani calls telling her he needs her to go over the company books because he thinks someone is embezzling, she has no idea what she's in for. However, when a mysterious dark haired man enters her life, things start to get rather too exciting.

Ralan Hendrix works for an unnamed agency. Recruited in college, he's young, smart, capable and prepared for anything--except Daphne. Flung together by circumstances, they give in to their passions, not realizing that Daphne has become the prime witness in Ralan's latest case.

This excerpt takes place after they first make love. Ralan knows it was a serious mistake, but can't feel sorry for what happened between them. However, his boss might not be as forgiving as his partner (who raked him over the coals after ripping him a new one.)

Ralan's dreams were, predictably, highly erotic and full of people trying to kill him—some while he was having sex with them. Beautiful, brown eyes followed him wherever he went, watching his every move. More than once, he was attacked, fending off his assailants, who had a fighting style strangely similar to Daphne's. The final one tried to rip his throat out like a vampire. Waking in a cold sweat, he sat up in bed, gasping.

His room was dark and chilly. When he got up to go to the bathroom, the light didn't come on. A glance out the window told him why. A power line lay in the snow, sizzling and sparking. He saw by the illuminated dial on his watch that it was not quite 3:00 AM.

Stumbling through his room, he searched for his cellphone in the dark. The meager moonlight from the snow obscured sky didn't make much of an impression in the sprawling apartment. His fingers closed over the phone when a sound met his ears that wasn't part of the usual nighttime sounds. It was the sound of someone trying to get through the seven locks on his door.

Grabbing his phone, he scuttled silently to his left, looking for the weapon he kept in the drawer of a small table. Sliding the drawer open, he closed his fingers around the cold steel of the gun. Backing into the hallway by feel, he kept his eyes on the door as he squatted behind the corner of the wall.

One handed, he dialed 911. The dispatcher answered quickly, her voice penetrating in the gloom.

"What's the nature of your emergency?"

"Someone's breaking into my apartment," he replied in a gruff whispered. "Tillerman building apartment 212."

"That's a security building, sir."

"Security's been compromised. Better send the coroner."

"Who is this? Are you a police officer?"

"Just get the fucking cars rolling," he whispered harshly.

"Officers are on their way. With the snow, it may take ten minutes."

"I may not have ten minutes," Ralan replied as the last lock clicked.

Leaving the phone, he moved into a more comfortable position. Watching the door, his eyes fought to find shapes in the velvety blackness. There! The clouds moved suddenly, whisked away by the wind. Moonlight shot through the tall, arched windows of his living room, glittering eerily on weapons. At least three men were in his home!

Backing to the bedroom, he eased the door shut, glad it didn't squeak as it sometimes did. Locking it, he leaned against it, wishing he had his cellphone. He knew he had a bulletproof vest in the closet. Crawling to it, he slid through to a blacker hole in the dusky bedroom. By feel, he found his vest and put it on awkwardly.

The men in the outer rooms were moving slowly and cautiously. He wondered if they even knew he was there. Had he been doing the operation, he'd have gone directly for the bedroom to neutralize the occupant. Maybe they weren't after him. Maybe they were looking for something.

Soft footfalls in the hallway outside his bedroom met his ears. The door swung open, squeaking slightly as it usually did when it opened too wide. The movement halted abruptly. The intruder wasn't far enough in his room for him to attack. Did he want to anyway? He'd seen three, what if more followed? In the dark with a backup weapon and a vest, he felt vulnerable. They moved quietly, steadily, meaning they could see. He was nearly blind. Taking his chances that they wouldn't look in the closet, he stayed as still as he could. Somewhere on the back wall he had a row of throwing knives. He kept them for target practice. He also had a bundle of shuriken. If he could reach that, it would give him an advantage—silent, where the pistol was not.

Ducking under the clothing, he reached for the knives. The wooden floor creaked beneath him. Biting his lip, he froze. But he'd been heard. No longer worried about sound, he made a fast grab for the pouch of shuriken. The door to the closet slid open. A black blade flew out of the doorway, hitting the man in the throat. With a gurgling cry, he collapsed.

Ralan disarmed him, putting the strap to the other man's Uzi over his head. He grabbed the sidearm, but didn't have time to search for more. The door burst open and someone else fired into the room. He knew enough not to go all Hollywood, firing in short bursts in an arc. Imagining the beating his bedroom was taking, Ralan fired back, hitting the other man in his left leg.

With a groan, the man staggered back, clutching his leg. As he was just inside the doorway, Ralan slammed the door in his face, knocking him down. Grabbing the other man's goggles, he jammed them on his head and the room immediately came alive! One man lay bleeding at his feet. The other wobbled, stunned and blinded. Ralan hit him again with the door, watching him drop. He disarmed him as well, dragging him into the room.

He heard movement in the hallway and a scratchy voice spoke near his ear. The goggles had an earpiece for communication. Gutierrez, Hanson, come in! Dammit!"

More movement in the hallway. Ralan positioned himself by the door, standing beside it with his back to the wall. It eased open and the man cautiously peeped in. Seeing his downed companions, he became alert, but it was too late. Ralan's Uzi cracked into his jaw, knocking him back a step. With a guttural growl, he slammed his elbow back at Ralan. He would have connected if the dark haired agent hadn't see it coming. Instead, the intruder hit the doorjamb with his funny bone.

Howling, he turned, swinging at Ralan. Remembering his fight with Daphne, he blocked his his arms and hooked the man's leg with his foot. The assailant crashed to the floor where Ralan kicked him in the head until he quit moving. Bending to disarm him, he didn't notice that one of the others had regained consciousness. A hand grabbed his left ankle. Ralan slammed his left fist into the man's face and a white hot flash of agony rushed up his arm making him scream. Grabbing his Uzi, he hit the man with that, but the blow was feeble.

The man grabbed at his ankle once more, yanking hard. Ralan went down, hitting his head on the door. Stunned, but conscious, he tried to get enough leverage to hit the man again, this time with his right. He was tangled in the Uzi strap, lying painfully on his throbbing left hand. The stock of the Uzi bit into the tender flesh of his injured knuckles.

The man on the floor struggled to his feet. Ralan, still tangled up with the others, couldn't move to protect himself. Jackbooted foot rose to slam into his face. Instead, the man grabbed at his chest and fell with a heavy thud. Doing his best to stand up, Ralan tried to get his bearings. He was dizzy, disoriented. Bright flashes of light lit the room.

"Don't move!" Someone bellowed from the front door.

More About the Authors!

2011-11-09T16:45:00.003-05:00

I've been collecting authors & their links to share as a holiday guide for people to buy. Below, by category, is each author & their website address. I will update this list every few days. To read more about them, please see Welcome Authors http://writersanctuary.blogspot.com/2011/04/welcome-authors.html

Fantasy – Sci-Fi

Douglas Brown - The Light of Epertase: Legends Reborn www.epertase.blogspot.com

Robert C. Roman – sci-fi, romance, steampunk, humor, horror www.robertcroman.com

Dellani Oakes – Lone Wolf www.secondwindpublishing.com

Non-Fiction

Rico Austin – My Bad Tequila http://www.site.mybadtequila.com/

Dianna Graveman – Missouri history www.diannagraveman.com.

Pat McCartney – Heading West with the Pioneers www.authorpatmccarthy.com

Fran Lewis - Because We Care and Sharp as a Tack or Scrambled Eggs, Which Describes Your Brain? http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Fran%20Lewis

Mystery

TL Jones – Jaded series www.tljonesauthor.com

Bill Kirton – a variety of mystery books & other things www.bill-kirton.co.uk

Mickey Hoffman – School of Lies & Deadly Traffic www.mickeyhoffman.com

Sarah Butland – Arm Farm www.SarahButland.com

Cindy McDonald – The Unbridled series DEADLY.COM-The Unbridled Series on Facebook

Pat Bertram – Light Bringer, Daughter Am I, Spark of Heavenly Fire http://ptbertram.wordpress.com

Karen Vaughan – Dead on Arrival, Dead Comic Standing, Over Her Dead Body www.amazon.com

Mitch Haynes – HOLLYWOOD AGENT PROVOCATEUR Amazon.com & others

Romance/ Erotic

Juliet Waldron – Mozart's Wife & other historical tales www.julietwaldron.com

Suzette Vaughn – Badeaux Knights & Mortals, Gods and a Muse www.secondwindpublishing.com

Eden Baylee – erotica A Fall into Winter www.edenbaylee.com

Dellani Oakes – Indian Summer www.secondwindpublishing.com

Spiritual Fiction

Sheila Deeth – spiritual fiction www.sheiladeeth.com

Children/ Young Adults
Scotti Cohn - Big Cat, Little Kitty and others www.scotticohn.com

Concetta Payne – BoBo the Racecar series www.concettampayne.com

Amanda Thrasher – Mischief in the Mushroom Patch www.amandathrasher.com

Dorothy Stacy – Eerie Canal Cousins www.dorothystacy.com

Jo Ramsey - Reality Shift and The Dark Lines http://www.joramsey.com

Jennie Helderman

May I add two little perfect under $10 gifts---Christmas Trivia and Hanukkah Trivia. Hardcover, 100 pages each. Buy at christmastriviabookl.com and hanukkahtrivia.com $9.95.

Fran Lewis - Berth Books http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Fran%20Lewis

Variety of Genres

William Maltese WILLIAM MALTESE'S WINE TASTER'S DIARY(among many others) www.williammaltese.com

It's NaNo Time!

2011-11-07T00:20:00.000-05:00

It's November. What does that mean? It's NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month. For the month of November, writers all over the world channel their enthusiasm and talent (and a little insanity) and challenge themselves to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

This is my fifth NaNo. Each year I've been a winner - in other words, I finished my novel in 30 days or less. I love doing NaNoWriMo. It's great to challenge myself to write. If I win, I have the satisfaction of a completed novel. If I don't finish, at least I set the goal for myself and can finish it another time. No one stands over me with a whip forcing me to write. The only timetable is self-imposed. The only thing I have to do is find the time to write.

Each year, I've tried to find a new novel that inspired me. Each year, I've been surprised at what I've written.

My first year, I wrote a prequel to my science fiction series. "Wall of Time" traces the life of one of the main characters in the "Lone Wolf" series. A seemingly minor character in the first book, by book three "The Maker", she's a main mover and shaker.

My second year of NaNo, I started with the premise: If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you like it to be? "Deserted" went a very different direction from what I'd anticipated, but I'm still proud of it.

Third year, "The Ninja Tattoo" was born. This story was inspired by something which actually happened to me. It was such an odd circumstance, I felt compelled to write about it. This story also went in a very different direction from what I anticipated.

Last year, I wrote "Undiscovered". This novel was inspired by a segment of a dream my friend Mickey Hoffman told me about. A young woman was showing a condo room and witnessed a crime, thus putting her in danger. From that, my story grew, taking me in yet another direction.

This year's story, also inspired by real life, is called "Full Measure". Someone is embezzling from The Breakwater Clinic and it's up to unprepossessing Daphne Winstead to discover who, how and why. Reluctantly accepting the help of Ralan Hendrix, she follows the leads. Will she be able to find the answers before they silence her? Currently 21, 180 words into the story, I'm pretty pleased with it. But once again, I find it going in a very strange direction.

If there's one thing that writing has taught me, it's that every story has its own way that it wants to be told. No matter how an author wishes to impose their will, eventually, the story will take over, the characters develop free will and then it is, as they say, "All She Wrote"

To find out more about National Novel Writing Month, check out www.nanowrimo.org

Stuck In a Rut

2011-10-29T22:23:00.000-05:00

Do you ever feel like you're stuck in a writing rut? As if all the stories you write are really similar with only the names are changed to protect the characters?

Sometimes I feel that way. I realized recently that I have a tendency to send my characters to the hospital. One or the other gets injured or someone in the family has a crisis. Whatever the circumstances, off they go to the hospital! It's alarming and annoying and I wonder why I do that. It's not like my family is constantly rushing off to the hospital. We've had a few emergency room or urgent care visits over the years. With four kids, that's inevitable. But it's not like we're constantly there.

So, why do I do it? The only thing I can think of is that stories need crisis and conflict to move forward. Perhaps that's why I'm always sending them packing. One story I'm working on has both a nursing home AND a hospital involved. To be fair, one character is a doctor, but still! The trend is ridiculous. It has to stop. I need to go back and rewrite some of these stories so they aren't so predictable.

In the meantime, I'll work on other things and see if I can't avoid that writing rut. I'll work on my sci-fi. They're not anywhere near a hospital. They're fighting a battle and killing creepy lizard like aliens. They're freeing a planet from oppression as only the Galactic Marine Corps can. Lots of gunfire, explosions, fire bombs. Mayhem! Chaos!

Crap! That means injuries - which means medical treatment - which means a hospital.....

I can't win.

Meet the Authors!

2011-10-23T11:48:00.001-05:00

Wednesday, October 26th What's Write For Me will feature Eden Baylee, GR Holton, James Ross and Mandy Maxfield Howe. Below is a little bit about my authors. Hope you'll join us!

Author Eden Baylee

Eden Baylee writes erotica, provocative stories incorporating all her favorite things: travel, culture and sex. She left a 20-year career in banking to become a full-time writer. Her debut novel, Fall into Winter, is an anthology of erotic novellas. Fall into Winter is a provocative collection of erotic novellas. Two take place in the fall, and two in the winter, thus the title.

The first story is called “Seduced by the Blues.” In it, Ella Jamieson trades self-control for a stolen moment with a man twelve years her junior, and she is surprised when he continues to pursue her. If you love blues and jazz, particularly great guitarists, this story will fulfill your passion for music and much more.

The second story is called “Act Three”, and it’s a tale about a ménage à trois with one woman and two men. The title is also a play on words as the protagonist is a theatre director, and quite used to being in charge of his plays.

The last two stories take place in the snowy regions of Canada and Austria. In “The Norwegian,” Leah Jones isolates herself in a cabin to complete her latest book, but is soon distracted from her goal when she reunites with a man from her past.

Finally, with “The Austrian and the Asian,” Elena Lee returns to Austria, a country where she had a torrid love affair ten years earlier and must come to terms with doubts about why she ever left.

James Ross

James resides in a small coastal bay community in northern California; he is the author of the forthcoming historical-fiction trilogy The Desert Sun Saga. The first novel, The Desert Sun – Life In Motion, is planned for release in 2012, with Brogan Creek Massacre and Dann’s Honor to follow.

His poem Tunnel is included in an anthology of global poetry published earlier this year as pay attention: a river of stones

An accomplished musician and songwriter, a selection of his compositions were performed by an international ensemble in Warsaw Poland at a 2005 Habitat for Humanity fund raising concert.

The Desert Sun Saga http://desertsunsaga.wordpress.com
To view more poetry, lyrics, and photography by James, please visit Craft Your Life in Motion.

http://writejames.wordpress.com

He is available on Facebook and Twitter. In addition, original artwork is available at Zazzle.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/writejames

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/writejames

Zazzle http://www.zazzle.com.justmejames

GR Holton

On a warm summer morning in 1962, G. R. Holton was born in a small town in Massachusetts and is the second eldest in a family of eight children. He is happily married and living in eastern Tennessee. He has two daughters, a son, a step-daughter and a step-son and is also the proud grandfather of four beautiful girls.

G. R. took an interest in computer games to pass the time, and then one day he made a friend on one of those online games with chat. They became great friends and after a few weeks of talking, he met her husband online and hit it off quickly. He gave him a couple of his screenplays to read and he was hooked. He knew at that point he wanted to try writing.

One night, after days of not being able to come up with a story to write, he had a dream of three teens on another planet and in a cave. This was it; he knew what had to be done. He sat down at the computer and over the course of three months he had written his first book, “Journey to the Edge”. He knew he couldn’t stop there, so he continued writing and “Guardians Alliance” was born. He has also published a children’s picture book called, “Squazles” about not judging others and did the book design for Cameron Titus’s “A to Z book: A Habitat for Humanity Project”. “Journey to the Edge” is being rereleased as “Soleri” this coming December from World Castle

In the year two-thousand-one hundred-forty- five, Earth had finally gotten past its differences and the Earth Coalition was formed. The Coalition has decided that a space station would be launched into deep space to find a new Earth. The team would be on a twenty year mission to find other planets outside of their solar system that could be inhabited.
Publishing. His latest, “Deep Screams”, also from World Castle Publishing, is a science fiction/horror thriller which is now available in eBook and paperback at the major online book retailers. He has also been named to The Authors Show’s 2011 “50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading” and has been in the local newspaper numerous times for his writing accomplishments. He hopes you enjoy reading his dreams as much as he has in dreaming them.

Mandy Maxfield Howe
Mandy resides in the Silos and Smokestacks region of the Midwest, where she has served for the past ten years as an educator of young children with special needs. In addition to editing The Desert Sun Saga along with James F. Ross, she has submitted for publication her first children’s book, My Favorite Color.

As a nature photographer and writer, she encourages others to explore their senses and become attuned to the world around them.

To view poetry, prose, and photography by Mandy, please visit Reflections of a Mid-Life Awakening. In addition, her original artwork is available at Zazzle.

Let's Chat with Dawn Colclasure!

2011-10-11T20:53:00.001-05:00

I met Dawn a few years ago on My Space. She was the first person to contact and friend me there. When we made the move to Facebook, we kept in touch. She amazes me with her skill and faith. I'm delighted to have her visit my blog.

When did you start writing?

I started writing when I was a young child. I was in a car accident at a very young age and had to have a lot of reconstructive surgeries done. A nurse at one hospital gave me a blank journal and encouraged me to write poems inside it. That’s when the writer in me was born and I haven’t stopped writing since.

What gave you the idea for your first book?

I was lucky: My dreams inspired the idea for my first book. I had these dreams of a man which lasted for several years and, at one point, I dreamed that everything was turned into a novel that was called “November’s Child.” I actually wrote that book and got it published.

What genre do you write?

I don’t like to write in just one genre. I like variety. I like the challenge of writing something different. I’ve done children’s, dark fantasy and paranormal mystery, but I’ve also written horror, sci-fi and romance.

What do you do to keep yourself focused?

By far, having a weekly list of writing tasks is what helps me to stay on course. Every Sunday or early Monday morning, I create my “schedule” of what I’ll be working on during the week. I started doing this out of necessity because I was juggling so much and it was the only way for me to get so much done on everything every day. But now it’s a habit and I feel guilty if I don’t stick to my weekly schedule. I try to cross off as many items on the list each day.

Do you stay with one project or do you work on multiple projects?

I can never, ever work on just one project at a time. I have tried but I grow restless and crave something different for my muse to focus her energies on. It’s possible this is a Gemini trait. I’m the kind of person who will multi-task and jump from one project to the next. For example, in the morning I may work on a current poetry book, then in the afternoon I’ll work on a novel-in-progress then in the evening, I can be found working on a nonfiction book.

What is your writing process?
I make it a point to write first thing in the morning. It is when my mind is clear and I’m ready for action. I also grab every free minute possible to write, especially if I’m on a deadline. Perhaps this is why I am rarely in front of a TV set; I’m busy writing! I try to work on a chapter each day or, if it’s something like poetry, so many poems each day. I also try to finish what I am working on in one sitting, but if that is not possible (and it very rarely is!), I save it for later and go back to it time permitting. But I definitely write first thing in the morning and right before I go to sleep at night.

What is the theme of your novel?

The theme is “things are not always what they seem.” In the story, my character, Malissa, is having these dreams that are a part of a family curse. While everyone around her keeps saying “they are just dreams” and try to convince her that she is too obsessed over nothing, she knows that the dreams are something more. This is the truth she must ultimately accept in order to fight the man haunting her dreams, or else risk losing everything she holds dear, including her life.

Do you consciously use symbolism in your book?

I try not to, but it tends to creep in. I have used symbolism in my novel Shadow of Samhain but only because I realize how important symbolism is to Druidism, and since I have Druid characters in this story, it seemed appropriate to include symbolism. But at any other time, when it’s any other book, I usually don’t rely on symbolism.

What is your latest release?

My novel, Shadow of Samhain, will be out very soon. This novel is the revised version of what had once been November’s Child. The reason it got a new life is because the publisher of November’s Child went bankrupt and the book went out of print. I spent years revising the novel, as well as catching up on extra information about Druidism in order to bring realism to the story, and I am thrilled it finally found a home with Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

What other books do you have published?

My nonfiction titles include BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL: How We Survive as Writing Parents; 365 TIPS FOR WRITERS: Inspiration, Writing Prompts and Beat the Block Tips to Turbo Charge Your Creativity; and TOTALLY SCARED: The Complete Book on Haunted Houses, which I co-authored with Martha Jette. My poetry books are Love is Like a Rainbow: Poems of Love and Devotion and Songs of the Dead. My one and only children’s book thus far is The Yellow Rose. I also have a poetry chapbook called Take My Hand. It is currently out of print, though I have remainder copies in a box in my garage. I am currently revising and expanding this poetry collection and will send it off to my publisher in late 2012.

Where are your books available?

My books can be purchased from my publisher, special ordered at bookstores and purchased at online retailers such as Amazon.com, B&N, etc.

Meet Monday's Guests Carol Saller & Daniel Ferry!

2011-10-09T11:45:00.000-05:00

To listen in to the show tomorrow, follow this link:

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2011/10/10/rfk--dellanis-tea-time

Carol Fisher Saller, an editor of the "Chicago Manual of Style" and the author of "The Subversive Copyeditor", blogs about academic writing and editing at "Lingua Franca" for the "Chronicle of Higher Education". She has also worked as an editor of children’s books and has published several books for children. Her new book "Eddie's War", a middle-grade novel about an Illinois farmboy during World War II, is published by namelos, a cutting-edge digital and print-on-demand publishing house founded by Stephen Roxburgh.

Daniel Ferry: Born in Panama, the author spent the first part of his life living and traveling as an Air Force “brat.” Ferry has a degree in Journalism from the California State University at Northridge and presently lives in San Diego, California.

For excerpts of Daniel's novel, visit: http://www.tumbleweedforts.com/excerpts/

To view some of his other work: http://writejames.wordpress.com

Meet T.L. Jones!

2011-09-25T08:20:00.007-05:00

T.L. is going to be on my show Wednesday September 28th at 1:00 PM Eastern on Blog Talk Radio. She's going to read excerpts from her books, one of which she's never read in an interview before, so be sure to tune in!

T. L. Jones lives in South East Texas with her husband, Dave. They have three grown children. She is a former police officer and uses this experience to bring thrilling, believable mysteries to her readers. Along with a vivid imagination T. L. loves anything paranormal and participates when possible in paranormal investigations.

She has a passion for writing and developing intriguing characters for her books. When time and weather permits you will find her scuba diving with her husband.

T. L. is an avid reader and enjoys hearing from her readers.

Jaded Visions: Jade Hamilton is barely staying one step ahead of a ruthless killer. Paranormal visions have been a part of her life since the age of ten so she finds herself in off the wall predicaments. This time she must keep a six year old child out of the hands of this killer and keep herself out of jail for kidnapping.

Jaded Feelings: Jade finds herself in another problematic situation. She is searching for a woman she thought was dead and finds instead the woman is stalking her. Or is she? With her visions becoming more intense as she finds just touching objects can send her reeling now. Then to top it all off she finds her new office building is being haunted by an intriguing Victorian Era Ghost! (The 2nd book in the Jaded Series)

Meet the Authors!

2011-09-13T10:15:00.000-05:00

I invite my author (and aspiring author) pals to post here in comments. Post a short blurb and "elevator pitch" about your books along with links on where to purchase.

I hope that those publications who are seeking submissions will also post. Maybe you can make a match with one of the authors here!

I'm going to indulge in some shameless self-promotion as well.

Dellani Oakes is a Florida author who loves to stay home and write. Her first published novel, "Indian Summer", is an historical romance set in St. Augustine, Florida in 1739. Full of spies, intrigue, unrequited love and passion, the novel is available at www.Amazon.com, www.Smashwords.com, www.BN.com and www.secondwindpublishing.com

My second novel, "Lone Wolf" is a sci-fi adventure romance. Explore space with Wil VanLipsig and Matilda Dulac as they track down the villainous John Riley! Also available at www.Amazon.com, www.Smashwords.com, www.BN.com and www.secondwindpublishing.com

Meet Billy Paul Craig!

2011-09-05T13:47:00.000-05:00

I just met Billy Paul Craig on Facebook, but we seemed to click. I asked him for an interview of himself and one of his favorite characters. Welcome, Billy Paul Craig!

When did you start writing?

I started writing my own stories at age six, having learned to read at four I felt I could tell better stories...

What gave you the idea for your first book?

I wanted to write an adventure novel where the protagonist went up against an EVIL oil company. Who knew right?

What genre do you write?
I write pulp adventure and mystery mainly, but have made forays into sword and sorcery and horror and recently westerns as well.

What do you do to keep yourself focused?

Focus? What is focus? My ex-wife swore I was ADHD because I am ALWAYS working on multiple projects.

What inspires you?
My son Jack is my greatest Inspiration.

Do you stay with one project or do you work on multiple projects?

I am always working on at least a half a dozen projects at once.

What is your writing process?
I write a one or two paragraph synopsis which generally ends up as the back cover copy and that is the plot I work from. The characters drive it from that point.

Do you consciously use symbolism in your book?

Sometimes, but not often.

What is your latest release?
My latest release is a mystery novel titled Decker P.I. Smugglers' Blues.

What other books do you have published?
This is my 19th I believe. I have six Jack Riley books out, 7 Hardluck Hannigan books, 4 Sam Decker books and a collection of short fiction titled Bullets and Blades. I am currently working on a four book mini-series with continuing characters in four different pulp genres titles Two Fisted Adventure as well as the next Hardluck Hannigan novel and the next Decker P.I. novel and a series of childrens stories about a character called Little Mouse who lives in the great big Barn with Daddy Mouse and Papaw Mouse.

Where are your books available?

All my books are available on Amazon.com

Now meet Hardluck Hannigan. He's a fighter, not a lover. No, well, maybe both?

Are you the hero of your own story?

I ain't sure I'd call myself a hero, mainly I'm just a guy who does what needs to be done.

What is your problem in the story?
My problem? Other than having the worst luck of any man alive because one of my ancestors pissed off a leprechaun? If you want problems just look at the women in my life, they caused most of them.

Can you tell us something else about yourself?
I'm just a pretty normal guy with a whole lot of bad luck, that's why they call me Hardluck Hannigan after all. I have the hardest luck of anybody you'd care to meet.

Do you embrace or run from conflict?
Run from conflict? Kid I ain't no coward. Running would mean I had common sense and there was certainly a shortage of that in MY DNA!

How do you see yourself?
I'm just a guy who does what has to be done. No more, no less.

How do your friends see you?
My friends, for reasons unknown to me look to me as a leader. Gregor of all people should know better than that since he's known me the longest. Hell I shipped out of New York with him in 1939 aboard the African Queen!

How do your enemies see you?
My enemies view me as a force of nature. They are scared shitless when they find out I'm coming after them!

How does the author see you?
Bill Craig? Hell he just writes down what I tell him to. I don't much give a damn what he thinks as long as he writes it down and I get paid royalties!

What do you think of yourself?
I do what I gotta do, no more no less. I don't like bullies and the Nazis are the worst kind!
My goal is to survive. You don't live like I do and not want to do that!

Do you keep your achievements to yourself?

I ain't never been one to brag. I do what I do, that's what I do.

Do you have any special strengths?

Special strengths? Hell, I just don't give up.

What do you believe?

My beliefs are my own. Spirituality is an individual thing.

What do you regret?

Regrets? I've had a few but then again too few to mention:)

What, if anything, haunts you?
Haunts? We all have ghosts. I've got my own.

Has anyone ever betrayed you?
Hell yeah, but then who hasn't have had someone betray them?

Have you ever failed anyone?
Failed anyone? I don't think that's a question I want to answer. Her view on that and mine would likely differ a lot. For the sake of argument, let's just let that question die!

Did anything newsworthy happen on the day you were born?
Nope nothing newsworthy.

What is your most closely guarded secret?

I love my Egyptian Mau Abigail.

Do you have any hobbies?

Hobbies, tracking down lost artifacts and getting into lots of trouble doing so. That's a hobby ain't it?

What is your favorite item of clothing? Why?

I love my Colt pistol, Betsy. She's a Colt model 1911-A and was given to my Dad during WWI for special services as one of the Fighting Falcons. Betsy has served me well and the folks at Colt have been kind about replacement parts to keep her functioning!

Name five items in your pockets.
Five items in my pockets? A pack of Lucky Strikes, a battered Ronson lighter, a spare mag for Betsy, some cash and keys and a quick-opening knife.

If you were stranded on a desert island, would you rather be stranded with, a man or a woman?

Give me a horny beautiful woman any day. Makes life a whole lot easier:)

"Lone Wolf" is HERE!

2011-09-01T13:58:00.002-05:00

It’s finally here! “Lone Wolf” the long anticipated sci-fi novel by Dellani Oakes, is finally here! Join Second Wind as we welcome FOUR NEW NOVELS to our already amazing lineup!

http://secondwindpub.wordpress.com/2011/08/31/celebrate-our-new-releases-with-contests-a-giveaway-and-lots-of-fun/

Enter the Lone Wolf

2011-08-28T11:45:00.000-05:00

Wil VanLipsig, AKA The Lone Wolf, is the hero in my new sci-fi novel, "Lone Wolf". We interviewed him awhile back and he graciously allowed us to post his replies. (In other words, he didn't threaten to kill us if we did.)

Second Wind: We're here today to talk to Wilhelm VanLipsig captain of the ship the Loup Garou. Wil, what did you do before running freight for the Mining Guild?

Wilhelm VanLipsig: I was a colonel in the Galactic Marine Corps. Then I did contract work.

SW: Where does the handle, The Lone Wolf, come from?

Wil: I got that name serving in the Marines. I like to work alone and I'm ruthless.

SW: Are you the hero of your own story?

Wil: I'm the hero of every story.

SW: What is your problem in the story?

Wil: Some psycho son-of-a-bitch wants me dead and then he wants to take over the universe. The usual.

SW: Can you tell us something else about yourself?

Wil: I'm 86 years old, look like I'm 26 and I've been changed so much by the Marine doctors, I don't think I'm even quite human anymore.

SW: Do you embrace or run from conflict?

Wil: I make love to conflict, then I beat until it surrenders. Incidentally, I don't treat women the same way.

SW: How do you see yourself?

Wil: I am the bringer of death. If you see me coming, you've got 10 seconds to say your prayers.

SW: How do your friends see you?

Wil: I don't really have any friends.

SW: How do your enemies see you?

Wil: I'm the shadow of death, the invisible man. If they see me, I did something terribly wrong.

SW: How does the author see you?

Wil: Dellani thinks I'm dead sexy, smoking hot, seriously jacked, evil and dangerously seductive.

SW: Do you agree with her analysis of you?

Wil: I'm not arguing.

SW: What do you think of yourself?

Wil: I'm the coldest hearted asshole in the galaxy.

SW: Do you have a goal?

Wil: Get the other bastards before they get me.

SW: Do you keep your achievements to yourself?

Wil: Most are classified. The only ones who know what I've done are the others who were there with me. Most of them are dead.

SW: Do you have any special strengths?

Wil: My battle plans have made the textbooks and are required reading at the officer's academy. One general said, "VanLipsig's battle plans are a symphony of destruction with each movement bathed in the blood of the enemy." I have to admit, I'm pretty proud of that.

SW: Do you have any special weaknesses? Other than your obvious modesty?

Wil: Amusing, really. Yeah, I can't carry a tune.

SW: What do you believe?

Wil: I believe in honor and I adhere to it. Not everyone agrees with my code of ethics though.

SW: What do you regret?

Wil: I regret the fact that I wasn't there for the people who needed me.

SW: What, if anything, haunts you?

Wil: The faces of everyone I've ever had to kill.

SW: Has anyone ever betrayed you?

Wil: Yeah. And I killed her for it.

SW: Have you ever failed anyone?

Wil: Pretty much every day, I imagine.

SW: Did anything newsworthy happen on the day you were born?

Wil: According to my old man, hell opened its doors and spit me forth. I hope he's waiting for me when I get there. I'll kick his abusive ass.

SW: Was there ever a defining moment of your life?

Wil: Meeting Matilda. She has made me become the man I wanted to be and couldn't seem to find on my own.

SW: What is your most closely guarded secret?

Wil: If I told you, I'd have to kill you. You look like you think I'm kidding.

SW: Do you have any hobbies?

Wil: Does sex count?

SW: What is your favorite item of clothing? Why?

Wil: I don't really care what I wear but I always have my gun belt, even if I'm naked.

SW: Name five items in your pockets.

Wil: Nothing. Too much stuff slows you down and can identify you when you're dead.

SW: If you were stranded on a desert island, would you rather be stranded with, a man or a woman?

Wil: What the hell good would another man be? A woman with lots of stamina. It would be nice if she was intelligent too, but that's not a requirement.

I Need Help!! I'm Not Above Begging!

2011-08-26T18:39:00.002-05:00

This was originally posted on my publisher's site. I really need some feedback. HELP ME HELP ME! ~ Dellani

Some of you have been following my story, “Take a Bite Outta Crime”, for the past few months. I appreciate your comments and support, thank you! When I began posting “Bite”, it wasn’t quite finished, but I had every intention of finishing it before it got this close to the wire. Well, it’s not done yet. Why? I can’t find the perfect ending.

See, I set up this story, laid the groundwork for the characters, gave them a mystery to solve, only I couldn’t ever really decide who the bad guys were or how they were going to solve the crime. That being the case, I’ve got them poised on the verge of discovery—with nothing for them to discover.

Awkward, to say the least. So, here I am at the end of what I’ve got written, but not at the end of the story. For those who haven’t read it all, or who have forgotten, here’s a quick summary.

Previously in “Take a Bite Outta Crime”:

Kirk & Drea own a catering service. Kirk goes to find out where the fish monger, Jay, is, because “Bouillabaisse for 300 doesn’t make itself.” Kirk finds Jay stabbed in his freezer & calls the police.

Drea has a mysterious visitor. This spooks her because she’s afraid their secret has been discovered. (By the way, they’re vampires) Their home is vandalized as is their business.

They finally resort to going to the vampire counsel for assistance, only to find out that many of their friends, also vampires, have disappeared under mysterious circumstances. They decide to pose as models & caterers at the photo shoots so as to infiltrate the modeling agency & track down the villain.

So, where do I go from here? Who’s the villain? Perhaps more than one. Why have the vampires been targeted? For what evil purpose have they been captured, perhaps killed? What did Jay know? Why did he have to die? And why can’t Bouillabaisse for 300 doesn’t make itself?

You see my quandary. I can’t answer any of those questions. If I could, I’d find the perfect ending, finish the story and Bob’s your uncle. But I can’t.

I appeal to you, my fellow writers and readers. Help me find the perfect ending! I have no real incentive for you other than to promise that whatever ideas I borrow to finish the story, I’ll give the contributors a byline at the end. (I’d love to be able to award you fiscally, but that’s not in my current budget.)

Please either post your comments below, or e-mail your ideas todellanioakes@yahoo.com Please be sure to put “Take a Bite Outta Crime” on the subject line. Even if I don’t use your idea, I will mention you by name at the end of the story.

Dellani Oakes is a slightly schizo author whose novel “Indian Summer” is published by Second Wind Publishing. Her second novel, “Lone Wolf” is coming soon, also from Second Wind.

What's Write for Me August 24, 2011 at 1:00 PM Eastern

2011-08-23T21:40:00.000-05:00

My next show is Wednesday August 24 at 1:00 PM Eastern on Blog Talk Radio. Guests will be James Edwin Branch & Karen Vaughan. Below are their short bios. Enjoy and join us! ~ Dellani

James Edwin Branch

I'm an old West Texas boy, grew up in Big Spring, Texas. I have three children,and one of them still lives in Big Spring. I now make my home in South Texas. I've written 19 Novels and Novellas and will continue to write as long as there is a story to tell.

I try to write things that young people can read. I'm a strong believer that you don't have to use descriptive sex or off color language to tell a story. I should caution you though that in an action story there is always some violence.
I am an avid musician and a United States Army Vietnam Veteran. I write several different genre and probably always will. My favorite is Action/Adventure or Westerns.

My work was published by another company and is now marketed by VGR. I also can be found at several web sites.

I never wanted to be a great author or counted as one of the really intelligent people of our time. All I've ever strived for is to entertain. I write stories about people who struggle to be who they are. It may sound strange, coming from a fiction author, but I try to make my characters believable.

It is an honor that you're interested in my work. A writer or a musician is nothing without someone to share their creations. Thank you for being that person. You may also find a song or two that I've written on You Tube. Please join me on Facebook with the rest of my author friends.
I enjoy comments and having my readers drop me a line, so when you run across my sites or find me on Facebook, feel free to write me. It might take a day or two to get back to you, but I will.

www.jamesedwinbranch@webs.com

Karen Vaughan lives in Peterborough, Ontario with her husband Jim and a four-legged off-spring(cat) named Sugar. She is the mother of one young adult, four grown-step kids and a grandma to 14 month old grandson.
She is the author of DEAD ON ARRIVAL (The first in the Laura and Gerry series.) and DEAD COMIC STANDING. OVER HER DEAD BODY is the second in her Laura and Gerry series.
Besides writing and reading, Karen enjoys road trips, crafting and online gaming, as well as cooking.

Keeping Organized

2011-08-14T16:46:00.000-05:00

Honestly, I'm probably the last person to tell anyone how to organize their writing life. However, I have come up with a few tricks to make it look like I'm more organized than I really am.

Since I'm a project hopper, (I move from one story to another rapidly & at random), I have to keep track of characters, time line, chapters, etc. I keep 3 small notebooks on my desk for this purpose. One has finished projects, the second has unfinished projects & the third has notes & miscellaneous other stuff I need to put my hands on quickly.

For detailed information about my characters, I have an index card file. On these cards, I list a variety of information. (Example below)
Front

Name: Parents' Names:
Book:
Boyfriend or girlfriend name (or spouse) Siblings: (If any)
Children: (If any)
Family: This is like cousins, aunts, uncles. Age:
Coloring: (Major importance!)
Actor/ Actress they look like Series: (Since I have more than 1, also important)

Back

Employer/ Job Title
Friends & Co-Workers
Also In: (For any other books they are in. Since I use mains as secondary characters in other books, this is also quite important.)

You'll notice that on the front I have an actor or actress name. This helps me hear a voice, see movement, gauge speech patterns, gestures, etc. Sometimes this will change as a novel progresses, but generally I keep to the same person.

Everyone will have different bits of information that are important to them, so the contents of the cards can be personalized. I'm simply listing what I consider important. Please let me know if you find this tip helpful and feel free to share your tips here.

copyright 2011 Dellani Oakes

It's Show Time!

2011-08-07T20:08:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow is my first August show. Join me for Dellani's Tea Time at 4:00 PM Eastern on Blog Talk Radio. My guests will be Dianna Graveman, Linda Nance and GR Holton. Below are short bios of the authors. Enjoy!

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2011/08/08/rfk-dellanis-tea-time

GR Holton

On a warm summer morning in 1962, G. R. Holton was born in a little town in Massachusetts. I am the second eldest in a family of eight children. I am happily married and living in eastern Tennessee. I took an interest in computer games to pass the time, and then one day I made a friend, Marlene Milton, on one of those online games with chat. We became great friends and after a few weeks of talking, I met her husband, Derek Milton online and we hit it off quickly. Derek is a movie director and screenwriter from Canada. He gave me a couple of his screenplays to read and I was hooked. I knew at that point I wanted to try writing. Derek was right there to help me. One night I had a dream of three teens on another planet and in a cave. This was it; I knew what had to be done. I sat down at the computer and over the course of three months, I had written my first book, “Soleri”. I couldn’t stop there, so I continued writing and, “Guardians Alliance” was born. I have also published a children’s picture book called, “Squazles” about not judging others. My latest is, “Deep Screams”, a science fiction/horror thriller that is now available in eBook and paperback at the major online book retailers.

Dianna Graveman

Dianna Graveman is a writer, editor, and educator with a background in training development and graphic design. She teaches Narrative Journalism and Writing for Publications in the MFA program at Lindenwood University in St. Charles, Missouri.

Dianna’s portfolio includes includes published works for CBS-St. Louis, AOL, Suburban Journals, St. Anthony Messenger, Teachers of Vision Magazine, Looking Back Magazine, Kansas City Voices, Gold Dust Magazine (UK), You and Me Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Cup of Comfort, and several other publications and anthologies, as well as co-authorship of four regional histories for Arcadia Publishing's popular "Images of America" series. She has won 19 writing awards, including six from Missouri Writers’ Guild and two from Catholic Press Association of the U.S. and Canada. Dianna is a member and Managing Editor for Missouri Writers’ Guild. She is also a member of St. Louis Writers Guild, Ozark Writers’ League, and Toastmasters International and has several projects in development.

Linda Nance

I am Linda Nance. It has been my dream to be a published author and be to be able to reach out to others. I would like to be able to make a difference. You might say it is my voice. I want to say that we are never too old or too young to make dreams come true if we are willing to work hard and believe. I want each and every person who might get one of my books to have something special that reminds them in their own lives to never give up. Whatever their dreams and wishes are, they can come true.
I love to write, paint,sculpt and many other things. I am a wife, mother, grandmother ( I really like that one) daughter, sister, aunt, neighbor, friend and whatever I have been needed to be. Now I am also a writer and illustrator of my two novels Life Goes On, Journey Home, and the new Children’s Book. I want people to be able to hold the book and look at it and it be more than just another novel. I designed and created the covers and wrote the books from front to back. I wanted to write stories that would be enjoyed and remembered.
It has been a long journey to reach this point as I hold the books in my hands. This is only the beginning. I lived through the cancer surgery and am still writing. I still paint and want to live my life and not just be alive. I want to have a purpose and make a difference. I did not give up. I have only just begun.

Spring Cleaning - It's for the Birds!

2011-07-30T19:46:00.003-05:00

I belong to a small writing group which meets once a week. We get a writing prompt every week and (usually) write on that subject. One week, it was spring cleaning. This is what I wrote.

"Effie!" Mama screeched from the back porch.

I'd almost made it. I was halfway over the fence between us and the Mason's when I heard her. Had I been on the other side, I could've claimed I didn't hear her, but she'd see me in a second if she looked.

"Effie Marie!"

"Coming, Mama!" I hollered, pouting. "Dang it, just about got away!" I shuffled my feet as I approached the porch.

"Where you runnin' off to? Today we start spring cleaning."

"Mama, we just cleaned up the house last week."

"But that was just regular cleaning. Now we got to open up the house, freshen the air, beat the rugs, scrub the floors...."

"Why, Mama?"

"Because it's spring. Need to greet the new season with a fresh house."

Pouting and griping, I followed her inside. She handed me an armload of dirty rugs and told me to go beat them clean. I took 'em to the side of the house and whacked 'em against the corner until she fussed at me and took over the process.

"Go mop the kitchen," she ordered.

I got the mop and bucket and marched into the kitchen. I slopped some water around and left big puddles of grubby water on the floor. Mama came back in while I was shoving the pools around and fussed some more.

"Swear to God, Effie Marie, you can't do nothin' right! Give me that mop!"

I handed it over. "Sorry, Mama."

"Go sweep the front porch. Can't tell me you're not able to do that right!"

"Yes, ma'am." I took the broom and went out to the front porch.

There was quite a wind blowing. Every time I got a pile of dirt together, it blew away before I could sweep it up. I went and got Daddy's leaf blower and fired it up, blowing the crap off the porch that way. Mama came out screaming.

"Effie Marie, what're you doing now?"

"Sweeping the porch, Mama. Wind kept blowing it all back around...."

"You're more trouble than you're worth, child. Go on up to your room and stay outta my way! If you want something done right, got to do it yourself!" She griped & grumbled as she finished working.

I went up to my room with a sly smile. I closed the door and lay down on my bed to watch some TV. Yup, there's sure something to be said for incompetence. "If you want something done right....do it wrong so Mama will do it." Boy, do I love spring cleaning!

Sharing Ideas

2011-07-24T10:41:00.004-05:00

I was reminded yesterday of how important it is for a writer to have someone to bounce ideas off. My son's girlfriend is an aspiring author. She's smart and creative and I'm sure she'll go far with it. That excites me. I enjoy talking to her, sharing a little advice and getting advice from her as well.

Yesterday, she had the idea for a new story that she wants to write. It's a sci-fi scenario and sounds really cool! If I were a horrible person, I'd steal it and write my own novel, that's how good it is. She started bouncing ideas off my boys (I was napping) and by the time I got up, things were getting interesting. Brainstorming with a bunch of creative people, whether writers or not, can be a lot of fun. However, there's a danger there.

What's the drawback to brainstorming like that? Being overwhelmed with ideas and seeing the direction you'd thought to take change and warp into something else. Each person sees the story going his or her way, not the author's. The more aggressive insist that it must go in a certain direction. Frustrating in the extreme!

When I first started writing my sci-fi series, I asked for my husband's input. He's been an avid sci-fi fan for many years. Unfortunately, he and I saw the story going diametrically opposed directions. He wanted to play up some of the sub-plots that really didn't need expansion. He got upset with me when I didn't use his ideas, so eventually I quit asking for his input. Though it made things easier in the long run, it also cut me off from a lucrative source of ideas. I liked the repartee the young people engaged in yesterday, and contributed my own perspective. It was fun and, I hope, helpful to her. Having other writers around to discuss stories with is very important. That sort of back and forth exchange is necessary in the creative process.

Authors are, by nature of their career, somewhat solitary individuals. Even in a group of "regular people", the author is watching, listening, categorizing and cataloging the others, filing them away for future use. However, get a group of authors together and you generally can't get them to shut up. They talk about their characters like they are real and discuss subjects, often in public, that would shock and appall "regular people".

For example, the NaNoWriMo group I attend was discussing killing Cliff Brooks. This is one of the challenges presented by the NaNo boards and several of us like to take the challenge every year. Each of us had a particularly grisly, horrific end planned and we discussed it loudly and excitedly in the Panera dining area as we sipped coffee and ate cinnamon rolls. Other patrons actually got up and moved. I guess they thought were were either crazy, demented or serial killers. (Or a combination of the three) It was funny, at least to me.

One reason I love doing my radio shows so much is that I have the opportunity to talk to authors from all over the world. Regardless of our background, genre or country of origin, or writing style, we all have one thing in common--We look at life from a unique perspective. It's that outlook that sets us apart, making us who we are.

Candid Chat with Michelle Izmaylov

2011-07-17T08:37:00.002-05:00

As many of you know, Michelle and her sister Nicole, were supposed to be on my show July 11th. Through the quirks of Blog Talk Radio, they were unable to get on the call. I asked them both to answer what would have been my interview questions. I am trying to get them scheduled for another time and will post the date and time when it's been settled. Meanwhile, enjoy the interview! ~ D

Dellani Oakes: Michelle, you have an incredible list of accomplishments. Why don't you share that with our listeners?

Michelle Izmaylov: I’d say “incredible” might be a bit of a strong word since I feel I still have a long way to go before I’m really “accomplished.” What I’ve done so far is published three books, two of which were traditionally published, and now I’m an editor at FutureWord Publishing and an illustrator at World Castle Publications.

DO: I have to ask, out of my own curiosity, which of you is older?

MI: I’m older in terms of age, but my sister is older in terms of brains.

DO: With such an impressive list of accomplishments and awards, I'm sure our readers are wondering how you got started writing so young?

MI: I’ve been writing (and doodling) ever since I could hold a pencil. And I’m serious. My first stories were kept locked up in my head because, back then, I didn’t know how to write . . . but the minute I learned my first language (which was Russian), I started to turn my thoughts into words. It’s something I’ve kept at ever since.

DO: What inspires you?

MI: It’s not “what” so much as “who” inspires me . . . and that’s practically every person in my life. For example, my sister is a huge source of inspiration and encouragement. Whenever I’m stuck on a writer’s block, some quirky comment she makes always sparks fresh thoughts. But I also think love is the soul of genius . . . and I think I’ll leave it at that.

DO: How do you work? Do you know the story before you begin writing, or do you let the story develop?

MI: Before I’ve written one word of my story, I come up with characters. After all, the “plots” of our real lives aren’t set out for us in advance. It’s how we face the problems we encounter in life that determines how our lives develop. In my books, I aim for the same approach. I create characters who work their way through ten major scenes I plan around their personalities, but all the space in between those scenes is filled with the results of the characters’ actions. Sometimes the nature of those major scenes will change based on my characters’ decisions in earlier scenes. And so basically, I only have a fuzzy idea of what the story is going to be before I start writing. My characters write the story for me.

DO: What gave you the idea for your first book?

MI: Watching a whole lot of TV and playing a ton of video games sparked my imagination . . . but getting the idea was the easy part. Then came all the work of actually writing!

DO: What is your writing process? Do you write start to finish? In episodes?

MI: I write according to my emotions, and I think that’s part of the reason my more recent (and better) books have taken longer to write. I won’t write a tragic scene in my book unless I’m feeling the pain of loss. I won’t work on a part that involves romance unless I’ve recently had such an encounter myself. So I actually do find myself writing in episodes and then filling in the more neutral details at a later point.

DO: If I remember correctly, you are an illustrator as well. Do you do your own illustrations? Do you ever do illustrations for others?

MI: I’m actually an illustrator at World Castle Publications, and the first picture book I ever illustrated for another author (aside from my sister) is coming out really soon. It’s called “Squazles” and was written by Bob Holton. Also, and don’t laugh when I say this, but I’m thinking about maybe becoming a syndicated cartoonist one day if I get good enough at comics. I’m going to be starting a webcomic series shortly. I mean, there’s just too much crazy stuff that happens in my life for me not to draw about it.

DO: Do you see writing as your future career?

MI: Yes and no. I see writing as something I do out of passion more than as a career path. My main career goal is to become a pediatric cardiologist, but there is actually an entire category of people called “physician writers” who are medical doctors who write creatively in addition to practicing medicine. So that’s one possibility I might pursue.

DO: Do you find yourself talking to your characters? What might a typical conversation be about?

MI: Okay, here’s a question for you . . . are there writers who don’t talk to their characters? My characters are really the ones dictating the story to me . . . and I just write down their thoughts.

DO: Do you purposely use symbolism in your stories?

MI: I do use symbolism, but usually it’s my inner symbolist getting the better of me and slipping in these things when I’m not paying attention. Sometimes, though, I do include certain symbols on purpose when those representations have special meaning to me.

DO: Do you consciously pick a theme before you begin writing?

MI: Usually not. I actually surprise myself sometimes by reading back over my work after I’ve finished to see the themes emerging—so many themes appear that I didn’t even mean to incorporate. And then I emphasize the themes I find during the revision phase of my editing.

DO: What age group are your stories written for?

MI: Depends on which story we’re talking about. My more recent work has focused on teens and is even edging closer to the adult level . . . and I think that reflects my own changing perspectives on my life. The older I grow, the more I understand about the world and the more serious my writing becomes. That’s also become more true as I learn more about science (since I’m a chemistry and biology double major at Emory).

DO: What are your current projects?

MI: I’m in the initial editing stages of my most recent manuscript, which is sitting at around 150,000 words at the moment . . . a bit too much, I’d say. Without giving away too much, this latest book chronicles the story of a teen growing up in a post-apocalyptic world—that and the car racer with whom (she thinks) she falls in love. At the same time, I’m also co-authoring a book with my sister.

DO: What is your latest release?

MI: That would actually be a book I illustrated called "Dart and the Squirrels". My sister’s the author, and she can tell you a whole bunch more about that story.

DO: Where can your books be purchased?

MI: Most anyplace (like Barnes and Noble and on Amazon).

Wit and Whimsy on Gather

2011-07-03T09:59:00.002-05:00

I've started a new group on Gather and hope my friends & fans will join me there. I encourage all authors, writers and readers to hop over and say hello. I will be posting discussions, though I hope members will also do so. I also want members to post random thoughts, excerpts of works in progress and so on.

Please join me on Wit and Whimsy! http://witandwhimsy.gather.com/

A Glimpse at Stephanie Osborn

2011-06-23T19:36:00.001-05:00

Here to tell us a little about herself is the amazingly talented Stephanie Osborn. Stephanie was recently a guest on my Blog Talk Radio show, What's Write for Me on June 22. (Link below)

Stephanie Osborn is a former payload flight controller, a veteran of

over twenty years of working in the civilian space program, as well as
various military space defense programs. She has worked on numerous
Space Shuttle flights and the International Space Station, and counts the
training of astronauts on her resumé. Of those astronauts she trained,
one was Kalpana Chawla, a member of the crew lost in the Columbia
disaster.

She holds graduate and undergraduate degrees in four sciences:
Astronomy, Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics, and she is “fluent” in
several more, including Geology and Anatomy. She obtained her various
degrees from Austin Peay State University in Clarksville, TN and
Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN.

Stephanie is currently retired from space work. She now happily
“passes it forward, ” teaching math and science via numerous media
including radio, podcasting, and public speaking, as well as working with SIGMA,
the science fiction think tank, while writing science fiction mysteries
based on her knowledge, experience, and travels.

Here's the link to my show:http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2011/06/22/rrw--whats-write-for-me

"The Santa Shop" by Tim Greaton – an unexpected breath of fresh air

2011-06-13T13:34:00.002-05:00

Recently, I was asked to read and review The Santa Shop by Tim Greaton. Below is my review of this delightful book.

Skip is homeless. He's been living on the street long enough to know his way around. After the accidental death of his wife and son, for which he holds himself responsible, he loses his job, his home and his self-esteem. Desperately contemplating suicide, he meets Father Johnston and his life begins to change.

We walk through Skip's day, learning about his life. Neither asking for sympathy, nor denying his fall from grace, Skip reminds us we're all worthy of a little respect. Although he's fallen about as low as he can go, he maintains what small dignity he has, refusing a handout, especially when it's accompanied by a lecture.

Although set at Christmastime, "The Santa Shop" is a book that readers can enjoy at any time of the year. It's appropriate for young teens to adult readers. I read part of it aloud to my teenage son and he's decided to read the book—clear evidence that "The Santa Shop" bridges generations.

Greaton treats the character of Skip with unusual insight and tenderness. He lovingly portrays the other characters as well, showing the compassion they have for their fellow man.

I greatly enjoyed "The Santa Shop" and look forward to reading more books by Tim Greaton in the future.

Meet Matthew Munson!

2011-06-05T15:43:00.002-05:00

I met Matthew very recently in one of the Facebook groups. After looking at his site, I asked him to do a blog interview for me. I was delighted when he agreed.

When did you start writing?

I was comparatively young - ten or so. During my teenage years, I wrote quite a bit of sci-fi stuff, mostly around Star Trek (yes, I was ... still am ... a geek!), and am just grateful that none of my work from that period can be found!

What gave you the idea for your first book?

Have you ever heard of the TV series Spooks? It's about MI5, the British Security Service, and it's still on now - and it's an awesome show. That inspired me to write "Treachery and Lies", a book based on MI5. It's still languishing in production hell as it's only really a first draft and needs a hell of a lot of work to make it suitable. I'll get round to it one day.

What genre do you write?

Well, I'm partial to a good thriller, as you've probably guessed from my previous answer! However, I do like a bit of fantasy, although mostly combined with "real world" activities - I haven't developed the broad themes to create an entire fantastical world. Yet!

What do you do to keep yourself focused?

Check my bank balance on a regular basis! I can't afford to give up work entirely, but as I get odds and ends in and see my savings slowly - too slowly - go up, it reminds me of the end goal; a career as a full-time writer.

Do you stay with one project or do you work on multiple projects?

Multiple! For instance, I just finished my latest manucript this morning, but had already started jotting down notes for a sequel, got two blog posts written up and writing my column for a newspaper. I find it easier to flit between projects - and I love the sound of deadlines as they go whooshing past (thanks, Douglas Adams!).

What is your writing process?

I just knuckle down and get it done. I must confess, I don't hold much truck with people who claim they never have any time to write; you MAKE time! I hold down a full-time job and am studying sign language, but I still write every day; it may only be 500 words, but I write. You just have to manage your expectations, park your bum on the seat and WRITE!

What is the theme of your novel?

The one I've just finished? Well, it's called "Fall From Grace," and that empitomises it for me; an angel's fall from grace and a human's similar journey - and how they recover from that.

Do you consciously use symbolism in your book?

Not a huge amount; I research my books really heavily, and that research often gives me clues as to where to go. Of course, depending on your beliefs, Fall From Grace could be one long symbol, drawing as it does a couple of references to the bible!

What is your latest release?

Fall From Grace! It's being published by Inspired Qill (www.inspired-quill.com ) in the Autumn; Sara and her team are phenomenal, they're working on it so passionately that I'm confident in leaving it with them to prepare.

What other books do you have published?

It's still early days; I've had a short story published by Phil Hill Press and a few pieces published in fiction magazines.

Where are your books available?

Ask me that again in three months when Fall From Grace comes out - check out my website (www.writeordie.co.uk) for regular updates.

Red River Writers Live & Robin Falls Kids Schedule

2011-05-29T16:27:00.003-05:00

Monday:

Tony Angelo – The Dreams of Our Children – Every other month

Peggy Grenne – Chirp with Peggy – 6 times a year
Dellani Oakes – Dellani's Tea Time 4:00 PM Eastern
Virginia S. Grenier – Stories for Children

Barbara Hodges – Let's Talk

Dr. Thomas A Gavin

Wade Zahares, Rose Cooper, Carolyn Watson Dubisch

Marsha Casper Cook – A Good Story is a Good Story – 8:00 PM Eastern – Every week.

5. Lakisha Spletzer – Tell Me a Story

Tuesday:

Every Tuesday – Peter J. Dawson – Speak Out America Now, a current events show

Wednesday:

Mike Marcellino – Notebookwriter – 8:00 PM Eastern
Men Read – Lt. Col. Karl Lenker, George Scott – 8:00 PM Eastern
Fran Lewis – Book Discussion – 1:00 PM Eastern
Dellani Oakes – What's Write for Me – 1:00 PM Eastern
Anne-Louise Sterry – Art of Storytelling

Thursday:

Debra Simpson – Savvy Designs – 1:00 PM Eastern

Shani Fenderson – The Christian Cafe – every other month
Barbara Hodges – No Limits
Linda Kozar, Sharon Leaf, Kelly Boyer Sagert – Gate Beautiful – Every other month
Barbara Ehrentreau – Tales from the Pages – 4:00 PM Eastern
John T. Willis – Black History is American History

Friday:

Michelle Debenport & Jo Brielyn – Will Blog For Kids
Suzanne Alicie, Amy Browne, Rose Kitchen – Freelance Connection

R. Jeffreys – The Write Step – every other month
Meg Collins & Nancy Denofeo – Page Turners
Melea Brock – Story Tellers – 4 times a year
MJ Gillot – Fine Lines – every month with five Fridays

Specials:

Kimberly Moore & Dara DiGiovanni – Romance Connection 4 times a year
MJ Goodnow & April Robins – 15 Minutes with Robins and Goodnow

Getting to Know Sue O'Shields!

2011-05-24T19:42:00.003-05:00

Sue is a wonderful author, though she's not yet published her novels. I'm thrilled and honored that she agreed to participate in her very first interview! ~ Dellani

When did you start writing?

Well, when it comes to story-telling, I think I became interested in writing when I got such positive response to a story I wrote in First Grade. Positive for me, anyway; it created a lot of laughter, and people were paying attention to me. The story went: "This summer for summer vacaton we went to Wiscon. Then we came home. My dog ran away and got hit by a car. The End." Everyone thought it was uproarious. Go figure.

By the way, the dog was fine. He got tapped by the car and in turn tried to bite it.

What gave you the idea for your first book?

Gee, do I want to answer this? Okay, okay, it was fan fiction about my favorite rock star. Back when I was thirteen, ALL the girls were writing about how they would meet Rod Stewart or the Bay City Roller of choice, so I wrote about how George Harrison and I would meet, fall in love and get married. By then, Beatlemania was far out of fashion, and most of my peers at my new school never heard of John, Paul, George and Ringo. It was somewhat awkward until I met another Beatles fan who was somewhat cooler than me. We formed a friendship which led to other friendships and all these people wanted to read what I wrote. Talk about positive reinforcement!

Oh! Were you talking 'as a professional'? My personal hero is Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain and I love Civil War history.

What genre do you write?

Well, for years I wrote fan fiction! haha! Currently? Paranormal romance. Before that, I wrote an American Civil War epic romance called Destiny of Honor that I'm trying to split into two books because it's a whopping 226,000 words. As an aside, I must say that it's a strange thing to have one of your beta readers say to you, after reading the even bigger version (237K), "I was so sad to see the book end! I wanted to know what happened to Chamby and Ophelia and Jacob and..." I'm thinking "Ooo! Sequel!"

What do you do to keep yourself focused?

Oooh! A kitty!... I'm sorry...what?

Do you stay with one project or do you work on multiple projects?

I used to be single project fixated. Right now I have several going: the Civil War epic that needs work, the straight-forward paranormal The High Bridge manuscript, and my work in progress called "Grave Message", a paranormal romance/women's issues (involving Postpartum Depression and how it affects a marriage). I'm most definitely floundering with all of these. I think I need to go back to single project fixation, pick one of the above and then move on it.

What is your writing process?

Well...I drink lots of coffee to start... Seriously, I'm a combination of color-coded index cards and seat-of-the-pants-grab-that-muse-before-he-gets-away-dammit kind of writer. It's a controlled chaos, if such a thing exists. I start out so absorbed with keeping things orderly, I've been known to match my colored paperclips to the color of my index cards (blue for scene info, yellow of interesting dialogue, red for conflict building ideas, green for character's info). Once I get to writing, I'm a Pantser, occasionally going back to the cards when I need a jolt of inspiration. My Muse is a drunken lush and those cards are Mead for the Muse, so back he staggers.

What is the theme of your novel?

The theme of the Civil War novel is how terrible injustice inspires change, growth of personal nobility and ultimately great love. The theme of The High Bridge is how terrible injustice inspires change, growth of personal nobil--- hey!

Do you consciously use symbolism in your book?

Yes, especially in "Destiny of Honor." The Victorians LOVED symbolism and I use that. In "The High Bridge," white wild doves figure prominently in a "Oh, thank God they're free!" moment. I also tend to put a few "inside jokes" and "if you knew me, you'd know what that means" situations. For example, in "High Bridge", my female main character is at a Bed & Breakfast in the town of Thomas, which is loosely based on the real Colorado town of Fraser. I grew up in Chicago, and anyone who grew up in Chicago will know of a grandfatherly television personality from the 60's and 70's named Fraser Thomas. Also, my character Sandra is having breakfast with some of the guests, two of whom are a motorcycling couple who are trying to ride as close to the Continental Divide as possible as a wedding anniversary trip. Well, my husband and I spend our wedding anniversaries on motorcycle road trips, staying in B&B's along the way.

What is your latest release?

I’m working on that, actually… Know any good publishers?

What other books do you have published?

Er… some of my caving trip reports are in the Library of Congress. Does that count?

Where are your books available?

Review two questions up, please.

Wednesday's Show

2011-05-23T09:38:00.002-05:00

Due to the fact I had surgery last Monday, I've decided NOT to have my show on Wednesday May 25th. I thought I could handle it, but I'm still very tired & run down. Also, my other half is putting his medical foot down. My guests WILL BE on another show and I will keep you updated. ~ Dellani