As an author, I read the Wall Street Journal’s article related to are EBooks worth it with an analytical eye toward my own future. However, I strongly disagreed with the journalist on several of his key points. My opinions are expressed as a layman, of course, as I am not a professional journalist. I express my opinions as an author and a book-buyer.
1) Casual readers probably shouldn’t bother. The median American book buyer purchases just seven books a year according to AP-ipsos poll in 2007. First, we’re using a three year old poll, and second if you take a look at how the poll was conducted it shows the Associated Press conducted the poll over two days based on random interviews with 1,003 adults. Now, knowing how many adults there are in just America, does that not change your opinion on these results? I certainly know it did mine. We simply cannot poll 1,003 people and state that their opinion applies to all median-American book buyers.
2) Ebooks aren’t as cheap as they should be. Well, true, some books aren’t as cheap as I myself, a buyer, would like. Prices are referenced from $12.99 to $5.69. No mention of the freebies, the 99 cent, $1.99, $2.99, $3.99 and $4.99 ebooks. In fact, the article totally ignores that market as if it doesn’t exist. The last paperback I look at was priced at $5.99. I could buy six 99 cent books for the price of one mass market paperback. I would agree that publishers need to assess their prices with an eye toward the readers. I recently wanted to purchase the new Kay Hooper book, but found the Kindle copy at $14.12, and the paperback was only $17.00 and some odd cents. I refused to pay that much for the digital copy. So, yes, readers do have a limit on what they’re willing to pay. That isn’t a bad thing. In fact, hopefully it will result in cheaper ebook prices from traditional publishers. And on that note—The Wall Street Journal subscriptions on line at last check were only $16.00 cheaper than the printed subscription. Surely the savings for only line publication versus printed, and delivery would far exceed $16.00 a year.
3) Savvy readers read the classics, which are better than most of the stuff published more recently anyway. The definition of Savvy is 1) to know; understand 2) shrewdness or intelligence; common sense; 3) shrewdly informed; experienced and well-informed; canny.
This statement really bothered me. It goes back to an agent’s early assessment of my first book submitted that it was “too complicated” for readers to understand. Too many characters for a “normal” reader to follow. I consider myself a “normal” reader, and I’ve never needed a character list to help me follow a book if it was well written with a well plotted plot. The story pulled you in to well-defined characters and it didn’t take an Einstein to follow their role in the plot. Yes, I love the classics, and yes I love freebies, but I believe myself to be a person who can read, comprehend and understand what I’m reading with intelligence and common sense.
4) Potential costs of buying a Kindle. You end up making lots of impulse purchases. Credit cards have the same problem. An yes, initially when you first receive your new “toy” you may find yourself purchasing more books then you would if you were in the book store, most at a much cheaper price as most new buyers will first cruise through the freebies and 99 cent books before they start running amuck with huge purchases. And, once the new wears off, most ebook readers will slow down to buying only the amount of books they want to read during a particular period. And there can be savings related to purchasing ebooks. I’ve never made a trip to the bookstore that I didn’t also stop by another store and spend more money. On top of that there’s lunch or dinner out, another $20.00 to $50.00 depending on where we go, and then of course with the rising cost of gasoline there’s that expense. So downloading six ebooks at $.99 could actually save me over a $100.00 for one trip to the bookstore. These savings would quickly pay for my ereader.
5) Cost of rivals, and if you’re thinking of buying a book reader – wait. There may actually be merit to these, if you want to wait. Prices will eventually come down.
Overall, I believe the journalist was expressing his personal opinions, and he states he loves EBooks, and often takes 10 with him on vacation. I simply wish his article has not been quite so biased against what I consider to be a flourishing market of new authors. The Indie authors who are offering their Ebooks for $3.99 or less. The publishing industry has all but embraced these authors, offering self-publishing through traditional publishing houses, however, the media continues to ignore them.
Using old figures, only because I can find no new data, in 2004, 950,000 titles out of 1.2 million tracked by Nielsen Bookscan sold fewer than 99 copies. Another 200,000 sold fewer than 1,000 copies. Only 25,000 sold more than 5,000 copies. The average book in America sells 500 copies (Publishers weekly, July 1, 2006). The average U.S. book is now selling less than 250 copies per year and less than 3,000 copies over its lifetime. Staggering figures, that take into account only those books published through traditional publishing houses. Many Indie authors are surpassing these figures by leaps and bounds, averaging 250 sales a month—not a year. In fact, I believe we currently have at least one or two Indie authors selling in excess of 1,000 books a month.
Isn’t it time The Wall Street Journal and other media sources that inform the world on “reading” encompass the entire field?
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author ~ ~ ~ writing and streams of consciousness
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Writing your imagination - Words that paint pictures
As an author I’m always looking for things that spark my imagination, creating images that can be translated into words. I ran across the article describing the Piasa Bird when I was writing Sacred Secrets. A scene in the book immediately came to mind. If you’ve ever been trapped inside during a snowstorm with howling winds, and odd bumps and bangs in the middle of the night you’ll understand exactly what I’m talking about. The imagination creates a strong sense of more than just wind. More than just trees slapping against the house or windows. You see the creatures of the night. And that can be terrifying. I thought I’d share one of those bits of imagination with you, and how I used it in Sacred Secrets.
Piasa Bird (pronounced Pie-a-saw), is a local legend in the Alton, Illinois area. In 1673 Father Jacques Marquette, in recording his famous journey down the Mississippi River with Louis Joliet, described the "Piasa" as a birdlike monster painted high on the bluffs along the Mississippi River, where the city of Alton, Illinois now stands. According to the diary, the Piasa "was as large as a calf with horns like a deer, red eyes, a beard like a tiger's, a face like a man, the body covered with green, red and black scales and a tail so long it passed around the body, over the head and between the legs."
The creature was given its name by the Illini Indians, "The Piasa", meaning a bird that devours men.
EXCERPT – Sacred Secrets
For most it was a typical winter night in North Dakota. Cruel and harsh, with merciless winds. And fierce cold that chilled to the bone.
For others it was the beginning of an ancient battle. The nightmares of tortured minds.
Charity Froste closed her eyes. She could see the huge ugly bird as it descended. Red eyes glowing like the embers of fire. Snow white fangs that devoured everything in its path.
The wind howled, shrieked and sent forth blood-chilling screams. Tree limbs slapped and scraped the sides of the house, like the huge bird’s dagger-like talons. The bones never lied.
Have a wonderful day, and if you’d like to read more – visit me at
Piasa Bird (pronounced Pie-a-saw), is a local legend in the Alton, Illinois area. In 1673 Father Jacques Marquette, in recording his famous journey down the Mississippi River with Louis Joliet, described the "Piasa" as a birdlike monster painted high on the bluffs along the Mississippi River, where the city of Alton, Illinois now stands. According to the diary, the Piasa "was as large as a calf with horns like a deer, red eyes, a beard like a tiger's, a face like a man, the body covered with green, red and black scales and a tail so long it passed around the body, over the head and between the legs."
The creature was given its name by the Illini Indians, "The Piasa", meaning a bird that devours men.
EXCERPT – Sacred Secrets
For most it was a typical winter night in North Dakota. Cruel and harsh, with merciless winds. And fierce cold that chilled to the bone.
For others it was the beginning of an ancient battle. The nightmares of tortured minds.
Charity Froste closed her eyes. She could see the huge ugly bird as it descended. Red eyes glowing like the embers of fire. Snow white fangs that devoured everything in its path.
The wind howled, shrieked and sent forth blood-chilling screams. Tree limbs slapped and scraped the sides of the house, like the huge bird’s dagger-like talons. The bones never lied.
Have a wonderful day, and if you’d like to read more – visit me at
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Dr. Laura - a layman's opinion of what she really did wrong.
First, let me state I have never been a fan of Dr. Laura, or actually any talk show host that uses the personal problems of people to improve their ratings. However, curious about the hoopla, her apologies and comments concerning the freedom of speech, I googled her this morning to see what I thought was really going on. And I watched the clip of what was said, and what was not said. I’m assuming this was a true clip, but cut at the point where she asked the caller to hold, I assume, for a commercial. Therefore, perhaps I didn’t hear the entire program with this caller.
Familiar with politics and public speaking I listened to the program with an ear toward what was offensive, and truthfully found nothing said to the caller particularly offensive. However, I found her attitude to the caller rude, as she kept interrupting and not allowing the caller to discuss her real issue which was the fact that her husband’s family and friends often made her feel uncomfortable or hurt due to comments they made concerning black people. Never once does Dr. Laura address the issue of this caller’s emotional feelings, instead she makes a comment that I’m sure was based on her personal feelings, as it certainly isn’t true, and could be construed as racist. She states totally off the issue “Black people voted for Obama because he’s half black.” Now, what did that comment have to do with this woman’s emotional and hurt feelings concerning her husband’s family and friends making comments that she felt were inappropriate because she was black and her husband’s lack of empathy or support for her? Absolutely nothing.
Was it a racist comment? Yes, because it implies that “white” people did not vote for President Obama because he’s half back. Which of course isn’t true. I know many black people who did not vote for President Obama, just as I know many white people who did. Race was only an issue for most of us when politicians and the media made it an issue. Comments like these are made daily by hundreds of people wanting to increase their ratings because they think it’s what the public wants to hear and see. Controversy. Ridicule. DRAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Basically that is the exact reason I don’t watch these shows. Perhaps I’m old, but airing your dirty laundry in public was frowned upon as I grew up. Insulting people or ridiculing people was frowned up. And you didn’t call up a complete stranger for advice is you had a problem. You found a good friend, your minister or your therapist and you discussed it behind closed doors. If Dr. Laura had wanted to help the caller she would have asked the question “Have you talked to your husband about how you feel?” “Have you talked to your husband’s family about how you feel?” But she didn’t do that, because the show wasn’t dedicated to helping callers with problems. Instead it was dedicated to DRAMA.
I personally won’t miss Dr. Laura, as I didn’t watch her to begin with. Was her comment worthy of being ousted or requiring her to quit? I would say that truly was up to the network advertisers and sponsors. It would be interesting to know if they threatened to pull their ads from the show unless she apologized and resigned. Of course, we the public will never have access to that information. Unless, of course, it comes to play in a future drama that might improve ratings.
Familiar with politics and public speaking I listened to the program with an ear toward what was offensive, and truthfully found nothing said to the caller particularly offensive. However, I found her attitude to the caller rude, as she kept interrupting and not allowing the caller to discuss her real issue which was the fact that her husband’s family and friends often made her feel uncomfortable or hurt due to comments they made concerning black people. Never once does Dr. Laura address the issue of this caller’s emotional feelings, instead she makes a comment that I’m sure was based on her personal feelings, as it certainly isn’t true, and could be construed as racist. She states totally off the issue “Black people voted for Obama because he’s half black.” Now, what did that comment have to do with this woman’s emotional and hurt feelings concerning her husband’s family and friends making comments that she felt were inappropriate because she was black and her husband’s lack of empathy or support for her? Absolutely nothing.
Was it a racist comment? Yes, because it implies that “white” people did not vote for President Obama because he’s half back. Which of course isn’t true. I know many black people who did not vote for President Obama, just as I know many white people who did. Race was only an issue for most of us when politicians and the media made it an issue. Comments like these are made daily by hundreds of people wanting to increase their ratings because they think it’s what the public wants to hear and see. Controversy. Ridicule. DRAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Basically that is the exact reason I don’t watch these shows. Perhaps I’m old, but airing your dirty laundry in public was frowned upon as I grew up. Insulting people or ridiculing people was frowned up. And you didn’t call up a complete stranger for advice is you had a problem. You found a good friend, your minister or your therapist and you discussed it behind closed doors. If Dr. Laura had wanted to help the caller she would have asked the question “Have you talked to your husband about how you feel?” “Have you talked to your husband’s family about how you feel?” But she didn’t do that, because the show wasn’t dedicated to helping callers with problems. Instead it was dedicated to DRAMA.
I personally won’t miss Dr. Laura, as I didn’t watch her to begin with. Was her comment worthy of being ousted or requiring her to quit? I would say that truly was up to the network advertisers and sponsors. It would be interesting to know if they threatened to pull their ads from the show unless she apologized and resigned. Of course, we the public will never have access to that information. Unless, of course, it comes to play in a future drama that might improve ratings.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Today's Tarot Card Reading
I have read tarot cards for others, but only for the purpose of allowing them to find their own personal insight. To me, that is the basic purpose of the Tarot. To help you focus on your internal questions that perhaps you haven’t even heard yet, and sound them out until you find your own solution. I’m often surprised at the insight people actually see within the cards, and how the cards are beneficial in helping them understand the one person we have the most difficult time understanding—our self. A good tool for self introspection.
Having felt that inner confusion of something bothering me for days now, the deep musings, sometimes dark and mysterious, I knew that somewhere deep inside something was bothering me, and yet consciously I just couldn’t see or understand the problem. So this morning I took the time to spend a little me time and did my own reading, hoping to gain insight into what was really bothering me.
I used a five card spread for insight laid out as follows:
1) The general theme of the problem as it exists in the present;
2) Past influences still having an effect
3) The future
4) Reason behind my confusion
5) Potential within the situation
The very first card held a wealth of information. The King of Wands. My mind immediately went to my newest book, Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery. I thought about Clover’s interpretation of that card. “A good man, impassioned by his beliefs. A man who will—would sacrifice himself for those he loves.”
The general theme of the problem as it exists in the present. Writing is my passion. Creating plots, characters, stories and weaving them all together into a novel worthy of being read by others. Still, there is the internal conflict of the time I have to devote to my writing, versus the time I need to devote to making a living, my family, my friends and my home. The guilt that at times I’m neglecting someone or something to fulfill my own needs. And then there’s the time it takes to promote the work once it’s released. No one can read it if they don’t know it exists. Not having that $100,000.00 marketing budget means taking personal responsibility and time. Once again bringing up the guilt of neglecting the people around me. Card one was very insightful indeed.
Card two, “past influences still having an effect”. I pulled the four of pentacles. For me this card signified having a good life, but having just enough. Not enough to squander. A fear of losing what I already had. Not hard to see where that was going—once again to the problem of promotion. Devoting time to my passion took away time from my “earning” capacity. I’m comfortable now, but if I don’t work more, will I lose that comfort? And then what?
Card three was the future. I pulled the Sun. A beautiful card with beautiful meaning. Happiness, contentment and bliss. The ability to play. Be a child again. What a future that would be. And if this was a true internal feeling about my future, then why was I so confused?
Card four—the reason behind my confusion. I pulled the seven of cups. A mixed card. A card about ideas, dreams, thoughts, illusions, transitions and mystery. A card about choices. I hate choices. I hate making decisions. For years there was no one to help me make decisions, and I was constantly having to do everything on my own. Sometimes I would cry late at night, wishing that just for once I had someone who would take the wheel for a moment. Of course, idiot that I was, I had that all along. God. But even recognizing that, you have to let go of the wheel. Easier said than done. Lately I’ve been making changes in my life. Positive changes, yes, but still changes. And I’m scared. I went from a published author to an Indie author. Some would say that was a bad move. Perhaps. Could I have gotten a contract on Sacred Secrets? I don’t know I never submitted it to anyone. Is my writing worse because it wasn’t published traditionally? No. That’s the one thing I’m sure of. I put my very best into my first book, and I put 110% into my second. I have little doubt that Sacred Secrets is as good, if not better than The Gifts. But the fear remains, and only time will take that fear away. And as every author knows, a traditionally published book doesn't guarantee success. You may sell a few more than an indie author in the beginning due to publisher marketing, but in the end it all falls to the author.
Card Five—the potential within the situation. I pulled the 2 of Pentacles and laughed. No better card to point out the confusion of my fourth card. I needed to strike a balance. Travel beyond the conventional to reach my goals. Set aside time to write, time to work and time for family. I have a wonderful supportive family. They understand my passion. There really wasn’t a problem there, except my own problems and fears. Basically I needed to get over it, and move on. I was wasting time just dabbling in the confusion of my personal desires and passion instead of doing something constructive to make it happen.
A good reading? Yes, for me it was. I went in cold on this one, not asking a specific question, but allowing my subconscious mind to pull out what I need to know and see. Did it help? Yes, it did. My perspective has changed, and although I don’t write outlines when writing a book, I do intend to do some outlining today on time structures and making the most effective use of the time available. Knowing what you need time for helps in making constructive choices on use of your time. I need time for family, time for me (which includes reading time), time for writing, time for cleaning my home and time for promotion. Not an easy task, but still the possibilities are endless.
Have a question about reading tarot for insight? Feel free to email me at: admin@prather-author.com. The best insight you’ll ever get comes from within.
Having felt that inner confusion of something bothering me for days now, the deep musings, sometimes dark and mysterious, I knew that somewhere deep inside something was bothering me, and yet consciously I just couldn’t see or understand the problem. So this morning I took the time to spend a little me time and did my own reading, hoping to gain insight into what was really bothering me.
I used a five card spread for insight laid out as follows:
1) The general theme of the problem as it exists in the present;
2) Past influences still having an effect
3) The future
4) Reason behind my confusion
5) Potential within the situation
The very first card held a wealth of information. The King of Wands. My mind immediately went to my newest book, Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery. I thought about Clover’s interpretation of that card. “A good man, impassioned by his beliefs. A man who will—would sacrifice himself for those he loves.”
The general theme of the problem as it exists in the present. Writing is my passion. Creating plots, characters, stories and weaving them all together into a novel worthy of being read by others. Still, there is the internal conflict of the time I have to devote to my writing, versus the time I need to devote to making a living, my family, my friends and my home. The guilt that at times I’m neglecting someone or something to fulfill my own needs. And then there’s the time it takes to promote the work once it’s released. No one can read it if they don’t know it exists. Not having that $100,000.00 marketing budget means taking personal responsibility and time. Once again bringing up the guilt of neglecting the people around me. Card one was very insightful indeed.
Card two, “past influences still having an effect”. I pulled the four of pentacles. For me this card signified having a good life, but having just enough. Not enough to squander. A fear of losing what I already had. Not hard to see where that was going—once again to the problem of promotion. Devoting time to my passion took away time from my “earning” capacity. I’m comfortable now, but if I don’t work more, will I lose that comfort? And then what?
Card three was the future. I pulled the Sun. A beautiful card with beautiful meaning. Happiness, contentment and bliss. The ability to play. Be a child again. What a future that would be. And if this was a true internal feeling about my future, then why was I so confused?
Card four—the reason behind my confusion. I pulled the seven of cups. A mixed card. A card about ideas, dreams, thoughts, illusions, transitions and mystery. A card about choices. I hate choices. I hate making decisions. For years there was no one to help me make decisions, and I was constantly having to do everything on my own. Sometimes I would cry late at night, wishing that just for once I had someone who would take the wheel for a moment. Of course, idiot that I was, I had that all along. God. But even recognizing that, you have to let go of the wheel. Easier said than done. Lately I’ve been making changes in my life. Positive changes, yes, but still changes. And I’m scared. I went from a published author to an Indie author. Some would say that was a bad move. Perhaps. Could I have gotten a contract on Sacred Secrets? I don’t know I never submitted it to anyone. Is my writing worse because it wasn’t published traditionally? No. That’s the one thing I’m sure of. I put my very best into my first book, and I put 110% into my second. I have little doubt that Sacred Secrets is as good, if not better than The Gifts. But the fear remains, and only time will take that fear away. And as every author knows, a traditionally published book doesn't guarantee success. You may sell a few more than an indie author in the beginning due to publisher marketing, but in the end it all falls to the author.
Card Five—the potential within the situation. I pulled the 2 of Pentacles and laughed. No better card to point out the confusion of my fourth card. I needed to strike a balance. Travel beyond the conventional to reach my goals. Set aside time to write, time to work and time for family. I have a wonderful supportive family. They understand my passion. There really wasn’t a problem there, except my own problems and fears. Basically I needed to get over it, and move on. I was wasting time just dabbling in the confusion of my personal desires and passion instead of doing something constructive to make it happen.
A good reading? Yes, for me it was. I went in cold on this one, not asking a specific question, but allowing my subconscious mind to pull out what I need to know and see. Did it help? Yes, it did. My perspective has changed, and although I don’t write outlines when writing a book, I do intend to do some outlining today on time structures and making the most effective use of the time available. Knowing what you need time for helps in making constructive choices on use of your time. I need time for family, time for me (which includes reading time), time for writing, time for cleaning my home and time for promotion. Not an easy task, but still the possibilities are endless.
Have a question about reading tarot for insight? Feel free to email me at: admin@prather-author.com. The best insight you’ll ever get comes from within.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Memory Walking
As an author I’m sometimes asked where ideas come from. I’m not always sure how to answer that. For those of us with a vivid imagination and quest for knowledge ideas are everywhere. It takes only a word, a look or specific scenery to start the wheels turning and before we know it we’re creating our own story around that word, look or scenery. Normally the best ideas come from what you yourself are interested in. Want to write a private investigator series, then take a private investigator course. Interested in police procedures or forensics, take a class. Knowledge opens the door for the imagination to take what you know and apply it to the fictional world you’re creating for your characters.
If you’ve read The Jacody Ives Mysteries then you know that my main focus on the characters’ “gifts” was dreams. Dreams have always fascinated me and I took several dream gestalting classes, and even taught dream interpretation at local seminars and special classes for local universities. A fascinating subject that I found myself weaving into my characters and stories.
I also studied Shamanism, which is a small part of Billy Dawson’s character in Sacred Secrets. Somewhere in those studies, although I truly could find no research on the subject, the term “memory walking” came to me. We’ve all experienced Déjà vu at times. That distinct feeling that we’ve been somewhere before. Seen someone before. At times it’s overwhelming and we just know we’ve walked this beach, entered this building, touched this item. And yet we have no conscious memory of it. Memory walking was different. A waking vision/dream with scenes, emotions and sometimes even words. Sometimes the memories are fleeting, and yet others play out the full drama of what may or may not have happened in a particular place and time. When I was working on the final draft of Sacred Secrets my friend and editor and I would often meet for a weekend editing bash in Somerset, Kentucky. I’ve made that drive many times, and never experienced anything unusual. This time was different.
Driving along U.S. 27 I found myself suddenly not seeing the road. In fact I was standing inside a small apartment or motel room, watching as a young woman struggled with despair, anger and pain. I saw the gun, knew what she was going to do. The scene switched on me, and I see her lying on the floor, hair fanned out around her, blood soaking the dirty carpet. A young man enters, sees here there, calls the police, grabs a beer and sits at the counter waiting.
I can still see her spirit, standing there in the shadows as she watched him. Her emotions flowed through me, and words came. I pulled the car over, because I couldn’t wait to write them down.
I seal the lock
Upon the door within my heart
As I stand in the shadows
Watching
Waiting
For you to feel. . .
Something.
Her suicide wasn’t because she wanted to die. She simply wanted him to feel something. She wanted him to miss her. Love her. Mourn her. Perhaps you’ll find bits and pieces of this emotional need in Father Michaels’ character.
Pulling back on the road I continued down the highway, a little sadder, and perhaps a little more open because I went only a short distance when it happened again. This time I was in a hospital room. A young woman was in labor. I felt her pain, despair and sadness. She lovingly caressed her stomach as she waited in between contractions. There were no friends with her. No family. On the nurse that came in to check on her occasionally. Once again, words came to me.
Tomorrow the sun will rise,
Casting rays of warmth and love,
Upon the dew covered roses,
Creating a world of beauty,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry
Tomorrow a baby will take its first breath,
Cry its first cry,
Be wrapped in soft cotton and love,
Held in reverence and awe,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry
Tomorrow I'll sign the papers,
Relinquish my right to hold you,
Give you new life,
Hope for the future,
Parents that will love you,
As I would have loved you,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry.
Once again, an emotional scene that impacted me in many ways, and thus impacted my editing session and writing of Sacred Secrets. Sacrifice for love. To give up something not because you want to, but because you love it enough to want the best for it.
Perhaps this was all my imagination, because as you know it is vivid. But the scenes were real to me. The emotions real to me. And I truly felt as if I were walking through someone else’s memories. Tragic and painful memories.
I also incorporated this experience into Sacred Secrets, allowing Jacody Ives to have his own “memory walk” experience.
So where do ideas come from? They’re everywhere, in everything.
If you’ve read The Jacody Ives Mysteries then you know that my main focus on the characters’ “gifts” was dreams. Dreams have always fascinated me and I took several dream gestalting classes, and even taught dream interpretation at local seminars and special classes for local universities. A fascinating subject that I found myself weaving into my characters and stories.
I also studied Shamanism, which is a small part of Billy Dawson’s character in Sacred Secrets. Somewhere in those studies, although I truly could find no research on the subject, the term “memory walking” came to me. We’ve all experienced Déjà vu at times. That distinct feeling that we’ve been somewhere before. Seen someone before. At times it’s overwhelming and we just know we’ve walked this beach, entered this building, touched this item. And yet we have no conscious memory of it. Memory walking was different. A waking vision/dream with scenes, emotions and sometimes even words. Sometimes the memories are fleeting, and yet others play out the full drama of what may or may not have happened in a particular place and time. When I was working on the final draft of Sacred Secrets my friend and editor and I would often meet for a weekend editing bash in Somerset, Kentucky. I’ve made that drive many times, and never experienced anything unusual. This time was different.
Driving along U.S. 27 I found myself suddenly not seeing the road. In fact I was standing inside a small apartment or motel room, watching as a young woman struggled with despair, anger and pain. I saw the gun, knew what she was going to do. The scene switched on me, and I see her lying on the floor, hair fanned out around her, blood soaking the dirty carpet. A young man enters, sees here there, calls the police, grabs a beer and sits at the counter waiting.
I can still see her spirit, standing there in the shadows as she watched him. Her emotions flowed through me, and words came. I pulled the car over, because I couldn’t wait to write them down.
I seal the lock
Upon the door within my heart
As I stand in the shadows
Watching
Waiting
For you to feel. . .
Something.
Her suicide wasn’t because she wanted to die. She simply wanted him to feel something. She wanted him to miss her. Love her. Mourn her. Perhaps you’ll find bits and pieces of this emotional need in Father Michaels’ character.
Pulling back on the road I continued down the highway, a little sadder, and perhaps a little more open because I went only a short distance when it happened again. This time I was in a hospital room. A young woman was in labor. I felt her pain, despair and sadness. She lovingly caressed her stomach as she waited in between contractions. There were no friends with her. No family. On the nurse that came in to check on her occasionally. Once again, words came to me.
Tomorrow the sun will rise,
Casting rays of warmth and love,
Upon the dew covered roses,
Creating a world of beauty,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry
Tomorrow a baby will take its first breath,
Cry its first cry,
Be wrapped in soft cotton and love,
Held in reverence and awe,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry
Tomorrow I'll sign the papers,
Relinquish my right to hold you,
Give you new life,
Hope for the future,
Parents that will love you,
As I would have loved you,
But that's tomorrow,
Today I shall cry.
Once again, an emotional scene that impacted me in many ways, and thus impacted my editing session and writing of Sacred Secrets. Sacrifice for love. To give up something not because you want to, but because you love it enough to want the best for it.
Perhaps this was all my imagination, because as you know it is vivid. But the scenes were real to me. The emotions real to me. And I truly felt as if I were walking through someone else’s memories. Tragic and painful memories.
I also incorporated this experience into Sacred Secrets, allowing Jacody Ives to have his own “memory walk” experience.
So where do ideas come from? They’re everywhere, in everything.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Vibrations, Light and Healing
Visualization is not just a matter of positive thinking and imagination. Thoughts have vibrations and scientists have discovered that if something vibrates at a certain rate, other objects can pick up those vibratory impulses and vibrate at the same rate. Consider this—you’re in a room with 10 negative people, all thinking, feeling and exhibiting signs of negativity. How long can you last in this room with these vibrations bombarding you before you feel yourself becoming depressed and/or negative in your own thinking. A perfect example of this is an angry crowd, or a positive speech forum. We immediately get caught up in the mental and emotional feeds around us. We feel the vibrations of the mental thoughts of the crowd, and our own mental vibrations start to change and vibrate at the same rate, causing excitement or anger or depression.
Energy Centers – Most of us have heard the word Chakra, which is a Sanskrit word meaning center. The crown center, the third eye, the throat, the heart, the solar, the spinal or tail center, and the basic brain center. In healing work we often open and close these centers allowing deep-down energy stimulation. To open a center you simply stroke in a clockwise fashion a couple of inches from the body center. To close use a counter-clockwise movement.
Healing exercises should allow you to experience sight and sensation yourself. Not just imaginary feelings, but real honest feelings.
Visualization Exercise – The orange exercise is a great visualization technique. It gives you a visible way of connecting with light and practicing it will greatly enhance your meditation experiences. This exercise ties together your inward and outward sight.
Begin with a physical orange in your hand. Look at the orange. Examine its surface. Allow your eyes to slowly drift to the center of the orange. Now look within it, as if you are imagining what it really looks like inside. You’ll be amazed when you realize that it isn’t just your imagination. You’re actually seeing inside it. Keep your gaze constant as you examine the various things you see: the segments are surrounded by white skins. Inside the segments are little globules of golden juice. The globules are surrounded by their own thinner and transparent skins, and also within each segment is a seed.
Focus your attention on one seed. In your mind’s eye, see it placed in the ground and planted. As if watching a time-lapse film, see your orange seed begin to send out little roots through its outer shell. Watch as the roots grow larger, delving deeper into the earth. A tiny shoot thrusts upward toward the surface and breaks through, stretching toward the light of the sun. Growing. Now it’s a small bush, and slowly grows into an orange tree covered in blossoms. Bees hover and the blossoms fade. See the pale nubs of fruit swelling and ripening until your tree is heavy with perfect oranges. Reach out your hand and hold one. It is the orange you are now looking at in your hand.
This exercise has been used throughout the ages to teach visualization, concentration and symbology.
Doing a healing on yourself can be very beneficial. You learn to visualize and feel the effects of your own visualization. You are visualizing the healing of your body, and changing your mental and physical vibrations.
On your back allow your hands to hover over your solar center for just a moment before placing them by your side. Now image hands of light slowly opening your solar center. Feel the power flowing in. Close the center. Continue this visualization to the throat center, open center, feel the power and close. Continue to your third eye, open center and feel the power flowing in. Close center. Open the crown center, feel the power and close the center.
Turn over. Starting at your feet visualize the hands of light, move up to the spinal center, open, feel the power and close.
Continue to the basic brain center, see it filled with light, and then move on to the crown center once again, open, feel the power and then close the center.
Light is a vibration and working with light can change both your mental and physical vibrations to a more healthy level, allowing more energy to flow through your body.
This exercise can be done on a partner using your own hands to open, allow energy to flow and close the centers.
Energy Centers – Most of us have heard the word Chakra, which is a Sanskrit word meaning center. The crown center, the third eye, the throat, the heart, the solar, the spinal or tail center, and the basic brain center. In healing work we often open and close these centers allowing deep-down energy stimulation. To open a center you simply stroke in a clockwise fashion a couple of inches from the body center. To close use a counter-clockwise movement.
Healing exercises should allow you to experience sight and sensation yourself. Not just imaginary feelings, but real honest feelings.
Visualization Exercise – The orange exercise is a great visualization technique. It gives you a visible way of connecting with light and practicing it will greatly enhance your meditation experiences. This exercise ties together your inward and outward sight.
Begin with a physical orange in your hand. Look at the orange. Examine its surface. Allow your eyes to slowly drift to the center of the orange. Now look within it, as if you are imagining what it really looks like inside. You’ll be amazed when you realize that it isn’t just your imagination. You’re actually seeing inside it. Keep your gaze constant as you examine the various things you see: the segments are surrounded by white skins. Inside the segments are little globules of golden juice. The globules are surrounded by their own thinner and transparent skins, and also within each segment is a seed.
Focus your attention on one seed. In your mind’s eye, see it placed in the ground and planted. As if watching a time-lapse film, see your orange seed begin to send out little roots through its outer shell. Watch as the roots grow larger, delving deeper into the earth. A tiny shoot thrusts upward toward the surface and breaks through, stretching toward the light of the sun. Growing. Now it’s a small bush, and slowly grows into an orange tree covered in blossoms. Bees hover and the blossoms fade. See the pale nubs of fruit swelling and ripening until your tree is heavy with perfect oranges. Reach out your hand and hold one. It is the orange you are now looking at in your hand.
This exercise has been used throughout the ages to teach visualization, concentration and symbology.
Doing a healing on yourself can be very beneficial. You learn to visualize and feel the effects of your own visualization. You are visualizing the healing of your body, and changing your mental and physical vibrations.
On your back allow your hands to hover over your solar center for just a moment before placing them by your side. Now image hands of light slowly opening your solar center. Feel the power flowing in. Close the center. Continue this visualization to the throat center, open center, feel the power and close. Continue to your third eye, open center and feel the power flowing in. Close center. Open the crown center, feel the power and close the center.
Turn over. Starting at your feet visualize the hands of light, move up to the spinal center, open, feel the power and close.
Continue to the basic brain center, see it filled with light, and then move on to the crown center once again, open, feel the power and then close the center.
Light is a vibration and working with light can change both your mental and physical vibrations to a more healthy level, allowing more energy to flow through your body.
This exercise can be done on a partner using your own hands to open, allow energy to flow and close the centers.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Subconscious Mind--Consumer Brainwashing and Identity Theft--What's In Your Court File
This is actually a repost of something I wrote several years ago, with the court file addition. It still stands true today.
The Subconscious Mind—Consumer Brainwashing and Identity Theft—What’s In Your Court File
I very rarely watch TV any more. The reality shows, which do not depict my reality, have truly turned me off—as well as my TV. However, last night I was tired and did watch CSI. I was first amused by the new VISA commercial—a line of people waiting to check out—everything stops—a customer is paying with cash.
The message here is if you use cash you’re slowing down everything for everyone. Use your credit card and keep life and the checkout lines moving.
A curious person, and one who has studied subliminal messaging as well as the subconscious and conscious mind, this started me thinking. How long have we been hearing this message? When did paying in cash become unacceptable and why?
Thinking back I remember other commercials about carrying cash—you’ll be robbed! It’s harder to track where you money went! And many other subtle messages that encourage and scare us into using plastic. Especially credit card plastic.
When did massive cases of identity theft kick in? Well, I haven’t totally researched this, but it was in this period of “Don’t Use Cash”.
Using credit, debit and other methods of paying does one other thing—it allows companies to track what YOU purchase. Where you purchase and how much you’re willing to spend. With all of this information available at the click of a button it allows someone to step into your shoes, your life, and be you with ease and comfort.
I don’t carry cash often. I use checks. In 1999 I was sued for a credit card I did not owe. It took me over four years for the courts to declare me innocent of that “crime”. In 2007 my son was sued for a credit card he did not owe. It took only six months to have that one tossed out of court. And no, neither of these cases involved identity theft, just some shady characters out to make some money.
Writing checks does slow down lines, so I now carry cash. Not a lot of cash, but enough to purchase what I want to purchase at any given time. I don’t like being brainwashed. I don’t like to think that someone somewhere is watching me, noting every purchase I make, when and where. This of course takes and extra step for me as I have to go by the bank to cash a check prior to having cash to spend, but it preserves just a little of my privacy. As to being robbed? People are using cell phones to take pictures of credit cards in lines—that’s robbery. So I don’t think I’m any more susceptible to being robbed with cash than I am with credit and debit cards.
Another area of concern for consumers is court files. Many people don’t realize that court records are open records unless sealed by the court. Therefore, any information given during a lawsuit is fair game to anyone who wants to take the time to peruse your file. In recent years states have been combating this by requiring that personal information be redacted from the file. Most court reporters and attorneys are aware of this, and some of us, myself included, go the extra step in protection of the witness by asking to redact or seal certain information contained in personal documents. Especially medical records. Almost every sheet of medical records contains your birth date and social security number as well as your name and address. So if you’re involved in a lawsuit, make sure you talk with your attorney about identity protection, and make sure your medical records are redacted to remove personal identifiers. An ounce of protection can lead to a cure.
The Subconscious Mind—Consumer Brainwashing and Identity Theft—What’s In Your Court File
I very rarely watch TV any more. The reality shows, which do not depict my reality, have truly turned me off—as well as my TV. However, last night I was tired and did watch CSI. I was first amused by the new VISA commercial—a line of people waiting to check out—everything stops—a customer is paying with cash.
The message here is if you use cash you’re slowing down everything for everyone. Use your credit card and keep life and the checkout lines moving.
A curious person, and one who has studied subliminal messaging as well as the subconscious and conscious mind, this started me thinking. How long have we been hearing this message? When did paying in cash become unacceptable and why?
Thinking back I remember other commercials about carrying cash—you’ll be robbed! It’s harder to track where you money went! And many other subtle messages that encourage and scare us into using plastic. Especially credit card plastic.
When did massive cases of identity theft kick in? Well, I haven’t totally researched this, but it was in this period of “Don’t Use Cash”.
Using credit, debit and other methods of paying does one other thing—it allows companies to track what YOU purchase. Where you purchase and how much you’re willing to spend. With all of this information available at the click of a button it allows someone to step into your shoes, your life, and be you with ease and comfort.
I don’t carry cash often. I use checks. In 1999 I was sued for a credit card I did not owe. It took me over four years for the courts to declare me innocent of that “crime”. In 2007 my son was sued for a credit card he did not owe. It took only six months to have that one tossed out of court. And no, neither of these cases involved identity theft, just some shady characters out to make some money.
Writing checks does slow down lines, so I now carry cash. Not a lot of cash, but enough to purchase what I want to purchase at any given time. I don’t like being brainwashed. I don’t like to think that someone somewhere is watching me, noting every purchase I make, when and where. This of course takes and extra step for me as I have to go by the bank to cash a check prior to having cash to spend, but it preserves just a little of my privacy. As to being robbed? People are using cell phones to take pictures of credit cards in lines—that’s robbery. So I don’t think I’m any more susceptible to being robbed with cash than I am with credit and debit cards.
Another area of concern for consumers is court files. Many people don’t realize that court records are open records unless sealed by the court. Therefore, any information given during a lawsuit is fair game to anyone who wants to take the time to peruse your file. In recent years states have been combating this by requiring that personal information be redacted from the file. Most court reporters and attorneys are aware of this, and some of us, myself included, go the extra step in protection of the witness by asking to redact or seal certain information contained in personal documents. Especially medical records. Almost every sheet of medical records contains your birth date and social security number as well as your name and address. So if you’re involved in a lawsuit, make sure you talk with your attorney about identity protection, and make sure your medical records are redacted to remove personal identifiers. An ounce of protection can lead to a cure.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Promotional Tips From The Professionals
I’m not sure why I never watch the book shows on TV, but Sunday I found myself listening to David Shanks of Penguin Group (USA), Inc.; Skip Prichard of Ingram Content Group, Inc., Bob Miller of Workman Publisher Group and a couple of other individuals as they discussed the future of publishing, books and the digital revolution on 2010 Book Expo America.
I was a little shocked and somewhat amazed at some of the comments. They’re advising their authors to take up the same promotional tools as Indie authors. Facebook pages, online forums and other online marketing networks. The bottom line I saw was the publishers were expecting more in the way of marketing from their authors in the future to keep up with the changing world of marketing online.
They were also suggesting that authors make an effort to know book editors at local papers or large news carriers such as the Washington Post and contact them for interviews. Of course, a bestselling author will probably have more luck in this endeavor than an unknown Indie author.
They did offer one new idea for promotion that I found intriguing, both for traditionally published authors and Indie authors. Video promotion of the content of your book. Many authors, myself included, take a road trip when writing certain parts of a book. Why not film your road trip and show your readers what they’re looking at? This would be wonderful for books set in other countries. I, as reader, would find it fascinating to see the places that are described in my favorite fiction. Especially if those places were set in Ireland, Scotland, England or just any place that I haven’t been.
Another suggestion was more beautiful books in terms of layout, paper and book covers. The general idea being that consumers would pay more for a prettier book. As a consumer I have problems with that comment. I have several authors that I collect, and I usually buy the hardback copy. So far I’ve had no problem with the way the books look. However, every author should be concerned with the look of their book, regardless of whether it’s paper or EBook. Formatting is extremely important. I spent weeks working on the format of my first EBook, ensuring that it looked good and was free of html errors. Formatting for Smashwords was also a several day project. EBook publishers are concerned with formatting errors, but an author should be even more concerned. Your name is on that book. If you’re proud of your work, then you need to make sure your product is something you can be proud of.
With the number of books being published daily, readers have more and more of a selection to choose from. Authors have to give the readers a reason to sample or buy their book. Promotional tools such as video, contests, fan pages and free gifts will only take you so far. Word of mouth about a great book will take you all the way to the top. And a great book is properly formatted without typos.
I was a little shocked and somewhat amazed at some of the comments. They’re advising their authors to take up the same promotional tools as Indie authors. Facebook pages, online forums and other online marketing networks. The bottom line I saw was the publishers were expecting more in the way of marketing from their authors in the future to keep up with the changing world of marketing online.
They were also suggesting that authors make an effort to know book editors at local papers or large news carriers such as the Washington Post and contact them for interviews. Of course, a bestselling author will probably have more luck in this endeavor than an unknown Indie author.
They did offer one new idea for promotion that I found intriguing, both for traditionally published authors and Indie authors. Video promotion of the content of your book. Many authors, myself included, take a road trip when writing certain parts of a book. Why not film your road trip and show your readers what they’re looking at? This would be wonderful for books set in other countries. I, as reader, would find it fascinating to see the places that are described in my favorite fiction. Especially if those places were set in Ireland, Scotland, England or just any place that I haven’t been.
Another suggestion was more beautiful books in terms of layout, paper and book covers. The general idea being that consumers would pay more for a prettier book. As a consumer I have problems with that comment. I have several authors that I collect, and I usually buy the hardback copy. So far I’ve had no problem with the way the books look. However, every author should be concerned with the look of their book, regardless of whether it’s paper or EBook. Formatting is extremely important. I spent weeks working on the format of my first EBook, ensuring that it looked good and was free of html errors. Formatting for Smashwords was also a several day project. EBook publishers are concerned with formatting errors, but an author should be even more concerned. Your name is on that book. If you’re proud of your work, then you need to make sure your product is something you can be proud of.
With the number of books being published daily, readers have more and more of a selection to choose from. Authors have to give the readers a reason to sample or buy their book. Promotional tools such as video, contests, fan pages and free gifts will only take you so far. Word of mouth about a great book will take you all the way to the top. And a great book is properly formatted without typos.
Love EBooks but don't have a reader?
If you love Ebooks, but can't afford an ereader, there are multiple ways you can download and enjoy the convenience as well as the lower prices. Amazon offers Kindle for your PC, iPhone, iPod Touch, Blackberry, iPad or Android.
I myself downloaded the PC Kindle and love it. Now, late at night when I can't sleep and I want a book to read, but all the bookstores are closed I can simply go on line and browse the millions of online books until I find just what I'm looking for. And hey, some are free.
Don't let the fact that you don't have an ereader stop you from enjoying new releases or even the classics. Check out the PC download. You'll love it.
Once you've downloaded it, check out the sampling feature for books. You can read several chapters before purchasing just to make sure this is a book you want to buy.
Happy reading!
I myself downloaded the PC Kindle and love it. Now, late at night when I can't sleep and I want a book to read, but all the bookstores are closed I can simply go on line and browse the millions of online books until I find just what I'm looking for. And hey, some are free.
Don't let the fact that you don't have an ereader stop you from enjoying new releases or even the classics. Check out the PC download. You'll love it.
Once you've downloaded it, check out the sampling feature for books. You can read several chapters before purchasing just to make sure this is a book you want to buy.
Happy reading!
Untitled Draft - Chapter Two
I've often wished I could simply get it right the first time, but I know in writing a draft that I simply follow the story. Everything else comes later. Chapter two has changed significantly, although portions of the earlier Chapter two may be used. My first drafts usually have short chapters without a lot of description or even some detailed information. I know already this chapter will change drastically, but that's the fun of it for me. Scoping out the story, and then going back and making it better. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter Two
“You look like you need some coffee. Lots of coffee.” Cody signaled the waitress. “Bad morning?”
Catherine tried to ignore the pounding inside her head. The dreams had left her tired, irritable and the early morning call from Cody about a new case hadn’t really improved her disposition.
“Coffee sounds great.” Catherine rubbed her temples, fighting the nausea the smell of fresh cooked eggs brought up.
“Breakfast?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, thanks.”
Cody studied her from across the small table, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her naturally pale skin seemed even paler, more translucent this morning. Maybe he should let her sit this one out. They’d spent the last three weeks finding Timothy Bond. She definitely looked like she needed a rest. Still there was a chance, a small one albeit, that the kids were still alive.
Catherine took a sip of the strong black coffee, and gave him a wan smile. “So, what have you got for us?”
“It can wait a few more minutes. Let’s talk about you. You look like crap, Catherine. And even if I need you on this one, you told me yourself a psychic is only good if they’re a hundred percent.”
Catherine nodded, taking another sip of coffee. So what did she tell him? She’d watched her mother die in a dream? She could still feel the heat of the flames, smell the thick black smoke that had burned her eyes, filled her lungs. The glint of metal descending. Her mother had stolen twenty years of her life. Wasn’t that enough? And for the last seven years her mother had believed her dead. The world believed her dead. If she opened that door, could she close it again?
“I’m waiting.” Cody sipped his own coffee, one eyebrow raised in silent query.
“It was just a bad dream. Nothing really.”
“Dream or vision?”
Catherine shook her head, her gaze meeting his across the table. “Dream. I don’t think it meant anything, but still. . . .”
“Easy enough to check.”
Catherine wished the throbbing would stop, so she could think more clearly. Cody was right, it was easy enough to check if she did it right. More lies, of course. Lies to cover lies she’d already told.
“I can’t remember all of it. A fire, heavy black smoke and an old woman. I think there was someone behind her. I saw a glint of metal in the flames.”
“Where?” Cody, asked, taking notes.
“I think it was somewhere in Louisiana. The bayou maybe.”
“I’ll run it through the system, see if anything comes up.”
Catherine shook her head. “It could have happened months ago. I doubt you’re going to find anything.”
Cody smiled at her, closing the notepad. “Never know until you try.”
Catherine glanced at the manila folder lying next to him. The size told her there were pictures. And pictures usually meant death. “Tell me about this case.”
“Missing twins. Seven cases so far, across six states. We’re number eight.”
The throbbing increased inside Catherine’s head and she unconsciously rubbed her temples again. “When?”
“Last night.”
“The parents were killed weren’t they?” Catherine didn’t have to be psychic to know he was holding something back. Something ugly.
Cody nodded, handing her the folder. “You may be glad you didn’t have breakfast.”
Catherine knew immediately something was wrong, the second she touched the folder. The throbbing escalated into a searing hot pain, ripping through her mind. The scream came from somewhere deep inside her as the darkness closed around her.
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery - 99 cents on Amazon Kindle and Smashwords
Chapter Two
“You look like you need some coffee. Lots of coffee.” Cody signaled the waitress. “Bad morning?”
Catherine tried to ignore the pounding inside her head. The dreams had left her tired, irritable and the early morning call from Cody about a new case hadn’t really improved her disposition.
“Coffee sounds great.” Catherine rubbed her temples, fighting the nausea the smell of fresh cooked eggs brought up.
“Breakfast?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, thanks.”
Cody studied her from across the small table, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her naturally pale skin seemed even paler, more translucent this morning. Maybe he should let her sit this one out. They’d spent the last three weeks finding Timothy Bond. She definitely looked like she needed a rest. Still there was a chance, a small one albeit, that the kids were still alive.
Catherine took a sip of the strong black coffee, and gave him a wan smile. “So, what have you got for us?”
“It can wait a few more minutes. Let’s talk about you. You look like crap, Catherine. And even if I need you on this one, you told me yourself a psychic is only good if they’re a hundred percent.”
Catherine nodded, taking another sip of coffee. So what did she tell him? She’d watched her mother die in a dream? She could still feel the heat of the flames, smell the thick black smoke that had burned her eyes, filled her lungs. The glint of metal descending. Her mother had stolen twenty years of her life. Wasn’t that enough? And for the last seven years her mother had believed her dead. The world believed her dead. If she opened that door, could she close it again?
“I’m waiting.” Cody sipped his own coffee, one eyebrow raised in silent query.
“It was just a bad dream. Nothing really.”
“Dream or vision?”
Catherine shook her head, her gaze meeting his across the table. “Dream. I don’t think it meant anything, but still. . . .”
“Easy enough to check.”
Catherine wished the throbbing would stop, so she could think more clearly. Cody was right, it was easy enough to check if she did it right. More lies, of course. Lies to cover lies she’d already told.
“I can’t remember all of it. A fire, heavy black smoke and an old woman. I think there was someone behind her. I saw a glint of metal in the flames.”
“Where?” Cody, asked, taking notes.
“I think it was somewhere in Louisiana. The bayou maybe.”
“I’ll run it through the system, see if anything comes up.”
Catherine shook her head. “It could have happened months ago. I doubt you’re going to find anything.”
Cody smiled at her, closing the notepad. “Never know until you try.”
Catherine glanced at the manila folder lying next to him. The size told her there were pictures. And pictures usually meant death. “Tell me about this case.”
“Missing twins. Seven cases so far, across six states. We’re number eight.”
The throbbing increased inside Catherine’s head and she unconsciously rubbed her temples again. “When?”
“Last night.”
“The parents were killed weren’t they?” Catherine didn’t have to be psychic to know he was holding something back. Something ugly.
Cody nodded, handing her the folder. “You may be glad you didn’t have breakfast.”
Catherine knew immediately something was wrong, the second she touched the folder. The throbbing escalated into a searing hot pain, ripping through her mind. The scream came from somewhere deep inside her as the darkness closed around her.
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery - 99 cents on Amazon Kindle and Smashwords
Sunday, August 15, 2010
When a Novel Clicks For You!
One of the most exciting, invigorating things an author can experience is when you start a book and bingo--things click into place. A few days ago I started writing an untitled draft here. I'd started this before, but just couldn't get into it. Even this time, if you've read the previous posts you'll know that I was having trouble getting inside Catherine's head. Haven't had a lot of time to write this weekend because we had our 3 year old grandson, and he takes a lot of work, but he's worth it. Still, even while playing with him and suffering the heat so he could be outside, the creative juices were flowing inside my head and finally--Walla! It all clicked. I knew who Catherine was, where the story was going and how. Now the hard part begins--research into areas, perhaps a road trip just so I can make it real, and putting it all into words that describe the emotions, scenery and action to take place.
I'll still be posting my draft, as I work out the details and also as I get to know Cody Allen better. He's still elusive to me, and perhaps he will remain somewhat elusive, as Catherine is my focus.
But for now--I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And one more excitement to share: You can now sample up to 50% of The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery before you decide to buy.
Check it out at:
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
I'll still be posting my draft, as I work out the details and also as I get to know Cody Allen better. He's still elusive to me, and perhaps he will remain somewhat elusive, as Catherine is my focus.
But for now--I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And one more excitement to share: You can now sample up to 50% of The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery before you decide to buy.
Check it out at:
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
Friday, August 13, 2010
Untitled Draft - Chapter One rewrite
Just a few changes, and still there are plenty of holes for me to fill in on a rewrite. I still haven't chosen the town, but I know it will be in Kentucky. Catherine is much happier with her new "consulting role" but Rosetta still intends to push the psychic persona, so don't miss the laughs on that.
Chapter One
Over the rustling leaves, Catherine heard a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
A heavy mist began to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water, letting the cool water flow over her hand, feeling the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, connecting with the emotions it contained. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the last two weeks. Her visions pieces of jigsaw puzzles that seemed to fit every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.
“Catherine?” Hearing Cody’ voice she stood, turning to glance in his direction.
“He’s here, Cody, I can feel it.”
“The fog is rising fast. I need to call off the search, bring everyone in.” His voice held an edge of defeat. He’d followed her through snake-ridden ravines, shallow pools, and even into the river twice. Consciously ignoring the ridicule of his fellow officers. But he couldn’t ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. To not call of the search but everyone in danger.
Catherine turned back to the pool of water, staring deep into the murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared. Arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. Their voices echoed in her mind. “We know he’s dead, Ms. Mans, but we can’t sleep at night. Not ‘till our boy comes home.”
Mrs. Bond’s cry had touched her in a way she hadn’t expected. She fingered the silver key that she’d worn for as long as she could remember. Had her own mother felt that way? Had she looked that way? Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about her mother, or the past. Nor was it the time to allow the frustration in Cody’s voice to stray her from her task. She knew Cody believed in her. Everything had changed in the last six years since he’d knocked on her door and asked for her help in finding three-year-old Danny Wells. Cody was now the head of the homicide division, and through his efforts a special fund had been established to pay for Catherine’s “consulting” fees. And Catherine knew it was through his efforts that other departments had begun to call upon her for help. Still, there was the non-believers. The ridiculers. It didn’t matter that her success rate ranked at ninety-eight percent, it was the two percent failures that everyone remembered.
A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Did you hear that?” Catherine turned back to face Cody.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It was a whisper. Just—" Of course Cody hadn’t heard it. She sometimes forgot people didn’t hear the things she heard, see the things she saw. Turning away from him she knelt again by the water.
“It was probably nothing, just the wind.” Catherine listened carefully, straining to hear any whispers the wind might carry her way. A strange scent filled her nostrils. Perfume, but not just any perfume. It was the same flowery sweet perfume her mother had worn. The scent drifted around her, pulling her toward the pool of water. A familiar tiredness enveloped her as she stood, her body moving, water swirling around her ankles, rising higher until it reached her waist. The current was swift, pushing her downstream on unsteady feet. A thick layer of fog surrounded her until she could no longer see the opposite bank.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?”
Cody’s voice sounded distant. She heard the crackling of his radio as he called out to the search team. His muffled oath, “Shit, it’s cold,” as he splashed through the water, following her across the creek.
The water became shallower and her feet sank into the mushy sand. She continued to follow the flowery scent as she climbed the bank of the ravine, into an open field and toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the river. The fog dissipated, allowing her to see the edge of the cliff. A single oak tree stood outlined against the black clouds rolling across the sky. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together now.
The pieces starting to fit. She could no longer smell the perfume, but her body continued to move, feet carrying her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. She wanted to stop, but some unseen force kept her going. Strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards just as her feet slipped over the edge.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?” Cody lay beside her, his breathing labored.
“I don’t know. I was. . .I was following a scent.” The perfume was completely gone now. Catherine glanced around, excitement surging through her body. The tree.
“Cody the tree. It’s the same tree I saw in my vision. He’s here. I know he’s here.”
“Okay. Okay. Hold on a second.” Some of her own excitement registered in his voice. The tree had been the one clue missing from all the other ravines.
Helping Catherine to her feet, the two crept slowly toward the edge of the cliff. A blanket of fog covered the earth thirty feet below them, but they didn’t need to see through the fog. Less than five feet down, on a jutted outcropping of rock lay the remains of Timothy Bond.
A strange feeling of piece settled over Catherine. She’d found him. She could hear Cody in the background, giving the search team directions to their location.
“Don’t get too close the edge, Catherine,” he yelled.
“I won’t.”
“It’s time to go home, Timmy,” she whispered.
The wind chose just that moment to switch direction forcing her back from the edge of the cliff. Perhaps it was just the wind, and the fact that she was wringing wet. Perhaps. Catherine shivered as icy fingers raced down her spine, and the whisper reached her ears. “Find me.”
Read Samples of The Jacody Ives Mysteries now available at Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK and Smashwords.com
Chapter One
Over the rustling leaves, Catherine heard a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
A heavy mist began to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water, letting the cool water flow over her hand, feeling the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, connecting with the emotions it contained. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the last two weeks. Her visions pieces of jigsaw puzzles that seemed to fit every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.
“Catherine?” Hearing Cody’ voice she stood, turning to glance in his direction.
“He’s here, Cody, I can feel it.”
“The fog is rising fast. I need to call off the search, bring everyone in.” His voice held an edge of defeat. He’d followed her through snake-ridden ravines, shallow pools, and even into the river twice. Consciously ignoring the ridicule of his fellow officers. But he couldn’t ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. To not call of the search but everyone in danger.
Catherine turned back to the pool of water, staring deep into the murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared. Arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. Their voices echoed in her mind. “We know he’s dead, Ms. Mans, but we can’t sleep at night. Not ‘till our boy comes home.”
Mrs. Bond’s cry had touched her in a way she hadn’t expected. She fingered the silver key that she’d worn for as long as she could remember. Had her own mother felt that way? Had she looked that way? Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about her mother, or the past. Nor was it the time to allow the frustration in Cody’s voice to stray her from her task. She knew Cody believed in her. Everything had changed in the last six years since he’d knocked on her door and asked for her help in finding three-year-old Danny Wells. Cody was now the head of the homicide division, and through his efforts a special fund had been established to pay for Catherine’s “consulting” fees. And Catherine knew it was through his efforts that other departments had begun to call upon her for help. Still, there was the non-believers. The ridiculers. It didn’t matter that her success rate ranked at ninety-eight percent, it was the two percent failures that everyone remembered.
A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Did you hear that?” Catherine turned back to face Cody.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It was a whisper. Just—" Of course Cody hadn’t heard it. She sometimes forgot people didn’t hear the things she heard, see the things she saw. Turning away from him she knelt again by the water.
“It was probably nothing, just the wind.” Catherine listened carefully, straining to hear any whispers the wind might carry her way. A strange scent filled her nostrils. Perfume, but not just any perfume. It was the same flowery sweet perfume her mother had worn. The scent drifted around her, pulling her toward the pool of water. A familiar tiredness enveloped her as she stood, her body moving, water swirling around her ankles, rising higher until it reached her waist. The current was swift, pushing her downstream on unsteady feet. A thick layer of fog surrounded her until she could no longer see the opposite bank.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?”
Cody’s voice sounded distant. She heard the crackling of his radio as he called out to the search team. His muffled oath, “Shit, it’s cold,” as he splashed through the water, following her across the creek.
The water became shallower and her feet sank into the mushy sand. She continued to follow the flowery scent as she climbed the bank of the ravine, into an open field and toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the river. The fog dissipated, allowing her to see the edge of the cliff. A single oak tree stood outlined against the black clouds rolling across the sky. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together now.
The pieces starting to fit. She could no longer smell the perfume, but her body continued to move, feet carrying her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. She wanted to stop, but some unseen force kept her going. Strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards just as her feet slipped over the edge.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?” Cody lay beside her, his breathing labored.
“I don’t know. I was. . .I was following a scent.” The perfume was completely gone now. Catherine glanced around, excitement surging through her body. The tree.
“Cody the tree. It’s the same tree I saw in my vision. He’s here. I know he’s here.”
“Okay. Okay. Hold on a second.” Some of her own excitement registered in his voice. The tree had been the one clue missing from all the other ravines.
Helping Catherine to her feet, the two crept slowly toward the edge of the cliff. A blanket of fog covered the earth thirty feet below them, but they didn’t need to see through the fog. Less than five feet down, on a jutted outcropping of rock lay the remains of Timothy Bond.
A strange feeling of piece settled over Catherine. She’d found him. She could hear Cody in the background, giving the search team directions to their location.
“Don’t get too close the edge, Catherine,” he yelled.
“I won’t.”
“It’s time to go home, Timmy,” she whispered.
The wind chose just that moment to switch direction forcing her back from the edge of the cliff. Perhaps it was just the wind, and the fact that she was wringing wet. Perhaps. Catherine shivered as icy fingers raced down her spine, and the whisper reached her ears. “Find me.”
Read Samples of The Jacody Ives Mysteries now available at Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK and Smashwords.com
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
While the rewrite of my untitled draft is percolating inside my head, I thought I'd share one of my favorite, if not my favorite, chapter of Sacred Secrets. When my sons first received their license we talked about the donor signature. Although somewhere deep inside it terrified me, I knew the importance of donors. I knew what it felt like to be on "death row". Clover and Katie are both a little bit of me, and for that reason this chapter really came from the heart. I hope you enjoy it.
7
Katie chewed on her bottom lip, biting it, trying desperately not to laugh. She swallowed hard, choking on the giggle that was bubbling up, rumbling inside her chest. She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her face as her eyes misted. It was simply no use. Win, lose or draw--she had to laugh.
“You’re kidding?” Katie wiped at the tears now streaming down her face. “Clover Bottoms?”
The cabin became deathly silent. Katie was sure she had lost her. Lost any opportunity to break through the bleak countenance and find what lay beneath. The thought had a sobering effect. Her laughter stopped. The only sound her labored breathing.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I guess it’s not so funny to you.”
The thin dark lips twitched in the stark white face, eyes gleaming with something hidden. A hint of something more. Katie leaned forward in anticipation as the impish smile flared and the black lips parted in a radiant smile. “Got you, didn’t I?”
Katie swiped at the last of her tears. “Yeah, you got me. So, what’s your real name?”
“Oh, it really is Clover Bottoms. I just wanted to see if you were as prissy as you acted.”
Katie giggled and hiccupped. The sound was odd to her own ears. How long had it been since she’d laughed until she cried? And prissy? That was a term she was positive no one had ever used to describe her. She’d worked too hard at presenting that strong, silent image. Living while she was dying.
“Don’t go getting all happy on me, okay? I’m dying. You’re dying. That gives us something in common. It doesn’t make us best friends. In fact, if you look at it realistically it makes us pretty pathetic. We should be doing something absolutely amazing like diving to the bottom of the ocean, bungee jumping off the tallest building, or getting boinked by some good looking guy.” Clover paused for breath, swallowed hard and stated through gritted teeth, “Instead we’re just sitting here on death row.”
Clover crossed her arms across her chest again. A sign Katie recognized and understood. A shutting in, closing off, subconscious movement to ward off the pain. Close the heart chakra and you were safe. Only it didn’t work. Had never worked, but was universally accepted as the thing to do.
Katie watched as Clover spun the chair, feeling the pain and anger in every thrust of her hands on the wheels. Clover was twelve years old. Without a heart transplant she wouldn’t see thirteen.
“You said that when you came in, ‘welcome to death row’.”
Clover parked the wheelchair next to her bed, held her head high. A proud defiant stance that under other circumstances Katie would have admired. She would have to break down that pride.
“Do you believe in God, Katie?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you know what I’m saying is true. This is death row. We’ve been tried, found guilty and we’re just sitting here waiting for the governor to issue that final sentence--or, if we get lucky, maybe a pardon.”
Katie started to speak but stopped. In many ways Clover’s analogy made sense. She’d never seen it quite like that before, but the past fifteen years had been one appeal after another. New medications. Waiting until the final stage and sentencing--the moment when the doctor says you need a heart transplant or you’ll die. And then another wait begins. A wait that could be anywhere from a few days to a couple of years. During that time you had to live with the denial, the fear, the anxiety every time the phone rang. And worst of all, you had to live with the knowledge that for you to live someone else had to die. Katie had been on the list for a year. Her time was running out. It a suitable donor wasn’t found . . .
Katie struggled with the thoughts of her own impending death. So many things she’d wanted to do. So many still undone. She wasn’t here for her. She was here for Clover.
“How long have you been on the list?”
“What difference does it make?” Clover snapped angrily.
Katie ignored the anger. Dr. Arthur had told her Clover had been added to the list last month. She needed her to say it. Accept it. That’s why she was here. Why they were here. Tough love.
Getting up from the bed Katie started for the door. “Well, I’ve been on it for a year now, and I know I don’t have a lot of time left. I also know that I’m not going to spend what time I do have listening to you whine and feel sorry for yourself. I’m going to take a walk.”
Closing the door Katie slumped against the porch rails. Had she really been that angry, that hurt when she was twelve? She stood for a moment, listening to the sound of the wheelchair crossing the room, a drawer opening. She checked her watch and stepped off the porch taking the trail that led to the main cabin. She wanted to be sure to give Clover plenty of time to go through her things. Read her diary. The desolate depressing pages that chronicled her early years. She’d hesitated at first. No one had ever read those pages. But somehow she’d known if she wanted Clover to open up, be real, she had to be real herself. So she’d brought her real diary. The one that bared her soul. If that didn’t reach Clover, nothing Katie said or did ever would.
Katie walked slowly, studying the countryside. Something was odd about this place. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The leaves had fallen from the trees, leaving them bare, exposing wounded bark. A huge oak stood near the main cabin. Gnarled, twisted roots shot out in all directions. A feeling of trepidation rippled through her. The roots looked like claws. Reaching for her. Waiting to pull her down beneath the earth.
Katie shivered in the soft autumn sunlight. Why had she never heard of this camp? She looked for additional cabins, other campers, but saw none.
She shrugged off the feeling as Frank Davis came around the side of the building carrying in groceries. “Silly,” she admonished herself. That’s what she got for loving horror movies.
Glancing at her watch she realized she’d been gone longer than she thought. Circling the old oak she took the trail back to their cabin. Dr. Arthur should have told her about the Goth thing. At least then she could have been prepared for the way Clover looked.
Frank stepped out onto the porch, waved to her. “Lunch in thirty minutes.”
“We’ll be here,” Katie yelled, waving as she picked up her pace. He was cute, and close enough to Clover’s age for her to fantasize. But boinked? Katie laughed out loud. She would have to remember that one. Something to add to her list of things to do on death row--get boinked.
Read Samples of The Jacody Ives Mysteries under Books
7
Katie chewed on her bottom lip, biting it, trying desperately not to laugh. She swallowed hard, choking on the giggle that was bubbling up, rumbling inside her chest. She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her face as her eyes misted. It was simply no use. Win, lose or draw--she had to laugh.
“You’re kidding?” Katie wiped at the tears now streaming down her face. “Clover Bottoms?”
The cabin became deathly silent. Katie was sure she had lost her. Lost any opportunity to break through the bleak countenance and find what lay beneath. The thought had a sobering effect. Her laughter stopped. The only sound her labored breathing.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I guess it’s not so funny to you.”
The thin dark lips twitched in the stark white face, eyes gleaming with something hidden. A hint of something more. Katie leaned forward in anticipation as the impish smile flared and the black lips parted in a radiant smile. “Got you, didn’t I?”
Katie swiped at the last of her tears. “Yeah, you got me. So, what’s your real name?”
“Oh, it really is Clover Bottoms. I just wanted to see if you were as prissy as you acted.”
Katie giggled and hiccupped. The sound was odd to her own ears. How long had it been since she’d laughed until she cried? And prissy? That was a term she was positive no one had ever used to describe her. She’d worked too hard at presenting that strong, silent image. Living while she was dying.
“Don’t go getting all happy on me, okay? I’m dying. You’re dying. That gives us something in common. It doesn’t make us best friends. In fact, if you look at it realistically it makes us pretty pathetic. We should be doing something absolutely amazing like diving to the bottom of the ocean, bungee jumping off the tallest building, or getting boinked by some good looking guy.” Clover paused for breath, swallowed hard and stated through gritted teeth, “Instead we’re just sitting here on death row.”
Clover crossed her arms across her chest again. A sign Katie recognized and understood. A shutting in, closing off, subconscious movement to ward off the pain. Close the heart chakra and you were safe. Only it didn’t work. Had never worked, but was universally accepted as the thing to do.
Katie watched as Clover spun the chair, feeling the pain and anger in every thrust of her hands on the wheels. Clover was twelve years old. Without a heart transplant she wouldn’t see thirteen.
“You said that when you came in, ‘welcome to death row’.”
Clover parked the wheelchair next to her bed, held her head high. A proud defiant stance that under other circumstances Katie would have admired. She would have to break down that pride.
“Do you believe in God, Katie?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you know what I’m saying is true. This is death row. We’ve been tried, found guilty and we’re just sitting here waiting for the governor to issue that final sentence--or, if we get lucky, maybe a pardon.”
Katie started to speak but stopped. In many ways Clover’s analogy made sense. She’d never seen it quite like that before, but the past fifteen years had been one appeal after another. New medications. Waiting until the final stage and sentencing--the moment when the doctor says you need a heart transplant or you’ll die. And then another wait begins. A wait that could be anywhere from a few days to a couple of years. During that time you had to live with the denial, the fear, the anxiety every time the phone rang. And worst of all, you had to live with the knowledge that for you to live someone else had to die. Katie had been on the list for a year. Her time was running out. It a suitable donor wasn’t found . . .
Katie struggled with the thoughts of her own impending death. So many things she’d wanted to do. So many still undone. She wasn’t here for her. She was here for Clover.
“How long have you been on the list?”
“What difference does it make?” Clover snapped angrily.
Katie ignored the anger. Dr. Arthur had told her Clover had been added to the list last month. She needed her to say it. Accept it. That’s why she was here. Why they were here. Tough love.
Getting up from the bed Katie started for the door. “Well, I’ve been on it for a year now, and I know I don’t have a lot of time left. I also know that I’m not going to spend what time I do have listening to you whine and feel sorry for yourself. I’m going to take a walk.”
Closing the door Katie slumped against the porch rails. Had she really been that angry, that hurt when she was twelve? She stood for a moment, listening to the sound of the wheelchair crossing the room, a drawer opening. She checked her watch and stepped off the porch taking the trail that led to the main cabin. She wanted to be sure to give Clover plenty of time to go through her things. Read her diary. The desolate depressing pages that chronicled her early years. She’d hesitated at first. No one had ever read those pages. But somehow she’d known if she wanted Clover to open up, be real, she had to be real herself. So she’d brought her real diary. The one that bared her soul. If that didn’t reach Clover, nothing Katie said or did ever would.
Katie walked slowly, studying the countryside. Something was odd about this place. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The leaves had fallen from the trees, leaving them bare, exposing wounded bark. A huge oak stood near the main cabin. Gnarled, twisted roots shot out in all directions. A feeling of trepidation rippled through her. The roots looked like claws. Reaching for her. Waiting to pull her down beneath the earth.
Katie shivered in the soft autumn sunlight. Why had she never heard of this camp? She looked for additional cabins, other campers, but saw none.
She shrugged off the feeling as Frank Davis came around the side of the building carrying in groceries. “Silly,” she admonished herself. That’s what she got for loving horror movies.
Glancing at her watch she realized she’d been gone longer than she thought. Circling the old oak she took the trail back to their cabin. Dr. Arthur should have told her about the Goth thing. At least then she could have been prepared for the way Clover looked.
Frank stepped out onto the porch, waved to her. “Lunch in thirty minutes.”
“We’ll be here,” Katie yelled, waving as she picked up her pace. He was cute, and close enough to Clover’s age for her to fantasize. But boinked? Katie laughed out loud. She would have to remember that one. Something to add to her list of things to do on death row--get boinked.
Read Samples of The Jacody Ives Mysteries under Books
Character Overhaul
Well, if you read the beginning of yesterday’s blog, you know that I actually write my first draft to allow myself into my character’s heads, as well as allowing them into mine. Sometimes that can be troublesome as my day job requires extensive travel at times and with hours on the road I have lots of time to think.
Catherine Mans doesn’t like herself. She doesn’t like the way she looks. And she wants a more “professional” attitude and style. And she definitely doesn’t like having a shop called “Physic Investigator”. She wants something “consulting”. And she informed me not so sweetly that Rosetta was Irish and Tosallina was not an Irish name. She also wants Cody and Rosetta to have a more active role on their own. Do what?
Geeze. I kind of like the psychic investigator angle, although I have to admit I wasn’t crazy about her character so far. I did find her a little weak in some respects, but usually a weak character develops strength through trial and diversity and I figured that would come as the story developed. Well, Catherine wants to start off strong. And giving Cody and Rosetta more active roles means sub-plots off the main plot. That can get complicated. But. . . what the character wants, the character usually gets. So be it.
If you’re following this story, never fear, I have not given up and will be going back to the drawing board today with Catherine to revamp Chapter One and Two and push forward to Chapter Three.
Catherine Mans doesn’t like herself. She doesn’t like the way she looks. And she wants a more “professional” attitude and style. And she definitely doesn’t like having a shop called “Physic Investigator”. She wants something “consulting”. And she informed me not so sweetly that Rosetta was Irish and Tosallina was not an Irish name. She also wants Cody and Rosetta to have a more active role on their own. Do what?
Geeze. I kind of like the psychic investigator angle, although I have to admit I wasn’t crazy about her character so far. I did find her a little weak in some respects, but usually a weak character develops strength through trial and diversity and I figured that would come as the story developed. Well, Catherine wants to start off strong. And giving Cody and Rosetta more active roles means sub-plots off the main plot. That can get complicated. But. . . what the character wants, the character usually gets. So be it.
If you’re following this story, never fear, I have not given up and will be going back to the drawing board today with Catherine to revamp Chapter One and Two and push forward to Chapter Three.
Monday, August 9, 2010
An untitled work
Sometimes life gets in the way of my writing, and I need something to give me a gentle push back to the keyboard. This is something I worked on several years ago, but could never quite get back to. So I've decided to post it here, forcing myself to write daily, or at least every other day. Currently, it's an untitled draft, and hopefully when finished I'll let my followers who have liked it enough to follow it, choose the title, with the winner getting mention not only in the final copy, but also winning a free copy of the finished book. Comments or suggestions welcome.
Chapter One
Over the rustling leaves, Catherine heard a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
A heavy mist began to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water. Letting the cool water flow over her hand, feeling the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, connecting with the emotions it contained. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the last two weeks. Her visions pieces of jigsaw puzzles that seemed to fit every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.
“Catherine?” Hearing Cody’ voice she stood, turning to glance in his direction.
“He’s here, Cody, I can feel it.”
“The fog is rising fast. I need to call off the search, bring everyone in.” His voice held an edge of defeat. He’s followed her through snake-ridden ravines, shallow pools, and even into the river twice. Consciously ignoring the ridicule of his fellow officers. But he couldn’t ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. To not call of the search but everyone in danger.
Catherine turned back to the pool of water, staring deep into the murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared. Arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. Their voices echoed in her mind. “We know he’s dead, Ms. Mans, but we can’t sleep at night. Not ‘till our boy comes home.”
Mrs. Bond’s cry had touched her in a way she hadn’t expected. She fingered the silver key that she’d worn for as long as she could remember. Had her own mother felt that way? Had she looked that way? Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about her mother, or the past.
A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Did you hear that?” Catherine turned back to face Cody.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It was a whisper. Just—" Of course Cody hadn’t heard it. She sometimes forgot people didn’t hear the things she heard, see the things she saw. Turning away from him she knelt again by the water.
“It was probably nothing, just the wind.” Catherine listened carefully, straining
to hear any whispers the wind might carry her way. A strange scent filled her nostrils. Perfume, but not just any perfume. It was the same flowery sweet perfume her mother had worn. The scene drifted around her, pulling her toward the pool of water. A familiar tiredness enveloped her as she stood, her body moving, water swirling around her ankles, rising higher until it reached her waist. The current was swift, pushing her downstream on unsteady feet. A thick layer of fog surrounded her until she could no longer see the opposite bank.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?”
Cody’s voice sounded distant. She heard the crackling of his radio as he called out to the search team. His muffled oath, “Shit, it’s cold,” as he splashed through the water, following her across the creek.
The water became shallower and her feet sank into the mushy sand. She continued to follow the flowery scent as she climbed the bank of the ravine, into an open field and toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the river. The fog dissipated, allowing her to see the edge of the cliff. A single oak tree stood outlined against the black clouds rolling across the sky. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together now. The pieces starting to fit. She could no longer smell the perfume, but her body continued to move, feet carrying her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. She wanted to stop, but some unseen force kept her going. Strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards just as her feet slipped over the edge.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?” Cody lay beside her, his breathing labored.
“I don’t know. I was. . .I was following a scent.” The perfume was completely gone now. Catherine glanced around, excitement surging through her body. The tree.
“Cody the tree. It’s the same tree I saw in my vision. He’s here. I know he’s here.”
“Okay. Okay. Hold on a second.” Some of her own excitement registered in his voice. The tree has been the one clue missing from all the other ravines.
Helping Catherine to her feet, the two crept slowly toward the edge of the cliff. A blanket of fog covered the earth thirty feet below them, but they didn’t need to see through the fog. Less than five feet down, on a jutted outcropping of rock lay the remains of Timothy Bond.
A strange feeling of piece settled over Catherine. She’d found him. She could hear Cody in the background, giving the search team directions to their location.
“Don’t get too close the edge, Catherine,” he yelled.
“I won’t.”
“It’s time to go home, Timmy,” she whispered.
The wind chose just that moment to switch direction. It whipped her long auburn curls away from her face and forced her back from the edge of the cliff. Perhaps it was just the wind, and the fact that she was wringing wet. Perhaps. Catherine shivered as icy fingers raced down her spine, and the whisper reached her ears. “Find me.”
Chapter One
Over the rustling leaves, Catherine heard a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
A heavy mist began to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water. Letting the cool water flow over her hand, feeling the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, connecting with the emotions it contained. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the last two weeks. Her visions pieces of jigsaw puzzles that seemed to fit every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.
“Catherine?” Hearing Cody’ voice she stood, turning to glance in his direction.
“He’s here, Cody, I can feel it.”
“The fog is rising fast. I need to call off the search, bring everyone in.” His voice held an edge of defeat. He’s followed her through snake-ridden ravines, shallow pools, and even into the river twice. Consciously ignoring the ridicule of his fellow officers. But he couldn’t ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. To not call of the search but everyone in danger.
Catherine turned back to the pool of water, staring deep into the murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared. Arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. Their voices echoed in her mind. “We know he’s dead, Ms. Mans, but we can’t sleep at night. Not ‘till our boy comes home.”
Mrs. Bond’s cry had touched her in a way she hadn’t expected. She fingered the silver key that she’d worn for as long as she could remember. Had her own mother felt that way? Had she looked that way? Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about her mother, or the past.
A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Did you hear that?” Catherine turned back to face Cody.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It was a whisper. Just—" Of course Cody hadn’t heard it. She sometimes forgot people didn’t hear the things she heard, see the things she saw. Turning away from him she knelt again by the water.
“It was probably nothing, just the wind.” Catherine listened carefully, straining
to hear any whispers the wind might carry her way. A strange scent filled her nostrils. Perfume, but not just any perfume. It was the same flowery sweet perfume her mother had worn. The scene drifted around her, pulling her toward the pool of water. A familiar tiredness enveloped her as she stood, her body moving, water swirling around her ankles, rising higher until it reached her waist. The current was swift, pushing her downstream on unsteady feet. A thick layer of fog surrounded her until she could no longer see the opposite bank.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?”
Cody’s voice sounded distant. She heard the crackling of his radio as he called out to the search team. His muffled oath, “Shit, it’s cold,” as he splashed through the water, following her across the creek.
The water became shallower and her feet sank into the mushy sand. She continued to follow the flowery scent as she climbed the bank of the ravine, into an open field and toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the river. The fog dissipated, allowing her to see the edge of the cliff. A single oak tree stood outlined against the black clouds rolling across the sky. The jigsaw puzzle was coming together now. The pieces starting to fit. She could no longer smell the perfume, but her body continued to move, feet carrying her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. She wanted to stop, but some unseen force kept her going. Strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards just as her feet slipped over the edge.
“Catherine, what the hell are you doing?” Cody lay beside her, his breathing labored.
“I don’t know. I was. . .I was following a scent.” The perfume was completely gone now. Catherine glanced around, excitement surging through her body. The tree.
“Cody the tree. It’s the same tree I saw in my vision. He’s here. I know he’s here.”
“Okay. Okay. Hold on a second.” Some of her own excitement registered in his voice. The tree has been the one clue missing from all the other ravines.
Helping Catherine to her feet, the two crept slowly toward the edge of the cliff. A blanket of fog covered the earth thirty feet below them, but they didn’t need to see through the fog. Less than five feet down, on a jutted outcropping of rock lay the remains of Timothy Bond.
A strange feeling of piece settled over Catherine. She’d found him. She could hear Cody in the background, giving the search team directions to their location.
“Don’t get too close the edge, Catherine,” he yelled.
“I won’t.”
“It’s time to go home, Timmy,” she whispered.
The wind chose just that moment to switch direction. It whipped her long auburn curls away from her face and forced her back from the edge of the cliff. Perhaps it was just the wind, and the fact that she was wringing wet. Perhaps. Catherine shivered as icy fingers raced down her spine, and the whisper reached her ears. “Find me.”
Saturday, August 7, 2010
99 Cent EBooks--You can't judge a book by its price
I remember growing up hearing over and over again, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” I realized even as a child that they weren’t really talking about books, however, being a voracious reader it didn’t take me long to realize that statement wasn’t entirely false. Many book covers do little to promote the actual content of the book. Book covers are chosen for “market appeal”. Bright colors or dramatics to encourage the reader to pick up the book and at least read the back blurb. Which at times can be a total disappointment.
Since becoming an author and publishing my first work I’ve also learned you can’t judge a book by its price. Prices are set once again based on what the market will bear, as well as the type of publisher. Large publishers who print millions of trade paperbacks and hardbacks get a much cheaper print price which allows them to offer bestselling books at a much lower price than those offered by small publishers. My first book, The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery was published by Echelon Press and priced at $12.99. I hated the cover, which said little to nothing about the actual content of the book. I personally felt the price was a little high, but at the time it was what the market would bear for the size and type of books being published by small publishers. The problem for me was my book was placed on the same paperback shelf as the bestselling authors whose books were selling for seven to $8.00 less than my book. So, as a reader, who are you going to buy? Are you going to spend $5.00 to $10.00 more to try an unknown author, or are you going to stick with the known authors? The answer to that question for me, a book buyer, was—I’m going to stick with the known author. If that was the answer for me, then wouldn’t it naturally follow that the majority of book buyers felt the same way?
When I finished the second Jacody Ives Mystery I was still debating these questions in my mind. How does a relatively new author who hasn’t landed that big publishing contract compete in the book market? I toyed with the idea of self-publishing, but found that the prices set for self-published books were actually higher than those set by small publishing companies. This would only compound the problem, not resolve it.
In 2009 I started researching digital publishing. It wasn’t my preference as I love books. I love the feel of turning the pages, placing that special bookmark at my stopping point. I love libraries. As a child who grew up relatively poor libraries were my escape. I could find a good book and lose myself in the world of my imagination forgetting for just a moment the reality of my life. What effect would digital publishing have on libraries? They’re struggling to survive now with budget cuts across the board. Would digital publishing be the “straw that broke the camel’s back”, finally taking them under? Further research alleviated some of those fears as I found that libraries were also preparing for the digital world, setting up to offer eBooks for their patrons.
In 2010 I joined the ranks of indie publishers and published both my first book and second book through Amazon’s Digital Text Platform. Which once again brought me back to the question of price. As a reader I still felt some eBooks were priced too high. And some appeared to be priced really low, or even free. What was the difference? Name recognition? Publisher? Size of book? I was amazed to find that none of the normal questions fit the answer. What I did find was basically a price war by promoters of digital books and publishers who wanted to keep the prices high. Bear in mind that authors are rarely, if ever, involved in the actual publishing world of publishing companies. We assume that our publishers are aware of the value of our work, as well as “what the market will bear”. And authors rarely, if ever, have any say in the actual price of the book. Self-publishing and digital publishing changed all that. Suddenly authors had the opportunity to compete. And publishing companies immediately jumped on this. If you research publishing companies now you’ll find that the majority of them have a self-publishing unit, or at least a self-publishing digital unit. They could care less about the content of the work, offer no editing services, no layout services and no graphics services unless paid for by the author. The same deal a self-published author has on their own. The only difference is you have that “publisher’s name” on your book. Which for some readers still places a sort of “validation” on an author’s work. Not true. What it actually does is once again places the “price” of those books in the hands of the publisher.
I haven’t bought an e-reader yet. I did download the Amazon Kindle PC download for eBooks. I immediately fell in love with eBooks. I then started looking at the books for sale, and found that I could now sample a large variety of work prior to buying the actual product. As a reader—I’m thrilled. And I found that many formerly published authors were concerned about the same thing I had pondered for three years, and were also joining the ranks of indie authors publishing their own work. And they were succeeding. Slowly but surely, they were accomplishing what every author wants to accomplish—getting their work into the hands of readers and making a modest return on their investment. And yes, authors do have an investment in their work. Days, weeks, months of writing and then most authors, even indie authors, pay for professional editing and graphic design of their covers. We don’t simply hit a button and publish our work, regardless of whether we place it on sale for 99 cents or $4.99. We, in fact, place a higher value on our content and appearance that the publishing companies that are allowing authors to self-publish through their digital services. Why? Because our product is our “validation”. We don’t have the big publisher name. We only have our name, and what we publish today will either validate our work or destroy our career.
When it came time to type in the price of my eBooks I had already made up my mind. The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery was priced at 99 cents. And Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery was priced at $2.99. This is the accepted price for eBooks by indie authors although for promotional purposes those prices go up and down sometimes. I recently received a comment on one of sites that “You have to believe your book is worth more than $.99.” As an author, of course I do. As a reader, looking for new authors to buy that I haven’t sampled before, I always preview the 99cent works. And The Gifts was four years old and had already sold in paperback.
So even when prices increased in July I left it at 99 cents. As an author trying to build author recognition and “validation” that to me was a good marketing decision.
You can’t judge a book by its cover, nor can you judge a book by its price. I recently paid $25.00 for the hardback copy of one of favorite authors from the past. I’d gotten no farther than the third chapter when I wanted my money back. Of course, I couldn’t return it for a refund. I still buy my favorite authors at times, but I’m also finding a wealth of new, fantastic authors located in the 99 cent to $2.99 market on eBooks. Is every book good? Good Lord, no. But then not every paperback or hardback I’ve purchased was any good either. In fact, gave away a bunch recently that I bought on my last visit to the bookstore. Covers were great, blurb was good, and even the first page seemed to be a book I would love—but after that first page I found that I just couldn’t get into them.
Bottom line summary—the fact that an author has priced their book at 99 cents doesn’t mean they don’t believe in the value of the book, it means they’re trying like every other author out there to build their reader base and gain name recognition. Some will make it, some will fail. The same holds true for all books regardless of the price.
Since becoming an author and publishing my first work I’ve also learned you can’t judge a book by its price. Prices are set once again based on what the market will bear, as well as the type of publisher. Large publishers who print millions of trade paperbacks and hardbacks get a much cheaper print price which allows them to offer bestselling books at a much lower price than those offered by small publishers. My first book, The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery was published by Echelon Press and priced at $12.99. I hated the cover, which said little to nothing about the actual content of the book. I personally felt the price was a little high, but at the time it was what the market would bear for the size and type of books being published by small publishers. The problem for me was my book was placed on the same paperback shelf as the bestselling authors whose books were selling for seven to $8.00 less than my book. So, as a reader, who are you going to buy? Are you going to spend $5.00 to $10.00 more to try an unknown author, or are you going to stick with the known authors? The answer to that question for me, a book buyer, was—I’m going to stick with the known author. If that was the answer for me, then wouldn’t it naturally follow that the majority of book buyers felt the same way?
When I finished the second Jacody Ives Mystery I was still debating these questions in my mind. How does a relatively new author who hasn’t landed that big publishing contract compete in the book market? I toyed with the idea of self-publishing, but found that the prices set for self-published books were actually higher than those set by small publishing companies. This would only compound the problem, not resolve it.
In 2009 I started researching digital publishing. It wasn’t my preference as I love books. I love the feel of turning the pages, placing that special bookmark at my stopping point. I love libraries. As a child who grew up relatively poor libraries were my escape. I could find a good book and lose myself in the world of my imagination forgetting for just a moment the reality of my life. What effect would digital publishing have on libraries? They’re struggling to survive now with budget cuts across the board. Would digital publishing be the “straw that broke the camel’s back”, finally taking them under? Further research alleviated some of those fears as I found that libraries were also preparing for the digital world, setting up to offer eBooks for their patrons.
In 2010 I joined the ranks of indie publishers and published both my first book and second book through Amazon’s Digital Text Platform. Which once again brought me back to the question of price. As a reader I still felt some eBooks were priced too high. And some appeared to be priced really low, or even free. What was the difference? Name recognition? Publisher? Size of book? I was amazed to find that none of the normal questions fit the answer. What I did find was basically a price war by promoters of digital books and publishers who wanted to keep the prices high. Bear in mind that authors are rarely, if ever, involved in the actual publishing world of publishing companies. We assume that our publishers are aware of the value of our work, as well as “what the market will bear”. And authors rarely, if ever, have any say in the actual price of the book. Self-publishing and digital publishing changed all that. Suddenly authors had the opportunity to compete. And publishing companies immediately jumped on this. If you research publishing companies now you’ll find that the majority of them have a self-publishing unit, or at least a self-publishing digital unit. They could care less about the content of the work, offer no editing services, no layout services and no graphics services unless paid for by the author. The same deal a self-published author has on their own. The only difference is you have that “publisher’s name” on your book. Which for some readers still places a sort of “validation” on an author’s work. Not true. What it actually does is once again places the “price” of those books in the hands of the publisher.
I haven’t bought an e-reader yet. I did download the Amazon Kindle PC download for eBooks. I immediately fell in love with eBooks. I then started looking at the books for sale, and found that I could now sample a large variety of work prior to buying the actual product. As a reader—I’m thrilled. And I found that many formerly published authors were concerned about the same thing I had pondered for three years, and were also joining the ranks of indie authors publishing their own work. And they were succeeding. Slowly but surely, they were accomplishing what every author wants to accomplish—getting their work into the hands of readers and making a modest return on their investment. And yes, authors do have an investment in their work. Days, weeks, months of writing and then most authors, even indie authors, pay for professional editing and graphic design of their covers. We don’t simply hit a button and publish our work, regardless of whether we place it on sale for 99 cents or $4.99. We, in fact, place a higher value on our content and appearance that the publishing companies that are allowing authors to self-publish through their digital services. Why? Because our product is our “validation”. We don’t have the big publisher name. We only have our name, and what we publish today will either validate our work or destroy our career.
When it came time to type in the price of my eBooks I had already made up my mind. The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery was priced at 99 cents. And Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery was priced at $2.99. This is the accepted price for eBooks by indie authors although for promotional purposes those prices go up and down sometimes. I recently received a comment on one of sites that “You have to believe your book is worth more than $.99.” As an author, of course I do. As a reader, looking for new authors to buy that I haven’t sampled before, I always preview the 99cent works. And The Gifts was four years old and had already sold in paperback.
So even when prices increased in July I left it at 99 cents. As an author trying to build author recognition and “validation” that to me was a good marketing decision.
You can’t judge a book by its cover, nor can you judge a book by its price. I recently paid $25.00 for the hardback copy of one of favorite authors from the past. I’d gotten no farther than the third chapter when I wanted my money back. Of course, I couldn’t return it for a refund. I still buy my favorite authors at times, but I’m also finding a wealth of new, fantastic authors located in the 99 cent to $2.99 market on eBooks. Is every book good? Good Lord, no. But then not every paperback or hardback I’ve purchased was any good either. In fact, gave away a bunch recently that I bought on my last visit to the bookstore. Covers were great, blurb was good, and even the first page seemed to be a book I would love—but after that first page I found that I just couldn’t get into them.
Bottom line summary—the fact that an author has priced their book at 99 cents doesn’t mean they don’t believe in the value of the book, it means they’re trying like every other author out there to build their reader base and gain name recognition. Some will make it, some will fail. The same holds true for all books regardless of the price.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Tell Me A Secret
Tell me a secret
The one I see
In the shadows
Of your eyes
Speak to me with
Words of truth
Not the poetry
Of your lies
Tell me a secret
In the darkness
Of the night
And perhaps
My heart won’t break
If the secret
Doesn’t see the light
Tell me a secret
The one I see
In the shadows
Of your eyes
Speak to me with
Words of truth
Not the poetry
Of your lies
Tell me a secret
In the darkness
Of the night
And perhaps
My heart won’t break
If the secret
Doesn’t see the light
Tell me a secret
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
August Contest – Win a free copy of The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery – your choice of a Mobipocket ebook or the original paperback released in 2006.
When? One free book will be given away each week for four weeks. First drawing 8/11/10
How? Test your sleuthing skills by reading five samples of author’s work and answer a question related to each book. All samples can be download from the link, and all samples are absolutely free. Send me an email titled Contest listing the answers to the five questions. My email address is admin@prather-author.com A winner will be chosen from the contest entries each week that answered all five questions correctly. Questions will be changed weekly, and all emails from the prior contest will be deleted, so if you don’t win on the first week, be sure to enter again. Emails will not be shared, nor will any entrant with the exception of the winner receive any emails from any author participating. At the end of the four week contest all emails will be deleted.
Ready to get started? Here’s your authors and here’s your questions. Good luck.
Victorine Lieske – Romantic Suspense
Q Emily and her four year old son, Connor, are on the run. Someone else is with them. What is his name?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003HS5LRO/
Linda S. Prather – Mystery/Suspense
Q What song was the killer humming just before he killed Corrine Larson?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003U4WVQ4/
C. S. Marks – Fantasy
Q What is the name of Gaelen’s cousin?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001R4CJDE/
David McAfee – Horror/Thriller
Q In Chapter One of 33A.D. Ephraim saves a small figurine from crashing to the floor. What is the figurine?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003BIGNRW/
David Dalglish – Fantasy
Q What color of fire surrounds the flying skulls that are attacking at the start of The Weight of Blood?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0036R4JU6/
Once Again to Enter:
Download your samples, read all of them, or at least until you find the answer and then send me an email at admin@prather-author.com with the word Contest in the Re: Column setting forth the answers to the five questions. Good luck!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The ART of Healing
As an author, words are a daily part of my life. Stringing together descriptive words to create a certain scene, a certain mood. And as Gavin McAllister says: “the impact of the words was in direct correlation to the emotions of the reader. Words could be twisted, knives to open up wounds long hidden. Maneuvered to evoke buried nightmares. Bare the soul, expose the wound”.
We often remember hurtful words, hateful words, words thrown out in moments of anger, depression and despair. And words, as well as images, can be incredibly powerful. They can and do create drastic changes in both your mind and your body.
Imagine a scene for just a moment. Your very best friend is about to reveal something to you. He/she states “I booked us on an Alaskan tour.” Your reaction would be elated. Happy. And you would feel that happiness in both your mind and your body. Now, let’s change the scene. And he/she says: “I just found out I have cancer.” The mental and physical reaction is drastically different. Instead of elation, you feel pain, fear, and perhaps just a little anger. Your physical reaction will also be different. Where before you felt energetic, anticipating the cruise, you now feel a certain tightness and/or depression.
There are some words, like the example above, we can’t control. We can’t control the words being spoken to us, nor can we totally control our mental and physical reaction to those words.
But let’s take a look at everyday life. Are we letting words we speak or hear control us? When you utter harsh words to someone it doesn’t just hurt them, it also hurts you. Your own mental and physical well-being are damaged by the internal conflicts of those words. And how often have you been so sorry for words you uttered in anger, or words you lashed out with when in pain? Words you wished you could take back the moment they were spoken?
We all need love, affection and reassurance. Words attached to emotions. In meditation we often give ourselves positive suggestions. In a deepened state of awareness words like: “I am loved” have an overall positive effect on our emotional and mental attitude as well as our physical health.
But we live in the real world the majority of the day, faced with money problems, finding a job, paying the bills, feeding the family, and just trying to survive. So how do we find time to use words that purify our mind of negative thoughts, lighten our mood and add a positive element to both our surroundings and demeanor?
This is where the ART of healing comes in. Try this for just a moment, paying special attention to how you feel emotionally and physically. Sing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” making the hand motions (yeah, I know you’re at work and everyone is going to think you’re nuts—do it on your lunch hour when you’re alone, or go to the bathroom and sing it to yourself). Actually if managers would take a fifteen minute break and have all the employees sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” I bet production would increase because the employees would feel better both mentally and physically.
It’s hard to sing these little nursery rhymes and not smile. An immediate mood adjustment. And those mood adjustments create an immediate physical reaction, allowing your body for just a moment or two to relax the tension that has been building throughout the day. Relaxing the body allows your organs to function easier, and blood to flow to tense areas. Healing to begin.
Can’t bring yourself to sing nursery rhymes? Then choose another upbeat song. Something you like. Something that makes you feel GOOD. Do this several times a day and you should see a noticeable change in both your mental attitude as well as your physical well-being and even perhaps your surroundings. Happy thoughts create a happy atmosphere.
Have a great day. And give someone a smile—it makes you both feel better.
We often remember hurtful words, hateful words, words thrown out in moments of anger, depression and despair. And words, as well as images, can be incredibly powerful. They can and do create drastic changes in both your mind and your body.
Imagine a scene for just a moment. Your very best friend is about to reveal something to you. He/she states “I booked us on an Alaskan tour.” Your reaction would be elated. Happy. And you would feel that happiness in both your mind and your body. Now, let’s change the scene. And he/she says: “I just found out I have cancer.” The mental and physical reaction is drastically different. Instead of elation, you feel pain, fear, and perhaps just a little anger. Your physical reaction will also be different. Where before you felt energetic, anticipating the cruise, you now feel a certain tightness and/or depression.
There are some words, like the example above, we can’t control. We can’t control the words being spoken to us, nor can we totally control our mental and physical reaction to those words.
But let’s take a look at everyday life. Are we letting words we speak or hear control us? When you utter harsh words to someone it doesn’t just hurt them, it also hurts you. Your own mental and physical well-being are damaged by the internal conflicts of those words. And how often have you been so sorry for words you uttered in anger, or words you lashed out with when in pain? Words you wished you could take back the moment they were spoken?
We all need love, affection and reassurance. Words attached to emotions. In meditation we often give ourselves positive suggestions. In a deepened state of awareness words like: “I am loved” have an overall positive effect on our emotional and mental attitude as well as our physical health.
But we live in the real world the majority of the day, faced with money problems, finding a job, paying the bills, feeding the family, and just trying to survive. So how do we find time to use words that purify our mind of negative thoughts, lighten our mood and add a positive element to both our surroundings and demeanor?
This is where the ART of healing comes in. Try this for just a moment, paying special attention to how you feel emotionally and physically. Sing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” making the hand motions (yeah, I know you’re at work and everyone is going to think you’re nuts—do it on your lunch hour when you’re alone, or go to the bathroom and sing it to yourself). Actually if managers would take a fifteen minute break and have all the employees sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” I bet production would increase because the employees would feel better both mentally and physically.
It’s hard to sing these little nursery rhymes and not smile. An immediate mood adjustment. And those mood adjustments create an immediate physical reaction, allowing your body for just a moment or two to relax the tension that has been building throughout the day. Relaxing the body allows your organs to function easier, and blood to flow to tense areas. Healing to begin.
Can’t bring yourself to sing nursery rhymes? Then choose another upbeat song. Something you like. Something that makes you feel GOOD. Do this several times a day and you should see a noticeable change in both your mental attitude as well as your physical well-being and even perhaps your surroundings. Happy thoughts create a happy atmosphere.
Have a great day. And give someone a smile—it makes you both feel better.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Winner of Amazon Gift Card
The winner of the Indie July Contest for an Amazon gift card is Amanda Blackwell from North Carolina. Congratulations, Amanda, and I hope you'll let me know how you enjoyed The Gifts.
Writing Crime Scene Investigation - Part 2
If you try to please everyone, you’ll actually please no one. When writing you need to write a book that pleases you.
There are multiple choices in how your crime novel can go. Many of the major TV productions use not only the investigation of the crime but the courtroom trial afterwards. If there’s to be no courtroom trial, and you’re simply going to blow the bad guy away then the specifics of an investigation are not near as important.
However, if you do plan on that court room drama, Part 1 will be very important in winning your case. The most important testimony a jury hears comes not from the eyewitness, but from the investigating officers. And a good defense lawyer can twist and turn that testimony until not even the officer is sure of what really occurred during the investigation. And it takes very little to create “reasonable doubt”.
Details or No:
I personally am not a “detail” reader. I like a story that keeps moving, and the color of the wallpaper at a murder scene doesn’t really interest me. I like good conversation between the characters that tells me what’s going on and shows me through their eyes. However, there are thousands of readers who like details. The choice is, of course, your choice. What do you like?
If your detective is a rogue or not a rogue, you’re going to need to follow some of the rules. And you probably need to include at least the crime scene investigation and autopsy in your story. If you’re going to have a courtroom drama afterwards you need to familiarize yourself with courtroom trials, and processes.
Hearsay:
You’ve probably heard that term on TV shows, and it springs up all the time in real courtroom trials. Hearsay is anything that you overhear, but have no corroborating witness, in other words, the person who said it isn’t there to say “yes, I said that”. Thus, the missing witness. It doesn’t matter what the witness said to the police officer, unless the witness can be called upon to verify the statement, a defense attorney is going to have that thrown out as hearsay. With one exception.
Death bed statements. It is presumed that someone dying will not lie. I’m not sure why we make that presumption, because it seems to me that if someone were dying and wanted their last act to be harm to someone they hated, then of course they would lie. There are two major rules to a death bed statement being allowed in the courtroom—the person making the statement must know they’re dying, and they must indeed die.
There are great books out there, written by former police officers and forensic examiners. Read them. Familiarize yourself with terms and processes. Don’t assume that the reader of your books will be unfamiliar with those processes.
If you don’t want to invest in books, there are literally thousands of on-line articles and resources available at your fingertips. Google “murder scene investigation New York City” or “crime scene analysis Detroit, Michigan”. I haven’t googled these but I’m sure there are articles written by someone along those lines.
Check your facts. Just because your story is fictional doesn’t mean you can get by with cutting corners on how things really proceed at a crime scene. If you’re going to be inventive, make sure your invention is at least feasible.
All this sounds like a lot of work to write what may be only one chapter of your novel. However, that first chapter is what will pull your readers in, or push them away. Too much detail is boring, too little leaves the reader thinking your character is inexperienced and doesn’t know police procedures.
Have questions, feel free to contact me. If you’d like a critique of your first chapter, feel free to contact me. I love working with new authors.
There are multiple choices in how your crime novel can go. Many of the major TV productions use not only the investigation of the crime but the courtroom trial afterwards. If there’s to be no courtroom trial, and you’re simply going to blow the bad guy away then the specifics of an investigation are not near as important.
However, if you do plan on that court room drama, Part 1 will be very important in winning your case. The most important testimony a jury hears comes not from the eyewitness, but from the investigating officers. And a good defense lawyer can twist and turn that testimony until not even the officer is sure of what really occurred during the investigation. And it takes very little to create “reasonable doubt”.
Details or No:
I personally am not a “detail” reader. I like a story that keeps moving, and the color of the wallpaper at a murder scene doesn’t really interest me. I like good conversation between the characters that tells me what’s going on and shows me through their eyes. However, there are thousands of readers who like details. The choice is, of course, your choice. What do you like?
If your detective is a rogue or not a rogue, you’re going to need to follow some of the rules. And you probably need to include at least the crime scene investigation and autopsy in your story. If you’re going to have a courtroom drama afterwards you need to familiarize yourself with courtroom trials, and processes.
Hearsay:
You’ve probably heard that term on TV shows, and it springs up all the time in real courtroom trials. Hearsay is anything that you overhear, but have no corroborating witness, in other words, the person who said it isn’t there to say “yes, I said that”. Thus, the missing witness. It doesn’t matter what the witness said to the police officer, unless the witness can be called upon to verify the statement, a defense attorney is going to have that thrown out as hearsay. With one exception.
Death bed statements. It is presumed that someone dying will not lie. I’m not sure why we make that presumption, because it seems to me that if someone were dying and wanted their last act to be harm to someone they hated, then of course they would lie. There are two major rules to a death bed statement being allowed in the courtroom—the person making the statement must know they’re dying, and they must indeed die.
There are great books out there, written by former police officers and forensic examiners. Read them. Familiarize yourself with terms and processes. Don’t assume that the reader of your books will be unfamiliar with those processes.
If you don’t want to invest in books, there are literally thousands of on-line articles and resources available at your fingertips. Google “murder scene investigation New York City” or “crime scene analysis Detroit, Michigan”. I haven’t googled these but I’m sure there are articles written by someone along those lines.
Check your facts. Just because your story is fictional doesn’t mean you can get by with cutting corners on how things really proceed at a crime scene. If you’re going to be inventive, make sure your invention is at least feasible.
All this sounds like a lot of work to write what may be only one chapter of your novel. However, that first chapter is what will pull your readers in, or push them away. Too much detail is boring, too little leaves the reader thinking your character is inexperienced and doesn’t know police procedures.
Have questions, feel free to contact me. If you’d like a critique of your first chapter, feel free to contact me. I love working with new authors.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Writing Crime Scene Investigation-Part 1
I thought I’d try something different this month. As a court reporter who has sat through several murder trials, and an author who occasionally writes a crime scene investigation, share a little of the knowledge I’ve gleaned from both my job, personal experience and a host of great authors who have written novels related to this subject.
You’ve decided to write a crime novel, wherein your protagonist is probably a detective with an attitude. The great thing is that in fiction writing you have leaway to let your character break the rules. However, if you want those who actually work in the field to take you seriously there are some rules you shouldn’t break without giving an explanation.
First: You need to decide what type of crime has occurred. In most crime novels, of course, there is a dead body at the heart of the matter. So, let’s assume you have a dead body. And let’s assume it’s inside an abandoned house or warehouse. Someone calls in a bad odor coming from the house or warehouse.
Second: Where is the crime? Are you in the middle of a major city, or a small countryside, with only one or two local police, and possibly a Sheriff.
Third: You have to establish jurisdiction. Who gets the first call? Almost every American city has 911, which is, probably the first call someone would make. However, in small towns a person may know the local Sheriff or Police Chief and actually call them. Normally a patrol car will be dispatched to check it out.
Fourth: Deciding who is at your crime scene. Once again, this is determined by “where your crime occurred”. EMS? Coroner? Medical Examiner? Homicide Detectives?
Be sure to research your area. Some small areas may not have either a medical examiner or coroner and one may have to be called in from another area. In some states the medical examiners and coroners work together. In large areas there may be multiple medical examiners and/or coroners. Research your state and the city of your crime.
Fifth: Do you need a search warrant? In the past search warrants were not necessary in cases of suspected murder or even suicide. However, Supreme Court rulings have changed that, and a search warrant is normally necessary before you can legally search the premises. Of course, if the person in charge of the property, owner or renter, is available then they may give you permission to search. You need to know who has control of the premises.
Sixth: Don’t touch anything. Of course, if your detective is a rebel, he or she is probably going to break this rule right up front. But in most cases a good detective knows not to touch anything until the scene has been totally documented. That includes documenting anyone at the scene. Isolate witnesses. Wait for the search warrant if necessary and delegate, delegate, delegate. The time of day needs to be documented. Day of week. Weather conditions. Photos taken. Witnesses interviewed. Only when everything possible has been documented does the detective start to look for and collect evidence.
Seven: Don’t be too quick to diagnose the cause of death. Leave that up to the ME or coroner. Sure, there may be a bullet hole between the eyes, but when the coroner’s report comes out you could be surprised to find that the actual cause of death was a broken neck. The shot to the forehead was an angry overkill, or something to throw the detective off because it would take a really strong person to physically break someone’s neck.
In summary, choose your crime then choose your state and city. Once you have that down start your research into who, why, how and when so you know, 1) who arrives first on a scene; 2) why they have to wait; 3) how they proceed and 4) when does the remainder of the crime scene investigators arrive.
A great source of information is, of course, the local homicide detectives, ME’s, Coroners and Sheriffs and Police Officers. If you approach them properly with your request at a time they aren’t swamped with an overload of cases, most of them are more than happy to discuss your crime and the proper sequence of investigation with you. Remember, though, if they are helpful to give them all at least a research line in your book.
Join me tomorrow for Part 2.
You’ve decided to write a crime novel, wherein your protagonist is probably a detective with an attitude. The great thing is that in fiction writing you have leaway to let your character break the rules. However, if you want those who actually work in the field to take you seriously there are some rules you shouldn’t break without giving an explanation.
First: You need to decide what type of crime has occurred. In most crime novels, of course, there is a dead body at the heart of the matter. So, let’s assume you have a dead body. And let’s assume it’s inside an abandoned house or warehouse. Someone calls in a bad odor coming from the house or warehouse.
Second: Where is the crime? Are you in the middle of a major city, or a small countryside, with only one or two local police, and possibly a Sheriff.
Third: You have to establish jurisdiction. Who gets the first call? Almost every American city has 911, which is, probably the first call someone would make. However, in small towns a person may know the local Sheriff or Police Chief and actually call them. Normally a patrol car will be dispatched to check it out.
Fourth: Deciding who is at your crime scene. Once again, this is determined by “where your crime occurred”. EMS? Coroner? Medical Examiner? Homicide Detectives?
Be sure to research your area. Some small areas may not have either a medical examiner or coroner and one may have to be called in from another area. In some states the medical examiners and coroners work together. In large areas there may be multiple medical examiners and/or coroners. Research your state and the city of your crime.
Fifth: Do you need a search warrant? In the past search warrants were not necessary in cases of suspected murder or even suicide. However, Supreme Court rulings have changed that, and a search warrant is normally necessary before you can legally search the premises. Of course, if the person in charge of the property, owner or renter, is available then they may give you permission to search. You need to know who has control of the premises.
Sixth: Don’t touch anything. Of course, if your detective is a rebel, he or she is probably going to break this rule right up front. But in most cases a good detective knows not to touch anything until the scene has been totally documented. That includes documenting anyone at the scene. Isolate witnesses. Wait for the search warrant if necessary and delegate, delegate, delegate. The time of day needs to be documented. Day of week. Weather conditions. Photos taken. Witnesses interviewed. Only when everything possible has been documented does the detective start to look for and collect evidence.
Seven: Don’t be too quick to diagnose the cause of death. Leave that up to the ME or coroner. Sure, there may be a bullet hole between the eyes, but when the coroner’s report comes out you could be surprised to find that the actual cause of death was a broken neck. The shot to the forehead was an angry overkill, or something to throw the detective off because it would take a really strong person to physically break someone’s neck.
In summary, choose your crime then choose your state and city. Once you have that down start your research into who, why, how and when so you know, 1) who arrives first on a scene; 2) why they have to wait; 3) how they proceed and 4) when does the remainder of the crime scene investigators arrive.
A great source of information is, of course, the local homicide detectives, ME’s, Coroners and Sheriffs and Police Officers. If you approach them properly with your request at a time they aren’t swamped with an overload of cases, most of them are more than happy to discuss your crime and the proper sequence of investigation with you. Remember, though, if they are helpful to give them all at least a research line in your book.
Join me tomorrow for Part 2.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)