My guest today is Laura Graham. Hello, Laura! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you here.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it? 


My book, Down a Tuscan Alley, which was published last year, can be bought on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk in paperback and e-books where it is collecting 5 star reviews. My other books are cat’s adventure stories for children, Tale of Two Tuscan Cats and Tuscan Cats Get Into Mischief. In paperback and e-books, they can also be found on Amazon.
 
Is there anything that prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you?

I was prompted to write Down a Tuscan Alley because it happened – I found myself at a loose end in life with no clear idea of what to do or where to go. But I owned a minute apartment down a back alley in Tuscany bought and paid for. So I was prepared to take the risk and change my life.

Great! So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?

I knew I wanted to write when I was about 17. But I won a scholarship into drama school and from then on worked as an actress in the theatre in London, understudying Helen Mirren and playing major roles in other productions both in theatre and television. But I always wrote, secretly, stuff hidden in a box, never dreamt it would any good. Then one day I dared to show it to a trusted friend. Because of her reaction I wrote with a passion every day, hoping that sometime in the future I might be published.

Do you have any favorite authors? 

Iris Murdoch, Truman Capote, Joyce Carol Oates, Ian McEwan, Tolstoy, George Orwell, James Joyce, PD James, to name but a few.

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?

I like writing in a bar down the road from my house every morning. It’s called the Divine Comedy (says everything really) There are people about, a counter crowded with cakes, But it is less distracting than being at home.

Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers. Any advice?

The only advice I feel capable of offering is to never give up. Write for yourself. Pour your heart and passionate ideas out onto the page. Give the very best of yourself. For that’s what any creative work is about – giving!

Here is the blurb for Down a Tuscan Alley.

A long relationship ends. At 48, house taken by the bank, Lorri has little money. What can she do? And where can she go? Gathering her meager savings and her two beloved cats, she escapes England for a new life in a remote Italian village, never imagining the intrigue, passion and romance she will find . . .

Here's an excerpt from Down a Tuscan Alley.

I’d lain on the bed, half covered with a sheet, and he had stepped across the room still wet from the shower and stretched himself on top of me. I’d gasped at the hardness of his body.

After, I’d sat at the window, looking out at the stars. The insistent thrumming of the crickets, the distant humming of the generator in the vineyards, the vibration sounds had closed us off, created our own separate reality. “Don’t think too much,” he’d said, turning over in bed.

I closed the shutters. When it rose, the sun would toast his body. It was not so much thinking as adjusting, I’d liked to have said, but couldn’t find the words in Italian. It would have to wait until I’d studied the dictionary.

This is a small review for Down a Tuscan Alley.

Neil Osborn, Arts Theatre review:

Lorri, a quintessentially English woman in her late forties decides to change her life and go to Tuscany. There’s only one problem: she has no money. But she does have two cats and a back alley apartment with a view of the street steps and the greengrocer’s moldy fruit – and I nearly forgot – an ex on the prowl, a shady character following her and a Quasimodo type lurking in the alleyway. Wonderful stuff! It gets even better when a passionate love affair blossoms with a younger man and friends arrive from England causing havoc. To sum up, Down a Tuscan Alley is a well written and entertaining read.

Author Bio

Laura Graham was an actress for many years performing in Shakespearean productions at the National Theatre in London. She has also played leading roles in Chekhov and Strindberg in major theatres in England. One of the major influences in her life was coming to Italy to live, with virtually no money, only two beloved cats for company, and coping with the mishaps, the passion and the intrigue. Which is what her first book, Down a Tuscan Alley, is about. Her second book, this time for children, Tale of Two Tuscan Cats, is about the adventures of her own two cats, one found in the forest, the other on the street. There is now a sequel, Tuscan Cats Get Into Mischief, which is also for sale on Amazon.co.uk.

Website:  http://www.lauragraham.co.uk/
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/lauragraham7
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Laura-Graham/e/B007A0CQ6O/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1365136990&sr=1-2-ent

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A  Book Review of The Other Island by Jaime Martínez-Tolentino

Reviewer:  Olga Sonia Dávila

 

Australia’s ASJ Publishing Company has just released Jaime Martínez-Tolentino’s memoir The Other Island (Melbourne: ASJ Publishing, 2013) currently available on Amazon.com.

The memoir is highly informative. The author invites the reader to explore, reflect upon, and ultimately understand the circumstances that arise when one comes from humble beginnings, but possesses the essentials to achieve a better life by struggling and acquiring the wisdom of real-life experiences. What is even more remarkable is that the main protagonist achieves all that while facing a physical handicap and having to cope with a family of limited resources and living in a foreign world.

The author provides a wealth of scientific and historical information in a very palatable form on a disability of which we have limited first-hand information today. Polio, which was once the scourge of infancy, is, thankfully, a thing of the past today. Aside from learning about this terrible illness, Martínez-Tolentino’s book allowed me access to the heart of New York City’s “El Barrio” Puerto Rican community of the 1950’s and the 1960’s. The author very cleverly weaves accessible information on polio with vivid descriptions of life in El Barrio to inform the reader of the obstacles he had to face in his youth. He also portrays the problems he was forced to overcome in order to achieve his dreams.

This memoir is also a provocative tale of the author’s relationships with his family and his friends, as well as an exploration of his circumstances, his strengths and his faults. In that, it is, basically, the story of all young people growing up. However, through his vivid descriptions of growing up in a hostile environment, Martínez-Tolentino presents a coming of age story set in the type of neighborhood with which many readers aren’t familiar. 

Still, the lessons taught through this immersion in a strange world are quite familiar… and uplifting. I know the author personally, and I can vouch for his many accomplishments, but his memoir reveals how those accomplishments were achieved. His efforts, his desire for a better life and his endurance all paid off, in the end, and they constitute a powerful life lesson for all those facing difficult circumstances.

I thoroughly enjoyed The Other Island, and when I finished it, I still wanted to continue with the author on his journey. I look forward to more such literary adventures from this author who has narrated, once again, the hardships and the joys of all those who have come to this country in search of a better life and have achieved their dreams.

About the Reviewer
 
Olga Sonia Dávila is a retired City of Buffalo public school principal.


Author Bio
 

Jaime Martínez Tolentino is a Puerto Rican writer. At the age of four, Martinez Tolentino contracted polio, which left him crippled. In 1951, he and his family emigrated to New York City where he lived until 1966. He attended New York University where he majored in French and French literature, while also studying Spanish literature and German. As an undergraduate he participated actively in the theater.  After earning a B.A. and an M.A in French literature, he returned, briefly, to his native Puerto Rico where he was named French professor at The University of Puerto Rico. Then he left for Europe to pursue further studies.

In France, he studied French at the Sorbonne, and then he relocated to Spain, where he studied both French and Hispanic Literature. He received a Ph.D. in French Literature from the University of Madrid, and then he returned to Puerto Rico.  Between 1970 and 1984, Martinez Tolentino taught French at the Mayaguez Campus of the University of Puerto Rico, and he also published three books on French. Also during this period, he published a full-length play, and in 1984, he directed its staged version. One of his short stories was adapted for the stage in Puerto Rico in 1979.  In 1980, he published his play La imagen del otro, and three years later, an original collection of short stories of the fantastic.

As he continued publishing in Spanish, his interest in Hispanic literature grew. He began taking graduate courses in Spanish and Puerto Rican literature, and then taught Spanish literature at the Inter-American University of Puerto Rico, while still also teaching French at the UPR.  In 1984, Martinez Tolentino resigned from his position as a French professor.  In 1990, he became a Spanish professor at the State University of New York’s College of Buffalo, where he continued writing and producing plays. He retired from teaching in 2002, but not from writing and publishing.  For a full history, you can find Jaime on Wikipedia or on his website.

Some of his books can be found on Amazon.  For a complete list of his works, click here.

To purchase or view The Other Island, click here.


Thank you, Olga, for that informative review!

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My guest today is Gail Picado. Hello, Gail! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you here.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?  

My latest book, A Cow Named John, is a true labor of love.  It’s a collection of great memories of what we used to do on my aunt and uncle’s farm; a time without toys.  All we had were farm animals, the land, and our imagination.  It came out in August, 2012, and can be purchased through Amazon, Solstice Publishing, or Barnes & Noble if you have a Nook.

Is there anything that prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you? 

As I see how kids today are so disconnected from family, it saddens me.  They’ll spend hours texting their friends, but not a word to their siblings. Family is very important!  So, I wrote A Cow Named John to show the world the humorous and nostalgic side of growing up on a farm.

Great! So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours? 

I wrote a play in the 6th grade and had a lot of fun directing it.  But my dad didn’t approve of the arts and pushed me into business courses in high school.  Then after he died, his adopted mom listed him as a “stranger that assumed their name” in her will.  I was so hurt by this that I wrote my first novel, No One’s Son.  It’s a real tearjerker.  Now, I write for the fun of it.

Do you have any favorite authors?

Stephen King, Dean Koontz, plus the classics like Dickens and Steinbeck.  There are so many good writers out there!  I’ll choose a book just from its title, and I’m seldom disappointed.

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day? 

I have a “hobby” room that’s mine exclusively where I draw, write, sew, and do puzzles.  You can find me there anytime of the day.

Are there any words you’d like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice? 

Don’t try to get rich by writing.  Only the few get there - - very few.  Write only if it’s what you love and you have something to say. 

Here is the blurb for A Cow Named John.

Why did you name your cow John? After all, John is a boy's name.

Twelve-year-old Mike Elsasser lives on a farm in 1950s Nebraska. John is his favorite cow – she lets him go cow skiing with her in the mud. He constantly gets asked about her name, but he doesn't feel like explaining. "Just because," he tells them.

Then one day, John gets lost…

…And even worse, Mike finds himself saddled with his younger cousin, Gaylyn, a girl who smiles all the time and doesn’t know anything.

While John gets up to odd adventures, the two children have adventures of their own. They fight mosquitoes, make their own ice cream, find a secret passage and risk electrocution in irrigation trenches. They get involved in the trickery of fishing and the hunting of snipe. They learn horse tricks, escape an angry sheep, keep their trickster uncle at bay, and even survive a tornado!

A Cow Named John is a nostalgic and humorous story about children on a farm, their antics, and how work can feel like play – and how the search for John can be just as fun as actually finding her.  

Yes.  You asked for it.  We do have an excerpt from A Cow Named John.  Enjoy!

           Two weeks before the fourth of July in 1959, the Elsasser family slept as black, billowy clouds hung in the night, blocking the moon and stars. The lightning cracked; chirping crickets lay silent. Buzzing grasshoppers, the babbling spring, and fish and pollywogs nipping at mosquitoes, all were silent too. Nothing made any noise to alarm the family of John’s intent.

            John’s nose rubbed against the rough rope fibers that held her captive and kept her from exploring. Higher and higher went the rope, until at last, it went over the top of the post and fell to the ground below. John was free! Free to roam. Free to run. Free to be. 

            A coyote yelped and yipped such news, but the family didn’t stir. Hungry was this coyote. Hungry to the bone. 

***

             Twelve-year-old Mike Elsasser crouched in the barnyard the next morning and put his right index finger in his mouth. Getting it nice and wet, he stuck it in the air to check which way the wind blew. He didn’t want Old Red to smell his scent as he snuck up on her. 

            “Sow, boss,” whispered Mike, as he crept quietly behind the cow. Last night’s summer storm made the ground perfect for this: all wet and slippery. He inched closer. When he was within reach of the cow’s tail, Mike grabbed it and hollered, “Whoop, whoop!”

            The startled cow jumped in fright and ran for her life, dragging Mike along! He hung onto her tail, fighting to stay on his feet over the wet, slippery mud. Cow skiing wasn’t easy, and he prided himself on being pretty good at it. 

            “Whoop, whoop!” Mike repeated, throwing one arm in the air. He skied for almost thirty feet before falling over. He looked up from the mud and watched Old Red run to the safety of the barn. He laughed. 

            “Crazy cow!” he yelled. He got up and brushed himself off. Hope Dad doesn’t find out this time, he thought. He’d sure be angry if he knew that I tried to ski behind another cow.

             Mike walked into the barn and patted the backside of Bessie as she stood eating hay. “Sow boss,” he said, while taking a wet cloth from his hip pocket. He wiped the cow’s teat clean and then sat on the three-legged stool to milk her.

            Three kittens came over and he squirted them with milk, much to their delight. After he finished milking Bessie, he moved on to Molly and milked her too. Done, he picked up the milking pails, groaning from the weight. 

            Mike had blond hair and blue eyes like his dad, with lean muscles from carrying milk from the barn to the white, wood-framed bunkhouse, a porch-length away from the farmhouse. They used the basement under the bunkhouse only in case of tornadoes. Hired hands, the men who used to help work the farm, and their beds were long gone, but it still held an old wood-burning stove and a milk separator. The separator looked like a large stainless steel funnel on legs. It had a crank handle like on the front of an old-timey car.

Mike set two buckets under the large funnel and poured the milk in the top. Taking hold of the crank handle with both hands, he began turning it in a continuous circle. The large metal funnel spun around and around until the cream separated from the milk. The milk filtered down one side of the funnel, and the cream filtered down the other side. 

            Once this was done, Mike took the cream and milk to his mom. One day, thought Mike, I’m going to move off this farm, away from this town, and then I won’t have to do all this milking. I’m going to buy my milk from the store, just like city folks. 

            Mike lived in Brady, Nebraska, a small town shaped like a horseshoe off Highway 30, just east of North Platte. Brady couldn’t be found on any map, and a house number wasn’t needed in the address on letters. With a population of 240 people, the mailman delivered the mail by just the name on the envelope.

            Unlike the city, the town had no paved roads, only dirt, and it had wooden walkways in front of each establishment. The restaurant behind the gas station had most of the local branding irons tacked up around the walls as its décor. The town also had a bank, a drug store, a post office, a feed store, and a community center, where every Saturday night people would come to square dance. An outdoor movie theater used the white wall of the drug store as a movie screen. Logs split in half and placed on the ground served as benches, and other logs outlined where walls would have been. The best part? It was free to watch. 

            “Take your boots off,” Mike’s mother, Evelyn, reminded him as he put the milk and cream into the refrigerator. “And go wash up for dinner.”

            Evelyn was a slim, pretty woman. Her blue eyes contrasted with her black hair, which she tied up in a bun to keep out of her face. 

            Mike did as he was told, and then walked to his room without saying a word. He tossed his straw cowboy hat on his bed and went to the farmhouse’s one bathroom to wash up. The bathtub stood on four legs in the corner, and they didn’t have a shower. 

            He heard the screen door bang shut and knew it was his dad.

            “Where’s Mike?” asked his father, Arno.

            “In the bathroom,” said Evelyn. “Why? What did he do now?”

            “I think he’s been cow skiing again. I got to the barn just after Mike left and Old Red’s acting all nervous and upset. Dang kid! I’ve told him a hundred times not to do that!”

            Arno was a fair-minded man, but also hot tempered, and he had a short fuse. His good looks – almost six feet tall, blond wavy hair, blue eyes, and long dimples on the sides of his face that showed off straight white teeth when he smiled – hid his quick temper. 

            Mike listened to his parents’ conversation through the open bathroom door. Oh man, he thought, should I lie or should I come out with it? 

            Mike dried his hands and walked into the kitchen: time to face the music.

Universal Reader Link:  https://books2read.com/u/m2lMBG

 

Author Bio

Gail Picado was born in 1949. In high school, she loved to draw and write, but her father discouraged her, saying that there were too many starving artists, so instead, she took typing and bookkeeping, always working in an office.

As a child, her parents would take her and her siblings to her aunt and uncle’s farm in Brady, Nebraska, every summer to spend time with their cousins. She spent many hours learning chores that seemed more like play, and each chore created a good memory. There were no toys, but the animals were all the toys any child would need. This is how A Cow Named John was created.

Gail’s first novel, No One’s Son, published in 1991, is based on her father’s life. She and her husband reside in California and have three daughters.

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/gail.picado

Authors Den:  http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?authorid=168207

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/GailPicado 

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Gail%20Picado 

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Back in March, you may have seen my post about social networking and how useful a tool it can be. I still stand by that statement with the exception of a few things. 

Facebook is a good social networking tool. Remember how I said to connect with as many people as possible to expand your presence? You should. And joining discussion groups on Facebook is a good idea too. If you are published, your publisher may have its own authors group. Definitely join. It will save you a lot of unanswered questions. Facebook is a really good tool.

However, Facebook has this funny way of preventing you from adding friends like crazy. I have been blocked before. This is basically like putting a hold on your account for a certain length of time. You can do everything except add new friends and send direct messages to people you aren’t connected with. The only way you can get new friends is if people add you and then you confirm. I know it's not great while you're waiting for the wonderful people at Facebook to take the hold off of your account, but it's something. I think part of it is Facebook’s fault. The other reason you get blocked is because the people you have tried to add have nothing better to do than to report to Facebook that you are a complete stranger or are spamming them. It is simple. They don’t have to confirm you as a friend. They can simply hit “ignore”. Instead, they chose to report you. The only good reason I see for blocking someone is if they are sending you creepy or threatening messages. That is just my take on being blocked. Unfortunately, Facebook has their own rules. So, that is one of the disadvantages of adding friends like crazy on Facebook.

LinkedIn is still a tool I would recommend. Having said that, there is one hiccup you’re bound to come across at some point. LinkedIn lets you join 50 different discussion groups. This is nice if you have joined good ones. It is not so nice if you have not. I mentioned the notifications you’d receive before. Just be sure to change the notification settings on each of your groups so you’re not bombarded with messages in your inbox. 

The one thing I want to cover with LinkedIn today is knowing what those groups are about. Read the rules of each group. The moderators can get really picky with what they allow. I encourage you to join discussions. Make sure your website and any other information is on your profile so others can see it and link to it. Posting discussions can get hairy though. You need to decide if what you post goes with that specific group. One of my discussions was removed recently and I was flagged to be moderated in the future. All I posted was the fact that I was interviewed by a blogger. It’s not like I was doing multi-level marketing and trying to get people to look at and buy a specific product. I was just excited about the interview. So sue me. LOL. For future reference, just keep an eye on what you’re posting and what the group is all about.

Twitter is also a neat tool to use. You can tweet about pretty much anything from your book to interviews to where you went to eat last night to how you took your dog for a walk. I’m not kidding about the last two. People actually do that. Nowadays, it’s becoming the standard to talk about things besides what you really want to post. That is why you see the celebrities you follow tell everyone they just ate a bag of Doritos or painted their toe nails. Really? That’s nice. I know. Not very exciting. And not very hopeful for the burgeoning writer.

So, there are a few things you can do to ramp up your presence on Twitter. Sure, you can post news about your writing. I recommend it. Also, try to gain a following by following other authors or your own interests (i.e. companies or brands you like, people you admire). Chances are they’ll follow you back. And on the left side of the page, Twitter gives you recommendations, kind of like the age old, "if you like this, you'll like this" notion. And always try to follow those who have followed you on Twitter. If someone direct messages you, asking a random question like, “What is your favorite food?” or maybe they want to talk about how they just finished a needlepoint project, go ahead and reply back. This puts out the idea that your efforts are not self-serving and you actually do want to talk to people, which is most likely the case. The downside of Twitter is this: some of the people you follow are not exactly professional, and you may get some pretty nasty comments or propositions. The best way to handle this is to go through your list of followers and unfollow those rude people. They may still follow you, but by unfollowing them, you have just saved yourself a big headache and a ton of embarrassment.

In my previous article, I did not mention any other tools that could help you network and give you more of a presence. But, I will now. Some of these include blogging and email lists. Blogging is a good tool. Start your own blog. Find a niche market, something to write about. You want to write about writing? Go ahead. You want to tell people how much you love baking pies? You can do that. In most cases, if you say you’re a writer somewhere on your profile and have a link to your website, curiosity alone will cause people to go there. Will they buy your book? I don’t know. But, it’s worth a try. The important thing is you have something to offer people, something that brings them back to the blog again and again. You’ll get subscribers. That’s a good thing. You’re building a web presence. I have two blogs, one that showcases my books and one that is all about writing. Obviously, you’re here so you know which one is which. LOL. Then, you want to look up ways to advertise your blog. There are many sites where you can list your blog and thereby draw attention to it.

Now, I’m going to say something about email lists. Sure, you can take a bunch of your connections and email them like wild about your books, etc. But, I don’t recommend it. You’re mainly going to piss people off. They’ll end up blocking you in some form or other. And you’ll get some replies back, mostly ones like, “Stop emailing me” or “Take me off your mailing list”. The same could happen if you buy email lists. But, if you go that route, mostly what you’ll get is a bunch of non-deliverable emails sent back because those emails were out of date. Probably the best thing to do is to make connections or even friends on LinkedIn, Twitter or in real life and simply ask them if it’s okay to put them on a mailing list for updates or news on your books/writing. 

So, that’s my spiel for the day, folks. Yes, there are a few disadvantages to social networking. I’m sure there are more than I even listed. But, without these tools, we would have no presence as writers. Gone are the days when all books ended up on shelves in libraries or bookstores. This is the digital age. E-books are the thing. If someone can read a book on their Kindle or Nook, then we have to use the tools provided to us in the digital age to try to reach those readers. Though I love traditional books as much as anyone else, even I have to evolve with the times. 

Thanks for reading! Keep an eye out for further posts. I am still hosting author interviews, guest blog articles, and I am beginning to take guest book reviews on my blog. Enjoy, or read back through the archives of Writing in the Modern Age. Have a great day!

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My guest today is Friday Abumere. Hello, Friday! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?

Blood Is Thicker Than Water is my latest book and was published in October 2012.

The book is available on Smashwords and other retailers.

Is there anything that prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you?

Yes, because we are living in a world where man is an enemy to man and they do have the milk of human kindness again. Men have seen the sky, moon, stars, sun, mountain and valley. Still they do not fear God Almighty. The book focuses on man's inhumanity to man. It is a book everyone must read.  The book is for wisdom, knowledge and for moral lesson.

Great! So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?

If I feel the need to write, I write provided the place is cool and calm.

Do you have any favorite author?

My favourite author is God Almighty, because he is the creator of heaven and earth and the giver of all good things. He gave me the wisdom, knowledge, understanding and the inspiration to write all my books.

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?

Yes.

Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?

My advice to them is that they should believe in themselves and God Almighty. They should remember they were born original, not a copy, unique and special in their own ways and they should hold to their dreams. Nothing good comes easily; there must be a sacrifice.

Here is the blurb for Blood Is Thicker Than Water.

This is a story of a young undergraduate, who wanted to become a medical doctor. But the death of their father rubs them for many things. Whatever they got during the burial was taken by the family and they forcibly took their father property that was left for them to fall back on. As a result of all this, their mother develops a mental illness and her daughter now plays the role of father and mother. She seeks for assistance from one place to another to take care of her mother and her younger sisters.

One day she ran into an old friend, who raised her in hope of getting her a good job, but her hope of meeting her employer became deflated, when her friend became her employer and took her into a hotel room where she finally gave her job.

Universal Reader Link:  https://books2read.com/u/mdDn2X

 

Author Bio

  

Friday Abumere hails from Edo State, Nigeria. After his primary education, he was admitted into Ujoelen Grammar School, where he respectively obtained his O/L certificate in 1995. After one year, he proceeded to Niger State, where he worked with Iyayi Sea Food Suleja.

He also worked with Julius Berger Construction Company P.L.C in Abuja, as a checker for five years.  He later obtained his Diploma certificate in Computer Engineering in 2004 and he is the author of Who To Blame, Blood Is Thicker Than Water, The Wind of Change, The Barren Destinys and Cry for Justice.  He is happily married and blessed with children.

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/friday.abumere

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/FAbumere

LinkedIn:  http://ng.linkedin.com/pub/friday-abumere/43/44b/a0b

Additional Links: 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/334867

Thanks again for visiting us, Friday, on Writing in the Modern Age!

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I’ve had a lot of conversations about the best way to write a book. I have long believed there is no one system that works for everyone. It’s whatever process works for you; whether it’s outlines, daily word requirements, black boards, however you frame your story and get a draft onto paper. 

 

I write a story like you’d watch a movie, chapters being scenes, the end result being me as a director, assembling the chapter-scenes into a coherent story consisting of characters, conflict and resolution. Then I edit it. Someone asked me once, "How do you write a poem?" I told them I write it down and then I edit it for the next thirty years. This is a slight exaggeration, but there’s an elementary truth in it. Good writing requires good editing. Your imagination creates the story draft.  Editing is where you shape it into a book. Working with a good editor is a real plus.

 

My idea for a first draft always begins with the characters. My protagonist Ray in Children of the Enemy was a man I saw who ran a salvage yard, which could also be described more simply as a junkyard. He was sitting on a chair outside of a house trailer, smoking a cigarette, with virtual mountains of scrap metal pieces and junk appliances surrounding him. I imagined in real life he was perhaps a cross between Dirty Harry and James Earl Jones. It was just how he impressed me. Once I have a few characters I like, I put them into a situation. This is the conflict. The next step is I frame in my mind how I intend to resolve the conflict. The rest of the book consists of chapters that point toward the resolution.

 

The underlying theme in my latest book, The Death of Anyone, poses the Machiavellian question: Does the end justify the means? I developed this story around an impulsive former narcotics officer now in homicide called Bonnie Benham. Bonnie is a no nonsense cop who describes herself as a blond with a badge and a gun. Bonnie has her own answer to the question, but the legality of it will be answered in a real life courtroom in the California trial of a serial killer dubbed by the media: The Grim Sleeper.

 

Lonnie David Franklin, the Grim Sleeper, was caught because his son’s DNA was the closest match to DNA collected at the crime scenes in the database. Investigating Franklin’s son led them to investigate Lonnie Franklin. But there was no direct DNA evidence that linked Lonnie to the crime scene until they obtained a sample from him after his arrest. Lonnie Franklin will be the first person in the U.S. to ever stand trial based on this type of evidence, and its admissibility issues in court will be thoroughly tested by defense attorneys. These are the very same issues that face Detroit Homicide Detective Bonnie Benham and form the plot of my story. 

 

Thanks so much for visiting us today, DJ!

 

Guest Blogger Bio

DJ Swykert is a former 911 operator. His work has appeared in The Tampa Review, Detroit News, Monarch Review, Zodiac Review, Scissors & Spackle, Spittoon, Barbaric Yawp and Bull. His books include Children of the Enemy, a novel from Cambridge Books; Alpha Wolves, a novel from Noble Publishing, and The Death of Anyone is his third novel, just released by Melange Books. You can find him hanging out on the blogspot: www.magicmasterminds.com. He is a wolf expert.

Amazon author page:  https://www.amazon.com/D-J-Swykert/e/B00DD0B17U/

 

Here is a brief overview of two of his books:

 

Children of the Enemy

Jude St. Onge is a man on the run. He is an addict who has stolen a large cache of drugs from Detroit drug kingpin Mitchell Parson, who is determined to retrieve the drugs and take his revenge on Jude. After the torture slaying of Jude’s wife, and the kidnapping of Jude’s daughter, Angelina, the last thing Mitchell Parson expected to hear when he picked up the phone was: “I have your sons.” Raymond Little, with a murder conviction in his past, and newspaper reporter Ted Rogers have become unusual allies with Jude in an attempt to rescue his daughter. Together they kidnap Parson’s two boys, hoping to secure Angelina’s release. Risks for both hostage-takers skyrocket as the two sides square off, while Detroit Homicide Detectives work the case unaware of all that is at stake in the investigation. Only Ray and Ted can save the endangered children in Children of the Enemy.

Universal Reader Link:  https://books2read.com/u/mB2oAN

 

The Death of Anyone

Detroit homicide Detective Bonnie Benham has been transferred from narcotics for using more than arresting and is working the case of a killer of adolescent girls. CSI collects DNA evidence from the scene of the latest victim, which had not been detected on the other victims. But no suspect turns up in the FBI database. Due to the notoriety of the crimes a task force is put together with Bonnie as the lead detective, and she implores the D.A. to use an as yet unapproved type of a DNA Search in an effort to identify the killer. Homicide Detective Neil Jensen, with his own history of drug and alcohol problems, understands Bonnie's frailty and the two detectives become inseparable as they track this killer of children. 

Universal Reader Link:  https://books2read.com/u/b6vKl0

Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age blog article here.

My guest today is KC Sprayberry. Hello, KC! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you here.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it? 

Softly Say Goodbye is a story about one teen’s determination to make a difference in her high school, to stop underage drinking. She jumps into this with all her heart because she feels it’s wrong for a small number of students to intimidate the rest. Little does she realize her quest can cause heartbreak, but it does not once but three times. Still, she persists. Softly Say Goodbye released in ebook format in October 2012 and in paperback January 2013. It’s available at Amazon. 

Links:

Universal Reader Link:  https://books2read.com/u/4XrLEN

Solstice Publishing:  https://www.solsticeempire.com/products.aspx?categoryid=442

Is there anything that prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you? 

Several things prompted Softly Say Goodbye. The characters jumped into my head, their lives, their dreams, what makes them happy or sad, but without a reason for a story. Then I saw a Facebook status that kicked me in the backside, started the story. Finally, I heard the song "Here We Are" by Breaking Benjamin, and the full story unfolded. But it wasn’t as easy as writing it out. Softly Say Goodbye went through six major rewrites before it became the tale it is today.

So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?

Writing has always excited me. I absolutely loved working over my essays for English class, spent most of my homework time on them. Getting a diary at thirteen gave me another opportunity to jot down my thoughts and ideas. This evolved to an interest in creative writing, but I didn’t really get into this passion full time until I moved to Georgia.

Do you have any favorite authors?

Several. I love Penny Estelle’s fresh perspective on problems, especially in At What Price? Robert Jordan hooked me on his Wheel of Time series back in 1991, and I just finished the final book, co-written by Brandon Sanderson after Mr. Jordan’s untimely death in 2007. Stephen King is another favorite. All of his work is good, but 11/23/63 was especially good.    

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day? 

I have an office, and I spend most mornings in there, and some afternoons – depending on where I am in a project. I work best in the early hours of the morning, when it’s peaceful and my teen isn’t blasting his music. However, when it comes to editing, it’s the backside firmly planted on the sofa with a legal pad, pen, highlighter, and my current work in a binder. I’ve found there are less distractions there.

Are there any words you’d like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?

Read first, whatever you can get your hands on. We have a large personal library, nearly 1400 books. I’ve always been a reader and am more so now. Then never give up. Writing is not only telling a story well, it’s also staying with the constant rejections, the feeling you’ll never be published. Don’t stop because a publisher couldn’t find a place for your work – keep on submitting. And while you are, work on the next project, pen short stories and find homes for them, track down anthologies that might fit your work. But never give up.

Here is the blurb for Softly Say Goodbye.

Erin Sellers, an eighteen-year-old high school senior, hates teen drinking. She and her three friends – Bill, her guy, Shari and Jake - decide to use Twitter to stop a group, the Kewl Krew, from using their high school as the local bar. But the members of this group are just as determined to stop anyone from messing up their fun. Despite veiled threats to her safety, Erin continues her crusade. 

To make matters worse for her, the stress of school and extra curricular work mounts and suddenly, shockingly, booze-fuelled tragedy strikes. Erin is now under greater pressure as she spends all hours to produce a mural and other work to commemorate the death of a teen friend. Bill, Jake and Shari support her in all this...  

But more tragedy lurks nearby… until it’s time to softly say goodbye. 

And at last, we’re giving you a sneak peek of Softly Say Goodbye. Enjoy!

The sound of liquid gurgling and a thunk distracts me as my art teacher, Mr. Janks, says he has a major announcement. An overwhelming urge prods me to confront the offender, but she'll deny my accusation, even though everyone in the vicinity knows she just chugged some vodka. 

Do it! My hands clench into fists. Tell Laura to quit! 

High school drunks totally piss me off. The urge to deal with the offender overcomes common sense. I start to turn around to give her a piece of my mind but stare in shock at my teacher instead. 

A week before Valentine's Day, the most romantic day of the year, I want to throw my books into the nearest trashcan and run until my legs give out. Here I am, sitting in my art class, and Mr. Janks announces we have to do a term project but not just any term project. Oh no! We have to develop a major project like cleaning up the Rec Center's playground and painting a mural on the huge cylinders kids climb all over. Worse, I swear I heard something about a video. Who has time to do all that and a video? 

“Tell me Mr. J didn't say that,” I cry. 

The now protesting students echo my feelings. The new issue drives all other thoughts out of my head. Oh yeah, I heard right, and the timing is rotten. 

Tuck Amstead rolls his eyes and glances at me. “Total pits, Erin.” 

“Maybe we heard wrong?” I offer. 

“Mr. Janks, we can't possibly do this,” Tiana Bolton protests. “It'll…it'll… You're asking us to give up all of our free time and ignore studying for our EOCs. And you want us to show you what we did on the same day we take the EOCs!” 

Boy, does she have that right. EOCs, end of course exams, make up a significant portion of our final grade. To top it off, we also have to take the state's graduation test — a mind-numbing horror challenging us to remember every single thing we have ever learned since our very first day at Landry High School. The idea of planning and executing a major art project due at the same as those dreaded tests gives me the worst scary feeling of my life. 

“Why can't you do like everyone else?” I ask. “This is worse than impossible.” 

“This is my EOC, Erin.” Mr. Janks shakes his head. “You saw the syllabus when you started the class last fall.” He stares at each student, all twenty of us, for a heartbeat. “All of you signed the syllabus, and so did your parents. No excuses. Now—” 

“But we have to do all our other studying,” Tiana cries, interrupting him. “When will we have time for your project?” 

Slender, sweet, and conflicted, Tiana's cap of brandy brown hair frames her porcelain complexion. Oh, so jealous here. She never has to worry about her hair bushing up on a humid day or the sun giving her freckles like I do with my shoulder-length red hair and uber-pale complexion. Even her eyes drive me nuts. Instead of green like mine, which everyone says look like the local pond's algae, Tiana's are gray. She has more than high school to worry about. Her mom won a court decision only a week ago, forcing Tiana to visit her in prison. The timing can't be worse. The first visit is the same day as the Valentine's Day Dance. Poor Tiana not only has to miss the most romantic dance of the year, she has to listen to her mom grouch about how a judge forced her into a plea deal that keeps her in prison for ten years. The dummy never should have driven when she was drunk. The family she hit is still recovering from their injuries. 

“You also have a long term art project,” Mr. Janks says with what sounds like very little patience for our issues. “Now, I have a few things to say about the project since it sounds like most of you can't remember what you signed last August. It will be a major part of your final grade. Just like all your other EOCs.” 

Shocked beyond belief, I scribble what he says in a desperate effort to make sure I pass this very important, blown off exam. Who ever thought I, Erin Sellers, would panic at the thought of an art project? I churn out assignments in this class without a second thought. Art is my passion, the one thing I live for, the way I relax. With everything else going on in my life, and all the issues at school, I don't need an announcement I never expected. 

Usually, I love school. No wasted moments pass before I dive into the planning sessions with my crew for all major projects, the people I share each and every secret with. This time, I'm alone except for Tiana, and she sounds like she wants nothing to do with art. 

“Why can't we just do what we usually do?” she asks. “It's not like we'll ever use art again.” 

Oops! Major faux pas. Boy, is she about to hear it. He lives and breathes art in every form. 

“All of you were included in this class for your artistic abilities.” His voice sounds colder than a late January snowstorm. “I expect you to do this assignment or join me for summer school while the rest of your friends enjoy their vacation, Ms. Bolton. Now, if you're through whining, I need to finish explaining this assignment before the bell rings.” 

Whoa! Mr. Janks never talks like this. He is far cooler than any other teacher, and he dresses the starving artist part. Shoulder-length blond hair with a few gray streaks highlights a thin face. Cheekbones stick out under his super-pale blue eyes, and stubble on his chin makes him look so laid back. Until this moment, I've never heard him tell a student off like he just did. 

“Yeah.” Tiana slumps down in her seat. “Whatever. Like I'll have time.” 

How I wish for the old days, when nothing got her down. She went into a total slide after her mom went to jail for the DUI. My crew and I want to help, but her home life is such a bummer. Her dad smokes pot from the time he gets off work until he passes out around ten or eleven every night. And she has to deal with her mom's stupid remarks whenever the woman calls, and her dad's drug addiction, but she is so cool about staying off the stuff herself. 

“Does everyone understand I won't tolerate any reason for avoiding this project?” he asks. 

His voice warms up a little. Almost like going from minus one to zero on the thermometer. Like me, the rest of the class sits quietly with pencils or pens poised above notebooks. No one wants to piss him off any more than he already is. 

“Fine.” He searches the top of his desk as a question occurs to me. 

“Uh, Mr. Janks?"

“Yes, Erin.” No patience in his voice, just a lot of suppressed anger, like he thinks I'm about to make trouble.

No one, but no one, can accuse me of causing problems on purpose. If anything, I go out of my way to avoid notice and trouble, except telling off any teen drinking booze. The urge to say “it doesn’t matter” almost makes me change my mind, but I really have to know something. 

“Will we have to get permission from the city to do this project? I mean, you used the Rec Center as an example. We can't just go in and do what we want unless someone approves it. Right?” 

“You're right.” His voice softens. “Thank you for mentioning that.” He holds up a folder. “I have a list of places the city wants cleaned up. Mayor Flaggins agreed to let you kids—” 

The whole room erupts into moans and groans. None of us like someone calling us kids, not with most of us already eighteen. 

He laughs instead of getting upset. “Sorry. All right, class, here's the list. I'll call out a location, and the first person with their hand up gets it. I have enough locations for everyone to work alone, except one. Two of you will have to share.” 

I sit back and go over possible locations in my mind. One sticks out. The park across from the police station on Main Street. There's a fantastic in-ground fountain for kids to play in during the summer and a bunch of concrete benches around it with walking paths and short walls. The fountain has a huge jet in the center and shoots water in a long stream over the nearby area. It also has smaller jets with bubbling water around the basin. But it's so plain, and the perfect place for a fantastic mural about living in a rural area. 

“The old Long John Silver's near the Red Foods,” Mr. Janks says. “Mayor Flaggins thought something related to farming there.” 

“Me!” Tuck waves his arm back and forth. “I have this fantastic idea. Maybe something including Jackson Valley and all the farms down there.” 

Wallis County has a lot of small farms, nothing more than five to ten acres for people to put in enough vegetables to feed their families and sell the rest at truck stands. Tuck's suggestion brings up a visual of a long winding road beside a creek with houses against small hills and open fields to either side. In the summer, during the height of growing season, it looks fabulous. 

“Okay, Tuck has the Long John Silver's.” Mr. Janks makes a note. “Let’s get on with the rest.” 

The list of places to decorate sounds boring, and like Mayor Flaggins wants free labor to clean up some pretty nasty parts of town. Yeah, the economy stinks, but why do we have to volunteer to do something the mayor can put people sentenced to community service on? 

“Okay, just two more,” Mr. Janks says, jerking me back to reality. “Next, the fountain near—” 

My hand shoots into the air, and I wave my arm harder than Tuck did. 

“Looks like Erin's hot for this one,” he says. “Okay, Erin. Want to share your idea?” 

“Not sure yet,” I say. “Something including kids and the fountain. Definitely green.” 

“Good.” He nods. “I like the idea of using green products. Now, last but not least is the Rec Center playground. Definitely a two-person job. Tiana?” 

“I guess.” She sounds less than enthusiastic. “But it's a huge job. I can't even think of a single thing kids will like there that won't take me hours and hours I don't have.”

A loud crack of gum snapping jerks everyone forward in their seats. My eyes roll, and I want to grab the gum-cracker’s “water” bottle and throw it out, preferably in another state. A drunk in class is bad enough, but a gum-chewing drunk makes me crazed. 

“I guess I have to bail out Tiana,” Laura Wiley says. “Whatever.” She buffs blood-red fingernails against her sweater. “This better not mess up my manicure.” 

The queen of the Kewl Krew checks in. Oh great! So not.

Author Bio

What a wonderful world it is to have books. Imagine one without imaginations devoted to giving children a place to discover new worlds, make friends, and see a wider view. That was my life until I learned to appreciate books as a child and now I work hard to share my stories with them. So many things interested me, so many adventures beckoned that I had no idea how to discover all of them at once. College brought dreams of photo/journalism but a diversion to the military took me to Europe for five years. Finally, after many years of putting it off, I took the plunge and committed those stories to paper at almost 40! Now over 50, I live in LaFayette, GA with my husband and youngest child, a teen. We also have a near human cat, Fireball.

Links

Website: www.kcsprayberry.com

Blog: http://outofcontrolcharacters.blogspot.com

https://www.amazon.com/author/kcsprayberry

 

Thanks again for visiting us, KC, on Writing in the Modern Age! Your book sounds great!

Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age blog article here.

The first challenge of becoming a writer for me was the whole idea of becoming a writer. That was for clever people, I used to think. Where to begin? With a pen and paper – all right, here goes. Then came the second challenge.  What was I going to write about? And the third - where do you put the commas and full stops?

After about a year of outpourings, I had to face the forth challenge – who was I going to give it to?  I had to have some feedback, other than a few trusted friends. So, hugging my manuscript, off I went to a writer’s group. There were around six people in the room, I remember, mostly women. We took it in turns to read and then came my turn. Trembling and sweating, I read the first chapter of my novel. There was a silence at the end. Then everyone said how good it was and how it held their attention. Well, I walked home that night, elated. It wasn’t until several days later that the doubts set in. I knew that if I stayed with that group, I would never improve.

Some time later, the fifth challenge was in joining the City Lit College in London. I’d heard of Carol Burns, a tough critic, an excellent creative writing teacher who’d pull you over the coals if necessary. I sat at the back of the class that first afternoon. The room was packed with earnest looking authors, manuscripts perfectly prepared, unlike my dog-eared bunch of papers. Everyone read their pieces and were constructively criticized - some disagreeing with Carol, as if they only wanted to be told what they wanted to hear, and she would respond: you either accept what I say or you don’t, it’s your choice.

When it came to my turn, I was shaking so much I could hardly speak. But when I did, she stopped me on nearly every line. No, no, she’d say, you don’t need all those adjectives, throw them out . . .

I was the worst in the class, yet I knew everything she’d said to me was gold dust and I traveled home on the bus that evening more elated than I’d ever been. Now I could learn, go forward – discover what I had in me to give. I studied with Carol Burns for two years, then joined her private group where yet more challenges had to be faced.

Good, excellent, that’s what we want, us writers, challenging ideas, feelings; daring to put our hearts on the page. 

Thanks so much for visiting us today, Laura!

 

Guest Blogger Bio

Laura Graham was an actress for many years performing in Shakespearean productions at the National Theatre in London. She has also played leading roles in Chekhov and Strindberg in major theatres in England.

One of the major influences in her life was coming to Italy to live, with virtually no money, only two beloved cats for company, and coping with the mishaps, the passion and the intrigue. Which is what her first book, Down a Tuscan Alley, is about. Her second book, this time for children, Tale of Two Tuscan Cats is about the adventures of her own two cats, one found in the forest, the other on the street. There is now a sequel - Tuscan Cats get into Mischief, which is also for sale on Amazon.co.uk

Website:  http://www.lauragraham.co.uk/
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/lauragraham7
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Laura-Graham/e/B007A0CQ6O/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1365136990&sr=1-2-ent

Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age blog article here.

My guest today is Stefan Vucak. Hello, Stefan! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?

Strike for Honor is a pretty intense contemporary political drama with naval action. It’s about an admiral whose son is killed by a North Korean missile attack during a naval exercise. With the U.S. administration unwilling to upset nuclear limitation talks with North Korea by taking a tough stand, the admiral decides to strike North Korea’s nuclear enrichment plant. This, of course, creates an international crisis and upsets the American President. I had to do a lot of research for this book, but that was part of the fun. I did not apply everything I learned, but it broadened my horizons.

Strike for Honor was released this March and is available from Amazon and Smashwords.

Is there anything that prompted Strike for Honor? Something that inspired you?

When I conceived this project, I really wanted to concentrate on my main character, Admiral Pacino, and his problems with the White House administration and how it treats, or fails to look after the veterans. Largely, the book still does, but having opened the door on North Korea, there was no turning back, and during my research, I found out far more than I anticipated – surprisingly more. We all know how North and South Korea were created. What many people don't know is that after the armistice was signed, America housed nuclear weapons in South Korea in direct contravention of the Non Proliferation treaty, which over time, directly led to North Korea developing its own nuclear program. America and North Korea agreed to abandon its nuclear program, and in return, America would provide N. Korea with a water cooled reactor to meet the country's energy needs. It did shut down its program on three occasions, but America failed to deliver on it promises. It is a complicated and tortuous history, and made for fascinating reading.

Great!  So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?

I always wanted to write. As far back as I can remember, the printed word held a fascination that allowed me to escape into other worlds, other characters. For an imaginative kid, it was better than candy - almost. Where I attended primary school, there was a small library at the top of the street, which I made my own. At school, I loved my essay writing assignments, even though many of my classmates found it an agonizing chore. I could never figure out what was the big deal. My specialty was using elaborate, flowery language. But nobody could describe a sunset, a moonlit night or the booming of crashing surf like I could. The one thing my writing lacked was people. It took me awhile to make the connection. Prose was great, but great writing had to involve people, drama, conflict, emotion and everyday life. When I learned to write dialogue, everything clicked, or so I thought. I still haven’t stopped writing and learning how to do it. Of course, having read many books, it didn’t seem all that hard, so I wrote one. You don’t want to read it. Call it my training wheels. Well, one thing led to another...

Do you have any favorite authors, Stefan?

During my science fiction phase, two authors stood out: Roger Zelazny and Keith Laumer. When his writing was good and before he descended into sorcery and mysticism, Zelazny had an evocative, deceptively easy style that was a pleasure to read. When I can reread a book several times and still enjoy it, that’s my view of a great book, and Zelazny had several. Keith Laumer had an irreverent, sardonic writing style that blasted my sensibilities and often amused me. Some of his stuff was terrible, but a lot was extremely entertaining.
 

Since my sci-fi days, I sampled writers from other genres: 19th century sea warfare, techno thrillers and others. I like Stephen Coonts, at least his early works. Sadly, he descended into trash popularism, culminating with Saucer, a truly terrible book. But a couple of hundred books later, the techno thriller genre gave me a solid grounding into the workings of governments, spy agencies, the military, and war machinery of all kind. It was a good launching platform for my own contemporary novels. 

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day? What works for you? 

I am a morning person, a result of having to get up early over many years to go to work, and that’s when I like to write. That discipline hasn’t left me and I still get up early. I am fresh and my mind is charged, ready to

go – most of the time. I find I am most productive during the first half of the day. In the afternoon, I spend transcribing material from my notebook into the computer and doing initial editing. Although I don’t normally write in the evening, sometimes I do. It all depends on inspiration and what I am writing about at the time. There are also moments when I wake up in the middle of the night when an idea pops up and I simply have to jot it down. When I don’t do that, I wake up knowing there was something important I needed to write, but it’s gone. Frustrating.

I know exactly what you mean, Stefan! 

So, are there any words you’d like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice before you head off?

If there is one thing I learned over the years as a writer, if anyone is contemplating taking this on seriously, he should be prepared to spend many lonely hours with a pencil and paper, and sitting behind a computer screen. There will be disappointments, frustration, angst...and moments of sheer exhilaration and satisfaction when the words flow and the creative process produces something wonderful. Writing is a gift, but it can also be a curse. But once bitten with the urge to create, there is no cure. 

So true.

Okay, so there you have it, folks. Stefan has a great book out. You can get it on Amazon and Smashwords.

Here is the blurb of Strike for Honor.

In a joint exercise with the Korean navy, Admiral Pacino’s son is one of the casualties from a North Korean missile strike. Enraged that the President is more interested in stitching a deal with North Korea, forgetting the lost American lives, Pacino decides to make a statement by bombing military facilities in both Koreas. Appointed as the CIA Director, Mark Price is plunged into a plot by dissidents to overthrow the North Korean Supreme Leader, bringing the country closer to the West. Pacino’s attacks don’t make his new job or the President’s any easier. Wishing to avoid embarrassing the Administration, someone decides to remove Pacino – permanently. Strike for Honor is a stunning geopolitical thriller that examines American foreign policy and national values.

Now, for the good part. We’re giving you a sneak peek of Strike for Honor. Enjoy!

     As they neared the docks, he could see tall loading cranes cluttering the harbor docks. Navy personnel were everywhere: officers, ratings and toiling gangs. Across the water, two tugs crowded the sleek 567-foot length of USS Shiloh, CG-67, a Ticonderoga-class Aegis cruiser, getting ready to depart. Her functional boxy superstructure and rear helicopter housing didn’t make her graceful, but her business was dealing out death, not stand in review.

Linda pulled the car to a stop before a guarded gate and switched off the engine. She looked at him and her brown eyes turned misty. He reached for her. With a strangled sob, her arms were round his neck.

“There, my sweet. It’s only an exercise,” Vin murmured softly into her short hair after swallowing a lump.

She pulled away and dabbed at her eyes. “I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional.”

He smiled and brushed her cheek with a finger. “It’s all right. You can be emotional for both of us.”

“Just don’t be a hero, okay?”

“You’re talking like I’m off to a war.”

“With North Korean boats shadowing you, no one can tell what they’ll do.”

“I’ll have a powerful ship under me with all the missiles I want to fire. They’d be crackers to try something.”

“If they do, make sure you duck. And that’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.” He pulled her tight and their lips met. Her soft mouth opened and the first touch of her velvety tongue made him feel all prickly. Joined in a dance of abandon, he wondered what the hell he was doing trading her for the sea.

Having to come up for air, he broke the moment and looked deep into her eyes. “Keep that thought,” he said and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

She tittered and fisted him on the shoulder. “Dirty old man.”

“Always, my sweet.” He glanced at the digital watch on his right wrist and sighed. “Got to go. Love you.”

“Me too,” she said, clearly distressed despite the brave little smile she gave him.

He wanted to say something comforting and endearing, but words would only make it trite. Abruptly, he unclipped his belt, opened the door, stepped out and slammed it shut. As he made his way to the rear of the car, its trunk lid popped open. He retrieved his dark blue duffel and walked toward the guard post without looking back. He heard the Honda accelerate away behind him.

Saying goodbyes had never been his strong suite.

A marine, the semi-automatic on his right hip within easy reach, stepped out of the small windowed shack and saluted.

“Morning, sir.”

A second marine inside the shack watched them both. Vin could see three M16A2 rifles mounted on the back wall. He returned the salute, slid the duffel to the ground and dug out his wallet. He handed the ID card to the guard who passed it to his buddy. After a computer check, Vin got his card back and the marine saluted again.

“Give ’em hell, Lieutenant.”

Vin grinned and returned the salute as the gate rolled back on its tracks. “Cocked and locked,” he said as he picked up the bag. He paced slowly into his world and breathed deeply. The green water was smooth and there was hardly any wind.

Walking down the pier, he was barely aware of background noises permeating the air like a pervasive blanket: cars, forklifts, trucks, prime movers, and the constant hum of machinery—a harbor readying itself for a major deployment.

Tied portside, a thin thread of gray smoke lingered above USS Curtis Wilbur’s rear stack. The warship’s sharp clipper bow cleaved the air as it rose into a clear sky. Massing 6,900 tons and 505 feet long, painted drab gray, the Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer was a powerful ship. Armed with multiple Mk 41 vertical launch cells that could launch Tomahawk or Standard attack missiles, Evolved Sea Sparrows for defense, VL-ASROC antisubmarine missiles, five inch/54-caliber main gun, torpedo tubes and a Phalanx CIWS close in defense system, the ship could hold its own. Two MH-60 Sea Hawk helicopters housed in a stern hangar extended its reach when sub hunting. Pushed by four GE gas turbines powering two shafts, going better than thirty-six knots, the ship was also demonstrably fast.

Admiring the sleek lines, like he told Linda once, he couldn’t wish for more.

Behind his ship, tied along its starboard side, lay a sister destroyer, Mustin. Lassen and Fitzgerald were laid up for major maintenance and would be missing the scaled down FTX, no doubt to the chagrin of their skippers. Apart from them, everybody else was going, except the carrier USS George Washington. She’d be missing this one, a deal to appease the North Koreans. As the Fleet’s Deputy Commander, Rear Admiral Kenneth Pacino—due to get his third star in the fall according to the grapevine—would be running the exercise from his command ship, USS Blue Ridge, LCC-19. Vin wondered what his old man was doing now. Probably giving his chief of staff ulcers, he mused sardonically.

Despite the fact both of them were at Yokosuka, he’d had limited contact with his father. Their respective duties simply made socializing on a grand scale impossible. To make up for it, his mother visited when he was in port and Linda valued being under the wing of an admiral’s wife. It wasn’t patronage, merely taking practical advantage, and Vin would have been nuts not to take the social benefits his father’s position offered. That’s as far as it went, and neither would have it otherwise. His father’s rank was never used to advance or influence his career. Still, it was nice to know he had one admiral in his pocket if needed.

As he approached the destroyer, its arching side looming beside him, the offset gray-black DDG-54 painted prominently on its bow, Vin figured life could be a whole lot worse. He paused beside the gangway guarded by two marines and returned their salutes. Without being asked, he held out his ID. The marine looked at it carefully and made a tick on his clipboard.

Vin shouldered his bag and climbed up the gangway. Reaching the weather deck, he looked up, saluted the colors and then saluted Lieutenant JG, Mike Couper, standing his stint as Officer of the Deck. The boy looked confident; a far cry from his initial eager, trusting phase when he first came on board. Wanting to make a good impression, he micromanaged, driving his team to distraction, forcing Vin to remind him that he was there as a manager. The chiefs were there to look after the sailors.

“Permission to come aboard, sir,” Vin said formally. Couper returned his salute.

“Permission granted, sir.”

Vin stepped on the steel deck and quickly looked around. There weren’t many people about, most of the activity being below decks.

“What’s the word, Mike?”

“Set to shove off at ten hundred, as per the advertised schedule. You’ve got the afternoon watch in CIC.”

“Everybody on board?”

“Just about, but—”

“I know. Koslov hasn’t reported in.”

“Not yet, and Commander Linnen is something pissed,” Couper agreed equitably, clearly not overly agitated at the prospect of Koslov getting a reaming.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a deployment if the Exec wasn’t pissed at somebody,” Vin said comfortably and walked toward an open hatchway leading into the ship’s bowels.

Commander Deron ‘Sheet’ Linnen was a good officer and cut the crew a lot of slack, but he didn’t have much time for any prima donna. Senior Chief Koslov’s last minute departure antics definitely fitted into that category. Every ship had a character and Koslov was Steel Hammer’s, as the ship was commonly referred to. How people came up with such names, Vin couldn’t figure. They might as well have called her Glowing Hammer after the Fukushima reactors went into a meltdown. Curtis Wilbur and several other ships happened to be in port at the time and it was rumored everything in Yokosuka received a dosing, although according to the official poop, tests showed nothing. The men still joked about it and he was told other ships had requests for transfers, but no one from Wilbur went. The men liked how Captain Tyler Woods ran things. For that matter, so did Vin.

After squaring away and raiding the wardroom for a coffee, he went topside. Standing beside the ASROC torpedo launcher, he watched the hands single up the bowlines. At ten a.m. sharp, the ship’s horn blared, sending up a plume of white steam from the forward stack and tugs eased the warship away from the wharf.

It was time to do some paid business.

Author Bio

Stefan Vucak is an award-winning author of seven techno sci-fi novels, including With Shadow and Thunder, which was a 2002 EPPIE finalist. His Shadow Gods Saga books have been highly acclaimed by critics. His book, Cry of Eagles, won the coveted 2011 Readers Favorite silver medal award.

Stefan has leveraged a successful career in the Information Technology industry and applied that discipline to create realistic, highly believable storylines for his books. Born in Croatia, he now lives in Melbourne, Australia. In addition to writing, he is also an editor, a book reviewer, and     an avid reader with a passion for travel.

Website: www.stefanvucak.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/StefanVucak

 Twitter: @stefanvucak

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