Yes, the Pink Lady, and she has appeared in my new serial adventure, A King in a Court of Fools. For those of you who read Four Years from Home, you will see the cosmic irony of this story. It is the book mentioned in Four Years from Home.
Connect here with A King in a Court of Fools and enjoy! I would also appreciate "follows" to the blog that houses the serial and "likes" to its Facebook Page HERE!
The next episode of the adventures of a young Tom Ryan has been posted! Please follow the link over and check it out. There are also audio readings of it by me for those of you who prefer my soothing voice.
Make sure you read the previous two pieces before jumping into the next. You wouldn't want to miss a thing.
I'm featured today on Jason McIntyre's site today - The Farthest Reaches. Please check it out if you get a chance. Jason has an interesting looking book called Thalo Blue that I'll be reading eventually.If you've read it, let me know what I'm missing!
Spring has sprung, the flowers riz, I wonder where my Kindle is?
Where are all those great Indie books you love to read? Head on over to Indie Authors Unite and you will see.
Yes, I am a member of this group, and, yes, my book is there, but there are lots of other good books, too, that will cost you less than a cup of coffee and give you more satisfaction than a Klondike Bar along with that cup of Joe.
The next episode of the adventures of a young Tom Ryan has been posted! Please follow the link over and check it out. There are also readings of it and the Introduction by me for those of you who prefer my soothing voice.
Make sure you read the introduction before jumping into the next piece. You wouldn't want to miss a thing.
In the 21st Century tradition of Charles Dickens, I have started a new blog called A King in a Court of Fools. This will be the serialized adventures of everyone's hero from Four Years from Home, Tom Ryan. The difference between myself and Dickens, among other things, is that I am not paid by the word and this serial is free for now.
For those of you who read Four Years from Home, you might recall mention of A King in a Court of Fools during the course of the story. Those of you who did not read Four Years from Home, fear not. This is a prequel of sorts. You will be missing the cosmic irony of the whole thing, but that's okay. If ever you want to discover that cosmic irony I am referring to, you will have to fork over the 99¢ to purchase Four Years from Home or ask a friend to tell you.
The first post is up there. It's a short one but it will give you an idea of what you are in for. I invite you to check it out.
For the month of April, fellow author, Thea Atkinson is streaking through 30 blogs and flashing us a piece of fiction. I generously offered her a space today so she could expose a piece. (She made me say that - I was more than happy to do this.) My blog will be back to normal tomorrow (yeah, uh huh. Me normal?). In the meantime, enjoy and follow the links at the end to see who she flashed yesterday and who she will flash tomorrow. Feel free to leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed the streak, and you are welcome to tweet it or share it on Facebook. You can also follow the chain through twitter with the hashtag #blogstreak
It had never occurred to Edgar to lock his front door. No one ever wanted to get in that badly, but when Hester came calling, selling door-to-door cosmetics with her abbreviated eyelashes and white-plastic eye shadow, he had the momentary discomfort of being tempted.
He invited her in; they sipped Postum from chipped cups, and he imagined her making women all over town beautiful. He studied her long fingers as she fiddled with the case she'd brought and realized with a dead surety that he felt Old Man River start to gurgle and rush deep down in his romantic soul.
He spent twenty bucks on a bottle of five-dollar after-shave and started his courting. He showed her his secret antique rifle collection, and despite the momentary disappearance of her drawn-on smile, Edgar felt certain they'd be happy.
On their wedding night she came to bed smelling of Avon’s Skin so Soft and looking as if her makeup case had belched while she'd rummaged through it. The next morning he was stunned to discover she had worked up a beauty routine for him.
So, he bought new locks and installed them on every door. He grumbled a bit to himself as he stood on the stoop and tested the key, making sure it locked and unlocked and locked the door again. The rattling of the gears inside echoed the mutterings he heard himself making, frustrated at having to leave his home of twenty years.
After all, it was his house; if anyone should be inside it, it should be him.
Perhaps no one would miss Hester, though, and maybe he could find an apartment a couple of counties over where no one would know him or care that he lived alone.
One thing was certain. No one would ever get in again.
Sometimes things can get complicated. Life is like that. You never really plan for it, you never hope for it, and you never really know quite how to handle it. When something does happen, something unexpected, you make a choice and you live with it. Maybe your choice wasn’t the best. Maybe you could have done things differently. But you made it, you can’t undo it, and the next part is living with its consequences.
That, from my reading of All for One, is the essence of this wonderfully written and tragic tale of six children and their teacher caught up in the mystery of the death of a classmate. As you follow the course of this tale from their simple decision made at the beginning through the intricate web of its consequences, you too will find yourself drawn into it as I was. Each of the characters has his own story. Each is constructed by Pearson with a depth of detail that I found captivating. And each, as you will discover, is both intriguing and heartbreaking.
I was told before reading this book that it was “dark.” As descriptive of a complex human tragedy, that is exactly what this story is. As such, you must be willing accept that there are dark places in the human soul, places that most would turn away from rather than glimpse. You must be willing to walk the path of fear and darkness to its end. And you must be willing to stand at the precipice and watch its conclusion with eyes wide open. If you are so willing, be not afraid, you will find yourself having read a truly wonderful book. When I have read a story of this power, I am left with but two words for the author. Thank you.
I prefer talking to people face to face, not through a keyboard. That’s me. Human language is so much more than written words and punctuation, caps and itals. It is sight, but it’s also sound, it’s taste, it’s touch, and yes, it’s smell. They all speak to us and tell us exactly what is being said. It’s all part of communication.
A real frown has a thousand more nuances than an upside down smiley emoticon, just as a real smile can convey anything from mild amusement to absolute ecstatic glee — something that cannot possibly be captured in a single, smiley yellow face. But for now, with the Internet and society the way it is, talking through the keyboard is what I’ve got. (Insert partially smiling and partially regretful emoticon here. Make sure it also has the “that’s okay” look, too. I can do that, right?)
I do think the Internet is a wonderful thing. Please don’t misunderstand. Without it, I would be totally unable to keep up with so many friends and family members. But sometimes I get frustrated with this typing thing when what I’d really like to do is visit a guy in California who has become a good friend, or a go see someone in Maine who is really quite special, or maybe visit Kentucky or even Canada, or anywhere my friends happen to be. But I can’t. Sorry. I feel bad about that.
And it is the strangest feeling to post something on Twitter or Facebook, knowing that someone somewhere is reading it, someone somewhere is reacting to it, and as I watch it scroll away without response when other posts appear from other places and push it into digital oblivion, I know that someone somewhere has chosen to just let it go. Not everybody will see it. That is true. And some are too busy. But someone has seen it. Someone I am connected to in some way, maybe by Facebook friending, Twitter following, whatever. But in any case, I just don’t know and that leaves me with an unsettling question, “Is anybody there?”
People don’t usually do that in person, but on the Internet, it’s the way of life. Get used to it, me. I guess that’s what I’m having trouble with — getting used to it. Maybe I’m just old, but I don’t feel old. Maybe I’m just backward-thinking, but I don’t feel backward-thinking. Maybe I’m just expecting too much. That’s it. I’m expecting the same treatment I get in person. Silly me. It’s a brave new world.
Enough rambling — to the point now. One thing I really appreciate about Facebook in particular is the “like” feature. When I am scrolling through posts and I see a friend who has said something, posted a photo, mentioned something important enough to them to share with me, I click that little “like” thingie just to let them know I read it, appreciated it, and appreciate them for who they are and what they represent to me. I don’t comment on everything and I don’t follow every link to every blog. I really don’t have the time or energy for it all. Sorry. Maybe when I retire I will, but not now. But I at least want them to know I am there, that I am their friend, and that I care enough to smile back at them from the other side of cyberspace.
I am definitely not saying that I am wonderful. Far from it. If I were, I would be commenting on everything and following every link and, wow, I would be truly awesome, wouldn’t I? I just want them to know, I want you to know, I’m here for you so you don’t have to ask, “Is anybody there?”