INSECURE WRITER SUPPORT_William Faulkner, ghost, here

{1954 Photo by Carl Van Vechten}*

I dropped in to brood with my young friend, Roland.

Gore Vidal died this evening.

It was heralded by an eerie mourning in the Shadowlands, echoing in the darkness like the wails of lost children.

Tall and distinguished looking, with a haughty baritone not unlike that of his conservative arch-enemy William F. Buckley,

Vidal appeared cold and cynical on the surface.

But he bore a melancholy regard for lost worlds, for the primacy of the written word, for "the ancient American sense that whatever is wrong with human society can be put right by human action."

Few living now have that sense. Americans have become the hollow people.

I found Roland lying on his back, a sock, of all things, over his eyes.

He was being murdered by a migraine he groaned.

He asked if I would write to the young writer of today in his place.

I looked at the keyboard.

To write again. And to write on the art of prose.

I felt renewed.

But how to fill the vacuum of the blank monitor screen?

Vacuum. That was the key.

Despite the deluge from the media and this new technology, the internet,

today's young writer is oddly forced to function in a vacuum of the human race.

The irony of your main character is not that he or she is not tough enough or brave enough or deserving enough to be accepted into humanity.

No, there simply is no human race there.

Just a mass of frustrated urges, fears of terrorism, and nightmares of economic insecurity and rampant crime,

unredeemed by hope or education or self-awareness.

All your characters can do is buzz inside the upside-down tumbler of conventions and customs that have replaced humanity.

People all around us are being de-souled like stallions being gelded.

As a writer, your basest crime is to ignore the human soul.

I stroll unseen down the aisles of the bookstores of today's cities.

It seems to me that the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself ...

which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.

In your imagination have no room for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart,

the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed -

love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice.

Until he does so, the writer labors under a curse.

He writes not of love but of lust,

of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion.

His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars.

He writes not of the heart but of the glands.

He writes of the end of all that makes Man more than an animal.

I decline to accept the end of man. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail.

He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice,

but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.

The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things.

It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart,

by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.

The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man,

it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

You writers out there reading this, you have a sacred duty.

Entertain, yes.

But touch the heart, the soul. Mankind needs you to do this. And deep down, you know you need to do this, too.

*{As the restrictions on this collection expired in 1986, the Library of Congress believes this image is in the public domain.

However, the Carl Van Vechten estate has asked that use of Van Vechten's photographs "preserve the integrity" of his work, i.e, that photographs not be colorized or cropped, and that proper credit is given to the photographer. Such has been done respectfully.}***

WINNING BY LOSING

{Hemingway with Col. Charles (Buck) T. Lanham in Germany, 1944,

during the fighting in Hürtgenwald, after which he became ill with pneumonia.}*

Winning by losing. But lose what? Now that depends upon what you want to win.

"If you wish to travel far, take off your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness, and fears."
- Glenn Clark {THE THOUGHT FARTHEST OUT}

I would add but keep your sense of humor. What did Mark Twain write?

"Josh Billings defined the difference between humor and wit as that between the lightning bug and the lightning.

Which brings to mind the man who receives a telegram telling him that his mother-in-law is dead and asking, 'Shall we embalm, bury, or cremate her?'

He wired back, 'If these fail, try dissection.'"

Win by losing. Win a better novel. By losing ...

1) Long sentences :

Hemingway hated long sentences. He said you tended to get lost amidst the tangle of adverbs. Say more by writing less.

2) Long paragraphs :

Hemingway was once mocked by a critic and challenged to tell a winning story in one paragraph. He wrote an entire story in only six words :

For sale : Baby shoes, never used.

3) Tired words.

Use vigorous words. Words that imply action, fear, pain. Words that involve your reader.

He pushed a boulder up the hill. {The ghost of Hemingway just winced.}

He sweated the boulder to the top of the hill. {Hemingway's ghost nodded but still frowned at me. Better but no cigar. Hey, I couldn't smoke a ghost's cigar anyway.}

4) Lose the negative :

Hemingway, not the most uplifting of souls, was still the best at this. How? He wrote what something was -- not what something wasn't.

Direct the reader's mind where you want. Using painless still focuses the mind on the concept 'pain.'

Instead of 'inexpensive' use 'economical.'

This software is error free. Ouch. This software is stable. Better.

5) Lose the shit :

“I write one page of masterpiece to ninety-one pages of shit,” Hemingway confided to F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1934.

“I try to put the shit in the wastebasket.”

6) Lose the frills :

William Somerset Maugham said his early writing was filled with self-consciousness and frills. He started writing well when he admitted his bad writing and cast aside the goal of fine writing.

"I decided to write bare. I had so much to say I could afford to waste no word. I set the impossible goal of using no adjectives at all. I used what I saw. My observing eye saw detail where others saw only vagueness.

I aim at lucidity, simplicity, and euphony. I state them in the order of their importance."

7) Lose the copy. Keep the original :

Raymond Chandler (The Big Sleep) wrote --

"The most durable thing in writing is style,and style is the most valuable investment a writer can make with his time. Your own style, not that of your writing inspiration"

This example of Raymond Chandler's hardboiled prose style has been drawn from the opening chapter of his 1939 novel, The Big Sleep:

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was neat, clean, shaved, and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.

The main hallway of the Sternwood Place was two stories high.

Over the entrance doors, which would have let in a troop of Indian elephants, there was a broad stained-glass panel showing a knight in dark armor rescuing a lady who was tied to a tree and didn't have any clothes on but some very long and convenient hair.

The knight had pushed the vizor of his helmet back to be sociable, and he was fiddling on the ropes that tied the lady to the tree and not getting anywhere. I stood there and thought that if I lived in the house, I would sooner or later have to climb up there and help him.


Compare and contrast Chandler's style with that of Ernest Hemingway in the excerpt from his story "In Another Country."

In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more. It was cold in the fall in Milan and the dark came very early. Then the electric lights came on, and it was pleasant along the streets looking in the windows.

There was much game hanging outside the shops, and the snow powdered in the fur of the foxes and the wind blew their tails. The deer hung stiff and heavy and empty, and small birds blew in the wind and the wind turned their feathers. It was a cold fall and the wind came down from the mountains.
***
Two styles. Neither one of them yours or mine. We must lose the copying of them and keep true to the voice within our own muse.
****
*{This image is a work of a U.S. Army soldier or employee, taken or made during the course of the person's official duties. As a work of the U.S. federal government, the image is in the public domain.}
***

A WEIRD SCIENCE EXPERIMENT!

{My drawing will be held Aug. 2nd so as not to interfere with Alex's Wednesday blogfest}

Blogger Penelope Trunk wrote one of the more controversial publishing posts Nathan Bransford has read in some time.

http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2012/07/09/how-i-got-a-big-advance-from-a-big-publisher-and-self-published-anyway/

She accepted an advance from a major publisher,

and after being wildly unimpressed with their marketing plans she decided to keep the advance, pull the book, and self-publish instead.

I see happy attorneys from all of this!

What do you think of what Penelope Trunk did?

John Self read the post and decided to promote the work of an author who impressed him.

He thought he helped its publishing success even though it was praised by THE NEW YORKER and had a chapter on a terrorist plot at the London Olympics.

Do you think the sort of thing John Self attempted can do any good for a new novel?

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2012/jul/20/help-promote-authors-yourself

Which harkens back to someone you may know. No, not me. I don't think I even know me!

Jean Shepherd.

Shepherd’s fame is based on his humorous coming-of-age tales, these recounted on his late-night radio show, collected in a handful of anthologies, and reshaped in the movie A CHRISTMAS STORY.

He is also fondly remembered for one of the most successful and embarrassing media hoaxes of the century.

Shepherd’s radio shift was the night-time, and broadcasting his musings about life to insomniacs, night-workers, artists, nursing mothers, drunks,

people who knew they’d feel dreadful when the alarm went off at seven.

He knew he was talking to the margins.

It was in the course of one program in 1956 that he came up with two things which would make history: the phrase “night people” and the swashbuckling historical novel, I, LIBERTINE.

"What if," Shepherd wondered out loud to his listeners,

"all of you went into a bookshop tomorrow and asked for a book that you knew did not exist.

The first person to ask for it would be given the brush-off and told there’s no record of any such book.

The second person to come in that week asking for it would be told the book was on order. By the third and fourth request for the book, the bookseller would be on the phone to his supplier….

A buzz would be born. All book-buying New York would be talking about this hot new read.

Before long I, LIBERTINE was not only in demand all over town but banned in Boston.

One New York gossip columnist claimed to have had lunch with its non-existent author.

And more than one English professor had praised the scholarship of the student-night people who had submitted bogus I, LIBERTINE essays and book reports.

Now, if any of you want to do a group Twitter and etc. campaign like that for THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH, I will not stop you! LOL.

(The good news would be that 100% of its profits has always gone to the Salvation Army.)

Listen to Jean tell it himself:

SAMPLE SUNDAY: THREE SPIRIT KNIGHT

Being but a novice to Twitter, I have just discovered #SampleSunday.

Yesterday, I advised you, my friends, to take advantage of it. So here I am leading by example.

Some of you have inquired about the next chapter in the legend of Victor Standish, THREE SPIRIT KNIGHT.

Here is the introduction by none other than the ghost of George Bernard Shaw:

INTRODUCTION
By George Bernard Shaw, ghost.

I hasten to protest at the outset that I have only a modest personal knowledge of the incorrigible scamp who wrote this amazing book. I do know him well enough however to make the following statement.

If he is to be encouraged and approved, then British morality is a mockery, British respectability an imposture, and British industry a vice. Perhaps they are: I have always kept an open mind on the subject.

Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself, something young Standish excels at. So much so that he created his own last name in fact.

A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. In this respect, Victor Standish is the most honorable gypsy I have ever met.

What was it he once told me? Oh, yes. “If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you might as well make it dance.”

Standish executes the dance between love and death better than any I have ever met. I admit to being somewhat of a cynic when it comes to love.

When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.

Astoundingly, Victor Standish and his ghastly fiancée, Alice Wentworth, seem to be able to sustain that formerly transient passion … past death itself. Or should I say herself, for the Angel of Death is young Standish’s mother.

A fact which might help explain it all. Though I fear the Pope would be scandalized at these words … for which I again quote young Standish:

“Why should we take advice on sex from the pope? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn't!”

You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul. I say that to warn you that this narrative is, indeed, a work of art, rough, but art, nonetheless.

What you find in it will reveal your soul not young Standish’s.

As for that scamp …

People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them, make them.

Such was, and is, the case of the legend of Victor Standish.

CHAPTER ONE
TIME TRAVEL ISN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE.

“After all, the wrong road always leads somewhere.”
- Victor Standish.
***
If any of you are curious about Victor Standish now, start with his first humble narration, THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH:

http://www.amazon.com/THE-LEGEND-VICTOR-STANDISH-ebook/dp/B005NCUTAG

HOW TO USE TWITTER TO INCREASE THE SALES OF YOUR BOOK

(The lovely cover image by the artist extraordinaire, Leonora Roy)

THREE SPIRIT KNIGHT is still struggling in its birth throes ...

Yet, when it is finally finished, I will use Twitter to help boost its sales.

Until then, I will help you boost your own sales using Twitter

1.) I'LL HAVE THE HASHBROWNS, IF YOU PLEASE:

If you’re not much of a Twitterer, you may not know what hashtags are, but if you’re trying to sell books, it’s something you should know.

The hash or number symbol (# – the character above three on a keyboard).

In Twitter, words with this symbol are identified as search terms for a tweet, in much the same way as tags are used for articles, blog posts, or products on Amazon.

You can attach #book, #ebook, #kindle, and/or #nook anytime you tweet about books, ebooks, or ereaders.

People who are looking for information about any of these, can search within Twitter or on Twitter-related sites like Twubs, Twibes, or Topsy for all tweets with those hashtags. This system takes the overwhelming mish-mash of sound bites that is Twitter and turns it into a useful, organized directory of information.

One hashtag that is particularly useful for authors is “#samplesunday”.

This hashtag is the brainchild of author David Wiseheart, who first proposed its use on his blog, “Kindle Author”.

The point of #samplesunday is to post an excerpt of your writing on your website, and then tweet about it with the hashtag #samplesunday.

You can then search for Sunday samples, read them, comment on them, and of course, retweet them. It’s a quick and easy way for authors to spread the word about their work and show it off to those who are looking for something new to read for the week.

{Many thanks to both David Wiseheart and Madeline Plimpton for these ideas.)

2.) HI-LINKS:

Always include a link to your website. Only one out of fifty will follow. But 100% of them will not go if you do not include the link. Use Bitly to shorten your link for more characters for your tweet.

3.) EXCUSE ME, BUT DO YOU EVER TAKE A BREATH?

Have you noticed how much BUY MY BOOK!!! is out there on the tweets? Use quirky, interesting questions to start a CONVERSATION. What a concept, right?

Invite tweeters opinions with polls, maybe even a contest concerning your book.

4.) HAVE YOU HEARD ...

People read twitter for news, gossip, the latest trends. If you heard of a juicy or interesting tidbit, tweet it and ask for opinions. Try to make only 1 out of 5 tweets about your book.

5.) I AM NOT ALEX CAVANAUGH. ARE YOU?

Alex visits 100 blogs a day! John Locke twittered hours a day at the start of his eBook Empire building.

Neither you nor I have that kind of job like Alex or are already a stay-at-home millionaire as John Locke was to have that kind of time.

So use your time wisely. USE TWITTER SEARCH to find Twitterers who have posted on the subject or genre of your book. Take an hour to tweet each and every person you discover. It may only garner you one buyer, but that buyer may tell others.

6.) TO HAVE A FRIEND, BE A FRIEND:

Re-tweet other people's tweets.

That means you must be on Twitter to see what others are tweeting about. It is not certain that they will return the favor, but you will have birthed gratitude in most of them. As a rare blood courier, I seldom find the time to surf the twitter waves. For all my friends who have re-tweeted my tweets, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!

7.) HARD SELL IS NO SELL:

Social media does sell books, but only if you don’t use it to sell books.

If all you ever do is hawk your books on Twitter, all you will hear is the sound of one hand ... not clapping ... but tuning you out. Ouch!

If you want to spend money, you’d be far better off doing it on a Goodreads ad or a Kindle Nation sponsorship, i.e. a place where readers gather online.

8.) NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR BOOK:

Think of all the books you hear about on a daily basis ... from walking through a bookstore, browsing book reviews, gossip from friends, or looking at the headlines of Amazon.

It is very hard to get people to care enough about your book

that they go and buy it. It’s the hardest part.

And before you can even do that, you have to get them interested in the concept and before that ... interested in you.

How do you get people interested in you?

Be interested in them, their dreams and how they can possibly achieve them. Help them in some small way to do that ... and they will be interested in you enough to visit your blog ...

And perhaps take a gamble on your book. Think about it and try it to see if it works for you.

HOW TO IMPROVE YOUR AMAZON SALES RANKING

THE LAST DAY!

RITES OF PASSAGE AT #10!
http://www.amazon.com/RITES-OF-PASSAGE-ebook/dp/B004XQVPYM

See poor dead Rachel on the cover?

Make her ghost smile by writing just a two sentence review. Eric keeps threatening to write: "This book didn't suck. Read it, and I bet you agree with me!"

1.) ONE NEW POSITIVE REVIEW

can be the one thing that encourages a potential reader into buying. And one new sale can make the Amazon Sales Ranking go up considerably.

And many buyers want to buy what everyone else is buying.

2.) THE FIRST SHALL BE LAST:

Amazon sales rank is generated by a proprietary algorithm. The more copies a book sells on Amazon, relative to other books, the higher the rank---

or, the lower the number. So, a rank of 10 is higher than a rank of 257,090.

3.) ENOUGH ABOUT ME. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT ME?

Link to the Amazon page for your book in the signature line of the emails you send. Then, everyone who receives email from you will be exposed to your book. The chances are that at least some of them will click on the links.

No, I don't do this ... I have so little free time with my job as a rare blood courier that sadly I send very few emails. But many of you do send many emails. Make them count.

4.) REMEMBER PANDORA AND THAT CURIOUS CAT?

"Search Inside the Book" is an important property to put in place for your book. It allows customers to actually browse through parts of the book. They'll be more likely to buy a book that they've been able to flip through.

5.) A PATH TO HIGHER SALES THAT MAY MAKE YOU FEEL UNEASY:

Write Listmania Lists that include your book. These are lists of books that fall under a particular topic and include links to the Amazon page for each of them. Write lists for as many categories as your book could reasonably fall under.

6.) LIST FOR FREE:

It may translate into higher sales AFTER the free period stops. If your book is priced at 99 cents, others may take note of higher sales rankings and take a gamble on your book.

7.) DON'T INDULGE IN AMERICAN IDOLism:

Amazon Sales Ranking is a popularity contest wherein your book's sales are compared to the thousands of sales of its neighbors.

Statistics say you will have to keep your day job. Or in my weary case, my day AND night job!

Write because you love it. If you touch one heart, then you have succeeded.

8.) Enough about me ...

I cannot know if I have touched that one heart unless you post a review. Please do so for RITE OF PASSAGE. It is a lonely dark road for most of us as we struggle in self-publishing. One sale, one supportive review can light the dark and warm a lonely heart.

Do it, not just for me, but for others toiling in the shadows of meager sales.

Have a lovely weekend. Me? I will be driving lonely rural roads all weekend and into the week. Darn that storm! :-) Roland

3 THINGS YOU COULD HAVE DONE BETTER

The Romantic Friday Challenge is on:

Samuel McCord from RITES OF PASSAGE, #9 on Amazon! (free for one last day - see my sidebar) is the narrator of my entry.
{FOR CLARIFICATION} :

Abigail Adams is leader of America's revenants {vampires}

because she is a revenant herself,

hence her ability to become mist in the bedroom of her dying husband.

I keep forgetting most of you don't read all my posts. Abigail as vampire can be seen in these two posts :

(1826) Quincy, Mass. -- In John Adams' bedroom the night before his death. {A FAREWELL TO LOVE}

http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/09/farewell-to-love.html

(2005) New Orleans, La. In the home of the undead daughter of Lord Byron {DEATH WEARS 3 FACES} :

http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/09/death-wears-three-faces.html

Little Lucy Wentworth can be seen in : THE DEVIL'S WIND --
http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/10/devils-windbad-news-blogfest.html

{It is the year 1857 in the port city of Mumbai, India.

"The Devils Wind" is the name the sepoys gave to the mutiny of Moslems against British rule,

a barbaric, uncontrollable fury that swept across the hot plains of India as if blown by the Devil.

To keep his word to a dying British Major, Samuel McCord has fought his way across all of India to save the man's tiny granddaughter,

Lucy Wentworth -- who is cousin to Alice Wentworth by the way.

Just within sight of the ship that could take Lucy to safety, Sam and Lucy are stopped by Abigail Adams herself with her best killers.}

BEFORE THE MONSTER RETURNS:

Abigail Adams hadn't improved with age.

Her beauty had crystalized into cold porcelain flesh. Her wisdom had brittled into cleverness. And her hate for me had bittered like over-steeped tea.

Small Lucy Wentworth clung to my left leg, looking fearfully at the revenants who ringed us on the Mumbai dock. I studied them coldly. The ship that offered freedom was only a dozen feet away.

It might as well have been moored in the dust of the moon.

India hadn't been kind to me. But then, she was harsh even to her own children.

Though there wasn't a part of me that wasn't hurting or bleeding, I could still take the revenants. Abigail, being both genius and revenant, was another matter.

Abigail whispered, "I have traveled half the world to have you at my mercy."

Lucy chirped in her proper British accent. "Then, you have traveled a long way just to die."

Abigail flicked cold eyes to Lucy then back to me. "You are weak, wounded, and unarmed."

Lucy laughed with the confidence of innocence. "And still, Captain Sam shall kill you and your bullies."

"Madripoor," I said softly, and Lucy ducked down and hugged her knees as she had in that death-trap.

I slipped into the fighting stance taught me by the Shaolin priests, and Abigail regarded me with cool, appraising eyes.

She spoke low. "Yes, even after fighting your way across all of India, I do believe you would be unstoppable ... in defense of a child."

"I-If Abigail Adams were still alive and here, you'd be sorry," quavered Lucy, her beloved pith helmet dinged and battered.

The revenants around us jerked at Lucy's words and looked to Abigail. Lucy laughed.

"See? Even your killers know the name of Abigail Adams."

And death was on the night winds like the smell of ashes as the woman named murmured, "And where did you hear that name, child?"

Lucy raised her chin in defiance. "All through these many frightful nights Captain Sam would tell me stories of her ... of how she and her husband gave birth to America ... of how strong she was, of how smart she was, of how brave she was ... of how much she sacrificed for love."

Abigail husked, "Sacrificed for love."

"Yes, for love. Oh, I can see how you scare these leeches all around us. No doubt you are strong, brave, and perhaps even smart."

Lucy hugged my leg as if it were my chest. "But you will never be loved."

Abigail's eyes sank deep in her perfect face. "No. I shall never be loved ... again."

Lucy raised her chin in defiance. "Captain Sam said I could do no better than to model myself after Abigail Adams, that if she saw any Thuggee trying to kill me, she would box their ears for them."

Lucy giggled, "I would have quite liked to have seen that."

Lucy pulled out five dirty pages, folded neat in her torn jacket pocket. "I've copied some things Abigail said to memorize and live by."

The little girl closed her eyes and repeated by rote, "To be good, and do good, is the whole duty of man comprised in a few words."

Lucy glared at Abigail. "But to a monster like you I would wager those words mean nothing."

Abigail spoke thickly. "You would lose that wager, Lucy Wentworth."

She looked at me with eyes suddenly wet. "I was mist in the darkness, Samuel, when you promised my husband you would save me if you could."

Lucy frowned, "Your husband?"

Abigail rasped, "Yes, my beloved friend and husband ... President John Adams."

Lucy looked up stunned at me. "Captain Sam? Th-This is Abigail Adams?"

I nodded, "This is what has become of a hero who made choices she thought were right ... and was mistakened."

I looked sadly from Abigail to Lucy. "She could have done 3 things better.

"Abigail thought to save America but lost herself."

I sighed, "She sought to keep her beloved John beside her always but lost him forever. And she hates me when it is truly her choices she hates."

Lucy gave a look of horror at Abigail. "Y-You made yourself a monster out of love."

Abigail shook her head. "I am not that monster at the moment, child. Go to the ship, Lucy. Go now. Quicky. Before the monster returns."

The circle of revenants reluctantly opened for us.

I took Lucy up in my arms and limped fast to the ship and safety. Lucy looked wistfully and sad over my shoulder at the shrinking figure of Abigail Adams in the deepening mists.

Lucy gave a forlorn, childish wave to the tall, tormented leader of America's revenants. For a short moment my enemy was gone.

And the beloved Abigail of John Adams returned the same wave.

I know it was just a trick of my mind. But for a moment I thought I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder.

And I heard President John Adams whisper in my ear, "Thank you."
***

BLOGGER BOOK FAIR invaded by VICTOR STANDISH

RITES OF PASSAGE IS AT #12!
Download it for free. Look at my sidebar.

Kayla Curry is hosting THE BLOGGER BOOK FAIR:
http://www.paranormallounge.blogspot.com/

Round One of the Tournament of Monsters! This is taking place over on Wynne Channings Blog. Eight Monsters are defended by participating authors in 50 words of fight! http://wynnechanning.wordpress.com/

I somehow missed this blogfest, but Victor Standish insisted on joining in for some Christmas monster bashing.

Yes, Christmas. It is so hellishly hot in this city, Alice pined for some cooler memories. And here they are in ...




SLAY BELLES IN THE NIGHT --

The tolling of a lonely church bell echoed distant in the too quiet night.

The first Christmas after Katrina found New Orleans nearly deserted. The children's ward at Memorial Hospital was filled. Hollow-eyed kids my age and younger were sleeping fitfully in their hospital beds.

Thanks to Captain Sam, each child had a doll, teddy bear, or an actual New Orleans Saints football. They were all sleeping with them tucked secure in their arms.

And an apple was on each of their nightstands. I didn't know how he was doing it, but no matter how many apples the kids ate, another one took its place.

"So they'll know they will always have something to eat," he had told me as he left me on guard here.

Yeah, on guard.

Santa Claus was coming to town tonight for all the good little boys and girls.

Santa the revenant (think Vlad the Impaler ... but without as many morals.)

The Bourbon Street Irregulars were stretched thin tonight. I was all by myself.

So many children to protect from the ancient bloodbroker. Yeah, he stole the blood of every good little girl and boy to sell to other revenants on the black market all through the year.

The blood of innocence was a delicacy to bloodsuckers the world over.

I stood with my back to the far wall, looking warily into the shadows. The fat revenant appeared right next to me, his red hat set at a impish angle.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!," he rasped, his fangs going for my throat.

Right into his gaping mouth I thumbed two ball bearings washed in the melted snows of Eden.

"Suck on these, Santa!"

He grabbed his throat, the smoke of his burning flesh coming out of his open mouth in billowing, foul-smelling clouds. Hitting the floor with a heavy thud, he croaked into the night.

"To me, my elves!"

By this time all the children were awake, their eyes round with horror. I figured my own eyes were a little wide themselves.

Twelve slender elves in Christmas velvet and short, short skirts padded out of the darkness towards me, their steel fingernails long and sharp.

I ground my teeth. "You have got to be kidding me."

Santa might have been hurting, but he looked up and flashed me a death-head's smile. "My Slay Belles in the night."

The really pretty elves in really short skirts and long fangs started to flank me. There were too many. I didn't have enough ball bearings. Hell, I didn't have enough me. I couldn't handle them all.

I was so dead.

Then, the children started to pelt the elves with the apples. For every apple they threw, another took its place. Now, a dozen apples are a pain. Dozens of dozens of apples thrown by scared spitless kids are something else again.

The elves went down. Hissing like snakes, they rose and started for the kids. I did some pelting of my own ... with my deadly ball bearings washed in the snows of Eden.

I took out three. The other nine wheeled about and charged me, only to be pelted again by the apples. Some broke upon impact, disintegrating the elves one by one.

I realized how Captain Sam had gotten those apples to magically appear. He must have watered them with the melted snows of Eden. No wonder those revenant elves went up in smelly smoke at the touch of their juices.

I turned to see Santa right at my throat. "You've been a very naughty boy, Victor. Time to die."

I saw Alice, in her short-skirted Christmas Gothic Lolita outfit, form out of mist behind him. "But he hasn't been naughty with me, yet, Santa."

She winked at me. "Leave you alone for a minute and there you go, throwing yourself at pretty elves."

"Close your eyes, kids!," I yelled, seeing the smile die in her neon eyes.

There must have something to the tone of my voice because all the kids covered their eyes. And Alice ... well, Alice, my ghoul friend, had a midnight snack.

A few Santa screams later, Alice flowed to me, licking her bloody fingers. "My first Christmas butterball turkey. Yum!"
***
A Christmas Haiku in a similar vein as my above post :

Christmas Moon looks down,
Alice's hand squeezes mine,
Stolen kiss is best.
***
***

***

IS DEATH THE INK OUR PAGES NEED?

Nathan Bransford had an excellent article,

VIOLENCE IN AMERICAN CULTURE:
http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2012/07/violence-in-american-culture.html

As Nathan says, there is a lot of violence in today's YA.

And the echoes of the gunshots and screams from that movie theater in Colorado murmur a question:

What do we endorse in our fiction?

Could movies like HOSTEL and SAW have been shown to nationwide audiences just decades ago?

Have we become desensitized to violence, to maiming helpless victims, to drive-by shootings in film?

The vigilante is the new HOT hero, especially if the crusader is a kick-ass woman in leather and stilleto heels.

Look at the covers of my two latest books, RITES OF PASSAGE (Now at #6!):
http://www.amazon.com/RITES-OF-PASSAGE-ebook/dp/B004XQVPYM

BURNT OFFERINGS:

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1343272025&sr=1-1&keywords=BURNT+OFFERINGS+ROLAND+YEOMANS

I tried for subdued hints of violence and mystery. It is a truth of human nature: we are drawn to the forbidden and the sensual.

The mysterious Greek physician, Lucanus, and Captain Samuel McCord are both reflective protagonists, chaffing at the violence and darkness in the hearts of those around them.

Luke Skywalker would not be so interesting without the ominous Darth Vadar.

Look at the cover of THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH:
http://www.amazon.com/THE-LEGEND-VICTOR-STANDISH-ebook/dp/B005NCUTAG/ref=pd_sim_kstore_29

The Victorian ghoul, Alice Wentworth, is clutching her gypsy love, Victor Standish, with sharp teeth bared.

Their world is dark. Their enemies foul and supernatural. Their love a beacon in the shadows. Their laughter their shield against despair.

Perhaps we do our teens no favor if we paint the world in false gilding of Pollyannish cliches. Perhaps we do them good if we show them

struggling teens combating the darkness with the light of sacrificial love and laughter thrown in the teeth of the wolves on the streets.

Closing our eyes does not make the evils disappear. Showing heroes who refuse to give in to the darkness and insist on finding laughter in their pain may be the best thing we can do.

What do you think?

RITES OF PASSAGE is FREE for TWO MORE DAYS!!

NAKED COVERS

Good covers will not do.

They must be GREAT covers!

Especially so with eBooks.

Here is the new cover for my RITES OF PASSAGE cover by the evocative genius, Leonora Roy.

http://www.amazon.com/RITES-OF-PASSAGE-ebook/dp/B004XQVPYM#_

It is now #14 and better, it is FREE for the next THREE DAYS. Do not miss it!

How do you like the cover for BURNT OFFERINGS, now at #37, also by the talented Leonora Roy?
http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_t_1

But enough about me. What do you think of me? Seriously, back to covers ...

We DO judge a book by its cover. Covers are the first and many times, the only thing, by which potential readers of eBooks decide to try or not try.

Covers must ...

1.) HOOK THE BOOK

The cover must reach out and grab the viewer and tug her or him into reading the product description.

So you understand how important the product description also is!

If you can get her to download the sample chapters, your prose has a shot at snagging another reader.

2.) BE THE SOUNDTRACK OF YOUR BOOK

One image. It must sing the song of your genre. "GIVE ME THE SAME THING ...

ONLY DIFFERENT," said the famous studio head, Samuel Goldwyn.

Look at the covers of the genre you're writing. Study them. DO NOT be like them.

What? Sure, if your cover is like theirs, the eyes of the potential readers will skim right over yours, not truly seeing it. SAMENESS IS DEADNESS with covers.

3.) BE THE POSTER FOR THE MOVIE OF YOUR BOOK

It must catch the "feel" of your book, giving a fair hint of all the fantastic things within the pages of your book.

Unless you are Stephen King, your name will not sell the book. BUT A GREAT TITLE WILL GRAB ATTENTION.

So highlight an evocative title so that it is spotlighted in the reader's mind.

Consider the titles to my covers in my sidebar.

4.) THE DEVIL IS IN THE DIGITAL DETAILS

In this digital age, our covers must be evocative in a thumbnail and in full-blown format.

Harder than it seems.

Two lovers entwined on the grass can look like twigs on vomit in thumbnail (really not an image guaranteed to get buyers!)

5.) OBSCURE THAT FOR ME PLEASE!

Ambiguity of setting aids you snaring the reader.

What? Yes.

Your cover sets the mystery of your book for the reader. The background becomes a literal character in your book for the browsing reader, murmuring, "You want to know more about this, don't you?"

Do not tell everything in your cover.

Why then would someone want to read when they already know the punchline?

Look at the covers of my novels in the sidebar. They suggest. They evoke. (I hope!)

6.) EXCUSE ME. IS THAT AN OVER-BITE, OR ARE THOSE FANGS?

Beauty is fine, but there must also be the promise of danger, of deadly threat. In a split second, the viewer will either be drawn to your book or decide to pass.

The threat of mysterious danger is essential in having the viewer come to the desired decision.

7.) TEASE BUT DON'T BE MEAN

If a black cat is the major focus of your cover, there had better be a mysterious black cat in your novel ... or you just lost a loyal follower.

8.) I SAID "BE BOLD" NOT "BE BALD!"

Humphrey Bogart said to Yul Brenner years later when Yul said he followed Bogart's advise on how to succeed in the movies.

Be bold. Consider your font.

Did you know that handwritten fonts appeal to women readers? Studies indicate they do. But only for contemporary romantic fiction. Be aware of your market's trends.

Destroyed fonts (damaged lettering) draw in the crime reader.

Popular Apoolyptic novels employed an over-all "distressed" layering to their cover image.

That's all I have room for. A whole book could be written on how to do a great cover. What do you think of my two latest?

He was, FIRST and LAST, the born fighter ...

TODAY ...

The FIRST DAY and the LAST DAY.

LAST DAY to download for FREE

BURNT OFFERINGS:
http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1343005642&sr=1-1&keywords=BURNT+OFFERINGS+ROLAND+YEOMANS

{In which you meet for the FIRST TIME, the mysterious Greek physician, Lucanus, and meet again Captain Samuel McCord.}

FIRST DAY of 3 to download for FREE

RITES OF PASSAGE:
http://www.amazon.com/RITES-OF-PASSAGE-ebook/dp/B004XQVPYM

{A fantasy TITANIC which details the FIRST MEETING of Samuel McCord with the mysterious Meilori, William Faulkner, Father Renfield, and the demigod, DayStar.}

Its new cover is by the talented Leonora Roy.

Herbert Bayard Swope wrote:
“Don't forget that the only two things people read in a story are the first and last sentences. Give them blood in the eye on the first one.”

What do you think about that?

Wondering about the title to this post?

Edith Hamilton wrote of Aeschylus, a long deceased friend of Lucanus:

"He was, first and last, the born fighter,

to whom the consciousness of being matched against a great adversary suffices and who can dispense with success.

Life for him was an adventure, perilous indeed, but men are not made for safe havens.

The fullness of life is in the hazards of life. And, at the worst, there is that in us which can turn defeat into victory."

Those words fit both Lucanus and Captain Samuel McCord ...

and if we are worthy as authors, they might one day prove true of us.

RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS WEEK

ONLY TWO DAYS LEFT ...

to download BURNT OFFERINGS FREE!

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1343005642&sr=1-1&keywords=BURNT+OFFERINGS+ROLAND+YEOMANS

Alex Cavanaugh talked of random acts of kindness Monday:
http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com/2012/07/ninja-news-act-of-kindness-and-dark.html

I think that all of us could stand being the recipient of a random act of kindness.

I learned of THE KINDNESS PROJECT from Leigh T. Moore's blog:
http://leightmoore.blogspot.com/2012/07/tkp-stronger-and-wider.html

The Hershey Company has heraled RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS WEEK. Alas it is past (mid-February.)

Milton Hershey demonstrated the ultimate random act of kindness when he founded Milton Hershey School to help children in need, then devoted his entire fortune to ensure the school's future.

But we can make EVERY week a RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS WEEK.

How?

I was weary and read an inspiring post on persistence by Milo James Fowler so I spotlighted it and the two publications that had published stories by him:

http://www.milo-inmediasres.com/

I expected no reward. I thought if I needed the inspiration given by his post, then someone else probably did as well. Thinking I might have helped light the way was all the reward I needed.

I read yesterday of MPAX's new book release, so I spotlighted it without being asked:

http://www.amazon.com/Stopover-at-Backworlds-Edge-ebook/dp/B008L46QFU/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2

It seems the blogverse is ablaze with blogfests and book tours, all shouting, "Look at me! Buy my book!"

Look for the lonely author who doesn't have a wave of blogs shouting her or his praises. Point the way to them without asking anything in return.

Take Christi Goddard:
http://www.christigoddard.com/

Her FOUR IN THE MORNING is an evocative, riveting book with a trailer that reaches out and grabs you:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0084P70J2

Browse your blog list to find any old friends who have not posted in some time. Find their email address from their profile. Email them, asking about them, telling them you have missed them.

Alex Cavanaugh, Talli Roland, Jessica Bell, and Hart Johnson ... along with others are giants in the blogverse. Sometimes the struggling blogger can feel lost and forgotten in their corner of the cyberverse.

They lose heart. They slow their frequency of posting. They finally stop.

Be kind. Look for the stragglers, the bruised, the fallen by the wayside. Reach out to them through email or just doing a post, spotlighting what you find great about them and their blog.

Going to the Redwoods of the cyber forest will get you attention. But life is more than what we can get out of it.

Life is what we put into it and into the bruised hearts of fellow strugglers.

Make today and the rest of this week RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS WEEK. The effects of the ripples you may never see. But they will be there. And the world and hurting others will be better for you having drawn breath.

How cool is that?

HOW TO WRITE A QUERY ... AS LEARNED IN THE POURING RAIN!

THIS JUST IN!

THE LOVELY MPAX HAS A FREE BOOK FOR US!

The sequel to The Backworlds is now available. Craze and his friends continue their adventures in Stopover at the Backworlds’ Edge. See what role chocolate plays in the galaxy this time.


The interstellar portal opens, bringing in a ship that should no longer exist. A battleship spoiling for a fight, yet the war with Earth ended two generations ago. The vessel drops off a Water-breather, a type of Backworlder thought to be extinct. She claims one of Craze’s friends is a traitor who summoned the enemy to Pardeep Station. A betrayal worse than his father’s, if Craze lives to worry about it.

Available for all ereaders from: Amazon, AmazonUK, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords:
http://www.amazon.com/Stopover-at-Backworlds-Edge-ebook/dp/B008L46QFU/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2

Back to our regularly scheduled broadcast:

BURNT OFFERINGS is still at #19.

THREE DAYS left to get BURNT OFFERINGS FREE:

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342971964&sr=1-1&keywords=Burnt+Offerings+ROLAND+YEOMANS

The last few days reinforced a notion of mine:

The art of driving in the pouring rain is much like writing a query.

Yes.

There are similarities between the two.

For instance, the question :

SHE DOES SEE ME, DOESN'T SHE?

The truth? No. No, she doesn't.

In her mind's eye, she sees the face of her friend as she's talking into her Bluetooth headset. By the dashboard clock, she sees that she's 10 minutes late. In the rearview mirror, she sees the bouncing image of her lips as she tries to apply lipstick without ending up looking like Bozo the Clown.

But you? You she doesn't see.

Not to worry. Just drive as if everyone around you is going to do the stupidest thing imaginable, and you'll be just fine.

THE AGENT TO WHOM YOU'RE WRITING DOESN'T SEE YOU EITHER.

She sees the precious sleep she's missing by reading query after query into the wee hours of the morning.

She sees the worst pieces of prose from past queries that stick like cockle burrs in her mind.

She sees the long list of things she has to do the next day on less sleep that she wanted.

She sees the sad face of that editor saying "No" to her earlier in the day when she was so sure he was going to say "yes."

She sees the mounting bills she has to pay ... BUT SHE DOESN'T SEE YOUR QUERY ... at least not clearly.

What do you do?

With a driver, you honk the horn. With a weary agent, you reach out and shake her awake to truly see your query for what it hopefully is : engaging and intriguing.

How? However you do it, you have to do it in 10 seconds. That's how long you have before her routine of "Wax on; wax off" is finished. Actually, it's read, yawn, reject.

For you to get through to her, it has to be a one - two punch. Hook of a title. Then, wham! A fascinating one paragraph summation:

PROJECT POPE : Robot priests construct their own Pope in their search for God. Then, the unimaginable happens. They find Him. {The classic by Clifford D. Simak.}

2nd Way Querying is like driving in the pouring rain :

JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN DO A THING DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD.

Hundreds of thousands of drivers die needlessly each year by insisting on driving the speed limit in blinding rain.

In writing a query, you have fantastic leeway. You can write in any voice you choose. Frivolous. Condescending. Antagonistic. Suicidal, oh I repeat myself.

Your query is a business interview. Treat it as such and treat the agent as the potential employer. Be professional. Follow her website's guidelines. And show respect.

3rd Way Querying is like driving in the pouring rain :

YOU HAVE TO ALWAYS KEEP THE BIG PICTURE IN MIND :

In driving that is looking past the hood to at least 200 feet ahead of you. Flick your eyes from side to side to prevent nasty surprises. Keep looking at the rearview mirror to see what may be charging right at you.

In Querying :
Keep in mind the ultimate goal : intriguing the agent enough for her to want to read more.

You don't have to cram 500 pages of story into one page. In essence, you're writing a movie trailer. Remember the latest movie trailer you saw. Did it give the whole story? No. It teased, giving you the hero, the antagonist, and a glimpse of humor and danger.

Now, get to teasing those agents.

Now, a song for the journey :

FREE FOR 4 MORE DAYS! THE IMPORTANCE OF PERSISTENCE

BURNT OFFERINGS is now at #19.

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342971964&sr=1-1&keywords=Burnt+Offerings+ROLAND+YEOMANS

Thank you, my friends. I was wearying of the struggle.

In regards to that, I direct you to IN MEDIA RES by Milo James Fowler:
http://www.milo-inmediasres.com/

Two of his short stories recently blinked their eyes at the readers from the printed page. One story, a warped take on WALL-E, had been rejected six times prior to this.

The other, "Like a Good Neighbor," is in the latest issue of Title Goes Here and survived fourteen rejections over three years before it saw the light of day.

Writing is a struggle. It is also more than that. Mark Twain wrote:

"Authorship is not a trade, it is an inspiration; authorship does not keep an office,

its habitation is all out under the sky, and everywhere the winds are blowing and the sun is shining and the creatures of God are free.

I could not consent to deliver judgment upon any one's manuscript, because an individual's verdict is worthless...

The great public is the only tribunal competent to sit in judgment upon a literary effort.

No man with a man’s heart in him, gets far on his way without some bitter, soul searching disappointment.

Happy he who is brave enough to push on to another stage of the journey,

and rest where there are living springs of water, and three score and ten palms."

My friends, I wish you rest along the journey.

STILL FREE for 4 days! WRITING IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

BURNT OFFERINGS FREE FOR 4 MORE DAYS:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008N4QGA8

Now at #24. Thank you, my friends. And thanks for some of you for buying my other cyber-dust covered books, too.

I am back home ... for the moment.

We are between ugly storm fronts. They will definitely hit my city and my beleaguered blood center tomorrow.

But right now, I and my other fellow co-workers are safe.

Garrett, one of the 3 brothers who works with me, is doing the late shift ...

though if an out of town hospital calls, I will be called. The lone female has to take care of her two children for the night. Man, this is some day off!

BURNT OFFERINGS:

A physically challenged, abandoned girl, a mysterious Greek physician, and a Hollywood party to die for. All come together for a tale of horror, friendship, betrayal, and redemption in the tale WEDNESDAY'S CHILD.

In THE WEAK HAVE ONE WEAPON, the undead Texas Ranger, Sam McCord, travels the world, seeking justice for the murder of a teenage prostitute. The clues he finds takes him to Amsterdam, Jerusalem, and to the hidden catacombs beneath the Vatican itself. Finally, there he must come face to face with his worst nightmare.

THE DEEPEST THIRST. What is it? What do you believe it is? Captain Samuel McCord discovers on the first Samhain following Hurricane Katrina. If he does not piece the puzzle together in time, the world as we know ends.

THE WORDS FLY FREE. When you begin the evening by waking up in a morgue, you just know the rest of the night is going to suck. Captain Samuel McCord must save an undead rabbi against hopeless odds. And what does the Angel of Death want with him?

FREE for 5 days! BURNT OFFERINGS

WRITING FROM THE WARZONE:

a HURRICANE STRENGTH STORM HIT HERE BRIEFLY LAST NIGHT. POWER LINES DOWN. POWER OFF. I AM NOW AT THE CENTER, MANNING THE FORT ALONE ON AUXILLARY POWER.

IT WAS MY DAY OFF ... BUT YOU DO WHAT YOU MUST IN AN EMERGENCY.

THANK ALL OF YOU FOR BUYING BURNT OFFERINGS WHO HAVE. I WILL TRY TO COMMENT WHEN I CAN. BRIEF FLURRIES HIT UNEXPECTEDLY. WHICH IS DANGEROUS FOR NIGHT DRIVING ALONG FLOODED RURAL ROADS IN BLINDING RAIN .

IF YOU DON'T HEAR FROM ME IN A COUPLE OF DAYS, KNOW THAT I AND MY CO-WORKERS CHOSE THIS JOB BECAUSE IT SAVED LIVES. I (AND THEY) HAVE NO REGRETS.

Oh, you, my friends, have put BURNT OFFERINGS at #28 in Amazon's Sales Rankings! THANK YOU.






FREE FOR 5 DAYS ... BURNT OFFERINGS

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1342845027&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=burnt+offeringss+roland+yeomans

A physically challenged, abandoned girl, a mysterious Greek physician, and a Hollywood party to die for. All come together for a tale of horror, friendship, betrayal, and redemption in the tale WEDNESDAY'S CHILD.

In THE WEAK HAVE ONE WEAPON, the undead Texas Ranger, Sam McCord, travels the world, seeking justice for the murder of a teenage prostitute. The clues he finds takes him to Amsterdam, Jerusalem, and to the hidden catacombs beneath the Vatican itself. Finally, there he must come face to face with his worst nightmare.

THE DEEPEST THIRST. What is it? What do you believe it is? Captain Samuel McCord discovers on the first Samhain following Hurricane Katrina. If he does not piece the puzzle together in time, the world as we know ends.

THE WORDS FLY FREE. When you begin the evening by waking up in a morgue, you just know the rest of the night is going to suck. Captain Samuel McCord must save an undead rabbai against hopeless odds. And what does the Angel of Death want with him?

THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO BE AN EDITOR!

Read WEDNESDAY'S CHILD and tell me what you think of it. One editor was less than thrilled with it. Does my prose have any merit at all?

The title to the fourth story says it all: THE WORDS FLY FREE!

If you miss this chance to have these beautiful Leonora Roy's illustrations for free, you will kick yourself.

YOUR FIVE DAYS BEGIN NOW!

BURNT OFFERINGS

As Groucho once sang, “Hello, I must be going.”

I don’t do short stories anymore and haven’t for some time.

{Actually, I have doubts that I’ll be doing fiction anymore either. But more of that later.}

I have been working hard at my day and night job as a courier for rare blood. I have been dealing with the dying of my best friend with inoperable cancer. Out of the blue, an editor asked me for a short story … no guarantees, of course.

The parameters? The topic was Petulant Parables. An original story with none of my established characters from my other novels. The story had to contain a moral and be within 5,000 – 7,000 words. It had to be entertaining.

I wrote it. I submitted it. I was rejected with “I don't feel bad telling you the story doesn't fit, because the senior editor has said that same thing to me on every anthology.”

Well, I felt bad.

I had broken a personal rule: no more short stories. I felt I had jabbed myself in my own eye by not listening to my own code. I was also a bit confused.

The story contained a parable and a moral. The problem might have been the moral:

Forgiveness is something you do for yourself, loving is something you do for the other person.

It was 6,600 words long. The topic Petulant Parables was addressed. So obviously, the tale was not entertaining.

Just as obviously my short story prose is not marketable. The evidence seems to indicate that my prose as a whole is not marketable. The market is what it is.

I truly have better things to do with my time right now than clap with one hand.

So I am listing the story, WEDNESDAY’S CHILD, in the volume, BURNT OFFERINGS, for free for the next five days.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008N4QGA8

As an extra, I am including three Samuel McCord urban fantasy short stories. I started out with him. It is fitting I end with him.

It has a beautiful cover and an equally beautiful interior illustration by the truly talented Leonora Roy. It’s worth a look merely to revel in her genius.

Be my editors. Read WEDNESDAY’S CHILD and tell me what is lacking and sub-par with my work. I’m rather interested.

Thanks for sticking around with me these past months. You have enriched my world, Roland

Oh, one last thing: Sandra, if she is feeling well enough, will draw for the winners of THE ART OF MICHAEL WHELAN and the autographed photo of ROBERT DOWNEY, JR. on August 1st.

If not, I will use a random internet name selector.

My heart goes out to all the family, loved ones, and friends of those murdered in that senseless Colorado movie theater shooting.

SEX HELPS

"Sex without love is a meaningless experience,

but as far as meaningless experiences go, it's pretty damn good."

- Woody Allen

Sex does help. Just not the way we would think in our novels.

Jodi Henry once wrote an excellent post ( http://jodilhenry.blogspot.com/ )

on the subject she thought I was going to discuss : sex in literature.

A squrim-worthy topic she calls it. It is that and more because :

Sex sells.

You roll your eyes and go, "Duh!"

I mean, just look at the skyrocket sales of 50 SHADES OF GRAY and its two sequels!

Yes, sex sells ...

but not always for the reasons you might think.

Men, of course, are hard-wired to see a beautiful woman and have their hormones go into a conga line ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conga_line )

But we men are more complex than the cliches written in COSMOPILITAN.

Sex. Lust. Love.

The first two are primal instincts. The third gives birth to legend and magic.

Every writer is in much of his work. But it is not as straight-forward as that.

J.R.R. Toilken rarely, if ever, wrote love scenes. Instead, he wrote distantly of Love, the concept with which Tennyson teased but never consummated in THE IDYLLS OF THE KING.

He was a shy man, and it shows in what he chose NOT to write.

He reflected his times -- as we must reflect ours in what we write and for whom we write.

But for whom do we write? And what exactly are "our" times?

We live in a lonely age. From teenager on up, we feel outside, misunderstood, and alone -- the three labor pains that give birth to the possibility of love.

A reader is drawn to a novel by what is lacking in her/his life.

We've already touched on some of the things most people feel lacking in their lives. It can be summed up in one word : intimacy --

Sex is only the tip of that iceberg floating in the existential void of our modern times. There is much more beneath the murky surface.

How many of us feels valued, loved for who we truly are - bulges, skin blemishes, and other imperfections not withstanding?

Not many.

How many of us have such passion and fire in the night that we tingle in the morning light?

Even fewer.

Many of us settle for half-relationships, tepid gropings in the dark that leave us feeling empty, not full, the morning after.

Why is that?

In the process of love-making, we leave a bit of ourselves with the other. If we make love without feeling love, the other fails to leave a bit of themselves within us.

Inside we have become less ... not more. Do that enough times and a void is carved within us.

That is why we have become the Hollow People, seeking to fill that emptiness within with all the wrong things :

Sex without satisfaction.

Passion without permanence.

Lust wearing the mask of love.

Think of the words of John Masefield :

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Why did I quote Masefield's poem?

We all long for that handsome, beautiful Other who will tenderly stroke our cheek,

fan the fires of our passions,

and fill our hearts and head with the laughter of two souls meant for each other.

Romance. Magic. Love.

Those are the stars a winning author steers by.

Fix them to your mast, and you will never go wrong.
***
DON'T FORGET! THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH'S POSTER, T-SHIRT, AND COFFEE MUG:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746456435?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746458227?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746459635?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

***

**

eBAY has been INVADED! By VICTOR STANDISH

Alice Wentworth sat silently down beside me at my table at Meilori's.

"I am somewhat perturbed with you, Roland," she murmured in her proper Victorian accent.

Now when a ghoul, proper or not, says she is perturbed with you that is not good news!

"What do you mean?" I said out of a suddenly tight throat.

Victor sat down beside her with a lazy grin. "She saw your ads on eBAY selling our images on a poster, a coffee mug, and a T-shirt."

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746456435?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746458227?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

http://www.ebay.com/itm/290746459635?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649


Alice's voice grew lower. "You are making money off my image."

I shook my head. "I will take whatever extra I make from them than the cost of their production and donate it to the Salvation Army in New Orleans."

Her eyes widened and Victor beamed a smile. "See? I told you so. Our Roland is one of a kind!"

I patted her cold, cold hand. "I make my living from being a rare blood courier, Alice. This is just my way to get you two to a larger audience of potential readers."

Alice bent over the table and kissed me full on the lips. Now, it was Victor who was glowering at me. Sigh.

I can't win.