I am in Nashville Indiana to attend the High School graduation of my granddaughter. This week’s Views of the Neighborhood will give you a small taste of the town.
On the outskirts is the Bean Blossom overlook
Spectacular view.
Another View.
The reason for the trip. My Summa Cum Laude grandaughter. Pay no attention to that old guy beside her.
The state bank building which is now a shop.
A view of the main street.
The county courthouse.
A memorial to those who gave their lives in service to America.
It is Stream of Consciousness Saturday time again. This weeks prompt is “start with a noun.” Linda Hill describes the exercise as starting the post with a noun and then base the post on the noun. Sounds fun. If you would like to join in, go to Linda’s place and read how. Here is the link
Another week in the history books. I hope it was a good one for you. As you may know, Gwen Plano and I are in the process of launching our collaboration titled The Contract. There will be a lot of information about the book during the launch, so there is no need in publishing another launch announcement here.
Gwen and I are so grateful for all the volunteers who have stepped forward to offer assistance. I will be reblogging each as they occur and it is hoped you can visit them and enjoy.
Today’s JohnKu talks about the kind of support being offered by the wonderful bloggers in our universe.
It is Wednesday Story Day time again. Last week we were blessed with a visit from Gloria, Larry’s departed spouse. She advised Larry to take a re-look at the Sandusky case and to start living his life without her. Larry asked Micki if the visit of Gloria was real. Although Micki did not give Larry an answer, I think we all believe it was real. I see that Larry has left the fortune-telling shop and is going back to work. Let’s join him as he arrives in the detective bullpen.
“Hey, Schmidt. Can I talk to you in private?”
“Sure, Larry.”
“Let’s go in my office where we and have a conversation.”
“Lead the way, boss.”
“Close the door will you please.’
“This sounds serious, Boss. Am I in trouble?”
“No nothing like that. I need to bring you into a case I’ve been working on.”
“Whew. You had me going for a minute.”
“Schmidt you are the best I have. Your only problem is you don’t see yourself the same way.”
“Yeah, well maybe it was getting the crap beat out of me by my old man that made me a little insecure.”
“Well, whatever it is, you can dump it cause I think you’re the best.”
“Man. You’re going to make me tear up. So, what’s this case anyway?”
“It’s a cold case, and I’ve been struggling with it for about the last couple of months.”
“I don’t recall a cold case we’ve been working on.”
“That’s just it. I stumbled across this case while I was working the Sherman homicide.”
“Boy, you nailed that one.”
“Got lucky. Anyway, for some reason, a file got attached to the Sherman fille. I thought it was more information on Sherman until I looked at it.”
“File? What file?”
“The case is labeled Sandusky, and it goes back ten years.”
“Ten years. Holy shit. You mean this is a very cold case.”
“At first I just left it on my desk while I was getting the goods on that slimeball Sherman. Then a funny thing. Every morning I came into the office that damn file was sitting on top of anything I left the night before.”
“On top? Like someone put it there.”
“Exactly. At first, I thought I had left it like that but then came to realize I never opened the file since when I first found it. I made a concerted effort at night to put the file under the stack. Well, guess what?”
“Don’t tell me the file was on top the next morning?”
“Yup. Made the hair on my neck stand up.”
“I would have thrown it away.”
“That’s just it. I didn’t want to get rid of it. It was like it became a part of me.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I sat down and gave the file a detailed read.”
“And?”
“Spooky shit I’ll tell you.”
“What kind of spooky shit?”
“Well I can give you all the details later but as a condensed version, think of a guy being murdered without a trace of any wound.”
“Aw come on. He had a heart attack or stroke.”
“Not according to the ME report.”
“So, what killed him?”
“His heart was missing.”
“What? Now, wait a minute. He had no heart and no wound where the heart should be.”
In Keith’s words. “Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”
The inspiration for this list was a trip to Phoenix Arizona this weekend to attend the birthday party of my best friend.
10 If you are an author out-of-town, do not try to keep up with your e-mails. If you do, at best in your haste you’ll trash many e-mails that you want to read. At worst, you will delete your entire e-mail account including the copy of the publishing contract and acceptance letter from Simon & Schuster. (They wanted to hear from you in a week, Eduardo. Oh well, maybe the next book.)
9 If you are an author out-of-town, do not think Tiny the WWF champ is going to excuse you taking all the armrest space on the flight as you work on the next draft of your book on your computer. If you do, at best you may lose the feeling in that arm. At worst, the plane will be diverted to an alternate airport as the Air Marshals attempt to subdue Tiny who keeps yelling something about “limb from limb.” (You never knew Tiny had such an uneasy feeling about an arm in his face did you, Ellis?)
8 If you are an author out-of-town, do not start reading the hijack scene from your book during your flight. If you do at best, your whisper will be unheard. At worst, some well-meaning passenger will have you in a hammerlock before you can explain. ( I think it was the part about “this plane is under control of the Taliban empire that got the guy upset don’t you, Esteban?)
7 If you are an author out-of-town, do not try your latest dialog on a fellow bar patron. If you do, at best you will be met with stony silence. At worst, the patron will think you are handing out a pick-up line and your face might be met with the business end of a gin and tonic. (Wow that was a surprise, huh Emilio? I think the bouncer is headed your way.)
6 If you are an author out-of-town, do not think you can openly try to explain your next book to a hapless passenger waiting for a flight in the terminal. If you do, at best you might recognize the eye glaze in enough time to avert embarrassment. At worst, You will have gone one step over the line and your victim will be anxiously trying to get the attention of the security folks. (Looks like the story might need a bit of rework, Edison.)
5 If you are an author out-of-town, do not try to place a few of your books on the airport newsstand in the terminal next to a famous author. If you do, at best they won’t get tossed. At worst, the customer who picks up one of your books suddenly discovers they meant to get the famous author and now demands their money back. (It seems they are quite vocal, Eliot. The clerk cannot find the stock number in the register and the security is headed this way.)
4 If you are an author out-of-town, do not try to crash another author’s signing just because you don’t think anyone will recognize you. If you do, at best you will be asked to leave quietly. At worst, your next door neighbor just happens to walk in and wonders loudly why you are there. (Looks like the author has noticed you there in the back of the room, Ewan. Looks like he is not pleased and maybe you should have not picked an ex SEAL’s party to crash.)
3 If you are an author out-of-town, do not try to create a new story out of the location of your stay if it is a commonplace. If you do, at best it will be a dead-end story. At worst, once the story is finished you will realize how boring the location really is. (Would have been nice to discover this earlier huh, Elgin.)
2 If you are an author out-of-town, don’t think you have to write every sight and conversation in your notebook. If you do, at best you will miss a real experience. At worst, the guy you have been profiling might suddenly catch on. ( You have awakened a sleeping giant, Egan. Too bad the giant is in a witness protection program due to testifying against a mob boss and thinks you made him.)
1 If you are an author out-of-town, do not miss your flight while trying to get that last paragraph critical to your story written. If you do, at best there is another flight in an hour. At worst, you just missed the last flight and now must spent the night in the terminal. (Looks like the only spot to sleep is the floor, Errol. I don’t like the looks of that guy in the hoodie. Do you?)
I know it is a little odd to see a guest post on the day I usually run a Views of the Neighborhood. I’ve done this for two reasons. 1. My friend Mae Clair is launching a new book and I want to help spread the word. 2. I am in Phoenix this weekend with no opportiunity to capture some sights there. So I am proud to turn my blog over to Mae Clair.
Many thanks for having me as your guest today, John! I’ve been making the rounds with my new mystery/suspense release, Cusp of Night, a book that uses dual timelines and elements of the supernatural.
For the past timelines, I delve into aspects of Spiritualism in the late 19th Century. This was a time when sham mediums were so common many of them advertised their services in the classified ads of local papers. People were intrigued by oddities, flocking to any traveling circus or sideshow, lured by promises of seeing three-legged men, conjoined twins, or bearded women. Is it any wonder they believed someone could breach the Aether and connect with spirits in Summerland?
Some mediums of the day were magicians, others genuine, still others, charlatans. The frauds were deft in plying their trade and used multiple trick to swindle their customers. Below are just a few of the most popular:
A medium would research the background of “sitters” who planned to attend their séances. This included visiting cemeteries to learn family ancestry and asking seemingly innocent questions of townspeople to garner inside information.
Mediums often had trap doors and sliding panels installed in the rooms they used for séances. This allowed assistants, made up with costumes and wigs, to appear from the darkness in the guise of spirits summoned from the grave.
Other times, a medium might use balloons, painted with faces. These would bob from the darkness on invisible wires or would be held by assistants cloaked head to toe in black. Sitters would take the ghostly representatives as the embodiment of departed loved ones.
A skilled medium—many had honed their trades as magicians or ventriloquists—could throw their voice to make a disembodied balloon (or other object) seem a spectre from beyond the grave.
Cheesecloth was often used to create “ectoplasm.” Mediums concealed this in their mouth or other body cavity (yes, even intimate ones) to produce ghostly manifestations. In later years, mediums would strip nude, allowing themselves to be probed to make certain nothing was hidden anywhere. The skilled still had a way of getting around these examinations.
A medium easily produced “table tilting”—a common trick spirits employed to announce their presence—through use of a hook attached to a belt or a foot. Invisible wires were common ploys to produce everything from ringing bells and chimes to having objects soar through a dark room.
Charlatans knew what they were doing, but Lucinda Glass, the medium in my book, had to learn the tricks of the trade to rise above the circumstances of her birth. She’s mentored by a man who is determined to make her the toast of society. Unfortunately, not all turns out as planned.
Here’s the blurb:
BLURB
Recently settled in Hode’s Hill, Pennsylvania, Maya Sinclair is enthralled by the town’s folklore, especially the legend about a centuries-old monster. A devil-like creature with uncanny abilities responsible for several horrific murders, the Fiend has evolved into the stuff of urban myth. But the past lives again when Maya witnesses an assault during the annual “Fiend Fest.” The victim is developer Leland Hode, patriarch of the town’s most powerful family, and he was attacked by someone dressed like the Fiend.
Compelled to discover who is behind the attack and why, Maya uncovers a shortlist of enemies of the Hode clan. The mystery deepens when she finds the journal of a late nineteenth-century spiritualist who once lived in Maya’s house–a woman whose ghost may still linger.
Known as the Blue Lady of Hode’s Hill due to a genetic condition, Lucinda Glass vanished without a trace and was believed to be one of the Fiend’s tragic victims. The disappearance of a young couple, combined with more sightings of the monster, trigger Maya to join forces with Leland’s son Collin. But the closer she gets to unearthing the truth, the closer she comes to a hidden world of twisted secrets, insanity, and evil that refuses to die . . .
It is Saturday Stream of Consciousness time again. This weeks prompt is an unusual one. Linda Hill says we should choose our favorite word and then write a post about it. I think the challenge here is selecting a word that is a favorite and appropriate to share on a family blog. That eliminates my first selection immediately. By the way, if you would like to partake in this happiness go to Linda’s blog and read all about it. Here is the link.
“Of all the damn words in this world you have to wander into mine.”
“What does that suppose to mean?”
“Peaceful. You could have picked any other word. But no, you pick peaceful.”
“I’m still not getting it. What’s the problem?”
“That is my word.”
“Okay, you need to explain that one. How can peaceful be your word?”
“When I was born, my parents said I was a peaceful child. When my teachers talked about me, they used the word peaceful to describe my behavior. My spouse counts on me to be peaceful in times of stress.”
“Anything else?”
“My dog appreciates the fact that I’m peaceful.”
“Okay I get all that but why can’t we share the word?”
“Share? You want to share? You who wouldn’t even let me borrow a hammer. You now want to share?”
“For heaven’s sake. I’ll just pick another word.”
“Oh no, you don’t. You can just pick another word and deny me the right of granting you a license to use ‘peaceful.'”
“A license? You don’t sound like someone described as peaceful.”
“You want to use the word or not?”
“I think I’m almost out of time here. It may be a moot point.”
“You can’t use ‘moot’ either.”
“Huh? Where is that coming from?”
“I have the copyright on the word ‘moot’ as well as ‘peaceful.”‘
“You are kidding me.”
“A ton of others too.”
“Who issued these copyrights?”
“The copyright office. I sent a manuscript to them with 100,000 words and they issued me a copyright.”
“You didn’t get the words in the manuscript copyrighted. You got the manuscript that has the words in it copyrighted.”
“Looks like splitting hairs to me. I can let you use ‘moot’ for a nominal fee.”
“I think you have slipped a gear or two.”
“‘Slipped’ and ‘gear’ are both copyrighted.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Copyrighted.”
“Okay, how much to use peaceful?”
“You have to use it with another word so there will be no confusion with mine.”
“What other word?”
“Tomato.”
“Tomato?”
“Yes either before or after but in no case are the words ‘tomato’ and ‘peaceful’ to be used separately.”
“This is silly. Peaceful tomato or tomato peaceful? Who is going to understand that combination.”
Another week has passed. I have often wondered if we all consciously attempt to put in the best week possible. By that I mean do we continually strive to fill the week with the kind of accomplishments that we will be proud to say we finished. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I’m just happy to have the week done. This is usually because of a specific challenge that has taken more energy than initially anticipated. It is that kind of week where I’m embarrassed to take stock of the progress of whatever it is I’m working on.
I tend to write the week off and hope the next will be better. I wonder how many times I have done that very thing. I know when I’m editing I tend to believe I’m accomplishing nothing. I know in my head that I am getting things done, but in my heart, I still feel less than stellar about the progress.
The one thing that really gives me the feeling that I deserve a gold star is when I have a good week of writing on my WIP. There can be no denying that a congratulation is well-earned. Why is it then that even though I do seven blog posts a week and handle over one hundred and eighty e-mails a day, none of that work gets classified as accomplished in my mind? Let’s not even mention the one hundred Tweets and thanks daily as well. Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram time? Forget it. Nothing seems to count but WIP productivity.
What the hell. Am I sick or What?
Todays JohnKu wonders about Social media productivity. Have a great weekend.
Peaceful.
BLURB
