It is that time. I need your help to spread the word on the relaunch of My GRL. I will be posting the announcement on Tuesday, February 28th so anytime after that a post from you will be great. I will mail the material out on February 27th
The only thing you will have to do is copy a file and paste it into your native post page. I will send complete instructions with the material.
If you would like to help, please send an e-mail to:
johnhowell (dot) wave (at) gmail.com (trying to foil the spammers)
Looks like we made it. Well, another eight hours will tell the tale. What’re eight hours anyway? We did forty-eight before today, so this will be a snap. (Unless you are hanging by a frayed rope over the Grand Canyon)
Interesting week. I had to get another proof for My GRL. It seemed when I went to print stage there was a setting which I had not double checked. It was in the style set up under “normal.” For some reason, the default .o5 indent reestablished itself even though aI had set it a zero. Well, this is all too boring so let me say that when the proof arrived, I was stunned. I had to go back and redo the setup. I didn’t want to take a chance again, so I created a new document. Long story short I’m waiting for the new proof. If it is still messed up I will go ahead and launch the kindle version and follow with the paper edition since the turn around time is too long to make the March 1 date.
I’m telling you all this so that you will not even think of launching a paper edition without getting a proof copy first. This would have been a major embarrassment, and at this stage of life, I can’t afford much more.
Today’s JohnKu talks about checking your work. I hope you have a great weekend.
Lloyd and Cassidy’s last adventure was to honor a life. This time they are out to end one.
It was a normal, violent mission to Texas that should have had nothing more than beer-induced hiccups. That is until an old enemy makes off with Cassidy’s jeep and most of their gear. Needless to say, she’s pissed off and challenging Lloyd for the psychopath of the month award. With the mouthy serial killer by her side, she is going on the warpath from Dallas to Miami even if it means declaring war on the drug cartels.
So strap in for another wild ride through the Shattered States and learn why you never mess with Cassidy’s jeep.
“So your boss thought she could send assassins to kill the Riflemen,” the black-haired leader says, earning a cheer from his men. A firm smack to the prisoner’s head silences her gurgling attempt to deny the charge. “Nothing you say can prevent the inevitable. Don’t go thinking that pet serial killer will save you either. The idiot brought a paintball gun to Texas and thought he’d win a gunfight? I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. All we need to do is find the body and we can collect the bounty on him too. Guess you’re lucky that he’s wanted dead and you’re wanted alive by that warden up north.”
“I’d be careful, boss,” a sword-wielding gang member warns. She leans away from the angry glare, but rolls up her sleeve to reveal a sloppily stitched wound. “While this one isn’t as tough as her reputation says, she can still hit hard. Lost two men before we restrained her and three more are nursing broken balls. Maybe we should use some of our tranquilizer stash and keep her sedated.”
“No reason for th-” Top Hog begins as he runs his hand across the prisoner’s forehead. He rubs his fingers at the sensation of something sticky between his fingers and looks closer to figure out what he has touched. “This scar is fake. Made from glue or something. Are you sure this is Cassidy?”
“She was with Lloyd Tenay at the bar,” a one-eyed man replies in a shaky voice. He shifts from one foot to the other when everyone else takes a step away from him. “You told us to look for him and a blonde woman. She had the denim jacket, the forehead scar, cursed a lot, carried two pistols, and even has the correct tramp stamp. Everyone was calling her Cassidy after she drove up in the blue jeep too. We made sure that everything checked out, boss. Even bribed the bartender and two waitresses.”
Sweat beading on his face, Top Hog draws his large gun and presses it to the prisoner’s temple. He leans around her, his eyes repeatedly darting toward her hands to make sure they are still bound. Lifting her white shirt, he sees the unique tattoo that the widespread stories mention Cassidy getting a little less than a year ago. The design is two pistols back to back with vines of bone curling around and binding them together. A strange discoloration catches the gang leader’s attention and he rubs his thumb along the woman’s side, pushing his weapon harder against her head to prevent wiggling. He swears that he feels a seam, so he gets a dirty fingernail beneath what turns out to be a flesh-colored sticker. Top Hog yanks it off and shows it to his men, the prisoner biting her lower lip to avoid screaming. He can already see that the tattoo is smeared from where he has touched it with his meaty fingers.
Enraged and embarrassed, the gang leader is about to kill the fake Cassidy when he hears distant rock music. Within seconds, he realizes that the source is getting closer and is soon joined by maniacal laughter coming over a crackling megaphone. With a snap of his fingers, Top Hog orders one of his men to take the prisoner to his office while the others run for the exit. Nobody gets very far before a blue jeep, which has been outfitted with a wide battering ram, smashes through the front of the warehouse. The vehicle leaves a gaping hole in the wall, which is made worse by hooked chains on the rear bumper that catch and tear more of the obstacle down. The jeep continues at full speed through crates, shelving units, and the slower gang members whose deaths are celebrated by honks of the horn. Tires screech as the driver hits the brakes and gets the car to spin, the move appearing to have no purpose beyond making those inside dizzy. With an embarrassing thud, the vehicle hits the back wall and hisses to a stop.
The gang have already drawn their weapons and are cautiously approaching the jeep when the sunroof opens. Bullets fly at the blonde figure that leaps out, the projectiles creating so many holes that the top half of their target falls off. The legs of the cardboard cutout are casually tossed to the floor before the shriek of a megaphone makes everyone cringe and cover their ears. With the tattered remains laying face up, the frustrated criminals realize that they have destroyed another Cassidy decoy. They are about to inch closer when the jeep briefly roars to life and a man inside begins making engine noises. The sounds change to the exaggerated screams and detailed begging of those whose parts are still stuck to the scuffed battering ram.
“So that was your plan, Cassidy?” Top Hog asks with a chuckle. He turns to see their prisoner is trying to roll away and fires his gun into the air to stop her. “Two decoys, so that you could get the drop on us. Guess you thought more of us would get run over. You still have thirteen of my crew standing and you’re cornered in that jeep. Now, the only question is if I send a piece of you back to the Duchess as a message that she should stay out of my business. Damn northerner needs to stay out of Texas’s business.”
“Actually, that young woman was the bait and I was the distraction,” Lloyd announces from inside. With a gleeful laugh, he opens one of the doors and yanks it back when the gang shoots at him. “Well shit. That was my favorite power window button. Anyway, people make that mistake all the time. You see, bait draws you in and, at least here, allows the real predators to follow you back to the previously hidden hideout. Not even a sign to help us out, which is very rude and unaccommodating. Now, the distraction’s job is to keep you looking in one direction while a mischievous maiden of mayhem prepares her new toy somewhere else. Don’t bother running, boys, because she’ll take that as an insult.”
Top Hog and his men turn toward the hole in the wall, which has exposed them to the large parking lot. The sun forces them to squint at the lone figure standing behind a loaded mini-gun, the weapon glinting in the midday light. Clouds move across the sky, which makes it easier for the gang to identify the denim jacket and blonde hair of their enemy. They take a few shots at the distant woman, but their bullets either miss completely or bounce off several riot shields that are strapped to the weapon. A slamming car door causes them to jump, but they turn in the wrong direction and are unable to stop Lloyd from racing toward the prisoner. Wearing orange pants from his time as a prisoner and a red shirt with a lightning bolt, the black-haired serial killer seems like an obvious target as he scoops up the young woman and dives behind a box of grenades. Suddenly afraid for their lives, Top Hog and his men attempt to scatter and hunt for cover.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
There are a number of activities taking place for Mystery Thriller Week. Here is the link for a listing of today’s events. You can also use this link going forward on all events from now until February 22. https://mysterythrillerweek.com/online-calendar-of-events/
I will be leading a discussion on Facebook. The subject will be Character Participation in Story Development. I hope to have a lively interchange on how characters can influence the storyline.
The discussion begins at 9:00 EST and runs until 10:00 EST. Hope to “see” you there. Here is the link.
Keith explains this prompt i n his own words. “Using this photo (below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr 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 came to me when I inadvertently sent a text to the wrong person. Lucky there was nothing in the text that might be embarrassing but caused my fiction mind to go into overdrive. I hope you enjoy it.
Top Ten Things Not to Do When Texting
10 When texting, do not use acronyms that you don’t understand. If you do, at best you might be misunderstood. At worst, you may shock the receiver with your lack of social grace. (You thought WTF meant “Why the Fuss,” didn’t you, Ferd? Too bad Nun Mary Teresa was the recipient of your misunderstanding.)
9 When texting, check to whom you are sending the message. If you don’t, at best your message will provide some laughs. At worst, that disparaging comment about Tiny the WWF champ’s mother will go right to him by mistake. (You could have sworn you were messaging your best friend only to discover you replied to Tiny’s last text to you where he threatened to break your leg. Don’t look but he’s heading toward you now, Buford.)
8 When texting, do not rely on auto-correct to cover your mistakes. If you do, at best you will need to explain that last text. At worst, you just sent a group text to the garden club where you explained that the male Pinto plant needed to be placed inside a moist verdant vessel. (Well, that sure didn’t come out the way you intended did it, Alice?)
7 When texting, do not rely on voice to text as a time saver. If you do, at best your numerous repeats will make it a longer process. At worst, your voice recognition program only understands Cambridge English and you are from New Jersey. (Good luck with that bit of technology, Bunky. BTW Homeland Security thinks you want to blow something up.)
6 When texting, do not include a duck-faced or tongue-out selfie with an obscene gesture thrown in. If you do, at best you’ll demonstrate your lack of originality and IQ. At worst, your selfie will be passed from phone to phone until it ends up with your boss. (That call from HR can’t be good huh, Bosco?)
5 When texting, do not send pictures of your food. If you do, at best folks will think you need a hobby. At worst, you will demonstrate a cry for help that needs intervention. (How is that good feelings camp treating you, Tex?)
4 When Texting, do not use the technology with wish someone a happy Valentine’s day as your only effort. If you do, at best you’ll never have a relationship with that person. At worst, the resultant storm will not be assuaged without some very expensive make-up gifts. (Seemed like an easy way out huh, Pard?)
3 When texting, do not use emojis to express what should be said in person or in words. If you do, at best you’ll be seen as an automaton. At worst, you will receive emojis back that have at the core a message telling you to place your phone in a very dark place. (You don’t know where those emojis came from do you, Buster?)
2 When texting, do not do it while in a social situation. If you do, at best you will look up and find yourself alone. At worst, the rest of the group will take your action as disinterest in the event or them and ignore you for the rest of the evening. (Let’s hope you even notice, Clod.)
1 When texting, do not drive a car or operate machinery. If you do, at best you’ll escape with no consequences. At worst, you’ll hurt someone with your negligence. (You’ll have to live with that the rest of your life, Dope.)
This week saw the annual Animal Rehabilitation Keep sale and auction. This event is always well received since the items offered for sale are those that have washed up on the beach throughout the year. It is hard to believe that these items were at one time floating in the Gulf. Just looking at them brings up stories in the mind. (Well, at least to a fiction writer.) I have selected some photos of the more unusual items.
This first picture will give you an idea of the interest in the sale
This is a shot of some of the buoys that have been found. There is also some electric lights that have fallen off oil rigs.
No one should be surprised by a kayak getting free but a boat ladder? Also, notice the old dugout canoe remnant.
Some more floats, buoys and an ice chest.
Here is a photo of a beautiful piece of rope. Those colorful balls in the background are floats.
I had to laugh at the shovel collection and imagined some guy somewhere pitching his shovel into the Gulf claiming accident.
Here in Texas, we get a lot of dross from Louisiana. Looks like a fence got washed away for the bayou.
Life preservers are a big item. One hopes they were not on someone at one time but just floated free.
Of course, balls get away and make their way to land. Can you say, Wilson?
The last is a photo of the chief scientist at the Animal Rehabilitation Keep, Tony Amos. He is a treasure and is decked out in red and a black hat.
So that you understand the nature of what is going on here, I have to quote Linda Hill on this week’s prompt. “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “so/sow/sew.” Use one, use ’em all, use ’em any way you’d like. Bonus points if you start and end with any of them. Enjoy! So” I hope everyone noticed I began this post with “so.”
Now I ask you is this freedom or what? If you would like to join in the fun go to Linda’s post. Here is the link.
“It is about a young man who left his home to seek his fortune.”
“That sounds familiar what it the name.”
“Go West Young Man.”
“Hmmm. I’m familiar with the saying by Horatio Alger, but that title escapes me.”
“Cause I just put it on paper.”
“Oh. I get it. It is a story you are writing.”
“Man. Hard to put stuff past you.”
“Now don’t be contrary. Can I read it?”
“It’s not finished. Maybe when it’s done.”
“Read me a line.”
“Okay how about the opening line?”
“Super go.”
“It was a dark and stormy night.”
“Wait. You’re kidding right?”
“Okay. I’ll read the real first line. Ahem. ‘Jacob felt he could so no further. His bones ached from the fear and weight of what he had to do. All along his father told him not to go, and now that he ignored him, Jacob could feel the karma slide like a wet snake up his back and feel the heat on his neck. He could smell the stench of the payback that was about to be his.”‘
“Go on. This sounds great.”
“He decided to lay his burden down and face whatever was in store.”
“What burden?”
“It’s a metaphor for his guilt. Shall I continue?”
“Please.”
“The sow had to weigh hundreds of pounds, and the yoke of wagon pressed into his shoulders. He must find a place to rest, or surely he will fall to the ground and not be in a condition to escape. He stopped at a tree and there an old man called his name.”
“How did the old man know his name?”
“You sound like a reviewer. Just wait.
‘Jacob,’ he called.
Jacob stopped gazing at the man with his brow furrowed. ‘You know my name, old man.’
‘I do.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘I know your father. He sent me to find you.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘To see if you have finished your foolish task which you set out to do. “Sew your wild oats.” is how I believe you explained it to your father.”‘
“‘Wild oats.’ What the heck does that mean?”
“Experience what life has to offer. I think I’ve read enough.”
“No, I want to hear more.”
“Okay. Let me read one more line. ‘Your father has instructed me to warn you to return to the homestead so. . .'”
And here it is, that beautiful day of the week that we look forward to starting Monday morning. Yes, it is Friday. Only about eight hours until we hit the freedom trail. I hope you will have a restful and re-energizing weekend.
This week was pretty busy. I was able to get my paper version of My GRL up on CreateSpace and am waiting for the proof copy which is due to arrive Tuesday. (In time for Valentine’s day.) Once the proof is approved, it is off to the races. The Kindle version is ready to publish as well, so the paper and Kindle will go up at the same time. I’m not sure how much promo I’ll be doing, but there will certainly be a post with the announcement.
This week’s JohnKu talks about looking forward to spring. Although we had temps in the 80’s this week, we are not quite there yet. Punxsutawney Phil predicts six more weeks of winter. I hope you enjoy it. (The JohnKu not the winter)
I was very pleased to receive a nomination from Steve Boseley for a Versatile Blogger Award. Although I don’t normally do awards, I was touched by the fact that Steve considered me for the award. You see, Steve is a very accomplished blogger and his place makes mine look like a cardboard box under a freeway overpass. He is worth a visit, and the link is right HERE. I want to thank Steve for the nomination.
Here are the rules for the award:
Display Award – Done
Thank blogger(s) who nominated you & provide a link to their blog – Done
Write 7 things about yourself – See below
Nominate Bloggers – See below
Seven Things About Myself
1 I write every day of the week
2 I watch TV one hour every evening
3 My favorite show is The Blacklist
4 My taste in music runs from classical to rock
5 I have never jumped out of an airplane, out of a window, or off a bridge ( Not that circumstances didn’t warrant such action.)
6 My favorite city is San Francisco
7 May favorite food is pasta with wine. (Yes I consider wine a food group.)
Nominate Bloggers.
Here is the hard part and one of the reasons I don’t usually do awards. So what I normally do is choose all my followers. I used to be able to list all five, but now since I don’t want to slight any of you I’ll just have to leave it with YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Thanks to you all.
