Primarily set in the northern Bahamas, this book weaves its story of post-apocalyptic survival into the local sub-tropical seascape and the sailing culture that can be found there. With its evocative use of real locations haunted by zombie-like infected and atmospheric depictions of the trials of life at sea drawn from the author’s own experiences, For Those In Peril On The Sea provides a new and unusual take on the traditional post-apocalyptic genre.
For Those in Peril on the Sea: Click on Book Cover to Buy on Amazon
After a six week voyage across the Atlantic, they couldn’t wait to get to shore. When they got there, they found the land would never be safe again…
There was nothing to suggest it would be anything more than a routine delivery. Four people thrown together by chance, sailing a newly-built catamaran from South Africa to Miami. But while they were away, something happened, something none of them could ever have imagined. When they get back to civilization, they find it no longer exists. The land is no longer safe. Their only option is to stay on the boat and try to survive.
Join Bill, Rob, Jon and CJ as they travel around their frightening new world. One where they must struggle against the infected that now rule the land, the elements and each other.
About the Author:
As a marine biologist, Colin M. Drysdale has spent plenty of time at sea with no land in sight but he is always glad when he finally gets back to shore. This novel is inspired by a thought that often plagues him during his voyages. What would he do if something happened while he was away and he could never go back?
Review:
Consider this: You’ve been hired to deliver a boat from South Africa to Miami. You begin your journey across the Atlantic with a small crew of four. All goes well until a horrific storm blows in and strips you of your communication systems. You are completely cut-off from the world for weeks.
It is a long tedious passage and you are anxious to enter the harbor of Miami, only when you arrive there is nothing left. Miami is burning to the ground and the people that you see on shore no longer resemble anything human, but rather gross imitations that growl and snarl at you. The decision is made to continue on to another harbor only to find the same.
The world as you knew it six weeks ago has been forced to its knees by a disease that has ravaged mankind turning them into mindless, flesh devouring beasts. This is the situation that Colin M. Drysdale has place his characters, Bill, Rob, Jon, and CJ in, and it seems that they will be exiled to the sea forever—otherwise they will fall victim to the man-eating monsters that prowl the shores. How will they survive? Is there anyone else out there?
For Those in Peril at Sea by Colin M. Drysdale was a gripping tale of loss, triumph, heartache victories, but mostly the will to survive in a new world with so many challenges. The book was intriguing, and sometimes terrifying enough that I had put it down so that I could absorb what I had read. Mr. Drysdale’s writing is smooth and wonderfully descriptive. He has an impressive knowledge of boats, sailing, and of faraway lands.
For Those in Peril at Sea is a terrific read, but be forewarned it is not necessarily for the vanilla reader. Mr. Drysdale’s accounts can be very graphic—which is a testament to his amazing writing skills, but some may find the scenes upsetting. I look forward to reading and reviewing more books by Colin M. Drysdale. 5 STARS!
Reviewed by Cindy McDonald
About the Reviewer:
Cindy McDonald is the author of the Unbridled series, featuring the West Family, who own a Thoroughbred horse farm in Pennsylvania. She was was born and raised in the Pittsburgh, Pa area. For 26 years she was a professional choreographer,she taught ballet, jazz, and tap. During that time she choreographed many musicals and an opera for the Pittsburgh Savoyards. Most recently she has retired to write her novels. She resides with her husband on their Thoroughbred farm know as Fly By Night Stables near Pittsburgh. Here latest UnBridled Book is Against the Ropes, scheduled for realise on June 1. To learn more about her book series and to read excerpts from her upcoming books, please visit her website: www.cindymcwriter.com
Sometimes I think I get as excited as the author when a new book is released. Really, that is not true. It can’t be true. No one can be as excited as the author when their first book comes out. But, I do get very excited–therefore, I need to spread the news far and wide. So here goes:
Close Ups & Close Encounters contains over 50 full-color photos and a selection of stories from her life as a wildlife photographer. (Click on Book Cover to Purchase on Amazon)
Acorn Book Services has released a new book by wildlife photographer S.J. Brown! This book is a grand read for nature buffs–or even not so nature buffs–of all ages. Containing 60 full-color photographs and stories from S.J. Brown’s life as a wildlife photographer, Close Ups and Close Encounters: A View from Behind the Lens makes the reader want to go out to spy a playful pachyderm (my favorite chapter). The print version is available now. EBook version will be on sale in a matter of days.
On a whim, S. J. Brown decided to embark on a career in wildlife photography. Armed with an inexpensive 35mm camera and a love for the natural world, her adventure began. Accompanied by her spotter and husband, she ventured to a variety of locations.
The couple soon learned that there was more to this than just camera settings, lighting, and getting the right angle. Not all wildlife is agreeable to having their picture taken, and many are not easily accessible.
Camera in hand, S. J. Brown encountered delicate butterflies, bears, birds, deer, wild horses, and more. Along the way, there are successes and failures, cooperative critters, curious subjects, and some close calls.
As a wildlife photographer S. J. Brown took her cues from her subjects. Their body language let her know when to step in for a closer shot and when to back away. When she was out in the field, she strove to observe and record not to interfere. The exception to this rule is when people pose a threat to wildlife; then she will take time to relocate a road dwelling critter to its location. Brown has saved snapper turtles from soup and other creatures from the taunts and teases of unwise humans, but she will not interfere with Mother Nature’s food chain unless it involves a domestic animal pursuing a wild creature. With this in mind, she has sent many a cat away from a bird feeder and saved many a squirrel from a curious canine.
S. J. Brown’s book Close Ups & Close Encounters features over fifty of her wildlife photographs as well as the stories behind getting those images. S. J. Brown’s photographs and written words are her way of sharing her experiences. Introducing others, such as her granddaughter, to the field is one of her primary goals and loves. She hopes her work will give others an appreciation for the natural world.
S.J. Brown getting a close up and possibly having a close encounter. Click on photo to visit S.J. Brown’s website.
About the Author
Over the years, S. J. Brown has played with a number of artistic venues. Her love of the written word began in high school English class and continues on today, but it is not her only artistic endeavor. Prior to becoming an author, Brown has experimented with sketching, stained glass, and even ran ceramic business for several years.
Her love of wildlife photography began on a whim with an inexpensive 35mm camera, a few rolls of film, and a passion for nature. Quickly, her everyday life and wildlife photography became entwined. Somehow, even with a husband, a job, and household responsibilities, photographing found a place in the mix.
Murder: A New Way to Lose Weight creates a new perspective on weight loss. You’ll think twice before you start your next diet or try another weight loss product.
Murder: A New Way to Lose Weight, J.L. Gregor’s latest, will be available April 10.
Five reasons for reading Murder: A New Way to Lose Weight.
1. A great plot and fast pacing.
Someone in this southwestern medical school doesn’t like women. Two have been murdered already. Linda Almquist suspects the deaths are related to her investigation of Dr. Richard Varegos, a “diet doctor.” He is alleged to be recklessly endangering the lives of his obese research subjects. Maybe she’s wrong. The murders might be related to something in the past – something involving her boss the Dean. While Linda fears for her job, the police fear for her life
2. Facts
The National Institutes of Health estimate that one-third of American adults are obese and one third are overweight. That means most Americans are interested in (or should be interested in) weight control and how diet advice is developed.
The “diet doctor” in Murder: A New Way to Lose Weight is investigating whether he can help obese subject lose more weight (and keep it off) if he alters their gut flora. Sounds strange to you? But it is an active area of research on weight control.
Author J.L. Gregor and Bug. Click on Photo to visit J.L. Gregor’s website.
3. Diverse and complex characters
I was a researcher and a research administrator at universities. In this novel, I tried to give readers a behind the scenes view of a medical schools – the excitement of scientific research and the infighting and pecking order among brilliant and not-so-bright faculty and staff.
Linda Almquist, who seldom even smiled, laughed.
Richard Varegos had done it again. He had arranged books and a computer on the front counter of the hospital pavilion for a photo shoot. In the resulting glossy, full-color flyer, he sat with at his make-believe teak desk in his supposedly marble-walled office. She read the flyer’s title: THE DIET DOCTOR HAS ANSWERS FOR YOUR WEIGHT PROBLEMS.
Was there no end to his ego?
4. Reviewers’ comments
You do want read this medical mystery… Scary shenanigans in the medical research field, so possible. Virginia Reaves, freelance writer
Linda and Sara are back, this time involved in a plot with plenty of twists and turns and a good deal of wry humor. A fun read, great believable characters and a real sense of place. Marilyn Olsen, President of Public Safety Writers Association
Coming Flu is available now. Click on Book Cover to buy on Amazon.
5. It includes a lovable dog Bug and is the sequel to my first novel Coming Flu
My own Japanese Chinn dog Bug is the only “non-fictional” character in this novel and it prequel Coming Flu. For more information on my books, Bug, and me, please check out my website (www.jlgreger.com) and blog (http//www.jlgregerblog.blogspot.com) called JL Greger’s Bugs.
Who knows, maybe you’ll lose weight when you read about the adventures of Linda Almquist in Murder: A New Way to Lose Weight. Linda did and you can too if you follow her secrets. Eat less and exercise more. Of course you won’t have the same incentives (I hope) that she did.
Well, it has been six weeks since the Blast from the Past Virtual Tour was launched and it has been a Blast! (pun intended)
Blast from the Past is Lauren Carr’s fourth book in the Mac Faraday Mysteries. Click on cover to download from Amazon.
We blasted off here at Literary Wealth with a profile for Blast from the Past, the latest Mac Faraday Mystery, which has been receiving rave reviews from everyone. Thank you, everyone, who has emailed me.
Gnarly and I had a lot of fun writing the guest post for Melissa’s Mochas, Mysteries, and More. And then, telling the story of how Gnarly came to be in Buried Under Books was a special treat. This post included a picture of the real Gnarly, who is finally housebroken. It’s been an adventurous six weeks!
I do want to thank everyone for their help on this tour as we bring it to a close …
What’s that? could there possibly be someone out there reading this who has not heard of Blast from the Past, the latest Mac Faraday Mystery? Well, fasten your seat belts and let’s take off again!
In Blast from the Past, Mac Faraday finds himself up to his eyeballs in mobsters and federal agents.
After an attempted hit ends badly with two of his men dead, mobster Tommy Cruze arrives in Spencer, Maryland, to personally supervise the execution of the witness responsible for putting him behind bars—Archie Monday!
Mac Faraday believes he has his work cut out for him in protecting his lady love from one of the most dangerous leaders in organized crime; but when bodies start dropping in his lakeshore resort town of Spencer, Maryland, things may be hotter than even he can handle.
In this fourth installment in the Mac Faraday Mysteries, readers learn more about Archie Monday’s past in a flash—as in a gun fight when the syndicate comes to town. Readers love to be surprised. In Blast from the Past, they are going to be surprised to discover the secret of Archie Monday’s past, which threatens her and Mac’s future.
Blast from the Past also takes the Mac Faraday Mysteries to a new level as his relationship with Archie Monday moves onto a whole new level. Readers have been clamoring for Mac and Archie to get together for three books.
What about Gnarly, Mac Faraday’s canine inheritance—the only German shepherd to be dishonorably discharged from the United States Army? Well, it’s not a Mac Faraday Mystery without Gnarly. Let’s just say Gnarly kicks things up a notch in his own way.
Book Excerpt:
Spencer, Maryland – Deep Creek Lake – Present Day
“Gnarly, it’s time for to go to your appointment.”
Lovely in her soft grey Chanel suit, rose-colored blouse, and stylish pumps, Archie Monday, assistant to the late Robin Spencer, hurried up the stairs to the second floor of Spencer Manor and down the hallway to the master suite. The rose leather clutch bag under her arm was a perfect match for the fedora she wore over her pixie-styled blonde hair.
“Gnarly, are you in here?” She threw open the double doors to find the German shepherd sitting in the suite’s bathroom doorway. “There you are. It’s time to go.” She gestured for the dog to come to her.
Instead of obeying his favorite human, Gnarly whined and turned his attention back to the happenings inside the other room.
“Go where?” Mac Faraday called out to her from the bathroom.
She crossed the width of the suite to peer in at him. The sight that greeted her wasn’t what she had expected from the son of Robin Spencer, whose roots were as blue-blood as they come.
The clichéd appearance of a wealthy man calls for him to be tall, dark, and handsome—maybe ruggedly handsome—and at the very least, well-groomed. A man of wealth is best able to achieve this requirement by hiring others—like plumbers—to do the dirty work.
Two years after his inheritance allowed him to retire from his career as a homicide detective, Mac Faraday had chosen to ignore that rule.
His middle-class upbringing had a different rule: If you can do it yourself—no matter how dirty the job—it’s a waste of money to hire someone else to do it for you.
Determination had drawn Mac’s handsome face into a scowl. His blue eyes were narrowed into slits focused on the toilet in which he was plunging away. Water splashed upwards to spill over the sides and drenched the lower half of his sweatpants down to his bare feet.
Even in this less than glamorous setting, Archie did find his arm and chest muscles, bulging from the workout, appealing. When Mac yanked the plunger up from out of the toilet, in the process splattering the water across his firm stomach and down the front of his pants, she reconsidered that assessment. Maybe not that appealing after all. She asked, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“Why?”
“It’s stopped up.” He shook the dripping plunger in Gnarly’s direction. “And I have a feeling I know who did it.”
Uttering a whine, Gnarly moved to hide behind Archie’s legs.
She jumped to the shepherd’s defense. “Why are you blaming Gnarly? He doesn’t use the toilet. You’re the only one who uses this toilet.”
“You’ve used it.” Mac reminded her of her frequent nights spent with him in the master suite. “Maybe I should blame you.”
She folded her arms across her bosom. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
“That’s why I’m blaming Gnarly.” He again pointed the plunger at the dog. “Look at him. Do you see that guilty expression on his face? He’s done something, and I suspect it has to do with this toilet.”
“Even if he did drop something into it, how did he flush it?” She giggled. “Mac, he’s a dog.”
The phone on the bed stand rang before Mac could come up with a response. “Answer that, will you?” He returned to his plunging.
“I need to take Gnarly to the groomer,” she called in to him while trotting to the king-sized bed that they had been sharing.
Mac Faraday had inherited the mansion from Robin Spencer, who, as an unwed teenager, had given him up at birth. However, his late mother had stipulated that her research assistant and editor, Archie Monday, was permitted to live in the stone guest cottage tucked away in the rose garden for as long as she wanted.
The beautiful green-eyed blonde had come with the house, and Mac Faraday was in no hurry for her to move out … nor was she in any hurry to leave.
Spencer’s police chief David O’Callaghan didn’t sound his usual jovial self when Archie answered the phone. After a quick hello, he asked for Mac.
“David, you sound terrible,” she observed.
“My weekend’s been shot,” he replied. “One of my cruisers was stolen last night.”
“Are you serious?”
Mac came into the bathroom doorway. “What’s wrong?”
She told him, “One of David’s police cruisers got stolen.”
David told her the reason for his call. “Tell Mac that I’m going to miss the game this afternoon. I need to fill out a ton of reports and find out how someone was able to break into our garage to steal a police cruiser.” He added, “Our guys are going to be the laughing stock of the state for this.”
In Archie’s other ear, Mac was asking, “Does he need any help finding the scum who stole it?”
“It was probably some bored teenagers pulling a prank,” she told them both.
“Committing a felony doesn’t make for a very good prank,” they told her in unison.
Seeing the time on the alarm clock on the bed stand, she announced, “Gnarly and I are late.” She handed the phone to Mac.
“Where are you taking Gnarly?” he asked her.
“To the groomer,” she said. “It’s the first Saturday of the month.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Mac?” David called to him from the phone.
“Gnarly has a standing appointment for the first Saturday of the month,” she said with her hands on her hips. “Ten-thirty with Misty. He gets the works.”
“What’s ‘the works’?”
“Mac, are you there?” David asked him.
Archie ticked off each item on her fingers. “Shampoo, deep conditioner, teeth cleaning, toenails clipped, aromatherapy—they’re having a special today on strawberries and champagne—and—and this is Gnarly’s favorite—a deep body massage.”
Gnarly pawed at her hand.
“For a dog?” Mac’s voice went up in pitch.
“Dogs need pampering, too.”
“How much is all this going to cost?” Mac asked.
“Only two-hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
“Only two hundred and twenty-five dollars?” Mac objected. “I don’t spend that much a year on my own hair, and I’m a human.”
“And you look like it.” She kissed him. “I have to go. Misty is very popular. She will only hold Gnarly’s appointment for ten minutes. Once I was late, and she gave his appointment to a chow. Gnarly was in a snit the whole next week until Misty was able to fit him in.”
Gnarly uttered a whine mixed with a bark before charging down the stairs. Archie tucked her handbag under her arm and hurried after him.
With a shake of his head, Mac sat down onto the bed and brought the phone to his ear. “Dave …” All he heard from the other end of the line was a dial tone.
* * * * *
Gnarly loved riding in Archie’s royal blue Escalade. Mac would always order him to the back seat, which the German shepherd would ignore. Not so with Archie. When riding with his favorite lady, he was invited to ride shotgun in the front passenger seat and stick his head up through the sun roof when the feeling struck him to do so.
After climbing into the SUV, Archie noticed that the bangs of her shortly cropped blonde hair were curling funnily. That would not look good at the book club luncheon at the Spencer Inn, for which she was already running late. While the automatic garage door went up, she licked her fingertips and finger combed it.
Gnarly pawed at her arm to urge her to get moving.
“Sorry, Gnarl, I can fix them later at the Inn.” She put the car into gear and backed out of the garage, which housed Mac’s black SUV and red Dodge Viper. The last stall was still home to Robin Spencer’s yellow classic 1934 Bentley Park Ward convertible, which the late author had rarely driven. Mac had yet to drive it. He was afraid of wrecking it.
In the heart of Maryland, the cedar and stone home, known as Spencer Manor, rested at the end of the most expensive piece of real estate in the resort area of Deep Creek Lake. The peninsula housed a half-dozen lake houses that grew in size and grandeur along the stretch of Spencer Court. The road ended at the stone pillars marking the multi-million dollar estate that had been the birthplace and home of the late Robin Spencer, one of the world’s most famous authors.
Along the stretch of Spencer Point, Archie waved to the Schweitzers, who lived in the last house before crossing over the bridge, and then turned right onto Spencer Lane, which took her around the lakeshore. She noticed the Spencer police cruiser fall in behind her after she made the turn.
With her eye on the speedometer, she eased her foot on the gas to stay under forty-five miles per hour. With the other eye, she glanced at the black and gold SUV through the rearview mirror. She squinted in an effort to see who was driving.
It wasn’t Deputy Chief Art Bogart. He had his own cruiser. David was still at the station. Any of the dozen officers on the police force would have waved to her when she drove past.
I have a bad feeling about this… who’s that in the passenger seat?
The alarm inside her head kicked up the tempo a notch. The Spencer police department did not operate in teams. The force was too small. Each officer had his own cruiser and patrolled alone. If backup was needed in the small resort town, another officer would be only a few minutes away.
Something’s not right—not right at all.
The blue lights flashed on in the cruiser behind her.
“We have company, Gnarly.” She eased her SUV over to the side of the road. Through the trees on the right, she could see that the lake was tranquil. Most of the residents of Spencer were still waking up and starting their day. Across the road, the woods and trails led up the mountain on which rested the Spencer Inn, another part of Mac Faraday’s inheritance.
In her side and rearview mirror, Archie watched the two men with silver police shields pinned to their uniforms, dark glasses, and hats, get out of the cruiser. She could see by the fit of their shirts that they were wearing amour vests.
Gnarly looked over his shoulder and growled.
“Easy, Gnarly.”
While the driver approached Archie’s side, his partner came up along the rear passenger side. They were both wearing utility belts with guns, batons, and radios.
With her right hand, Archie reached into her clutch bag that she always kept tucked in between her seat and the hand break.
The driver reached around behind his back.
“Down, Gnarly.”
Gnarly lay down in the seat.
When she saw the butt of the gun come out from behind his back, Archie, her eyes on the target in her side rearview mirror, fired three shots from her pink handgun, engraved with The Pink Lady across the muzzle, over her left shoulder. The first shot took out the rear driver’s side window before ripping through the gun man’s neck. The other two went through his head before he hit the ground.
In one movement, Archie threw her right arm around to fire out the rear window at the partner who only managed to get one shot before she hit him in the lower neck. Her second shot went through his head.
The world seemed to stop.
Breathing hard, she clutched the gun and stared in the rearview mirror for any sign that they were still alive and would try again.
The next thing she was aware of was Gnarly clawing at her. When she didn’t respond, he licked her face. She had no idea of how long she had been sitting there.
“Oh, my!” She heard someone yell.
Archie opened up the car door and stepped out.
A car filled with tourists had driven up to the scene. Seeing the woman in a Chanel suit holding a pink handgun and standing over two dead police officers next to a cruiser that still had its blue lights on, they immediately became hysterical. The tires burned leather on the road when the car sped away.
After checking out the two men, Gnarly, assured that they were dead, came back to sit in front of Archie. His big brown eyes were questioning. What just happened here?
Archie knelt down and took the paw he offered her. “Well, Gnarly, it’s a long story.”
It is always a pleasure to discover new authors willing to share on Literary Wealth. So it is a treat to have Mark Rubinstein, author of Mad Dog House, an engrossing psychological thriller back to tell us about starting a new novel. Readers are fascinated with knowing where authors come up with their ideas for books. For today’s guest post, Mark is going to tell us about his inspiration for Mad Dog House.
Starting a New Novel
It’s always daunting to begin writing a new novel. I’m filled with questions: will I find the right voice? Will it come to me the way the others have? Will I run out of ideas? And a million other questions and doubts materialize. I must admit, a sense of dread pervades me, and I wonder if I’m half the writer I’ve been told I am. If I ponder these questions too long, paralytic inertia can take over.
Click on Mad Dog House to view on Amazon.
Is it a crisis in confidence?
I don’t think so, at least not for me. It’s the usual apprehension—a sense of dread—before I begin the creative trek through the minefield of the writing process. For me, it seems the natural prelude to the hard work (and the pleasure) of writing, of creating. Yes, I have a skeletal outline of the novel’s basic trajectory (or part of it) but that can never ensure full-blooded characters and a rich plot with a compelling narrative drive. And it will never make for the backstory of an interesting character who needs fleshing out so the reader develops an idea why the character is the person he or she has become.
Once I barge past that feeling of immobilization, the writing assumes its own energy. Thoughts that were never there seem to emerge; ideas pour onto the page. Pictures, sounds, and smells–all coming from some deep mental recess–abound, as if by some strange magic of which I was unaware. But it’s not magic. It’s the writer’s marathon, the never-ending quest to capture in words the innermost thoughts and feelings of characters and their situations, replete with descriptions of the world in which the characters live.
Will there come a time when this dreadful apprehension ever leaves me as I begin a new novel?
I don’t think so. Is this what every writer experiences at the beginning of a new creation? I don’t know. I can only speak for myself.
I don’t believe there’s such a thing as “writer’s block.”
I think some people just can’t get past the fear and unwillingness to begin doing the hard work a novel demands–the brutal slog of writing.
Mark Rubinstein was born in Brooklyn, New York, where he dreamed of playing baseball for the Brooklyn Dodgers. His love of sports led him to read sports fiction, and soon he became a voracious reader, developing an enduring love for all kinds of novels.
He graduated from New York University with a degree in business administration. He then served in the army and ended up as a field medic tending to paratroopers of the 82nd Airborne Division. After his discharge, he re-entered NYU as a premed student.
As a medical student at the State University of New York’s Downstate Medical Center, he developed an interest in psychiatry, discovering in that specialty the same thing he realized in reading fiction: every patient has a compelling story to tell. He became a board-certified psychiatrist practicing in New York City.
In addition to running his private practice he developed an interest in forensic psychiatry because the drama and conflict of the cases and courtrooms tapped into his personality style. He also taught psychiatric residents, interns, psychologists, and social workers at New York Presbyterian Hospital and became a clinical assistant professor at Cornell University’s medical school.
Before turning to fiction, Rubinstein coauthored five medical self-help books: The First Encounter: The Beginnings in Psychotherapy (Jason Aronson); The Complete Book of Cosmetic Facial Surgery (Simon and Schuster); New Choices: the Latest Options in Treating Breast Cancer (Dodd Mead); Heartplan: A Complete Program for Total Fitness of Heart & Mind (McGraw-Hill), and The Growing Years: A Guide to Your Child’s Emotional Development from Birth to Adolescence (Atheneum).
Rubinstein lives in Connecticut with his wife and as many dogs as she will allow in the house. He still practices psychiatry and is busily writing more novels.
It is a pleasure to introduce another new author to you: Mark Rubinstein, author of Mad Dog House, an engrossing psychological thriller. Readers are fascinated with knowing where authors come up with their ideas for books. For today’s guest post, Mark is going to tell us about his inspiration for Mad Dog House.
Mark Rubinstein wrote several non-fiction books before penning his first thriller. Click on picture to visit Mark on Goodreads.
When I’ve spoken to groups at libraries or bookstores, invariably I’m asked how an idea for a novel comes to me. It’s not an easy question to answer. Each novel I’ve written has a different genesis, although there are certain key elements they all share.
For me, writing begins with an almost dreamlike process. It’s as though my mind goes through some semi-conscious period where things from the past and present seem to coalesce and begin building upon themselves. Sometimes a thought fragment forms, only to fade the way some dreams dissolve as you’re awakening. At other times, an idea imbeds itself and develops with a clear forward trajectory.
By way of example, here’s how my recent novel, Mad Dog House, began to take shape.
When I was in elementary school, the class-clown was a kid nicknamed “Cootie.” Many years later, while in the army, I met a fellow medic whose raucous, hyena-like laugh earned him the moniker “Mad Dog.” My novel begins with a scene in a classroom in which “Cootie” (now portrayed as a bully) is finger-snapping the ear of the boy who sits in front of him.
As a high school freshman, I sat in front of some wise guy who made sport out of finger-snapping my right ear. At 13 years old, I weighed a prodigious 105 pounds, and this bullying kid was far bigger and very intimidating. After too many days of silently taking this humiliation, I finally snapped and challenged him to a fight behind the candy store near the school. A momentary look of surprise, coupled with fear, flashed across his face. He’d never expected so brazen a challenge from a skinny kid, and correctly read the fury raging through me. When class ended, we faced off in the empty lot and went at it. I beat the hell out of him.
Mad Dog House is an action-packed, fast paced thriller. Click on the book cover to purchase on Amazon.
“When he was 12 years old, Mad Dog ripped off Cootie Weiss’ ear.”
So begins the novel. The protagonist, Roddy, earns his moniker “Mad Dog” after finishing off his bully in a far more dramatic way than I had mine. But, you can see how incidents and people from different stages of my life wind their way into the fabric of my fiction.
I knew I wanted to write a thriller involving a successful surgeon and his best friend, an accountant, being drawn into a business venture which would go terribly wrong and threaten to upend their lives; and the vehicle I used to get the novel started was based on the melding of two totally distinct and disparate incidents in my own life.
The idea came to me during a walk with my wife.
The novel’s story incorporates other aspects of my own and others’ experiences, coupled with large doses of imagination and fantasy. Like all fiction writers, I draw from the things I know well, and borrow heavily from life around me. Whether it’s a cousin who invested and lost money in a vanity project; the rough guys I knew in my teens; or the friends whose son has caused them so much heartache, I incorporate “what I know about life” into a piece of pure fiction.
I’m a psychiatrist, with years of experience working on the wards and emergency rooms at major city hospitals. Later, I was in private practice with a diverse group of patients; and ultimately, specializing in forensic psychiatry. I saw people whose lives were irrevocably changed by the most horrific experiences imaginable, and my mind is filled with their stories, underscoring the adage “truth can be stranger than fiction.”
Without violating a confidence or betraying trust, I draw water from the well of my life’s work, and create stories.
A writer is someone who always has an eye open and an ear cocked. I am no exception.
Drawing from life is at the heart of my novels, although each one begins in its unique way.
Synopsis for Mad Dog House:
Roddy Dolan, a successful suburban surgeon, long ago left behind his past—one that nearly landed him in jail at 17. When he’s approached by an old friend about becoming a silent partner in a Manhattan steakhouse, he’s wary. So he consults with his lifelong blood brother, Danny Burns.
Danny’s convinced this “vanity project” is the perfect trophy to illustrate how far they’ve travelled. Certain he’s buried his checkered past, Roddy joins in this venture, with serious reservations. Danny is quickly sucked into the high-energy glitz of the restaurant, but Roddy is suspicious.
Amidst the glitter of New York’s nightlife, amongst Mafia honchos and Russian thugs, evens spin out of control and the lives Roddy and Danny knew are over. Hidden shady dealings drag them and their families into life-threatening terrain. Struggling with the monster he thought he’d buried, Roddy must make momentous choices, and none are good. But he has a daring plan.
About the Author:
Mark Rubinstein was born in Brooklyn, New York, where he dreamed of playing baseball for the Brooklyn Dodgers. His love of sports led him to read sports fiction, and soon he became a voracious reader, developing an enduring love for all kinds of novels.
He graduated from New York University with a degree in business administration. He then served in the army and ended up as a field medic tending to paratroopers of the 82nd Airborne Division. After his discharge, he re-entered NYU as a premed student.
As a medical student at the State University of New York’s Downstate Medical Center, he developed an interest in psychiatry, discovering in that specialty the same thing he realized in reading fiction: every patient has a compelling story to tell. He became a board-certified psychiatrist practicing in New York City.
In addition to running his private practice he developed an interest in forensic psychiatry because the drama and conflict of the cases and courtrooms tapped into his personality style. He also taught psychiatric residents, interns, psychologists, and social workers at New York Presbyterian Hospital and became a clinical assistant professor at Cornell University’s medical school.
Before turning to fiction, Rubinstein coauthored five medical self-help books: The First Encounter: The Beginnings in Psychotherapy (Jason Aronson); The Complete Book of Cosmetic Facial Surgery (Simon and Schuster); New Choices: the Latest Options in Treating Breast Cancer (Dodd Mead); Heartplan: A Complete Program for Total Fitness of Heart & Mind (McGraw-Hill), and The Growing Years: A Guide to Your Child’s Emotional Development from Birth to Adolescence (Atheneum).
Rubinstein lives in Connecticut with his wife and as many dogs as she will allow in the house. He still practices psychiatry and is busily writing more novels.
Today, one of my favorite guest bloggers is back. Cindy McDonald is the author of the Unbridled Series. She is just now finishing up her second virtual book tour. In her blog post today, Cindy is going to address a delicate issue that is important to every author out there: marketing you and your book in today’s marketplace. Things have changed a whole lot since my first book was published back in 2004–before Facebook, Twitter, ect. It’s both easier and scarier–
You tell ‘em, Cindy!
OBSCURITY: NOT AN OPTION
Cindy McDonald is the author of the Unbridled Series. She is working on a new series, First Force. Using social media, Cindy has grown her fan base and sales steadily. Click on picture to visit Cindy’s website.
So you’ve written a manuscript. You had it professionally edited. You’ve got a great cover design. You’ve had it published in paperback and ebook forms, and it’s been uploaded to amazon. Great! Now what? Sit back, relax, perhaps twiddle your thumbs a bit, and wait for those royalties to come pouring in, right?
Mmmm, I’m afraid not.
The fact is that no one is going to come looking for your book, no matter how well written, how engaging, or how action-packed it is unless you, the author, makes it happen!
Hey, let’s face it obscurity is not an option when you’ve published a book. The competition is fierce—and the competition is using all the resources that perhaps you are not. There is no doubt that marketing is an indie’s biggest hurdle, but you can’t afford to be shy or stuck in the nineteenth century. I’m not saying that marketing one’s book is insurmountable, but it can be hard to get started. Bookstores are not usually very willing to arrange a signing for indie writers because they are relatively unknown—they’d rather have James Patterson, go figure. However some local libraries may be willing to host an event for you. That’s nice, but that doesn’t tend to spread the word to a large mass of people. And that’s exactly what you need.
So what’s an author to do?
Brace yourself, because I’m about to say the S word: Social Networking. Yikes! You may consider it a dirty word, but I’m afraid thatit is truly the reality of our time. Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Pininterest, it’s enough to make an author’s head spin! After all it has been widely rumored that authors are quite a recluse lot. The trick is to not allow it to overwhelm or intimidate you—no matter what your age. The bottom line is that it is your responsibility as an author to get the word out about your book—not your publisher—you.
So get a stiff upper lip, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and do what you need to do to make that book of yours a success. Because you can.
If you don’t have a website—get one. You need it! There are plenty of website options out there and some are free. List your books—with covers, a synopsis, provide an excerpt, and yes do a book trailer, to boot! Don’t forget to provide links to your book’s Amazon sales site.
Okay, now that you have a website, you need a…wait for it…Facebook page! It’s the God’s truth. I have two FB pages: one in my name where I talk about my life—nothing too personal—and one for my books. On both pages I will announce reviews and provide links to those reviews or my books. There are also FB pages that are provided for authors to promote their books. On all these FB pages I will also list blogs that I am featured at during virtual book tours—another excellent way to get the word out about your book.
Click on Book cover to purchase Cindy’s latest, Dangerous Deception on Amazon.
Virtual book tours help you to promote not only your book but you—the author. You have control as to how long the tour is: two weeks, one month, or the max—three months. Approximately three times a week during the tour, you will visit a blog for an author spotlight, a review, interview, or a guest post on a variety of subjects. The guest post will spotlight how well you write beyond the pages of your book. That’s important. It also provides potential readers an insight as to who you are and what you think or believe. While this service is not free, you can decide how much you want to spend by the length of the tour.
Linkedin is a great place to post a blurb about your book on a daily basis. I usually write something like: George Smuts is a just fictional character, right? You should hope! And then I list the link to where my potential audience can purchase DEADLY.COM. I went from selling hardly any of this particular book to selling as many as one hundred per month with this simple daily task.
*Wince* and then there’s Twitter. I thought I would never get the hang of that nightmare social networking demon. I thought it was stupid. Then I thought: but there are sooo many authors using it. There’s got to be something to it. So I started following people—mainly authors—they would retweet my book blurbs—I would retweet back—this would result in book sales. Hmmm. I followed more—retweeted more—additional book sales. Who knew? I am now tweeting approximately six times per day. It only takes about ten minutes, and the payoff has been well worth it.
Pssst…I’ve even got my publishing manager tweeting more than she ever did before. To tell you the truth, she probably hates me for it, but she has realized how invaluable it is for her and her cozy mysteries. She too has experienced a sharp rise in sales. Go baby go!
It’s true, I spend a lot of time per day promoting my books on the social networks—it’s a commitment. But hey didn’t you make a commitment to the book when you wrote it? You love your characters. You love your stories, so help send them out to the masses.
Here’s the light at the end of the very long indie tunnel—it can and will work!
Since I’ve been using Twitter on a daily basis, following as many people with an interest in books, tweeting and retweeting other authors, using hashtags, and writing something about my books on a daily basis on my FB pages and Linkedin, my book sales have skyrocketed! I went from selling four books per month (yep, that’s what it says FOUR) to selling over two hundred books per month, and I know that it will go up from here.
C’mon, don’t be shy. Get out of that “I am NOT going anywhere near social networking sites” demeanor. You CAN do this. Only you have the power. You’ve worked hard. So step up to the plate and take a swing at making your book into everything you wanted it to be—a success!
Remember: Obscurity just plain isn’t an option.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For twenty-six years my life whirled around a song and a dance: I was a professional dancer/choreographer for most of my adult life and never gave much thought to a writing career until 2005. Don’t ask me what happened, but suddenly I felt drawn to my computer to write about things I have experienced (greatly exaggerated upon of course) with my husband’s Thoroughbreds and the happenings at the racetrack.
Surprised? Why didn’t I write about my experiences with dance? Eh, believe it or not life at the racetrack is more…racy. The drama is outrageous—not that dancers don’t know how to create drama, believe me, they do but race trackers just seem to get more down and dirty with it which makes great story telling—great fiction.
I didn’t start out writing books, The Unbridled Series started out as a TV drama, and the Hollywood readers loved the show. The problem was we just couldn’t sell it. So one of the readers said to me, “Cindy, don’t be stupid. Turn your scripts into a book series.” and so I did!
In May of 2011 I took the big leap and exchanged my dancin’ shoes for a lap top—I retired from dance. It was a scary proposition, I was terrified, but I had the full support of my husband, Saint Bill. It has been a huge change for me. I went from dancing hard five hours a night to sitting in front of a computer. I still work-out and I take my dog, Harvey, for a daily run. I have to or I’d be as big as a house. Do I miss dance? Sometimes I do. I miss my students. I miss choreographing musicals, but I love my books and I love sharing them with you.
To read excerpts from future books, view book trailers, and keep up with everything that is Unbridled, please visit Cindy’s website at: www.cindymcwriter.com
Click on Banner for the latest tour schedule on Lauren Carr’s Website.
When I announced that I was scheduling my latest book tour, a friend asked me a question that I viewed at the time as unusual: “What is a virtual book tour?”
“Oh,” I replied, “it is the only way for an author to do a book tour nowadays! It is all online. No gassing up the car. No driving around with your book in the trunk. No hotels. You just go from blog to blog and reviewer to reviewer in the comfort of your own home, with your feet up in your comfortable slippers, having a bad hair day–why you can even meet your readers completely naked if you feel like it and they’ll never know!”
I love touring this way. I guarantee that we’ll all have fun on the Blast from the Past Book Tour. The launch of Blast from the Past has already been an exciting venture. For the first three weeks after it’s release on January 10, Blast from the Past was ranked consistently in the top 100-books and ebooks on Amazon under mystery/thrillers, in the category of police procedurals and has been receiving rave reviews!
What’s that? You don’t know about Blast from the Past? Well, let me tell you about my latest mystery.
Blast from the Past is Lauren Carr’s fourth book in the Mac Faraday Mysteries. Click on cover to download from Amazon.
In Blast from the Past, Mac Faraday finds himself up to his eyeballs in mobsters and federal agents.
After an attempted hit ends badly with two of his men dead, mobster Tommy Cruze arrives in Spencer, Maryland, to personally supervise the execution of the witness responsible for putting him behind bars—Archie Monday!
Mac Faraday believes he has his work cut out for him in protecting his lady love from one of the most dangerous leaders in organized crime; but when bodies start dropping in his lakeshore resort town of Spencer, Maryland, things may be hotter than even he can handle.
In this fourth installment in the Mac Faraday Mysteries, readers learn more about Archie Monday’s past in a flash—as in a gun fight when the syndicate comes to town. Readers love to be surprised and in Blast from the Past they are going to be surprised to discover the secret of Archie Monday’s past, which threatens her and Mac’s future.
Blast from the Past also takes the Mac Faraday Mysteries to a new level as his relationship with Archie Monday moves onto a whole new level. Readers have been clamoring for Mac and Archie to get together for three books. In Blast from the Past, they’re relationship is cemented, if they live to make it happen.
What about Gnarly, Mac Faraday’s canine inheritance—the only German shepherd to be dishonorably discharged from the United States Army? Well, it’s not a Mac Faraday Mystery without Gnarly. Let’s just say Gnarly kicks things up a notch in his own way.
I’ll be stopping at twenty sites in six weeks. check out the schedule. We will have book giveaways, reviews, and guest posts galore–including one written from Gnarly’s point of view.
Still wondering about this Blast from the Past? How about a free sample then:
Blast from the Past – Excerpt
Spencer, Maryland – Deep Creek Lake – Present Day
“Gnarly, it’s time for to go to your appointment.”
Lovely in her soft grey Chanel suit, rose-colored blouse, and stylish pumps, Archie Monday, assistant to the late Robin Spencer, hurried up the stairs to the second floor of Spencer Manor and down the hallway to the master suite. The rose leather clutch bag under her arm was a perfect match for the fedora she wore over her pixie-styled blonde hair.
“Gnarly, are you in here?” She threw open the double doors to find the German shepherd sitting in the suite’s bathroom doorway. “There you are. It’s time to go.” She gestured for the dog to come to her.
Instead of obeying his favorite human, Gnarly whined and turned his attention back to the happenings inside the other room.
“Go where?” Mac Faraday called out to her from the bathroom.
She crossed the width of the suite to peer in at him. The sight that greeted her wasn’t what she had expected from the son of Robin Spencer, whose roots were as blue-blood as they come.
The clichéd appearance of a wealthy man calls for him to be tall, dark, and handsome—maybe ruggedly handsome—and at the very least, well-groomed. A man of wealth is best able to achieve this requirement by hiring others—like plumbers—to do the dirty work.
Two years after his inheritance allowed him to retire from his career as a homicide detective, Mac Faraday had chosen to ignore that rule.
His middle-class upbringing had a different rule: If you can do it yourself—no matter how dirty the job—it’s a waste of money to hire someone else to do it for you.
Determination had drawn Mac’s handsome face into a scowl. His blue eyes were narrowed into slits focused on the toilet in which he was plunging away. Water splashed upwards to spill over the sides and drenched the lower half of his sweatpants down to his bare feet.
Even in this less than glamorous setting, Archie did find his arm and chest muscles, bulging from the workout, appealing. When Mac yanked the plunger up from out of the toilet, in the process splattering the water across his firm stomach and down the front of his pants, she reconsidered that assessment. Maybe not that appealing after all. She asked, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“Why?”
“It’s stopped up.” He shook the dripping plunger in Gnarly’s direction. “And I have a feeling I know who did it.”
Uttering a whine, Gnarly moved to hide behind Archie’s legs.
She jumped to the shepherd’s defense. “Why are you blaming Gnarly? He doesn’t use the toilet. You’re the only one who uses this toilet.”
“You’ve used it.” Mac reminded her of her frequent nights spent with him in the master suite. “Maybe I should blame you.”
She folded her arms across her bosom. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
“That’s why I’m blaming Gnarly.” He again pointed the plunger at the dog. “Look at him. Do you see that guilty expression on his face? He’s done something, and I suspect it has to do with this toilet.”
“Even if he did drop something into it, how did he flush it?” She giggled. “Mac, he’s a dog.”
The phone on the bed stand rang before Mac could come up with a response. “Answer that, will you?” He returned to his plunging.
“I need to take Gnarly to the groomer,” she called in to him while trotting to the king-sized bed that they had been sharing.
Mac Faraday had inherited the mansion from Robin Spencer, who, as an unwed teenager, had given him up at birth. However, his late mother had stipulated that her research assistant and editor, Archie Monday, was permitted to live in the stone guest cottage tucked away in the rose garden for as long as she wanted.
The beautiful green-eyed blonde had come with the house, and Mac Faraday was in no hurry for her to move out … nor was she in any hurry to leave.
Spencer’s police chief David O’Callaghan didn’t sound his usual jovial self when Archie answered the phone. After a quick hello, he asked for Mac.
“David, you sound terrible,” she observed.
“My weekend’s been shot,” he replied. “One of my cruisers was stolen last night.”
“Are you serious?”
Mac came into the bathroom doorway. “What’s wrong?”
She told him, “One of David’s police cruisers got stolen.”
David told her the reason for his call. “Tell Mac that I’m going to miss the game this afternoon. I need to fill out a ton of reports and find out how someone was able to break into our garage to steal a police cruiser.” He added, “Our guys are going to be the laughing stock of the state for this.”
In Archie’s other ear, Mac was asking, “Does he need any help finding the scum who stole it?”
“It was probably some bored teenagers pulling a prank,” she told them both.
“Committing a felony doesn’t make for a very good prank,” they told her in unison.
Seeing the time on the alarm clock on the bed stand, she announced, “Gnarly and I are late.” She handed the phone to Mac.
“Where are you taking Gnarly?” he asked her.
“To the groomer,” she said. “It’s the first Saturday of the month.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Mac?” David called to him from the phone.
“Gnarly has a standing appointment for the first Saturday of the month,” she said with her hands on her hips. “Ten-thirty with Misty. He gets the works.”
“What’s ‘the works’?”
“Mac, are you there?” David asked him.
Archie ticked off each item on her fingers. “Shampoo, deep conditioner, teeth cleaning, toenails clipped, aromatherapy—they’re having a special today on strawberries and champagne—and—and this is Gnarly’s favorite—a deep body massage.”
Gnarly pawed at her hand.
“For a dog?” Mac’s voice went up in pitch.
“Dogs need pampering, too.”
“How much is all this going to cost?” Mac asked.
“Only two-hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
“Only two hundred and twenty-five dollars?” Mac objected. “I don’t spend that much a year on my own hair, and I’m a human.”
“And you look like it.” She kissed him. “I have to go. Misty is very popular. She will only hold Gnarly’s appointment for ten minutes. Once I was late, and she gave his appointment to a chow. Gnarly was in a snit the whole next week until Misty was able to fit him in.”
Gnarly uttered a whine mixed with a bark before charging down the stairs. Archie tucked her handbag under her arm and hurried after him.
With a shake of his head, Mac sat down onto the bed and brought the phone to his ear. “Dave …” All he heard from the other end of the line was a dial tone.
* * * * *
Gnarly loved riding in Archie’s royal blue Escalade. Mac would always order him to the back seat, which the German shepherd would ignore. Not so with Archie. When riding with his favorite lady, he was invited to ride shotgun in the front passenger seat and stick his head up through the sun roof when the feeling struck him to do so.
After climbing into the SUV, Archie noticed that the bangs of her shortly cropped blonde hair were curling funnily. That would not look good at the book club luncheon at the Spencer Inn, for which she was already running late. While the automatic garage door went up, she licked her fingertips and finger combed it.
Gnarly pawed at her arm to urge her to get moving.
“Sorry, Gnarl, I can fix them later at the Inn.” She put the car into gear and backed out of the garage, which housed Mac’s black SUV and red Dodge Viper. The last stall was still home to Robin Spencer’s yellow classic 1934 Bentley Park Ward convertible, which the late author had rarely driven. Mac had yet to drive it. He was afraid of wrecking it.
In the heart of Maryland, the cedar and stone home, known as Spencer Manor, rested at the end of the most expensive piece of real estate in the resort area of Deep Creek Lake. The peninsula housed a half-dozen lake houses that grew in size and grandeur along the stretch of Spencer Court. The road ended at the stone pillars marking the multi-million dollar estate that had been the birthplace and home of the late Robin Spencer, one of the world’s most famous authors.
Along the stretch of Spencer Point, Archie waved to the Schweitzers, who lived in the last house before crossing over the bridge, and then turned right onto Spencer Lane, which took her around the lakeshore. She noticed the Spencer police cruiser fall in behind her after she made the turn.
With her eye on the speedometer, she eased her foot on the gas to stay under forty-five miles per hour. With the other eye, she glanced at the black and gold SUV through the rearview mirror. She squinted in an effort to see who was driving.
It wasn’t Deputy Chief Art Bogart. He had his own cruiser. David was still at the station. Any of the dozen officers on the police force would have waved to her when she drove past.
I have a bad feeling about this… who’s that in the passenger seat?
The alarm inside her head kicked up the tempo a notch. The Spencer police department did not operate in teams. The force was too small. Each officer had his own cruiser and patrolled alone. If backup was needed in the small resort town, another officer would be only a few minutes away.
Something’s not right—not right at all.
The blue lights flashed on in the cruiser behind her.
“We have company, Gnarly.” She eased her SUV over to the side of the road. Through the trees on the right, she could see that the lake was tranquil. Most of the residents of Spencer were still waking up and starting their day. Across the road, the woods and trails led up the mountain on which rested the Spencer Inn, another part of Mac Faraday’s inheritance.
In her side and rearview mirror, Archie watched the two men with silver police shields pinned to their uniforms, dark glasses, and hats, get out of the cruiser. She could see by the fit of their shirts that they were wearing amour vests.
Gnarly looked over his shoulder and growled.
“Easy, Gnarly.”
While the driver approached Archie’s side, his partner came up along the rear passenger side. They were both wearing utility belts with guns, batons, and radios.
With her right hand, Archie reached into her clutch bag that she always kept tucked in between her seat and the hand break.
The driver reached around behind his back.
“Down, Gnarly.”
Gnarly lay down in the seat.
When she saw the butt of the gun come out from behind his back, Archie, her eyes on the target in her side rearview mirror, fired three shots from her pink handgun, engraved with The Pink Lady across the muzzle, over her left shoulder. The first shot took out the rear driver’s side window before ripping through the gun man’s neck. The other two went through his head before he hit the ground.
In one movement, Archie threw her right arm around to fire out the rear window at the partner who only managed to get one shot before she hit him in the lower neck. Her second shot went through his head.
The world seemed to stop.
Breathing hard, she clutched the gun and stared in the rearview mirror for any sign that they were still alive and would try again.
The next thing she was aware of was Gnarly clawing at her. When she didn’t respond, he licked her face. She had no idea of how long she had been sitting there.
“Oh, my!” She heard someone yell.
Archie opened up the car door and stepped out.
A car filled with tourists had driven up to the scene. Seeing the woman in a Chanel suit holding a pink handgun and standing over two dead police officers next to a cruiser that still had its blue lights on, they immediately became hysterical. The tires burned leather on the road when the car sped away.
After checking out the two men, Gnarly, assured that they were dead, came back to sit in front of Archie. His big brown eyes were questioning. What just happened here?
Archie knelt down and took the paw he offered her. “Well, Gnarly, it’s a long story.”
Now are you onboard for the tour? Then fasten your seatbelts! We’re blasting off! See you at the next stop at: Another Writer’s Life: http://ascamacho.blogspot.com/
About the Author:
Lauren Carr fell in love with mysteries when her mother read Perry Mason to her at bedtime. The first installment in the Joshua Thornton mysteries, A Small Case of Murder was a finalist for the Independent Publisher Book Award.
Lauren Carr Author, Publisher Click on pic to visit website
Lauren is also the author of the Mac Faraday Mysteries, which takes place in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. It’s Murder, My Son, Old Loves Die Hard, and Shades of Murder, have all been getting rave reviews from readers and reviewers. Blast from the Past is the fourth installment in the Mac Faraday Mystery series. The next installment in the Mac Faraday series will be released in October of this year.
Released September 2012, Dead on Ice introduces a new series entitled Lovers in Crime, which features prosecutor Joshua Thornton with homicide detective Cameron Gates. The second installment in the Lovers in Crime series will be out in 2013.
The owner of Acorn Book Services, Lauren is also a publishing manager, consultant, editor, cover and layout designer, and marketing agent for independent authors. This year, several books, over a variety of genre, written by independent authors will be released through the management of Acorn Book Services, which is currently accepting submissions. Visit Acorn Book Services website for more information.
Lauren is a popular speaker who has made appearances at schools, youth groups, and on author panels at conventions. She also passes on what she has learned in her years of writing and publishing by conducting workshops and teaching in community education classes.
She lives with her husband, son, and two dogs on a mountain in Harpers Ferry, WV.
I am glad to welcome back author Cindy McDonald for another guest post to follow up her previous post a few weeks ago: Crossing the Line. In today’s post, Cindy recounts the evening her husband got to say, “I told you so.”
Take it away, Cindy!
Censored Books–You Betcha!
Cindy McDonald Romantic Suspense Author
Ahhh, the infamous “I told you so!” How we spouses love to hear those words spew from our better half’s mouth. Most recently I was on the receiving end of such a scolding when my husband and I attended a Christmas luncheon at the nursing home where my mother resides. Let me back-up…
A short time ago I wrote a blog entitled, Crossing the Line. The blog discussed how much sexual content should we authors place in our books. Essentially, how much is too much? I also mentioned in the blog that I am a former dance teacher who now writes books with quite a bit of suggestive material. My very conservative husband is uncomfortable with said content because he feels that my previous position in the community holds me to certain standards that I should be very conscious of.
So, there we were at the Christmas luncheon taking our seats along with the other families, when I spotted two of my former students and their parents seated at a table nearby. The two girls were thrilled to see their former dance teacher, and with ear-to-ear smiles, they waved. For the sake of this blog we’ll call the older girl, Susan, who is twelve. The younger sister is ten. Anyway, the luncheon was lovely and when we decided to leave I made my way to their table to wish them a Merry Christmas. And that’s when it happened. While giving me a hug Susan (12) said to me, “Oh Miss Cindy, I miss you so much. I want you to know that I’ve read all of your books.”
Click on Book Cover to view on Amazon!
What?!
I was very taken aback. I turned to her mother with wide eyes and if I hadn’t quickly slammed it shut, I swear my jaw would’ve bounced off the floor. I said, “You let her read my books?” Smiling, the woman waved a carefree hand at me and replied, “Oh, don’t worry, she’s an advanced reader.”
Seriously? Has the woman not reviewed my books before her twelve year old daughter reads them? I couldn’t believe it! Susan then added, “Oh yes, and I understand everything in them, Miss Cindy.”
Okay.
At this point I simply gave the girl another hug, wished them happy holidays, and caught up with my family. That’s when my husband said, “See I told you! I told you that those young girls from your dance school would be reading your books. That’s why you should keep those suggestive scenes in check!”
Really?
I don’t think so. I truly feel it is their parent’s responsibility to read the book first before passing it on to their pre-teen daughters. My sister-in-law read Deadly.Com before forbidding her twenty year old daughter to read it. *big eye roll* PLEASE! As ridiculous as I felt that was, I do indeed believe that parents need to censor what their young children reads just as much as they need to pay attention to what they are looking at on the internet. Having a school district pronounce your child as an “advanced reader” simply means they can read “big words”—big deal! That does not necessarily mean they are mature enough for certain content. Call me old fashioned. Call me naïve. Call me an idiot, if you like, but young people need guidance and mature reading material simply is not appropriate for a twelve year old girl. For that matter my daughter does not permit my grandson (13) to read my books, and the last one, Dangerous Deception, was dedicated to him! I’m not upset—I totally agree with my daughter, and I wish all parents would exercise a little more common sense when it comes to mature reads and the internet, and cell phones for that matter.
Hey, I don’t feel responsible at all for what happened. Yes, I write suggestive scenes. I like writing suggestive scenes, and am considering going a bit farther in my new series that I will be starting in 2013. It is up to Susan’s mother and parents just like her to censor their children’s reading material. I’m no longer “Miss Cindy” the small town dance teacher. I am now Cindy McDonald, an author—reader beware.
About the Author:
For twenty-six years, Cindy McDonald’s life whirled around a song and a dance. She was a professional dancer/choreographer for most of her adult life and never gave much thought to a writing career until 2005. Inexplicitly, she felt drawn to my computer to write about things she had experienced (greatly exaggerated upon of course) with my husband’s Thoroughbreds and the happenings at the racetrack.
One may ask why she didn’t choose to write about her experiences with dance. When asked, cindy offers a sly smile and explains that life at the racetrack was more…racy. “The drama is outrageous—not that dancers don’t know how to create drama,” Cindy says, “believe me, they do but race trackers just seem to get more down and dirty with it which makes great story telling—great fiction.”
In May of 2011, Cindy took the big leap and exchanged her dancin’ shoes for a lap top. She retired from dance. “It was a scary proposition,” she confesses. “I was terrified, but I had the full support of my husband, Saint Bill. It has been a huge change for me. I went from dancing hard five hours a night to sitting in front of a computer.” Does she miss her dance? “Sometimes I do,” Cindy admits, “I miss my students. I miss choreographing musicals, but I love my books and I love sharing them with my readers.”
To read excerpts from future books, view book trailers, and keep up with everything that is Unbridled, please visit Cindy’s website at: www.cindymcwriter.com
It is a pleasure to welcome back H.L. Grandin, the author of The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby, a sweeping historical fiction set in the Appalachian Mountains during the Colonial period. The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby is a story of depth which makes the reader look inside themselves and their place in our world. If you have not read this beautifully written novel, I encourage you to do so now.
Today, H.L. Grandin is going to explore in this guest post one of the aspects in The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby:
Utility and Perception
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A recurring theme throughout The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby is the recognition that perception – more than design – determines the ultimate utility of manufactured goods. The first instance in the book is when Tyoga struggles to remove the bear trap for Tes Qua’s lower leg:
“ . . . Tyoga realized the odd transformation that had taken place in the macabre device. Designed to entrap, maim and ultimately kill; the trap had become an instrument of a new, merciful purpose acting as a splint, holding foot to leg.
The cruel jagged teeth that ravaged and sliced were now protective and conservatory. The trap hadn’t changed, and neither had its purpose, really. But the utility of its charge had been completely revoked.”
Another occurrence wherein the construction of an object for an intended purpose is changed by circumstance happens at Tyoga and Tes Qua’s camp at the confluence of the Rapidan and Rappahanock Rivers. Weather is moving in and the young men have built a simple lean-to to keep them warm and protected from the rain through the night. When unexpected visitors arrive in the early morning mist:
“They were unarmed and defenseless. The sanctuary of their lean-to had been transformed into a trap.”
The instance of using this literary device to convey a subtle message – and the one in which I am most pleased from a writing perspective – occurs at Tyoga’s first encounter with slavery. Brister, the slave whose freedom Tyoga purchases and who goes on to be the foreman of Twin Oaks and Tyoga’s right hand man, is ripped down from the auction block when no one will bid for his purchase. The make-shift “auction block” is an inverted wine cask:
“ . . . now, empty and upright, its entry into the perverse pageantry unfolding in Brick House’s town square mocked its very purpose and ridiculed its intent. Serving as a stage upon which men and women were bought and sold was in stark contrast to the promise of life and liberty its contents were meant to celebrate. Yet, the barrel had not changed. It could once again hold promise and joy. It was only the will of man that debased its purpose and bastardized its employ.
All three instances take an object manufactured by man with a single purpose in mind, and, by circumstance, employ and perception, change all three into traps. The barrel is the object least likely to be seen as a trap, but its employ in the sale of human beings – a commerce that trapped not only a man’s body but his soul as well – is not too big a stretch for readers of The Legend.
I have always been interested in this notion of utility and perception, and – as my family will attest – I am a regular MacGyver when it comes to creating a new use for almost any “thing.” I enjoy going to antique stores filled floor to ceiling with objects from our past, picking up something that doesn’t look like any “thing” with which I am familiar and asking – usually out loud – “What do you think this thing was used for?” My wife, Mary Ann, and I will hold it every which way and come up with about fifty purposes for the object in hand – most of them wrong – place it back down and move on. But I never really put it down. For hours on end I will think about the hands that crafted the object and the problem that he was solving in its creation. What did he see that others did not?
So what does all of this have to do with The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby. As it turns out – a lot. Tyoga Weathersby – just like everyone reading the book and this blog – have an intended purpose. Without getting too theological about the construct, it seems that oftentimes that utility remains a mystery to us no matter how hard we try to define the purpose of our lives. And maybe that is where we make the mistake. Perhaps the purpose defines itself rather than the other way around.
Tyoga’s life is changed on Carter’s Rock at the moment of his awakening at the tender age of six:
“His spirit broke free of its earthly bonds and soared in weightless oneness with the beams of the rising sun. All that was malevolent in the primal forest was illuminated and cast aglow with the brilliance of the dazzling light. Sounds became sight, scents could be tasted, distance could be felt and time simply dissolved. The ancient mysteries locked deep within the very bowels of Mother earth—secrets of the natural world understood only in the truth of their being—disclosed themselves to him as unembellished natural law. Secrets revealed only to those who have been granted the wisdom to not only listen—but to hear and understand—were passed on to yet another Weathersby.”
At that moment – he was forever changed. His “knowing” made him different from others to whom the Promise did not speak. But his utility was not changed. Tyoga’s transformation occurs at the moment he defeats the Runion Wolf pack’s alpha male, Wahaya-Wacon:
“Inches away from the pearly fangs that had lusted for the stain of his blood, he dropped to his knees and stared deep into the wolf’s eyes. He was shocked at the clarity of his own reflection mirrored from the glassy chasm of his eyes.
Rooted in the timeless rhythmic change, metered not in years but in millenia – the serenity spilled from the pools of cocoa brown and morning gold to fill Tyoga’s soul. He shivered as waves of sensation electrified his spent body with a curious urgency that he did not recognize but understood. With resigned acceptance, he welcomed its embrace. His blood flowed through his veins with a purpose and strength that had previously been shackled by propriety and convention. He sensed more than felt the transformation that was taking place within.
What he had spent to stay alive was repaid by what had been given. In their primal struggle to defeat and to conquer, both man and wolf had surrendered something to a cause yet unknown. The part of themselves they had given to the test was reborn in a communal exchange.
Both had given. Both had received.
It was as if they had perished together in their struggle to survive, and arisen as something new. They would never be the same.”
It is in that moment that the Legend is born. It is what Tyoga makes of his legendary status that I want the reader to question. How much of himself is lost in the battle with the wolf? What does he receive from Wahaya-Wacon and what does he give up? If his utility changes, does he – just like the inanimate objects described – morph into a living, breathing, human trap that ensnares not only his own soul – but those of the ones he loves? How much of what Tyoga Weathersby thinks he knows about himself is the result of self-determination; and how much is the result of the Legend he has become?
How much of what you know about yourself is the truth as you know it to be; and how much of what you think, do and say is the result of others telling you who you are and what you should be?
Don’t be trapped. Don’t trap yourself.
There is a great deal to discuss about The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby.
But you knew that it was more than a story about a wolf . . . .didn’t you?
About the Author:
Author H.L. Grandin
HL Grandin grew up in the shadow of history near Mt Vernon, Virginia. As a boy he spent many hours exploring the hills, valleys and waterways throughout Virginia, which nurtured a deep appreciation for nature and its forces. Those adventures became the inspiration for The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby. For the last 25 years HL has lived on a small farm in western Maryland where he and his wife raised three daughters and a passel of animals.
