While I'm working with my cover artist in Canada, my proof reader in Texas, and at the same time sending out request for usage rights to half a dozen companies fo "Between the Clown & the Corpsecicles, I've also started my new book, "The Wager". It too will feature Tuba Lemoyne and be set on the Gulf Coast.
Synopsis:
In early 1960s Biloxi, a loan shark antis-up $10,000 in a high stakes game of murder. If Tuba can prevent the intended victim from being killed for two months, he runs the chance of winning a lot of money. But if he fails, the victim will lose more than his wager; he'll lose his life.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Updates to book status
Today I found out that the correct Nook version of "Life is Hellin Illinois" had made it to the Barnes & Noble web site. I was really worried that it would never get corrected.
The first draft of Between the Clown & the Corpsecicles is in proofing. That's when I discovered I was spelling it wrong. I had it spelled like bicycles instead of an icicles. Thank God I haden't gotten an ISBN number yet. Uhg.
I'm working on expanding it the latter a bit. Right now it stands are just under 55K words. If I'm ever going to break out of the "short story" or "short novel" label, I'm going to have to expand it to at least 100K. But then, maybe I was never meant to go beyond the shorter formats. I won't add words just to adding words.
* = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * =
The first draft of Between the Clown & the Corpsecicles is in proofing. That's when I discovered I was spelling it wrong. I had it spelled like bicycles instead of an icicles. Thank God I haden't gotten an ISBN number yet. Uhg.
I'm working on expanding it the latter a bit. Right now it stands are just under 55K words. If I'm ever going to break out of the "short story" or "short novel" label, I'm going to have to expand it to at least 100K. But then, maybe I was never meant to go beyond the shorter formats. I won't add words just to adding words.
* = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * = * =
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Between the Clown & the Corpsecicles
I have finished the first draft of a short novel about a detective who lives on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I'm hoping to have it e-published in time for Christmas giving.
I'm not sure what made me decide to write detective fiction. Maybe it was a good idea; maybe not. I'll have to wait and see the response from my readers.
The main character, Theodore Lemoyne has several nicknames. To his family, he is Teddy. To everyone else, he is Tuba. The book tells how he got the nick name Tuba, as well as fills the reader in on his background.
Tuba is like no other detective I can remember reading. He is not swift on the up-take, logical, methodical, fastidious, strong, or even good looking. He considers himself well groomed when he has more food in his stomach than on it.
In this introductory book to what might or might not become a series, Tuba, who became a private detective shortly after graduating from high school, is asked by an old school mate, Debbie Benton McGee, to help her investigate a series of murders that have taken place since they graduated. Each murder occurred exactly seven years after the previous one. More strangely, each fell between two specific dates in December. The earlier date coincided with the death of the former Chief of Police who had become a child's party clown (The Clown). The latter with the deaths of five members of one family who were found frozen to death at a home construction sight (The Corpsecycles).
At first, Tuba is reluctant to investigate what he sees as nothing more than a series of coincidences. When Debbie goes missing, he has a change of heart. But it isn't until after several attempts are made to removed him from the picture, and another death, that he turns up the heat on the investigation in an attempt to find the perpetrator before another murder is committed.
I'm not sure what made me decide to write detective fiction. Maybe it was a good idea; maybe not. I'll have to wait and see the response from my readers.
The main character, Theodore Lemoyne has several nicknames. To his family, he is Teddy. To everyone else, he is Tuba. The book tells how he got the nick name Tuba, as well as fills the reader in on his background.
Tuba is like no other detective I can remember reading. He is not swift on the up-take, logical, methodical, fastidious, strong, or even good looking. He considers himself well groomed when he has more food in his stomach than on it.
In this introductory book to what might or might not become a series, Tuba, who became a private detective shortly after graduating from high school, is asked by an old school mate, Debbie Benton McGee, to help her investigate a series of murders that have taken place since they graduated. Each murder occurred exactly seven years after the previous one. More strangely, each fell between two specific dates in December. The earlier date coincided with the death of the former Chief of Police who had become a child's party clown (The Clown). The latter with the deaths of five members of one family who were found frozen to death at a home construction sight (The Corpsecycles).
At first, Tuba is reluctant to investigate what he sees as nothing more than a series of coincidences. When Debbie goes missing, he has a change of heart. But it isn't until after several attempts are made to removed him from the picture, and another death, that he turns up the heat on the investigation in an attempt to find the perpetrator before another murder is committed.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Life is Hellin Illinois
Life is Hellin Illinois, which is scheduled to be released January 2013, is an original work of fiction by this Blogger.
Back in 2005, I had the misfortune of finding myself on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I managed to get down there the Friday before Katrina hit. I'd gone there to be with my mother who was in the hospital. We rode out the storm together at the Biloxi Regional Medical Center. During the height of the storm I was really not sure if we'd survive. That was one of the few times in my life that I contemplated my own mortality.
I had a notebook I'd brought with me from New York, and started jotting down the events as they unfolded. I thought of the possibility that if I survived it would make a good story. When I returned to New York, I entered my notes into MicroSoft Word. There they languished for the better part of half a decade. Several times between 2010 and 2012, I had taken them out and made a not so valiant effort to coalesce them into that great american novel everyone thinks they have in them. But it just never clicked.
Over the 4 decades or so that I'd been working, first in the Navy and later in aerospace, I had occasion to travel and move a lot. Each time I encountered some stupidity, I would either post it on Facebook, or send it out in an email or both.
Sometime in 2012, I got right royal pissed off at Facebook, or rather some of the people on it, and I deleted my Facebook account. Fortunately for me, Facebook accounts never get deleted even when you delete them. But that's a rant for a different day. The problem was that once I could no longer vent my frustrations on Facebook, I had no outlet. I felt stupid sending out blurbs in emails that I found normal on Facebook. So, having all my outlets blocked, I started collecting them.
One day I started putting them into Word. At that time they were nothing but a bunch of unconnected paragraphs which insulted my Poirot like sense of order. I found myself starting to weave them into a little story. I took all the notes I'd made about my various post office experiences and made them seem as if they'd occurred during my move to southern Illinois. I did the same thing with all my experiences at different libraries and DMV offices.
When I'd used up all the experiences in my notes, I realized there was still a lot lacking. I had an urge, need actually, to somehow make all of these things feel like I was sitting around telling a story. But there were things that had happened years previously that I felt somehow had to be merged into the story in order for everything to make sense. I found myself using flashbacks to accomplish this.
Many times during my life I had tried to write a book. Each time, I got stuck at the "Create an Outline" phase. Then, not too long ago if memory serves me, in the back of a Steven King paperback, he discussed the fact that he never knew when he started writing a book how it would end. The characters dictated their own destiny. I thought that was a crock of shit, but I wasn't about to tell someone of Mr. King's stature I thought he was totally tonto.
The more I reread what I'd written, the more I felt there was something missing. I came up with the idea of a Scottish or Irish festival to help focus on some bit of information, and started looking up names of Scots and Irishmen. During my research, I came across a female Greek name which was surprisingly funny. Suddenly, I had to change the festival to Greek Fest.
Her history started taking over and before I knew it she was a second generation american to Irish parents, raised for five years by a Welch woman, and eight by two caring and loving lesbians, and finally married a Greek professor.
Suddenly I found myself creating the different threads of these peoples lives into my story.
I hope you will buy a copy and that you will enjoy it.
Back in 2005, I had the misfortune of finding myself on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I managed to get down there the Friday before Katrina hit. I'd gone there to be with my mother who was in the hospital. We rode out the storm together at the Biloxi Regional Medical Center. During the height of the storm I was really not sure if we'd survive. That was one of the few times in my life that I contemplated my own mortality.
I had a notebook I'd brought with me from New York, and started jotting down the events as they unfolded. I thought of the possibility that if I survived it would make a good story. When I returned to New York, I entered my notes into MicroSoft Word. There they languished for the better part of half a decade. Several times between 2010 and 2012, I had taken them out and made a not so valiant effort to coalesce them into that great american novel everyone thinks they have in them. But it just never clicked.
Over the 4 decades or so that I'd been working, first in the Navy and later in aerospace, I had occasion to travel and move a lot. Each time I encountered some stupidity, I would either post it on Facebook, or send it out in an email or both.
Sometime in 2012, I got right royal pissed off at Facebook, or rather some of the people on it, and I deleted my Facebook account. Fortunately for me, Facebook accounts never get deleted even when you delete them. But that's a rant for a different day. The problem was that once I could no longer vent my frustrations on Facebook, I had no outlet. I felt stupid sending out blurbs in emails that I found normal on Facebook. So, having all my outlets blocked, I started collecting them.
One day I started putting them into Word. At that time they were nothing but a bunch of unconnected paragraphs which insulted my Poirot like sense of order. I found myself starting to weave them into a little story. I took all the notes I'd made about my various post office experiences and made them seem as if they'd occurred during my move to southern Illinois. I did the same thing with all my experiences at different libraries and DMV offices.
When I'd used up all the experiences in my notes, I realized there was still a lot lacking. I had an urge, need actually, to somehow make all of these things feel like I was sitting around telling a story. But there were things that had happened years previously that I felt somehow had to be merged into the story in order for everything to make sense. I found myself using flashbacks to accomplish this.
Many times during my life I had tried to write a book. Each time, I got stuck at the "Create an Outline" phase. Then, not too long ago if memory serves me, in the back of a Steven King paperback, he discussed the fact that he never knew when he started writing a book how it would end. The characters dictated their own destiny. I thought that was a crock of shit, but I wasn't about to tell someone of Mr. King's stature I thought he was totally tonto.
The more I reread what I'd written, the more I felt there was something missing. I came up with the idea of a Scottish or Irish festival to help focus on some bit of information, and started looking up names of Scots and Irishmen. During my research, I came across a female Greek name which was surprisingly funny. Suddenly, I had to change the festival to Greek Fest.
Her history started taking over and before I knew it she was a second generation american to Irish parents, raised for five years by a Welch woman, and eight by two caring and loving lesbians, and finally married a Greek professor.
Suddenly I found myself creating the different threads of these peoples lives into my story.
I hope you will buy a copy and that you will enjoy it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)