INTERVIEWING RICHARD HACKER by Angelica Hart and Zi

A: Picture this!  (Holds hands up as if framing a photo)

Z: (Looks at her hands) Ummm...what?

A: You're in an airplane hurling toward the earth, total nosedive....

Z: (Interrupts) Are you in the plane, too?

A: No way, I'd be hurling period.

Z: Too much info!  Besides we are about to interview Richard Hacker, author of TOXIC
RELATIONSHIP, not flying anywhere. 

A: Ah ha!  You didn't go to Richard's website.  If you wanna understand my reference,  go to www.richardhacker.com  It certainly piqued my interest, and that is why I suggested him for an interview. 

Z: I thought I was the one who wanted to interview...

A: Ummm...errrr...we'll discuss it later.  

A/Z:  Welcome to CBG's blog, Richard!  (Offers coffee, tea, and chocolate) We are tickled to have you here, and we just have to say, you had us at The Foundation Trilogy.  Anyone who's a fan of  Asimov's is an enlightened soul.    

To begin, we adore characterization, therefore our questions are leaning towards knowing more about the characters in TOXIC RELATIONSHIP coming from Champagne Books, August 2012. 

 Thanks for the interview.  This will be my first as an author, so I guess you could say I'm a virgin.  Okay, maybe not. But this is my first interview.  TOXIC RELATIONSHIP is a thriller with a humorous twist set in the Hill Country of Texas.  My protagonist, Nick Sibelius, moves to the small Texas town of Pflugerville, turned Austin suburb, to set up a private investigation business, find some peace and maybe, himself, after a murdered partner, a cheating wife and a lost job in Houston.  When a young couple disappears and a bass fisherman turns up dead, he finds himself drawn into a web of toxic relationships: MaryLou, a beautiful woman with a mysterious past, Junior, a failed farmer whose best intentions seem to always result in a dead body, and Barry, a sociopathic dentist turned illegal toxic waste and methamphetamine entrepreneur with visions of grandeur.  When the felon who killed his partner in Houston joins forces with Barry, Nick must not only stop the toxic waste dumping while finding his client's missing daughter, but keep from being killed in the process. In the end, MaryLou's dark secret will either help him or kill him -- whichever comes first.

A/Z:  If you could trade places with one of the characters you created, who would it be and why?

My characters in TOXIC RELATIONSHIP all have flaws that influence their choices in life. So, as in real life, everyone's a little broken. I'm a guy, but thinking about it, I'd want to be MaryLou who starts out as a sexy Houston Chronicle reporter and develops into one bad ass woman.  She is powerful, smart, beautiful and she's got crazy skills with weapons (Barry says she can hit a squirrel at a hundred yards). Quite the combination.

A/Z:   If Hollywood made a movie about your book, who would you like to see playing the lead role?  Is your answer based on looks or personality?

The protagonist, Nick Sibelius, is a thirty something ex-cop and a little rough around the edges, but he's also has a thoughtful, sensitive side. Brad Pitt comes to mind. Of course you're thinking I'm going with Brad because we're virtually identical twins -- ROFL -- but I think he would capture his edgy toughness and his tenderness.  And who knows, maybe Angelina Jolie would show up on the set occasionally.

  

A/Z:  Does your main protagonist have any interesting quirks?

Nick loves women, baseball, dogs, beer, Jack Daniels, and pick up trucks.  A bit of a man's man.  He does have a habit of banging a tennis ball against his office wall when he needs to think. But maybe his most interesting quirk, if you want to call it a quirk, is his open mindedness. For example, his office assistance Al, recently acknowledged, after a life as a man, that she was really a woman.  Nick doesn't hesitate to acknowledge her by calling her Alice.

A/Z:  What zodiac sign do you attach to your favorite character in your book?

I had to do some research on this one!  One of my favorites is what I’d call my comic relief antagonist, Junior Pendleton, a failed farmer with a history of accidentally killing trespassers and shooting down hot air balloons.  He forms a relationship with my crazy scary antagonist, Barry, to become an 'environmental resource executive' -- in other words, he dumps Barry's toxic waste on his farmland.  In his own twisted way, Junior is probably an Aries.  He lives in the moment with an aggressiveness spurred on by his innate paranoia.  He’s willing to take risks, such as stepping away from farming to become an entrepreneur (or as he would say, an entra-manure), he doesn’t play well with others (in fact, he tends to shoot at people who in his mind run into his bullet like a dog runs in front of a passing car), and he’s very much a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy.  Unfortunately what you see is a paranoid farmer with a penchant for guns and starting fires.  Not a good mix during a drought in the Hill Country. 

A/Z:  Is there a part of YOU within the soul of any of your characters? 

 As Junior would say, "Get out of my head!"  LOL -- Are you a therapist or something?  I imagine there's some of me in Nick.  He's a much more physically tough than I am, but we share his loves for women, baseball, dogs and whiskey, and I hope I'm at least as open minded and accepting.  TOXIC RELATIONSHIP actually has two antagonists.  Barry, a sociopathic dentist mastermind of an illegal toxic waste and methamphetamine business.  He is one dark, scary piece of work. The other antagonist is Junior, a man whose bad decisions continually come back to haunt him with unfortunate, and often humorous outcomes.  I'd like to think I have much better judgement than Junior, but I do like his humor.  

 A/Z:  Can you tell us your antagonists'  darkest, deeper secret?  OR is THAT a secret?

 Barry wants to be a feared leader of a criminal enterprise designed to ultimately fund his neo nazi militia in a bid to take back America. He has a whole philosophy about how the country went down hill beginning with George Washington and he's convinced Barry Swenson is the man to lead the nation to greatness. However, the roots of Barry's personality come from a childhood of being the outcast, bullied and humiliated by classmates. Barry responds to his abuse by becoming their worst nightmare, first in his dental chair, for which he loses his license, and then through his criminal activities.

A/Z :  Who is the protagonist's best bud, and do they have a similar bent or are they opposites?

 Quentin Matthews. Nick and Quen played football in high school and came back together in the police academy to become Houston Police Officers. When Nick's anesthesiologist wife left him for a trauma doc, Quen stood by his side. They share a history and a certain knowledge that they always have each other's back no matter what is going on for them personally. Quentin tends to play more by the rules and has his personal life in order, while Nick tends to draw outside the lines and his personal life is a bit of a mess.

 A/Z :  If your favorite character found themselves suddenly in the Twilight Zone, what would be the first thing they said?

Another of my favorites is Junior 's nephew Carl. He's a nineteen year old, and as Junior will tell you, "I've known cedar posts with more smarts than that boy." He lacks confidence and common sense, which he exacerbates with his consumption of malt liquor.  Tossed into the Twilight Zone I imagine he'd say, "I’ll be damned, everything's in black and white! I heard folks had delayed reactions from sniffing airplane glue, but I guess mixing it with weed and that shit daddy used to lube tractor parts took me over the edge. Are we are TV?  ‘Cause if we are, I’d sure like to meet that Jessica Simpson woman."

A/Z :  Would you like to add anything?

I currently live in Seattle, which is a stunningly beautiful place -- snow capped mountains, Puget Sound, forests -- crazy beautiful.  Before moving here I lived in the Austin area for over thirty years and continue to go back to Austin regularly to visit family, friends and the Hill Country. There's a strange beauty to the place and I hope my other character, Central Texas, shines through in the book. TOXIC RELATIONSHIP will be released by Champagne Books in August, 2012.  Pick up a copy, pop open a cold Shiner (or as close as you can get, wherever you live) and kick back.  Sex, murder and toxic waste -- nowhere else but Texas!

PLEASE VISIT  Richard Hacker at ~

ebsite: www.richardhacker.com

Blog: www.richardhacker.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RWHacker

Twitter: @Richard_Hacker

Email:  richard@richardhacker.com

Toxic Relationship

August, 2012 Release from Champagne Books

***
Angelica Hart and Zi KILLER DOLLS ~ SNAKE DANCE ~ CHASING YESTERDAY CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL ~ Christmas 2012 http://www.champagnebooks.com/

Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane STEEL EMBRACE
BOOK NOOKIE-A LIBRARIAN'S BUIDE TO THE DO-ME DECIMAL SYSTEM http://www.carnalpassions.com/

A Writer Born Outside the Box…Julie Eberhart Painter

There is no box for me, born to an unwed mother and living in three foster homes before being adopted by middle aged parents. This not lonely but only child was born to be a writer. No cardboard sides or top and bottom to my environmental wilderness contained me. No transportation could transport me during gas rationing. Having to create my own reality contributed to my unusual twist on life. Outside  the box is where I'm most comfortable as an adult.

Call it creativity or skill, writers have basic sources for the talent and passion to write. To harness the desire and learn to bring a story to life is the requisite. Even journalism has a story, especially modern blogs and articles. At least 15 years ago, the inverted pyramid was toppled by the public’s desire for story over facts. Since then it’s flailed at the hands of bloggers and tabloid journalists.

To get the attention of agents and editors, writers must decide how best to tell their story in fresh and exciting ways. Standard methods in prose include the linear plot, frame stories with the flash back in the middle, or a point of view character experiencing the story in an emotional way.

The linear story should lie beneath like a firm foundation to guide readers without confusing them. Flash backs aside, this is the most popular method.

A good example of a frame story is Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, by Fanny Flagg. It begins at the “almost” ending and shows the linear story, then solves the story arc at the end where the piece began.

There are more off the wall methods that work in the hands of the creative out of the box thinkers.  Several examples come to mind. Awake, a new TV series centers on complicated grief, something I saw in bereavement groups when I volunteered as a co-facilitator with hospice bereavement groups. I’ve used the grieving theme in several of my books, especially Mortal Coil and Tangled Web.

In Awake, when guilt is mixed with extreme loss, the grieving produces an extrasensory reaction. The law officer, who suffers the loss of either his wife or his son, sees two psychiatrists. Each is trying to sort out why he is living—either asleep or awake—two lives, one with his wife and one with his son. It's obvious he is grieving and in dramatic denial, perhaps having lost both. By keeping them both alive, but mourning one and then the other, he honors them both. Yet he continues to work and experience the everyday stresses of his job, the linear part of his story.

The Lovely Bones, written from the point of view of the murdered girl who is grieving her family. is a different POV approach.

(Spoiler alert) In The Sixth Sense when the young man who sees “dead people” is trying to tell the protagonist he is dead, we experience another example of unique formatting.

The novel, Turn of Mind, by Alice LaPlante, is my favorite most recent example of imaginative out-of-the-box writing. LaPlante wrote the entire book from the point of view of Jennifer, a formerly brilliant orthopedic surgeon now an Alzheimer’s patient, who may or may not have murdered her best friend. One reviewer called it a diary of a disease. But it’s also a murder mystery. The mystery is re-enforced by the linear backstory provided by Jennifer’s visitors, while following the fragmented thoughts of the patient. As she sinks deeper into dementia, she’s still trying to remember what happened the night her best friend was murdered and left on the floor of her home with four fingers surgically removed.

The story is emotional because the readers are in her head rooting for her need to know. The suspense manifests in her deteriorating condition that puts a time constraint on her ability to remember. Readers realize although she was a hard person, but she was not an evil person. The story is made more linear by visits from a sympathetic woman police officer, who knows she can’t charge Jennifer as a competent adult but feels the need to know the truth. This method of telling her story is gripping, a totally unique POV.

One of my yet-to-be-published novels, Daughters of the Sea, is told in parallel time travel. Delusion, magic, or plausible haunting? The readers will decide.  

For more flash fiction visit Julie’s latest story at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue472/index.html

 Julie’s Web site: www.books-jepainter.com 

THE POWER OF HEALING by January Bain

This excerpt from Forever Man contains one of  the biggest reasons I wrote this novel, I wanted the gift of healing that our heroine possesses.

While I waited for her to return I looked out the window, admiring the view of snow-peaked mountains when I heard the screeching of brakes and a thud, then realized someone had hit a dog with a half ton truck right in front of the restaurant. The driver, a young woman in obvious distress, jumped out and cradled the animal’s head in her lap. In an instant I turned and rushed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

As I reached the woman she looked up at me with stark pleading in her eyes. “I didn’t see him! Please, I need help!”

Crouching down beside them, I carefully laid my hands on the whimpering dog. It looked like a husky, probably a sled dog. He or she was still breathing, but it was labored and loud. I could also see blood on its soft white fur. My heart instantly melted and reached out to the poor creature with its pain-filled, whiskey-brown eyes that seemed to beg me to do something. Despite the gut-wrenching plea, I felt helpless, sheer happenstance had brought this poor animal to this end and I had no power to save it from its fate.

Hesitantly, I reached my hands out and laid them on the poor dog’s head and its eyes seemed to tell me that it knew its fate. Tears flowed and the image of the dog blurred. I felt its pain as my own as I closed my eyes in sheer anguish.

Please God, let this beautiful creature be okay. Suddenly, something came alive inside me like a dam bursting its banks, and a great tidal wave of energy flowed through me from my very core. It was so strong it made me shake and my legs, cramping in the crouch, almost gave way.

A surge of pure power seemed to drive through my hands into the dog as I concentrated my thoughts on it and then all I could see and feel was hot, white light surrounding me for a few brief incredibly thrilling seconds. The light blinded me, its power as strong as the noonday sun. A sense of pure aliveness electrified me, as if I was at the pinnacle of my strength and could rise up and fill the world with goodness and healing. Then, just as suddenly, the floodgates in my mind closed and the white hot energy retreated back into my hands that began to shake violently with the excess energy.

The sensation left as abruptly as it had come and I fell back exhausted from the effort. The dog whimpered, shook itself and sat up. It looked at the two of us as if nothing had happened, its brown eyes shining and its tail wagging as if it didn’t even remember the last few minutes of its life.

http://www.januarybain.ca/

INSANITY, DEATH, AND MUFFINS, OH MY! by Angelica Hart and Zi

A: Listen to this...

Z: (Looks up over his reading glasses)

A: "Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death." It's by someone unknown but it's so profound.

Z: (Puts his e-reader down, wondering if Ang is in one of her rare serious moods) And why are we obsessed with death today?

A: Is life truly stronger than death?

Z: Well, as the author says, it can't take away our love, and love I believe is the strongest emotion. To quote Vincent Van Gogh. "Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well."

A: (Suddenly blurts) We're murderers....(Gets teary eyed)

Z: (Blinks - now unsure of what mood she possess) Huh?

A: We kill all the time.

Z: And where was I when all this killing was going on?

A: (Does the double eye-roll) Welllll, right here, of course, we usually don't kill off anyone unless the other agrees to it.

Z: (Wonders if he can quietly sneak off and call 911, psychiatric unit, stat!) Surrreee...right...of course.... You just stay calm. Want tea? Chocolate?

A: No.

Z: (Pops up out of his chair, and stares down at her) That's it, what in duck soup are you talking about, or have you finally flipped your wig.

A: Hey! I don't like duck soup, and I certainly don't own a wig. Never owned a wig. (Thinks) Well, there was that one time when hubby and I....

Z: (Slices his hand through the air) Angelica!

A: I digress.

Z: Ya think!

A: Oh! (Looks enlightening) You're not following my train of thought.

Z: Nowwww, we're talking about trains???

A: (Gives him the LOOK, yup that you-gotta-be kiddin'-me look backed by a are-you-nuts) I was talking about how we kill off characters without consideration.

Z: (Thinks: 911...yup...Cocoa Puffs Looney) We consider. We talk it through. We don't just wake up one day and say, that's it, Mong has to go.

A: Hmmmm I don't think we killed off Mong.

Z: Didn't we?

A: Well, I'm not telling, we'll give away the ending to SNAKE DANCE if I do.

Z: Alright then, I know we really analyzed the plot and storyline before slaying Oväder from STEEL EMBRACE.

A: Hmmmm I don't think we killed off Oväder.

Z: Didn't we?

A: Well, I'm not telling, we'll give away the....

Z: Ending....

A: (Nods)

Z: Then, me literary bud in crime, do you really think we should have this conversation right here and now...(Looks out at the readers from the computer screen)

A: (You can do that)

Z: (We're fiction writers we can do anything)

A: (Pouts) My point exactly, we're murderers!

Z: (Signs and blocks readers from viewing their office)

Alas, a moment in the lives of two writers before Zi had his morning coffee and Ang had her morning muffin. After all, according to Ang, a mind simply can't function without sugar and cream. And, in some strange way, that really does make sense.

Any thoughts?

***

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at writingteamcw@yahoo.com (Write - Blog - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi KILLER DOLLS ~ SNAKE DANCE ~ CHASING YESTERDAY CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL ~ Christmas 2012 http://www.champagnebooks.com/

Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane STEEL EMBRACE
BOOK NOOKIE-A LIBRARIAN'S BUIDE TO THE DO-ME DECIMAL SYSTEM http://www.carnalpassions.com/

GIVING AWAY THE STORE by Jim Woods

When I was a young boy in Kentucky around the end of World War Two, a man in our neighborhood had a pastry delivery truck. In time, I was to learn that he was an independent operator, a franchise holder, although the truck carried the signage of the commercial bakery that supplied the products he dealt in. I know now that he serviced an exclusive area that he had acquired through lease or purchase. The retail stores within his territory, if they wanted to carry his baker’s brands of cakes, pies and snack cakes, had to deal with him. Although I did not grasp the franchise theory at the time, I did eventually learn about franchises and profit commerce in general.

The unfathomable mystery to me at the time was why, when the route man retrieved the outdated pastries from the store shelves, and replaced them with fresh ones, that he did not give away the day-old or two-day-old pastries. I coveted them, and I was not alone. Practically everyone in the neighborhood was poor, although most had jobs. My brother and I added to the family income by mowing lawns behind a push mower, sometimes for the princely sum of twenty cents. Mostly we got a dime to share. But those dimes could never be spent on a snack cake, but we were tempted.

The pastry route man was one of our lawn-mowing clients, so we had access twice a month to his back yard in order to perform our work. Several were the occasions when we saw him sprinkle kerosene on a pile of mouth-watering but shelf-dated cellophane wrapped pastries, and touch off a match to them. They smelled so good when they burned, and we were confused and angry at what we saw as awful waste.  Other times when our lawn mowing didn’t happen to coincide with the ritual cake fires, the circular mound of ashes in the middle of the lawn that we mowed was a reminder of cakes gone up in smoke without sating any sweet tooth. The man did not even tip us with a small snack cake, but paid us our dime apiece. His was a big back yard, thus the double dimes.

At some time in my understanding of ways of the world, I came to realize that if he had given away his outdated pastries, the recipients soon would come to expect the largess on schedule, and the stores would not sell his fresh cakes; the store patrons in the neighborhood knowing that if they were patient, those day or two-day-old cakes would come to them free. The store would lose out on retail sales and the route man would suffer loss of his wholesale business.

Moving on, in my later adult life, I was privileged to hunt in Africa on several occasions. The reasons and conditions don’t matter; I was there. In South Africa, safari operations frequently are conducted on farms and ranches where crops and domestic animals share the land. Those farms and ranches largely are not as mechanized as similar operations in the United States, and for sound reasons in the country’s economic structure. They have large numbers of personnel to serve as farm workers, and the government at the time encouraged the farmers to employ more hired help than they needed, with attendant lower wages spread over more recipients. As might be concluded from such an arrangement, those workers were near the bottom of the economic scale, although part of their wages was basic food rations. Those rations did not include fancy cuts of meat, but may have included the lesser and non-marketable pieces, and even entrails that the workers found acceptable as food.

On one occasion, on a cattle ranch that also was home to a safari outfit, a cow was discovered in the bush, down and disabled with a broken leg, presumably from stepping into a hole or possibly from stumbling during panicked retreat from a predator.  Buzzards were chased from the scene but not before having just started to pick on the still-live cow. The animal had to be destroyed. The farmer used the same method of destruction as the cake man. After shooting the cow, he doused the carcass with diesel fuel and ignited it, and we hung around until he was satisfied that the carcass was completely consumed.

Up to that point, I had suggested that since the animal was still alive and meat was still fresh, it could have been salvaged, for workers’ rations if nothing else. But his reasoning was that if he gave the meat to his workers, he would find other cows meeting similar accidents every time they wanted meat. I understood his implication. He was in the beef business. Like the cake man, he couldn’t give away the product without adversely impacting the market value of the rest of his product.

I was witness to almost the same scenario another time and locale in Africa. This time it was a game animal, a wildebeest that was down, and duly reported to the farm owner by one of his black staff who had discovered it. We drove out to investigate and the animal was indeed freshly dead, but without apparent cause. The farmer/safari outfitter performed an autopsy in the field, and pronounced the animal expired of “heart water”--fluid around the heart.  According to the farmer, it was fairly common for this particular species in this region, and usually caused by the animal being pursued until it dropped, by man or other predator. So while he had lost an animal for which guest hunters would have paid a substantial trophy fee, he also refused to permit the meat to be salvaged for his crew.  To give away his product would have been to invite further animals pursued till their hearts stopped too. Like the other South African farmer, and the cake man, the no longer saleable merchandise was destroyed.

In addition to being a writer and author, I’m also an editor, by a lifetime of education, training and experience. I’ve been around the business long enough to know that independent editors’ livelihood comes from paid commissions for their editing services rendered to private individuals or corporation clients.  All too often, the private author requesting editing of his book manuscript or short story is hurt or angered when the editor lays out a fee structure for his editing expertise and work. Those editors seemingly are expected to work for nothing, or for goodwill. But like the cake man in Kentucky and the game farmers in South Africa, most professional editors do not devalue their product by giving it away.  So unless the requestor is a very close friend of the editor, or unless that editor volunteers his editing skills, don’t expect them to work for nothing. Their time and experience have value from which they are entitled to benefit, and that’s the frosting on their cake.

<<>>

JIM WOODS is an independent editor assisting book authors, small presses and corporations with line, style, and substance editing; applying his expertise to novels, short story collections, nonfiction and corporate image.  Formerly, he was in-house Editor, Managing Editor and Editorial Director with Petersen Publishing Company, Beverly Hills; and satellite Contributing Editor with Publishers Development Corporation, San Diego.  His professional associations include American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA) and Outdoor Writers of America (OWAA).  He is a world traveler, having set foot in more than six-dozen countries on six continents, and is a worldwide big-game hunter. In addition to sixteen books, he has published some four hundred articles in Outdoor Life, Popular Mechanics, Petersen’s Hunting, Guns & Ammo, Western Outdoors, Southern Outdoors and other guns and hunting magazines. He lives and works in Tucson, Arizona. Find him on line at:

http://users.dakotacom.net/~jwoods

Evolution of a story by Michael W. Davis

I’m often asked, “Where in the world do your stories come from?” Here’s a snapshot of how my first novel TAINTED HERO (which received six 5 start reviews) came to life.

Where did the idea for TH come from

I was driving home from taking my sweetie to breakfast, and I heard a news report on the radio. It dealt with a topic I had worried about for many years. When I heard it, my immediate thought was, “Wow, its closer then I thought.” Then, “Hey, that would make a good storyline. Its got intrigue, personalized conflict, just needs some sweet loven, Hell, I can do that.” And the seed began. The final draft morphed significantly from the original idea. It developed a life of its own. By that I mean the story took twists and turns I never envisioned at the start.

Where did the characters come from

The hero was based 50% on the physical and emotional attributes of a friend that was a Specops officer in Desert storm, and 50% on myself in my younger days. The heroine was derived from a female I worked with in the Pentagon many years ago. I always found her extremely feminine (please don’t tell my wife). The villain was derived from a self-serving jerk I encounter on several projects I worked on for the Army. I only changed his hair color and age. The son of the heroine was based on images and memories of my son when he was a boy.

Where did the title come from?

The story was renamed three times.  At its conception, I used the name Medium Contingency. As the story came to life, I changed it to Moral Paradox. When I sent it out to my hit squad (friends/family that are brutally honest and critical), my son came up with the final title. When I heard it, I knew I liked it. But just to be safe, I surveyed about two dozen friends/family and of the four titles I offered, Tainted Hero won hands down.

How long did it take to write?

The actual creation of the first draft only took about eight weeks. My mode of writing is to lock myself in a back room and leave this world until I get the story out. As corny as it sounds, I actually live the story as it evolves. That’s the neat/fun part of it. The part I hate is the editing. I revised this particular manuscript over thirty times. The entire process, from birth to “I’m ready to submit,” took about five months.

Any other titles we should look for?

Since that first call by a publisher I have 14 stories released/contracted in the genres of romance, suspense, political thrillers and Sci Fi. You can read reviews, excerpts and watch videos at Davisstories.com. Yes, I’ve been a busy boy. Gives us old guys something to do to keep us out of trouble.

Big Mike

Big Mike

FOREVER MAN PROLOGUE by January Bain

As our book opens, our heroine, Ellie Hightower, has arrived in Nome, Alaska looking for a fresh start. She meets up with the intriguing, Mike Stone, owner of Fast Eddie's. Little does she know what she’s about to encounter …

Every person above the ordinary has a certain mission that they are called to fulfill.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Prologue

Pure evil waited, hushed and cold in the perfect darkness. The steady drip, drip on the coffin lid above was soundless next to the crashing waves of the sea. But the creature within was aware and knew what the substance was: life-giving nourishment.

The blood was pooling, seeking a way into any tiny fissure that it could search out with thin hungry fingers. The resurrection was painstaking. Each life-giving drop dripped onto the needy beast which absorbed each molecule like a monstrous sponge as it built up, layer by layer. The vampire waited patiently—certain of its imminent resurrection.

After all, it had already waited centuries, what were a few more hours to recover what had been lost…

Prologues are tricky, I think. Do you use one regularly?

http://www.januarybain.ca/