Rick's comments (member since Jul 06, 2009)

Rick's comments from the Book Excerpts group.

Thanks, Alex. Book Tour is available now on amazon, and I'll be sure to check out your work.

Rick

How do you tell if something is "too" sexually explicit? Sounds like a tag to get people to want to read more. Where indeed does a piece of writing draw the line between "naughty" stories and porno? (Besides, how do you know Book Excerpt members would be offended? For all you know, they'd lap it up).

Renee wrote: "Peggy;

That's what I thought, and that excerpt is fairly tame. Did you like it though? My biggest concern is that I want the reader to find him hateful, yet root for him as well.
It will be di..."

Anne,

My novel, Book Tour, is humorous, and the closest category I could fit it into was "Mystery". Think you could add "Humor" to the site?

Blurb:Horace Meeker, and emotionally disturbed teenager living in the hollers of eastern Kentucky, is losing his faith in God. As a last resort to committing suicide, he attends one of his father's snake-handling ceremonies:

Half the congregation of the Church of God With Signs danced and stomped upon the hardwood floor, whirling about in wild, unabashed circles. Horace watched as one of the members -- a snake catcher whose right hand was deformed into a mangled claw from rattlesnake bites over the years -- stuck what remained of his hands into one of the two wooden boxes, washing the snakes with his hands.

"We got a lot of serpents in these boxes, folks," said Pastor Meeker. "No, they ain't empty, that's for sure. And the serpents, they ain't empty, either. They don't have the poison sucked out of them. Amen."

"Amen!"

One of the congregants, an elderly man in faded overalls, withering skin upon his forearms, marked with snake-bite punctures, jiggled his thin body toward the boxes and pulled out two large copperheads. He was followed by his grey-haired wife who reached inside the box for a mesh of rattlesnakes and held them upon her flowery rayon dress, between her small breasts. Together, they stared challengingly at the serpents before dancing away from the boxes, snakes in hand. The couple was followed by other members of the church who formed a line before the boxes, each pulling out snakes and holding them in their arms and to their chests. One of the men hefted a slithering mass of the serpents over his head, then drew them down to wipe the sweat off his crying face.

People danced, cried, and sang for the Lord. They reached to feel a mesh of rattlesnakes held on a young follower's head, like a thorned crown. A woman with a snake wrapped around her head and shoulders dropped to her knees, eyes closed, tears on her cheeks. At the pulpit, Horace's father handed out a bottle of strychnine mixed with water -- what he called a "salvation cocktail" -- and people stood in line to take generous swigs, then grimaced and whirled about the floor.

Horace started toward the boxes. His hands were sweating, his throat was dry and sore, and his chest was strung into a thousand tight knots. He could hear the sound of snakes rattling, even louder than the music and singing. With his eyes clamped shut, he reached down into one of the boxes and felt the scaly skin of serpents slithering about his hands. He took a long, deep breath, then lifted his arms out of the box and held four rattlesnakes to his chest.

Horace could feel the serpents swirl about his neck, grazing his cheeks, and running their heads through his hair. He opened his eyes to see one of the snakes, with its beady coal black eyes staring at him; its red-forked tongue twirled aimlessly about. The moment had arrived: The serpent was telling Horace it was time to die.

Book Tour is available in print and Kindle at Amazon.com and virtualbookworm.com. I hope you enjoyed this excerpt, and that you visit my web site at www.rickzabel.com.

I've been looking for a group like this, Anne. I'm glad I found it.