Michelle L. Levigne's Blog, page 48

Off the Bookshelf: A FAREWELL TO CHARMS, by Molly Harper

 

Mystic Bayou

In fact, the LAST Mystic Bayou story. Noooooo! Say it isn't so!

Mystic Bayou is a guilty pleasure. So much fun, mixed with fantasy and mystery and a touch of danger and humor. Kind of snarky in places, too.

The book details page on this audiobook says "magnificent series finale," so it must be true -- magnificent as well as ... finale. *sigh*

Eva appeared in Jon and Leah's story, and Alex showed up when Cordelia came to town, so readers/listeners have known about them for  a little while. Now, they both get center stage.

He's Mister GQ, fashion plate, bureaucrat, and she's kind of a Cajun-style Wonder Woman. She literally can and does pick him up and has to be careful not to break him when passion takes over. But they have a lot in common, despite appearances. Both of them have pasts they carry scars and regrets over. Both have to work things out with their parents. Both have to forgive. Both can't believe that the one they've been secretly sighing over wants them. Sounds like a match made in heaven, right?

Well, yeah, except Eva's family problems come near to killing Alex. And there's this cursed sapphire threatening to mess them up at some point. And Alex doesn't really fit in with the "gang" that has built up in the previous stories ... but he'll learn for Eva's sake.

*sigh* Fun story, but with a bitter sweet aftertaste, knowing it's the last one .... well, until I get enough books cleared out of my to-be-listened-to queue that I can justify pulling out the first story and start listening all over again. So much fun. Thanks, Molly, for the fun ride! 

New release sample: THE LIVING PROOF GETS THE BLUES

 The last article was a list of the dead. With a few sentences talking about what they had been doing before they reunited for the concert tour.

Pastor Rocky and Father Marty were listed near the top.

The article gave their current names, the names they had been using when they were with the band, and where they ministered now.

I read the information to Daniel, and my voice broke a little when I got to "Neighborlee Gospel Church, Neighborlee, Ohio."

"But they're not dead," he said. "So who died in the crash?"

I flipped through my phone, moving backward through the screens of information Sherwood had put there, then increased the view to navigate through the article. I was reading when Daniel pulled into the church parking lot, and while he unloaded my chair and brought it around to the door.

"It doesn't say anything about getting lookalikes or body doubles or whatever to fill in for them," I said, when I couldn't delay any longer, and slid out of the truck to settle in my chair.

"Sherwood?" Daniel said.

"You want it sent to Pastor Rocky's computer?" he asked through my phone.

"Please."

New release sample: THE LIVING PROOF GETS THE BLUES

 

We got to a stop sign and Daniel leaned over to look. I showed him the phone. All I had to do was hold it, while Sherwood scrolled through the images. Pastor Rocky and Marty scowled at the camera, looking like they did in the pictures from the band's glory days. Except …

Except they were wearing current clothes. None of the grunge rock outfits. Black t-shirts and jeans and cowboy boots and black leather jackets. Their hair was short -- well, Father Marty had hair, period. The man I had been running into when he practiced with Pastor Rocky's retro band wore the typical Friar Tuck haircut, glossy dome with a straggly fringe. In all the pictures I had seen from Pastor Rocky's boxes of memorabilia, they had had long hair, past their shirt pockets -- if they wore shirts at all.

"This is a story that was slated to release next week," Sherwood said, when Daniel sat up and continued driving to the church.

"How did you get hold of it ahead of time?" Daniel asked.

"I didn't. It was released in reaction to an accident last night. Read."

My phone showed a series of newspaper articles and police reports and online news bytes. Sherwood didn't give me time to read much more than the headlines and a few of the first lines. I didn't want to read more than that, because the headlines and lead lines told me the whole story.

Magna Magma's tour bus had collided head-on with a semi hauling a fuel tanker. There were no survivors.

Okay, we were going to comfort Pastor Rocky on the tragic deaths of his former friends. So why were we trying to get there before Father Marty? 

My phone display stopped on the final article, and I realized I was wrong. There was a whole lot more to last night's accident.

Off the Bookshelf: HOW TO ADD HUMOR TO YOUR NOVEL, by Lisa Wells

 

Homework for the craft book club at Great Lakes Fiction Writers.

As Saavik said to Admiral Kirk: "Humor. A difficult concept."

You know what's even more difficult? GOBS of homework, to stretch your humor muscles (Didn't know you had one, did you? Well, what do you think is attached to your funny bone?) (On another note, it seems some people lack both a funny bone and humor muscles. Too bad. Humor should be considered a survival skill in life, not just in writing!)

The author gives lots of examples for all the different kinds of humor and approaches to assembling a joke or humorous scene or creating one-liners. And how to apply different kinds of humor and techniques for different situations. And for every chapter she has exercises -- aka HOMEWORK!

This is one of those books where you read it through to get the general idea of what's there, and a good idea of what you need to focus on. Then you go back and do the homework, study the examples, and accept the fact that it's not a one-and-done. You gotta exercise those humor muscles constantly, to make it work.

I must confess, I voted for a different book for the club to read last month, but I'm kinda-sorta glad the majority chose this one. Useful! And it reinforced my own assessment of my own brand of humor. Snark. Pointing out the insanity of the world around me, and trying not to whimper too loudly when it's proved again and again that I -- speaking through my POV character -- am the only sane person for miles around .... Maybe!

New release sample: THE LIVING PROOF GETS THE BLUES

 Daniel was just getting out of his truck when I reached the parking lot. Oh, great, we were supposed to have an editorial department meeting. How did I manage to forget that little detail? Maybe because I was trying to forget anything having to do with Daniel, thanks to the weird looks he had been giving me ever since we celebrated Angela and Ethan's wedding, and she threw her bridal bouquet right into my face.

"Hey, no running out on me," Daniel called, laughing, as I sped down the ramp in my wheelchair.

This was one of those days when I was even more furious with all the damage done during the whole doppelganger situation this past winter and spring. My healing had been set back by years. I should have been leaving the office on my own two legs, and maybe even run to my Jeep and jump in. No delays to get out of my chair and fold it up and sling it into the back seat.

"Pastor Rocky needs me," I said, and nearly ran him over, when he stepped into my path.

At the last moment, Daniel pivoted aside and grabbed the handles of my chair and turned me toward his truck. He nearly tipped me out of my chair, but I caught on to what he was doing, and levered myself up onto my feet in time to avoid doing a face-plant against his passenger door. I was in and pulling the door closed by the time he had my chair in the back of his truck and was getting into the driver's seat.

Then I turned on my phone and told Sherwood to fill us in.

"Read this," he said, and kindly took over my phone so it switched over to a music website devoted to rock'n'roll bands.

It featured Magna Magma's reunion tour. Sherwood only let me read a few paragraphs before he took over again, blowing up several pictures. 

"That's Pastor Rocky. But it's not." I squinted at the images. "And there's Father Marty. But --" I swallowed, fighting a queasy sensation. "But that's not them. They're … younger."

New release sample: THE LIVING PROOF GETS THE BLUES

 

It was the day after the third reunion concert. I knew the schedule because Pastor Rocky tried to stay on top of things, to have us praying for his former friends. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation, how the whole concert came together, the nastiness of the Lavaheads, and especially how the organizers for the tour had found him. How difficult was it to get through three false identities to track someone down?

Sherwood contacted me at work. It was a Tuesday, paper delivery day, and I had just gotten to my desk. My computer screen lit up with his face on it. Pretty neat trick, since I hadn't turned on my computer yet. The little light in the camera lit up and he looked around the office before speaking. Which was a relief, because I was bent down to pick up a pack of flag stickers I had knocked onto the floor and didn't see him watching me for a few seconds.

"Lanie, Pastor Rocky is going to need you," Sherwood said. "Right away. I have bad news to give him."

"What kind of bad news?" Honestly, my first thought was that Stephen Grandstone was on his way to the church with a car loaded with Magna Magma memorabilia and a couple machine guns.

"According to the news, Pastor Rocky should be dead."

 "What?" Somehow, I managed not to shriek that word.

"Just go. I'll tell you in the car. Father Marty is reading the news on his computer right now, and we want Pastor Rocky to know before he tells him." 

"Okay, I'm going." I turned my wheelchair away from my desk, and nearly forgot to grab my backpack, which I had slung onto my desk to unload it. Kind of needed my backpack, because it had my keys.

Off the Bookshelf: THE MIDNIGHT ORCHESTRA, by Jessica Khoury

 

Audiobook, Audible exclusive

Narrated by Suzy Jackson

Mystwick School series

This second book in the Mystwick School series takes up just days after the end of the first book. Amelia thinks she's finally settling in, she's finally made a place for herself and she belongs. She's looking forward to learning to use her newly discovered magical gift of Composing.

Then, of course, complications hit her, one by one. First, the other Amelia Jones shows up, miraculously rescued from being shipwrecked. This Mia is not a nice person, especially since she's determined to keep Darby and Amelia from being friends. Then the mysterious Mr. Midnight contacts Amelia by magically appearing notes, summoning her to the Midnight Orchestra. Then her classmates decide to enter a musical competition the school hasn't been able to enter since the grand prize trophy was stolen from them by cheaters. They're depending on Amelia to compose the winning musical spell -- and Amelia finds out that her mother was the composer for that last team.

Amelia's composing teacher, Miss Mott, is something of a free spirit, whose teaching methods leave her confused and frustrated. Especially when one thing after another goes wrong, in school and her life. Pushed to the breaking point, she makes a rash decision, which ends in her owing a huge debt to Mr. Midnight. And he's not above threatening her friends and the school to make sure she pays. Amelia could lose far more than the competition.

Bravisimo!

Snap It All Mystery CLUES

 

THANKS for coming to check out the clues and extra information to solve the Snap It All! mystery.

The information was posted on Thursday, so just scroll down past Friday's blog post, and you'll find that information.

TWO postings. 

Read them both.

GOOD LUCK!!

New release sample: THE LIVING PROOF GETS THE BLUES

 Meanwhile, Stephen Grandstone had started harassing Pastor Rocky.

He knew he had been Drake Abbot, in Magna Magma. How? How did the Grandstones find out anything? Shady sources, at the very least.

Get this: Grandstone wanted an inside exclusive to the reunion of the band. He wanted a reunion concert in Cleveland. Playhouse Square. One of the venues at Cleveland State. The I-X Center. All Pastor Rocky had to do was name a place and date, and he would arrange it.

He got kind of nasty-snippy when Pastor Rocky told him he wasn't in the reunion tour. He accused Pastor Rocky of lying, and then trying to game him and force him into negotiations.

All this was done over the phone. Grandstones had never stepped foot into our church, even when they tried to prove they were the legitimate owners of the building. We suspected any Grandstone who stepped foot onto church property would burst into flames.

The phone calls were a regular occurrence, according to Vivian Holt, our church secretary. At least once a day, six days a week, Stephen Grandstone called and Vivian had to pass him to Pastor Rocky. On Sundays, he called and left a message on the church answering machine, because no one was in the office. 

Then after two months, the phone calls and demands to meet the band and sponsor a concert stopped abruptly.

More clues for the SNAP IT! Mystery ....

 

Here are some questions the investigator asked me, but weren't posted on the Facebook page:

Helpful?

Was he picking on me?

Was he suspicious?

Was I being snippy with my last answer?

You decide!

 

Why was your business card found near the camera bag where the camera was stolen from, Christy said she never saw that one before.

It was windy, we were chasing the dog away from our stuff, and we weren't at the tables constantly. It could have blown off my table, or someone could have come by and picked it up. Maybe whoever took Christy's camera was checking out all our tables to look for something to steal. I'll have to check my inventory list to see if any of my books are missing.

 

Am I correct that you write a variety of genres, including cozy mystery? If you can create an alibi for a character, how do I know I can believe your alibi now?

Yes, I'm a writer, and the smart-alec answer is that I get paid to lie, so if I'm not getting paid, I'm not lying.

The boring answer that won't get me in trouble is that I have no reason to lie. I don't take pictures, I have no need for a camera, I wouldn't know what to do with a big, fancy, complicated camera like a professional uses, and I don't need money that badly that I would steal from a new friend. Or is that protesting too much? Go ask Queen Gertrude.