Sandra Cox's Blog, page 291

Spring Really Is Here

I love spring, especially in the South. The colors are so intense its almost surreal, like an eternal moment before twilight. Winter is pretty when the snow falls but for the most part Mother Earth's colors are brown and gray. I'm just not a brown and gray fan...unless, of course, they're mixed with pastels and jewel tones.

We spent the weekend with the birthday boy. He and his wife are about four hours away, closer to the ocean. Their countryside is different from ours, lots of dense pine. But even if his location had been in the Sierra Desert or Nome Alaska there would have been no place I'd have rather spent the weekend.

Giveaways and Birthdays

I'll be out of town today and tomorrow, helping celebrate the baby boy's birthday.




In the meantime, why not drop by Night Writers and have a go at winning eight downloads.
www.sevennightwriters.blogspot.com

World's Shortest Political Quizz

WORLD'S SHORTEST POLITICAL QUIZ

So, you think you know where you stand, politically. Think again.The result from this short test may surprise you and give you some food for thought. You'll be asked just 10 questions, and then it instantly tells you where you stand politically. It shows your position as a red dot on a "political map" so you'll see exactly where you score.
The most interesting thing about the Quiz is that it goes beyond the Democrat, Republican, and Independent. The Quiz has gotten a lot of praise. The Washington Post said it has "gained respect as a valid measure of a person's political leanings." The Fraser Institute said it's "a fast, fun, and accurate assessment of a person's overall political views." Suite University said it is the "most concise and accurate political quiz out there."Click on the link below...
Click here: World's Smallest Political Quiz

It's Just A Job

It's just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.~*~Muhammad Ali

Refuge

An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care of. He calmly came over to me. I gave him a few pats on his head. He then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he went to the door and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks.

Curious, I pinned a note to his collar: "I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful, sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: "He lives in a home with six children, two under the age of three. He's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?"

Movies and Mockinjays

Yes, I did go see Hunger Games Saturday. Did you?
Before we went to the movie, I was reading Mockingjay and finished it when we got back. That evening we rented The Descendants.
I enjoyed everything. The Hunger Games was great. The Descendants was also good. And the Mockingjay held me as had the first two books of the series.
But all three on the same day after a stressful work week put my system on 'emotion overload'. Thank goodness for the pizza and popcorn.

Meet Author Harlow Coban

HOW TO WRITE A NOVEL BASED ON A TRUE STORY

by

Harlow Coban, Author of Life in Death

My story isn't a warm and fuzzy one.

My father was murdered when I was 12 years of age.

A few years ago, at my uncle's urging, I looked into what happened to him. The police had suspects, but no one was ever arrested and the case remains unsolved.

I learned a lot about police procedure when I looked into my father's murder. It was then that I decided to write a novel.

While my murder mystery novella, Life in Death, is not entirely based on what happened to my father, it draws from real life experiences I had with him.

Writing the novel was a cathartic experience for me. What I liked most, and found particularly cleansing, about the experience was my power to spin the story as I saw fit.

We all love, hate, laugh, cry, and everything in between, so we're never at a loss for stories to tell.

Here's how you get started writing a novel based on a true story:

· Determine what kind of story you want to write. Talk to family and friends. Look at newspaper articles. I don't want to be morose, but look at obituaries, too. Take notes. There are stories there.

· Determine the story's theme: Good/evil, love/hate, birth/death, peace/war, etc. Again, take notes. This may be where the title of your book comes from or maybe not. The title of my book came to me in a dream.

· Construct a compelling plot. I suggest creating a plot outline to start with. I used the "what if" technique to determine what would happen in my chapters. Basically, you ask yourself "what if" this or that happened to your character and expand from there.

· Create dynamic scenes. My advice is something has to happen in "every" chapter or scene.

· Create multi-dimensional characters. Many writers, including yours truly, base their characters on real people and then add nuances to create more complexity and depth. This is one way to go.

· Read, read, read. The more you read, the better writer you'll become.

· Lastly, start writing. "Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop." ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.

Truth can be stranger than fiction, but maybe not as entertaining. The key to writing a novel based on a true story is in how you spin the story to make it enjoyable for readers.

Cheers!

Harlow

The author will be giving away a prize at every stop which may include (but isn't limited to:

Amazon Gift Cards
Book Lover Note Cards
Journals
Kindle Cover
Book Tote
Hunger Games Trilogy

Blurb: When a girl that social worker Kari Marchant places in foster care is brutally murdered, she's compelled to learn why. Her quest for the truth pits her against friends and coworkers. As Kari works to solve the horrific plot, more people die. She's been targeted for death and she doesn't even know it. How far should she go to learn the truth—even if it threatens her life?

When homicide detective Rance Nicolet meets Kari, his attraction to her is powerful—and the feeling is mutual. But things between them go terribly wrong when Kari's old lover is found murdered with a letter from her in his pocket. The evidence against Kari is damning. Rance's personal and professional lives collide. Does he blindly believe the woman he's falling in love with or follow the evidence no matter where it leads?

"Frost. Call on line one." The voice boomed overhead and interrupted Scott Frost mid-climb. He jumped off his truck, pushed up the sleeves on his dingy green work shirt and walked to the phone mounted on the wall, his face a scowl of irritation.

He grabbed the rec

eiver. "Hello."

"They found Patience," his wife, Andrea, whispered.

Mammoth garbage trucks rumbled and shook the walls as they rolled out into the street for the day's work, their giant bellies hungry for trash. Scott strained to hear his wife over the noise.

"I told you never to call me here."

"Do you know what they did to her?" Her voice rose an octave.

"Hold it together." He clenched his fist and resisted the impulse to smash it through the wall. "She's the one who ran off."

"She didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that."

The phone slip

ped a bit in his sweaty hand. Tolerance had never been one of Scott's virtues, and what little he did have waned with each whiny word his wife uttered. "It'll all be over soon, you know that."

"They won't let us out."

He gnashed his teeth together until the noise in his head drowned out the roar of garbage trucks. The pumping of his heart escalated and Scott imagined he could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Damn it, Andrea, take a valium. These people are dangerous. They'll kill us if we flake out."

AUTHOR Bio

and Links:

Author Harlow Coban was born in Kansas City, MO, but grew up in Denver, CO. She relocated to North Carolina five years ago with her husband, two dogs, and 16-year old twins.

She shares a birthday with the notorious Napoleon Bonaparte. In keeping with his legacy, she is currently working on taking over the world. Harlow's positive attitude and fresh take on life are her tools and conquest is certain.

She spends her free time writing, dancing, traveling and defending mailboxes from her 16-year-old twins' driving.

Her debut novel, LIFE IN DEATH (February 2012), is a murder mystery which pulls from real-life situations from her own family history. She felt compelled to share her story with the world while offering a thrilling, entertaining, and amusing escape for readers.

In keeping with her commitment to improving the lives of children, a portion of the proceeds from the sale of her book will be donated to the Boys and Girls Club in her home state of North Carolina.

She

A World Apart Blog Tour

With us today is Camelia Miron Skiba to talk about her wonderful new release A World Apart and communication.

Communications—Then and Now

I own an iPhone, an iPad and an iPod. I have 4 email accounts, 2 Facebook accounts, one blog, and one Twitter account. I follow so many blogs I've lost count. I stop daily on various sites, from Amazon, to GoodReads, to Barnes& Nobles, iTunes—you name it. I read 2-3 books at once, afraid I'm somehow missing on something. At times I do feel stretched out and in some ways exposed, vulnerable. Then is when I take a step back and shut all the doors, recharging my batteries with only my family next to me.

With all this technology, staying informed and in-touch is as easy as 1, 2, 3. Communication is at its best. With a single press of a button I connect with my parents in Romania or with my sister in Germany using Skype. I don't need to wait two weeks for my letters to reach them and another two weeks to receive their reply. I don't miss out on my niece's first words or first steps or my nephew's new haircut because we are one click of a button away.

But it also got me thinking at the times communication wasn't as easy. Compared to my son—who texts without looking at the screen—my generation wrote notes on tiny pieces of paper, switching several hands until reaching the receiver, mostly at the other site of the class. For finals girls wrote s

Everything she loses is because of him.

Forgiveness is not an option.

Or maybe...

Lieutenant Cassandra Toma, trauma surgeon in the Romanian National Army starts her deployment at a joint-unit air base on a wrong foot, clashing on her first day with her new commander, Major David Hunt. Her rebellious nature and sassiness rival her excellent performance in the operating room—the only reason why she's not reprimanded, or maybe not the only reason.

They meet. They clash. A forbidden passion consumes them with the intensity of an erupting volcano, leaving her heartbroken and him with tarnished honor and pride as an officer. The only way out for David is disappearing into the dangerous warzone in Iraq. Their flame was supposed to be over when destiny brings them back under the same roof, this time with a common goal—to find Cassandra's brother, Maj. Robert Toma, kidnapped by insurgents while on patrol.

To rescue Robert, Cassandra and David put aside their resentments, uniting forces against a common enemy. Trying to forget the painful past, Cassandra opens up to give David—and their love—another chance. What she doesn't realize is that her anguish is the result of David's impetuous action—one reckless choice he made for which she may never forgive him.

~*~

About The Author:

I WRITE. I LOVE. I DREAM. I WRITE.

I'm Chris' wife, Patrick's mom and Bella's owner. During the day, I'm the assistant to the Director at SESE at Arizona State University, and romance's slave at night.

I moved to the U.S eight years ago, following my heart and the man who stole it. I love comedies, historical dramas and happily-ever-after stories. English is not my native, not my second, but my third language.

Some fun facts about me:

Each year I participate in one big event that requires me to physically train. My biggest sportive accomplishment was the 3-day 60-mile Susan G. Komen Walk.

Annually I pick a color I decree my favorite (this year it's salmon).

I refused to text until 2010, always preferring to hear voices rather than sending emotionless messages. Politic bores me to death and I have no tolerance for arrogance.

"A World Apart" is my second book. My debut novel "Hidden Heart" came out March 2011.

Email: cami.skiba@gmail.com

Blog: http://cameliamironskiba.wordpress.com

His mistake, his secret, could cost them both the love they've finally found.

Amazon (Kindle Edition): http://www.amazon.com/A-WORLD-APART-ebook/dp/B006NZWHF2

Coming In May

Excerpt:

Mesmerized, I stared out the living room window at the froth-tipped waves of Lake Superior. I've never heard the swells slap against the jagged rocks from inside the house before. But I hear them now.

The phone rang and broke my concentration. I clapped my hands over my ears. The sound, unusually shrill, hurt my eardrums. Fumbling with the clip at my waist, I flipped open my cell relieved to have the high-pitched tones cut off.

"Hello." I glanced at the clean line of the walls, so close in color to the water, and tried to relax.

"Hey, Rora."

Hi Cath." My name is Aurora, but everyone calls me Rora.

"How was your date last night with James?" my bestfriend asked.

At the risk of sounding immodest, with our looks, getting dates is never a problem. Cathy is blonde and petite, while I'm tall and slender with lapis eyes and blue-black hair that I wear in a stylish short spike.

Cathy and I live in Bayforks, Wisconsin. Well close enough. My aunt and I live a couple of miles out on a craggy outcrop that overlooks the water. Cathy is a townie.

Bayforks is small but does a brisk tourist trade during peak seasons. Its claim to fame: the sea caves. Unfortunately, a natural gas inside gives off such a noxious odor, no one explores them. But they're pretty to look at from the water.

"Well?" she asked impatiently. I paused. She continued to prattle. "He's soooo cute. I'm jealous."

"You had a date with Mike," I reminded her as I reached out with my other hand and fingered the dove-gray drapes. Then I rubbed my cheek against them. Oh, that feels good. Velvet is such a sensuous material. It feels so decadent.

My voice box rumbled. A noise that sounded like a purr came out of my throat. My fingers tightened over the phone and I pressed my hand over my mouth. What the…?

"What did you say, Rora?" Cathy asked.

"Nothing." I gulped and tried to get my bearings. "Tell me about your date with Mike."

"Oh, Mike Schmike. Very predicable. Dull. Boring. Tell me about your date."

"It was strange." My gaze centered on the restless ebb and flow of the waves as they hit against the rocks.

"How so?"

I should have just let it go. My best friend is insatiably curious. And though we've shared everything since the first grade, I wasn't ready to share this.

My date's aftershave was so strong it made my eyes water and my throat burn. But weirdest of all I had the strangest compulsion to lick it off his neck. Eww.

I've felt peculiar since yesterday. For one thing, my senses are heightened. I can see further and more clearly, especially at night, at least if last night is anything to go by. My sense of smell is unbelievable, though not as good as my eyesight. And at the moment, I possess a grace that is completely alien to me. Not that I'm a klutz mind you, but if there's a crack in the sidewalk my size eights will find it.

"How so?" Cathy repeated.

"I didn't like his aftershave," I said lamely.

"Hmm, you never mentioned that when we met him."

"I didn't notice it then. Listen, Cath, I need to go." I really don't want to talk about this. My body hurts. I feel odd, like my bones are about to break through my skin. I think I'm running a fever.

"So you aren't interested?"

"No." I wrinkled my nose just thinking about that aftershave.

"Mind if I have a go at him?"

"Not at all." I gave her his number.

She hung up, no doubt eager to give him a call.

I didn't tell Cathy everything.

When my date came on to me last night, I hissed at him, bared my teeth and extended my perfectly manicured nails like they were claws. How weird is that? I don't think I'll have to worry about him calling back.

A movement along the edge of the cliff caught my attention. A small rabbit nibbled at a tuft of clover growing between the rocks. I came to attention like a pointer. My nose began to quiver and my mouth water. I twitched my butt.

Without thought, I bolted out of the house after the rabbit. My blood raced and I breathed in short sharp pants. I could hear the creature's heart pound and smell his warm vibrant flesh.

He took three frightened leaps and disappeared into the forest. I skidded to a stop, trembling so hard my teeth rattled. What's wrong with me? I wanted to take a bite out of a poor defenseless little bunny. I pursed my lips and screwed up my face. Gross doesn't begin to cover it.

This is way past PMSing. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks.

Now That's My Kind Of Rifle

As many of you know, I'm a gun control advocate and hardly a hunting enthusiast. If other countries can get by peaceably without the citizens being armed to the teeth, why can't we? Granted, I realize its a good form of self-protection, but I believe it causes more deaths than it saves lives.
And as far as hunting...I understand the need to cull herds when we've destroyed the predators. What I don't understand is the thrill of the kill. How can anyone find joy in taking the life of a beautiful animal that can't possibly harm anyone? That has the same drive to survive that we do. That feels pain, the same as you or I.
But I digress. My brother sent me this link: http://www.gizmag.com/kill-shot-camera-hunting-rifle/21802/. I think its pretty cool. Its a camera, still in the developmental stage, that replicates a rifle.
Here's how it works. You line up your quarry in the cross hairs, pull the trigger and take a picture. Pretty cool, huh? Still the thrill of the hunt with no life lost. The picture is time and date stamped to prove you 'shot' your prey.
Now that's my kind of rifle.