M.A. Richards's Blog
September 2, 2016
New Visual Blog Post!
New!!! VISUAL BLOG at http://www.marichardsbooks.com ! New installment from A THOUSAND ENEMIES, coming November 2016!!! What's a visual blog? Check it out!!!
March 25, 2016
Sneak Peek at New Novel: A THOUSAND ENEMIES
Here's a snippet from the soon-to-be-published A THOUSAND ENEMIES, the second Nathan Monsarrat espionage thriller. Enjoy!
Sanhedrin walked north before turning toward the river. Between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive, he entered an art deco diner decorated with faded patriotic colors and rusted chrome. In a booth at the rear, a lone diner sat on a red cushion patched with blue tape, cleaning his manicured fingernails with the tip of a steak knife.
On the Formica table, a thick ceramic plate held a crust of apple pie floating in an à la mode pool of melted vanilla ice cream. Brown coffee stains mottled the white glaze of a matching ceramic mug. Strains of Frankie Valli crooned from a tabletop juke box.
Sanhedrin slid onto the empty bench. “I like this diner. It’s so Hopper.”
Kirill Nikolayevich Ozerov wore a bespoke grey three piece suit, a tailored white shirt, hand lasted black tassel loafers, and a hand stitched regimental silk tie. A thick bracelet of 24 karat gold links circled his right wrist. A diamond pavé watch adorned his left wrist. Heavy gold rings with oversized jewels covered the prison tattoos on the knuckles of his hands. He dropped the knife onto the Formica and shook Sanhedrin’s hand. “I did not know you are a biker, Felix.”
Unbidden, an old woman with rheumy eyes shuffled to their table with a mug and a tin pitcher of milk. A moment later, she returned with a carafe of black coffee and filled their cups.
“I like to let loose occasionally, feel the open road beneath my wheels.”
Despite the two decades since his arrival in the United States from his native Russia, Ozerov spoke in a strong southern Ural accent. “You ride a motorcycle in the city?”
“Heaven forbid, Kirill. Only a suicidal idiot would ride a motorcycle on this island.”
Ozerov spoke as if addressing a tolerated relative. “You are simply in disguise today?”
“Hide in plain sight, I always say,” Sanhedrin agreed.
Sanhedrin walked north before turning toward the river. Between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive, he entered an art deco diner decorated with faded patriotic colors and rusted chrome. In a booth at the rear, a lone diner sat on a red cushion patched with blue tape, cleaning his manicured fingernails with the tip of a steak knife.
On the Formica table, a thick ceramic plate held a crust of apple pie floating in an à la mode pool of melted vanilla ice cream. Brown coffee stains mottled the white glaze of a matching ceramic mug. Strains of Frankie Valli crooned from a tabletop juke box.
Sanhedrin slid onto the empty bench. “I like this diner. It’s so Hopper.”
Kirill Nikolayevich Ozerov wore a bespoke grey three piece suit, a tailored white shirt, hand lasted black tassel loafers, and a hand stitched regimental silk tie. A thick bracelet of 24 karat gold links circled his right wrist. A diamond pavé watch adorned his left wrist. Heavy gold rings with oversized jewels covered the prison tattoos on the knuckles of his hands. He dropped the knife onto the Formica and shook Sanhedrin’s hand. “I did not know you are a biker, Felix.”
Unbidden, an old woman with rheumy eyes shuffled to their table with a mug and a tin pitcher of milk. A moment later, she returned with a carafe of black coffee and filled their cups.
“I like to let loose occasionally, feel the open road beneath my wheels.”
Despite the two decades since his arrival in the United States from his native Russia, Ozerov spoke in a strong southern Ural accent. “You ride a motorcycle in the city?”
“Heaven forbid, Kirill. Only a suicidal idiot would ride a motorcycle on this island.”
Ozerov spoke as if addressing a tolerated relative. “You are simply in disguise today?”
“Hide in plain sight, I always say,” Sanhedrin agreed.
February 24, 2016
A Bill Too Large to Absorb
The messages I post on Twitter and Facebook are shameless in their self-promotion of my novel, CHOICE OF ENEMIES…some promote upcoming author events…some promote successes of the novel…but the majority share headlines and photographs from around the world, dealing with global events that reflect the concerns I wrote about in CHOICE OF ENEMIES.
Today, I posted a photograph of Port Harcourt, which has been called the “dirtiest city in the world” (and plays a large role in my novel). It stands in good company. Moscow, New Delhi, Baghdad, and Karachi populate the unfortunate list. Many other deserving cities did not make the list. In Manila, families live in garbage heaps three stories high. In Rostov-na-Danu, radioactive waste pollutes the underground water sources. Outside Lagos, oil has contaminated the arable land.
Why are we intent on killing our home? The dangers are not only environmental but also economic and political. If clean water becomes unavailable to large swatches of populations, people will leave their homes to seek new lives…creating an unprecedented refugee problem…and an unprecedented security problem. If terrorist organizations such as ISIS now take advantage of a relatively small refugee crisis in Syria – inserting true believers determined to carry out terrorist attacks into the outflow – think of the challenges we will face if the refugee crisis becomes global. Not only might the economies of the receiving nations collapse, but the probabilities of devastating terror attacks inside their cities will be guaranteed, one hundred percent.
While world leaders discuss global warming and carbon emissions, water tables are being destroyed, arable land is being contaminated, and millions of people are living in garbage. These are also pressing situations which must be remedied…and soon. As the old advertisement said, “pay me now, or pay me later”…except the bill may be too large to absorb.
Today, I posted a photograph of Port Harcourt, which has been called the “dirtiest city in the world” (and plays a large role in my novel). It stands in good company. Moscow, New Delhi, Baghdad, and Karachi populate the unfortunate list. Many other deserving cities did not make the list. In Manila, families live in garbage heaps three stories high. In Rostov-na-Danu, radioactive waste pollutes the underground water sources. Outside Lagos, oil has contaminated the arable land.
Why are we intent on killing our home? The dangers are not only environmental but also economic and political. If clean water becomes unavailable to large swatches of populations, people will leave their homes to seek new lives…creating an unprecedented refugee problem…and an unprecedented security problem. If terrorist organizations such as ISIS now take advantage of a relatively small refugee crisis in Syria – inserting true believers determined to carry out terrorist attacks into the outflow – think of the challenges we will face if the refugee crisis becomes global. Not only might the economies of the receiving nations collapse, but the probabilities of devastating terror attacks inside their cities will be guaranteed, one hundred percent.
While world leaders discuss global warming and carbon emissions, water tables are being destroyed, arable land is being contaminated, and millions of people are living in garbage. These are also pressing situations which must be remedied…and soon. As the old advertisement said, “pay me now, or pay me later”…except the bill may be too large to absorb.
February 8, 2016
Memorable Lines
08 February 2016
It is always impressive, the ability of a line or two of dialogue to pin a reader’s interest. Ian Fleming, for example, in Goldfinger, wrote the following interchange:
James Bond: Do you expect me to talk?
Auric Goldfinger: No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!
Fourteen words total, far fewer than the allowed 144 Twitter characters. Far more memorable than any words I’ve ever read on Twitter. What is it, then, that makes dialogue in a movie – and in a book – so memorable? Why is this simple interchange between the hero and the villain in a film made more than forty years ago remembered so well today?
The reason lies not only in the snappy repartee between Bond, the hero, and Goldfinger, the villain, but in the depth, the fullness, of the two characters. It’s the characters who make the dialogue come alive, not vice-versa. The interchange would have been stock, if Bond and Goldfinger had not been so fully drawn. So…how does a writer create fulsome characters like James Bond and Auric Goldfinger?
In his introduction of Goldfinger, Fleming describes a physically unattractive villain with the usual mixture of modifiers, but it is the author’s one simple sentence that brings Goldfinger to life: “It was as if Goldfinger had been put together with bits of other people’s bodies.” The visual description lays the foundation of a fully-drawn villain, so when he utters the evil statement, No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!, readers understand they are in the presence of a flesh and blood character, someone they would recognize on the street.
With one descriptive sentence and one memorable utterance, Fleming created a villain whose name has become synonymous with evil. No cardboard character, Auric Goldfinger. No hack writer, Ian Fleming.
It is always impressive, the ability of a line or two of dialogue to pin a reader’s interest. Ian Fleming, for example, in Goldfinger, wrote the following interchange:
James Bond: Do you expect me to talk?
Auric Goldfinger: No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!
Fourteen words total, far fewer than the allowed 144 Twitter characters. Far more memorable than any words I’ve ever read on Twitter. What is it, then, that makes dialogue in a movie – and in a book – so memorable? Why is this simple interchange between the hero and the villain in a film made more than forty years ago remembered so well today?
The reason lies not only in the snappy repartee between Bond, the hero, and Goldfinger, the villain, but in the depth, the fullness, of the two characters. It’s the characters who make the dialogue come alive, not vice-versa. The interchange would have been stock, if Bond and Goldfinger had not been so fully drawn. So…how does a writer create fulsome characters like James Bond and Auric Goldfinger?
In his introduction of Goldfinger, Fleming describes a physically unattractive villain with the usual mixture of modifiers, but it is the author’s one simple sentence that brings Goldfinger to life: “It was as if Goldfinger had been put together with bits of other people’s bodies.” The visual description lays the foundation of a fully-drawn villain, so when he utters the evil statement, No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!, readers understand they are in the presence of a flesh and blood character, someone they would recognize on the street.
With one descriptive sentence and one memorable utterance, Fleming created a villain whose name has become synonymous with evil. No cardboard character, Auric Goldfinger. No hack writer, Ian Fleming.
February 1, 2016
A Writer's Vacuum
Used to be, back in the ancient days between the two world wars of the last century, writers slaved at their desks during the morning hours, perhaps tapping a staccato beat on the plastic keys, perhaps coldly staring at a blank sheet of vellum in their trusty Remington portable typewriters, perhaps coddling a ribbon between the metal guides, perhaps cleaning the ink from the faces of the strike keys with an old toothbrush and baking soda. Five hundred words later (if you were Hemingway), you put away the Remington and went out for a late lunch or an early aperitif. You might mix with other writers, sharing boasts, laments, and stories about those unfortunate enough to not be present at your table (especially if you were Hemingway). You were a writer, part of the warp and weave of your city's cultural tapestry. You walked the streets, you drank, you argued, often you fought, more often you ended up in the bed of another writer, or poet, or dancer, or artist, fidelity not being a prerequisite of a writer’s life. Today...well, we all know all about today, with our phones and social media platforms...how many writers know their agents, in the flesh? Their editors and publishers? How many sit at tables to break bread with other writers (beyond the womb of a writing program)? How many depend upon social media to replace the brotherhood and sisterhood of the moveable feast? Technology is a wonderful tool for a writer, but is it an encapsulated life? Just asking...
January 22, 2016
Around the World with M. A. Richards
I write the "ENEMIES" series, starring Nathan Monsarrat, a retired CIA deep cover operative. The first book, CHOICE OF ENEMIES, launched on January 10, 2016. Today, I learned it is selling in Japan! Twelve days old, and already international!
Choice of Enemies: A Nathan Monsarrat Thriller [Kindle版]
M A Richards (著)
カスタマーレビューを書きませんか？
Kindle 購入価格: ￥ 602
Choice of Enemies: A Nathan Monsarrat Thriller [Kindle版]
M A Richards (著)
カスタマーレビューを書きませんか？
Kindle 購入価格: ￥ 602
