Barrett's Blog, page 5

Part Two of the Collaboration Cha-cha with McMan and West

The Blog Mistress chimes in.  Again…. The results are in.

Friday  Jan.10th 2014  Results:
Ann’s number is:  10  (the winner is Elizabeth Sims)

Salem’s number is:  1 (the winner is Mary Anne Frett)


(believe it or not, these were from random.org)

Most interesting question: mesaraven’s question for Salem about how to attract knowledgeable readers to lesfic, etc.

* Thank you to all who joined us, we loved your enthusiasm and contributions. Mesaraven Please contact me (barrett.writes@gmail.com)  Elizabeth and Mary Anne contact Annmcman@gmail.com)

TOTS!

Ann, Salem and Barrett –Conference Nurse

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you remember in our last episode (day before yesterday-scroll down) Ann McMan stepped up and strapped on with her memorable responses to some questions about the collaboration on Hoosier Daddy.  Today, we’ll hear from her wife of 21 months, Salem West.

But first my intro to his part. Ironically, I also met Salem through her review of my first book. I was thrilled by her spot-on analysis of my intent in writing the experience of a veteran FBI agent afflicted with PTSD.

Long story short. We’re corresponded, chatted, and Skyped for months as she helped with my Nanowrimo project. Within months, she introduced me to Ann–”the love of her life” and the rest is history. We all met face to face for the first time in Austin 2012 for the Lone Star Fest.

So it is my great pleasure to share the pensive half of team AMFA, Salem West.

Since 2011 when you debuted The Rainbow Reader, you have reviewed a variety of books from both large and small publishers, including independent and self-published authors. You have earned a well-deserved reputation as an independent and balanced reviewer.

 In 2013 you moved onto the stage as a fiction writer. Working with your wife, Ann McMan, you co-authored Hoosier Daddy: A Heartland Romance.

 Would you please share your thoughts about working both sides of the street?

Well, technically, “working both sides of the street,” means to engage in deceitful or duplicitous behavior. And, while it is true that my sisters often registered formal complaints with Grandpa Hames that I hid extra Hoppy Hippo cards up my H.R. Pufnstuf pajama sleeves when I was three, I can assure you that my good fortune in Animal Rummy was simply a combination of preparation, strategy, and providence.

I’m not sure what the proper idiom for reviewing books and being an author is, but it’s probably closer to ‘batting both ways’ or ‘straddling the fence.’ Be that as it may, the experience has been utterly terrifying. As a reviewer, I deconstruct a story and try to present an informed opinion as to whether or not the characters, plot, point of view, setting, style, and themes hit the mark—and are interesting, innovative, surprising, or challenging. However, as an author, I am the one the readers, reviewers, critics (and Ann’s mother), put under that very same microscope at 100x magnification.

 How has this experience differed in both preparation and execution from preparing your reviews?

For me, the preparation and execution required to write fiction is quite similar to what is required to write reviews.

 Before any words hit the Hoosier Daddy page, Ann and I talked ad nauseam, usually while eating dinner or taking a bath, about major and minor characters, plot lines, point of view, our setting for various scenes, how to combine our styles into one voice, themes, metaphors, and how to effectively mangle idioms for maximum literary impact. We knew the beginning, middle, and end of the story before we started writing, and we spent more hours than I can count doing research about UAW organizing efforts, union busting, the economic meltdown, transplants, the automotive manufacturing process, lockout/tagout, OSHA violations, monster trucks, and chair caning techniques. Heck, one night Ann and I spent hours driving around the highways and byways of southern Indiana and southeast Illinois on Google Maps so she could get the lay of the land and visit the small towns we were writing about.

When I review books, I often do comparable research about the type of book the author is writing, the area they are writing about, jobs and names of characters, and why certain chosen elements may have been used or not. I also consider wretched little things like pacing, editing, and realism of dialogue, and whether or not each scene has a purpose, and whether transitions are effective.

 Do prefer writing fiction or non-fiction? And would you consider another novel?

Well, there may be another novel down the road a ways, but in 2014, I really want to focus on taking The Rainbow Reader to the next level. By that, I mean that I’m concentrating on things like morphing TRR into an eZine—offering more reviews, op-ed pieces, and additional content. Having a Bully pulpit will be an added bonus.

As for fiction versus non-fiction, I honestly prefer being an essayist and the challenge of mastering my own voice. There could always be a book in that, but I’d still need to do some serious thinking and planning, and that would require more bath gel than we got for Christmas.

 You have married into the job of “first reader” for your wife Ann’s recent releases. Has your work as a well-read reviewer affected your beta reading skill?

First up, Ann doesn’t use beta readers. She is probably the ‘cleanest’ writer I’ve ever met—every time she opens her working file, she edits everything that came before. She is meticulous. So, if there is a mysterious beast called a ‘beta reader’ in her camp, it is surely she. As for me, I’m really a ‘first listener’ because I always ask her to read for me— I do so love to experience Ann McMan’s stories in her own voice. You could say it’s my guilty pleasure.

[ed. if you ever have the opportunity to hear Ann read--don't miss it!]

Beyond that, I offer suggestions, ask questions, and flag inconsistencies, but I rarely do anything more substantial than proof and limited line editing on Post-it® notes before she submits the manuscript and the typeset galley. For the long-term health of the household, and in accordance with §7, Section 4, Part 2.E.3.c of our prenup, I must clarify that only Ann McMan makes actual editorial changes in her manuscript.

 And did writing Hoosier Daddy affect your objectivity for reviewing?

No. It didn’t affect my objectivity for reviewing. In fact, my objectivity for reviewing is one of the few things that weren’t influenced by the experience. I will say that it did fortify my policy of being honest yet respectful in my reviews. Now, knowing from personal experience, any book, whether praised or reviled, came about because of some author’s hard work, passion, and persistence.

Think it’s easy? Try it. No. Really. Don’t.

Why? Because the other thing that has really shifted is my frustration with shortcuts. That is, authors who don’t take the time to do the research, significant consistency errors, plot lines that disappear, and disregard for a pesky little worm known as grammar. Respect for the effort is one thing, but quality (or lack thereof) always comes through.

 Last summer you participated in an interesting panel with two other reviewers.  Can you share some thoughts on the changing landscape of lesbian fiction?

Not long before that GCLS Panel (featuring Elaine Mulligan and Lynne Pierce, and moderated by Carleen Spry) I published an editorial on The Rainbow Reader titled The Lesfic Boomtown Foretold: A Cautionary Tale by Salem West.  The thesis was that growth is a good thing, but too much growth too quickly can easily overwhelm an industry. Along with the huge increase in demand by readers of lesbian literature in the last three years, I see a significant decrease in the quality of writing, editing and publishing across the industry. I also see a reading population that has not yet found its voice when it comes to speaking up for their rights and expectations as readers. That is not to say that all writing, editing, and publishing is bad, because it isn’t. Likewise, there are several loud and proud voices in the reading community that continue to call for a correction. Still, across-the-board, we all need to consider our pursuit of growth in conjunction with our ability to develop authors, publish their products, and advance the legacy that our foremothers entrusted to us.

 And what do you see in the near future?

I need to run out to do my trading, and then home again for thirty minutes on the treadmill. After that, I may get back into the book for my next review, and start on dinner before Ann comes home from her regrettable day job. This is Tuesday, and that means meatloaf.

Thanks for participating in this unique joint effort. Let the questions commence!

**Wrap: Winners of a copy of Hoosier Daddy …OR a book of your choice from Ann McMan,will be selected by a random pick of the commenters. I have asked Ann and Salem to select the most interesting Question from either set of responses for a copy of Balefire. Winners will be announced Friday Jan 9th at 8 PM EST.

The collaboration Dating Game with McMan and West

My humble intro to this fun piece.

Ann and Salem are dear friends as well as colleagues. We have shared hours of stories, laughter, and serious conversation about writing, publishing, and balancing it all.

These women are remarkable and very talented, but I have no intention of violating their privacy and have tried to be respectful.

Today we will hear from Ann, and Thursday we’ll hear Salem’s answers. Both women have agreed to answer follow-up questions and will give a way a copy of Hoosier Daddy to a random commenter each day. I’ll throw in a copy of Balefire to the person with the most interesting (for everyone) question.

Without further ado…

Part One with Ann McMan Famous Author 

Welcome. Congratulations on the success of both Hoosier Daddy and your short story collection, Three.

Why thank you, Nurse Magill. I owe it all to my lack of better sense, and the Geritol cocktails I ingest every morning at the crack of five, while my beloved wife and our bevy of livestock are still pounding their ears in slumber.

 I’m happy you agreed to this joint Q& A. Rumor has it that you and Salem actually met because of her review of Jericho. True? (An auspicious beginning of a unique partnership, I’d say.)

In fact, it is true that Salem and I met because of Jericho. My editor at Bedazzled Ink, the august C.A. Casey, sent a copy of the book to Salem at The Rainbow Reader, hoping she might look kindly upon us and consent to read and review the work. (There are some spurious suggestions rolling around out there that Casey also attempted to ply her with a case of Merlot—but I know this to be a pious falsehood. Salem West wouldn’t drink Merlot if you held a loaded Glock to her head.)

So, as fate would have it, the review she had planned for October of that year fell through at the eleventh hour, and she found herself with an open slot. She picked up Jericho, read it, and (lucky for me) liked it. Her review was published on Halloween, and I’ll never forget sitting alone in my house, reading it between mad dashes to the front door to dispense Snicker bars and Sweet Tarts. I was, to be blunt, scared shitless to read what she wrote. I remember gritting my teeth and stealing glances at the words on the screen through squinted eyes—scanning quickly for any adjectives like “overdone, overblown, overwrought, overwritten,” or just the phrase “let me please get this over with.” But that didn’t happen. She really liked it. Loved it, in fact. She even sent a private note to Casey thanking her for sending the book and saying, “I feel like you slipped a ruby into my pocket.”

It wasn’t until a couple of months later, however, that we actually made personal contact with each other. I was too shy and too unfamiliar with the protocol of being a “famous author” (thank god that’s over with…) to know that I should’ve reached out to thank her for taking the time to read my book. So it wasn’t until she posted her “Rainbow Reader Awards” that I finally thanked her. And this I did on Facebook, not even knowing enough to realize that I needed to “tag” her so she would see it. I got lucky again—and Salem just happened to be online when my feeble post scrolled by on the side of her screen. She wrote a quick note to me, and the rest is history. Very warm and happy history, I might add. Of all the myriad debts I owe my little flagship Jericho, this one will forever be the greatest.

 Since a number of authors with whom I’ve spoken have told me that their partners neither read nor assist with their writing; I wonder how it works to have someone who is actively involved in the process?

What’s that wonderful biblical quote? ”Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and curse.” Yeah. That one. Let me just say for starters that you can’t get away with anything. Nothing. And neither can you slam something indifferent out and get a passive, “that’s very nice, dear.” Nuh uh. Being married to Salem and talking about writing is like being married to Yogi Berra and talking about baseball—except for me, there ain’t any seventh inning stretch. I might get ten minutes now and then to whine, but then the party’s over, and it’s back to the salt mine of chapter outlines and the hunt for elusive comma splices. She is a real taskmaster with strong opinions…informed opinions. And she understands how language works—and when it doesn’t. She’s also like an anthropomorphic reference book. I can be pounding away at the keyboard while she’s doing something entirely unrelated, and yell out to her, “Hey, Buddha? I need a word for _____________.” And she’ll reel something off the top of her head that’s exactly right. Best example of this? In Aftermath, when Roma Jean Freemantle is going to explain how the tornado destroyed her prized Chevy Vega—I needed to come up with just the right thing to fall from the sky and crush the car. It had to be something quirky and unlikely, so I asked Salem. Without batting an eyelash, she said, “A steam table.”

So let it be written. So let it be done.

You’ll find that I channel Yul Brenner a lot.

Whose idea was the joint venture on Hoosier Daddy?

Ours. Seriously. I think we were taking a bath at the time. We pretty much storyboarded and outlined the entire book that morning (it was one of those long baths that involved shaving legs, so it must have been in the Spring). We both thought it would be an absolute hoot to collaborate on a formulaic lesbian romance.  There was never a time when we debated about whether doing this was a bad idea. We believed that we had the right combination of skills, drive, humor, and psychosis to pull it off. When I was weak she was strong. When she was weak, I had Burke Street Pizza on speed dial. It worked out. Besides, she really is a comic genius with wonderful timing and a great ear for dialect. Plus she has good hair, and that alone covers a multitude of sins.

You’ve successfully published eight popular books in the past two years—along with working a full-time job as a graphic designer, which is a little daunting. Since I’ve asked Salem a couple of questions about her experiences in collaborating on Hoosier Daddy, would you tell us how the experience worked?

Oh, lord. Is this the Bob Eubanks part? “We asked your wife what your most embarrassing bed moment was, and she said…” Well. The experience worked very well. We would talk each night over dinner about where we wanted to take the narrative the next morning. We’d jot down notes or sketch things out in one of about a dozen notebooks I keep on my desk. I’d usually get up first (I’ve always been an early riser), feed the cats, put the dogs out, and get the coffee going. Then I’d head back to our tree house (what we call our studio) and get things fired up. By the time Salem came tottering down the hall with our cups of coffee, I’d be ready to get cracking. Then we’d go to work. I’d write something, she’d read it and add or detract—or we’d do the opposite. Sometimes, she’d sit right beside me and we’d hammer things out together. Occasionally, we’d work independently on different sections—but that was more the exception than the norm.  She did a tremendous amount of the research—mostly because she’s good at it. But partly because she was more familiar with the geography of the setting, and because she has tremendous background in manufacturing techniques and management theories…things that immediately lead me to glaze over and start humming show tunes.

 How do you divide the actual writing, revising, proofreading?

We shared the writing, although we agreed that we needed one voice for the story. So even though we wrote it together, I was responsible to weave the components together to try to achieve a coherent narrative—like a quilt maker who takes diverse squares of fabric and stitches them together into a larger pattern that makes sense, looks pretty, and succeeds in covering any holes in the mattress. I hope we succeeded. I think we did. There are some densely technical sections that I left exactly the way Salem wrote them…to try and “fluff” them with Ann McMan Speak would’ve been tantamount to rewriting the Panama Canal Treaties, and I didn’t want to risk compromising national security by making any changes. Salem did nearly one hundred percent of the proofing. We did very little revising…but that’s not unusual for me. I pretty much revise constantly while I’m working. Consequently, my finished manuscripts are pretty much exactly what you see when you get the final product. I don’t think Salem normally writes this way, so we did have some struggle to achieve harmony with my resistance to “just put something down on the page” when I was feeling stuck or unmotivated. Fortunately for us, most of those exchanges of gunfire resulted in little damage to our physical surroundings, and we had enough Spackle on hand to cover the holes in the walls.

Are there Pro’s and Con’s of having an in-house “first-reader?”

You mean apart from the gunfire thing? Well…in a way, we each had an in-house “first reader.” And I’d say it worked very well. At least, it did for me. But then, I’m pretty spoiled by having someone as smart, savvy, and erudite as Salem West on hand as my eternal first reader. And there’s that whole good hair thing, too….

“Since there may be a question for some of your fans, would you clarify your status with your publishers and where your books can be found?”


That’s a great question, and I’m so glad you asked it. While it’s true that I have the very great honor of working with Bywater Books on my upcoming release, Backcast, I still maintain a close relationship with Bedazzled Ink. I like to think that, like Lana Turner in the Top Hat Malt Shop, Casey and Claudia discovered me, hunched over my first little manuscript…without the tight-fitting sweater, of course. So they will always be my first home, and they will always be the home of all forty-two volumes in the Jericho series. 
 
Oh. Did I say that out loud? My bad….

What can we look forward to reading next?

From me? I guess Backcast—which should be in my editor’s capable hands by the summer. Then it’s on to Patriarch, the next Jericho novel. And I thank you for the prognostication that these will, in fact, be things to look forward to! I hope so.

Thanks, Ann! This has been great–and entertaining, as usual. I, for one, appreciate what you have brought to the proverbial “Table” for all of us, readers and writers. Truly, Tip Of The Literary Spear…TOTS!

Friends are Family with Festivity

Here we are at the end of December already. Looking back I realize it’s been almost a month since my last blog. I had every intention of writing a long melodramatic saga about my trip to North Carolina… and my six days without luggage. Alas, most of the drama has leaked out of me. (Fortunately for you.)

The Cliffs Note version was simply that, the freakish winter storm that hit Dallas-Fort Worth on December 5th created a domino effect of transportation nightmares for thousands of people. In spite of missing my connecting flight because of  “deicing,” I was still able to board the last flight out of Dallas to Atlanta. More drama, but I finally got a flight to North Carolina, which got me in at 11:30 p.m.

The most wonderful friends (and brilliant writers) in the world Ann McMan and Salem West warmly greeted me, even at that hour. Then there was the tragic news that my suitcase had not arrived with me. Being too tired and weak to do more than whine, I submitted to gentle reassurances and… the comfort of the 15-year-old single malt waiting for me at their home. sigh –a balm to my ravaged soul. And, the first look at the print version of my book!

The following week was filled with extraordinary meals (both women are gifted gourmet cooks), laughter, hugs, puppy kisses, and cat-whispering. I enjoyed a tour and lecture at Total Wine from Salem who is also a consummate oenophile.

In addition, when we briefly ventured out, we enjoyed a home-style breakfast at IHOP, a fine Italian meal with Ann’s family,

then…we luxuriated in a holiday feast at Ryan’s Restaurant. It was an experience I will never forget.

On Friday morning, while Ann worked, Salem took me to the local Walmart to get a few items to tide me over. The frustration might have been intolerable were I not with friends. They were kind and gracious about my limited wardrobe. In fact, truth be told, even with limited choices I think Salem preferred the Eeyore pajamas.       (They are quite fetching and comfortable.)  Wearing my jammies for half the day is something I never do at home because I have to take the dogs out. So that was a nice bonus.

      When the three of us were not actually working on manuscript deadlines, we kicked back, sipped good wine, laughed too much, listened to Christmas music, and watched Ann create culinary magic as Salem shifted between her tasks with the surgical precision of a sous chef and her Cesar Milan pet wrangling.

                

… tree decorating!

My luggage arrived late Tuesday afternoon much to my relief. And it afforded me the opportunity to put on my one nice outfit to go out for dinner on Wednesday night.    and Paula!               

Thursday morning at o-dark:30,  my beloved Friends packed me a lunch and ferried me off to the airport. Best early Christmas ever! Love you guys!        

Now from the sublime to the mundane. We both finished our projects. Ann and Salem released  “Hoosier Daddy” shortly after “Balefire” two weeks earlier. During my visit, I finish the final revisions for “Flights of Fancy” a holiday Novella; Ann finished and submitted her holiday release of  “Three.”  

[Note: Dear publisher—we were not goofing off the whole time]

I arrived home safe and sound. My sweet dogs were well cared for and thrilled to see me. Once I had unpacked—my mostly clean clothes,  I got down to the business of Christmas and end of the year tasks.  One that I had been considering for sometime was whether or not to trade in my car. After a lot of number crunching and phone calling, I went looking for a new Forester. The selection was very small because the dealer couldn’t keep them on the lot. Then the bad news. In addition to being completely redesigned inside and out, the new model was approximately 6 inches longer, which I feared— Justifiably—would not fit in my garage.

I called the salesman after I went back online and happily discovered that the new Subaru Crosstrek was actually 2 inches shorter than my original car, .and he told me they had several choices available. More research, more number crunching, and I bought me a new car! I have to say I’m really enjoying every excuse I have to get out and drive it. It’s sits a little higher, it’s quieter, zippier, and has an electronic System that’s mind-boggling. CD, Radio, Bluetooth, phone, and backup camera.

I am ready for a road trip. But first, I need to get this formatted and posted for the patient people who may want to read it.

Thanks to one and all who have read and supported my work. Balefire is enjoying a very successful run and “Flights of Fancy” will be released soon.

My wish for 2014 is an abundance of love for everyone and peace on our planet.

Turkey, Thanksgiving, and Chocolate Silk Pie…oh my

from my house to yours…

It’s hard to believe November’s over, well nearly. October was so busy with traveling, and the first part of November finishing up Balefire, while simultaneously doing a NaNoWriMo novella.

Happily, Balefire is available and doing well. The novella is finished and will hopefully be unavailable around Christmas—fingers crossed. The story for the novella stems from a comment Kirin makes at the end of the book and a suggestion by my editor. Essentially, the novella picks up several months after the story ends. It essentially finds the two protagonists joyfully working in the tropical splendor of Belize. Their three months sabbatical is coming to a close and it’s time for them to make some decisions about their lives.

Silke has a plan and Kirin has a problem. Both will be resolved by the time the story ends.

This was a fun little exercise for me. I had no plans to continue the story, but as I said there was one line that begged for embellishment. Ergo, a story was born. The switchbacks and plot points that popped up were complete surprise, and a couple of times I wasn’t sure how to get out of them. But I trust the process, and they worked out.

Since Nano is 50K words, and the novella was only about 44,000 words, I’ve been cobbling together the pre story for Zeke Cabot. If you recall in our last two episodes, the intrepid Zeke Cabot continues to struggle with the nefarious effects of her PTSD—which continues to be the elephant in the room. Of course, I am privy to the fact that she will, whether she likes it or not, be receiving treatment in book four. And I hadn’t given that much thought until recently, when I realized that I have been working with Zeke as a character for almost 15 years. But I know very little about her life prior to her time in Chicago. In order for her to get better, I had to know what “better” is for her. So I have taken her back to one year after Quantico when she is a fresh faced, enthusiastic, and patriotic young special agent. Young, single and living the high life in Washington, DC.

It’s a fun ride.

I’m going to take a break next week and visit friends for a few days of R & R—Rest and Ribaldry, and perhaps an adult beverage or two. When I return refreshed, I will jump into the revisions for book three of the damaged series, Dispatched with Intent. In which, murder and mayhem will commence.

I will also be offering free copies of Balefire on a Goodreads giveaway. Stay tuned.

And I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has bought, commented, reviewed, or promoted my work. You have made my dream job all the better for your support.

Because I Care

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,

“To talk of many things:

Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax—

Of cabbages—and Kings—

And why the sea is boiling hot—

And whether pigs have wings.”

No, it’s not that time. That, of course, is Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus And The Carpenter, from Through The Looking Glass And What Alice  Found There. 1872

But I like it, and it seems appropriate. Because the time has come for the great unveiling of the long-awaited release (at least by me) of my novel, “Balefire.

* * *

Soul mates?

Maybe, maybe not.

Some people are lucky enough to meet a life mate while they’re young—exciting life times ahead of them. Some people never ever cross paths with that special someone. Life as it may.

Fate is sometimes cunning enough to lay the tracks for two incredibly different spirits. For them, however, will fate triumph over practicality, reason, and the ruts of their conformity?

Silke Dyson grew up the artistic child with eclectic tastes—a free spirit. Her talent and spirit blossomed in college at UW Madison, along with many like-minded souls. Her talent earned her a teaching position in Milwaukee and a small following of patrons who admired her work. Today, although, the fly in the sweet ointment is a controlling, philandering partner.

Kirin Foster considers herself pragmatic and fairly lucky. The roller coaster ride of her life is more akin to a low-budget, kiddie park ride. Entertaining, but not especially thrilling. Cautiously fun. She has flipped through a few less than memorable relationships in pursuit of a good career. Now in her mid-forties, Kirin is a successful travel writer with wonderful opportunities to see the world balanced by her tight-knit family.

During a tropical storm at 30,000 feet, the two women collide. Oil and water. Yin and Yang. Right brain and left-brain. Sometimes disasters create strange bedfellows, so to speak. And sometimes a random spark of kindness or caring can spark a small flame.

With patience and opportunity, a small flame can grow into a balefire, which can guide these lost souls home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The eBook in all formats will be released first, followed by the print version. Because this book is special to me, and because the holidays are coming, my publisher has agreed to a special offer. Please read carefully.

If you purchase eBook between November 24 and December 24, you’ll be eligible to receive a Free eBook Novella featuring the two protagonists from Balefire, Kirin Foster and Silke Dyson.

This applies only to the eBook and only if ordered through Bedazzled Ink Publishing. It’s our way of sharing the love this holiday season.

For all my beloved Zeke freaks, book three of the Damaged series, Dispatched With Intent is in revisions and we’ll be ready for you in 2014.

As always, I appreciate your support, and hope you enjoy the slow in tender love story of Balefire. It is a long slow hug, nearly 110,000 words.

Thanks, Barrett 

At Long last, it’s coming…Balefire ~ the novel

Exactly one year ago, I started a story called “Belizean Shores” and by May, I had completed the second or third draft. Sadly, it stalled out in a frustrating beta experience. By the end of August, I had a good draft to submit.

I am pleased and excited to joyfully announce the completion of Balefire.  After losing the partially edited version, I tried again and just completed the edit changes 10 minutes ago.(2 days ago) They are back in the capable hands of my editor. I will announce a release date as soon as I know.

Please believe me, Zeke and Anne are coming back with a new story—soon. But for the time being, I am totally besotted by Silke Dyson and Kirin Foster. I hope you will be, as well.

For your reading pleasure, may I present… the first chapter of “Balefire” ~

***

Chapter One

Silke flinched, and gripped the armrest as Rachel struck the steering wheel for the second time. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and she sucked in another shallow breath. In front of them, traffic inched forward through the construction logjam at the Milwaukee airport entrance. The tension started building before they left the house. Silke prayed to reach the departure area without another fight.

***

“I can’t believe she did this to me.”

Brake lights.

“Crap.” Kirin Foster frantically glanced over her right shoulder, flicked the turn signal, and swerved into the next lane.

“Dammit, Melissa. There’s nothing I can do about that now,” she yelled into her Bluetooth. “No. Hey, just call the condo management and tell them the air conditioning is broken and get someone to fix it.”

Horns blared from cars behind her.

“Listen, I’m in traffic, I can’t deal with that right now. Just handle it. Fine. I’ll call you when I get there.”

She tossed the phone on the front seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

“First Esther, now Melissa. Dammit to hell!”

The last minute phone call from her editor at Travel & Tour changed her assignment. Instead of a lovely piece on the Oregon wine country, she told Kirin to repack for Belize for a week to write a piece about the newest private resort that occupied a small island.

June in the Caribbean. What could be more idyllic—or more humid?

She abruptly veered right at the huge green General Mitchell Airport sign. Horns blared. Perspiration soaked her collar as she narrowly missed half a dozen orange construction cones and the man frantically waving a flag. “Shit.”

She eased her car into the long-term parking area,  slammed the shift into park, and collapsed back in her seat.

Her phone chirped, and she snatched it.

“Hi, Hon. Esther here, just a quick reminder. I will text the hotel name, contact, and phone number as soon as I confirm the info.”

“Thanks, that’ll be fine.” Kirin closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“Look, I’m sorry about this switch . . . nothing I could do.”

“I understand. It’s just frustrating.”

“Try to enjoy yourself, and Kirin, get some rest.”

“I will. Later.”

When her pulse normalized, she double-checked the doors and windows, retrieved her carry-on, and looped the leather messenger bag over her neck and shoulder. The shuttle moved slowly toward her allowing just the briefest moment of regret.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at Melissa.” Cell phone in hand, Kirin dictated a note to herself to bring Melissa something nice from Belize.

Since the break-up months ago, they’d maintained a relatively comfortable friendship, and Kirin depended on Melissa to help whenever she traveled on assignment. She checked her watch again.

***

Silke Dyson squinted at the air traffic control tower looming larger over the parking structure of the Milwaukee Airport and terminals. Without her peripheral vision, the traffic around the car was nothing more than fuzzy, noisy intrusions into her narrowed lens on the world.

Rachel Bates drove cautiously and glanced at Silke.

“I can feel your anxiety over here, you know,” Silke said.

Silke leaned forward, and felt for her phone on the floorboard as Rachel pulled her new Lexus to the curb at the airline departure entrance. Silke took a deep breath, forced a smile, and then swung her legs around while Rachel came around with her red suitcase in tow and opened the door.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Rachel said and grabbed her elbow.

Silke exhaled. She’d be much better as soon as she could get out of town, out of Rachel’s grip for a while. She smiled. “I’ll be fine, I do this every year. You worry too much.”

Silke hoisted her backpack and hailed the skycap.

Rachel closed the car door, and turned around. “Have a good time, babe.” She gave Silke a quick, cursory hug and hustled back in the car.

As the car moved away into the stream of traffic, Silke heaved a sigh of relief. It saddened her to think how contentious their relationship had become. She could barely remember when everything started to go wrong. She watched the blurry brake lights disappear and swallowed hard. Suitcase in tow, she nearly bumped into the skycap.

“Where are you headed, Miss?”

Silke smoothed her hair back and adjusted her glasses and cane. “Belize City.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I get you some help to the gate?”

She nodded and within five minutes, an airline employee appeared with a wheelchair and escorted her through security and all the way to the gate. She tipped him well and thanked him as she remembered the character of Blanche Dubois in A Streetcar Named Desire who said, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Since her vision loss, Silke had to depend on others for assistance, which was tedious and irritating especially for someone accustomed to being self-reliant.

The gate agent told her the flight would not begin boarding for at least half an hour, so Silke found a comfortable in a chair near the window, and pulled a sandwich from her backpack. On Saturday morning, at Milwaukee’s Mitchell field, the air crackled with excitement, noise, and nervousness from all of the travelers. She could tell by the snippets of overheard conversations that most were heading out on a vacation, but there were some business travelers anxious to get home.

Silke enjoyed traveling, but it became harder as her vision deteriorated. With each new hurdle, she tried harder to anticipate difficulties and avoid frustration. Her doctor had diagnosed the tunnel vision eight months ago after a particularly nasty fight with Rachel, one that turned physical. He explained how the increased pressure and impaired circulation had damaged blood vessels behind her eyes. He initially sounded hopeful when he told her that her vision could return to normal when the swelling went down. But there were no promises.

With luck, a week on the warm beach would do wonders. Ah yes, the beach. Happily, her dear friends Diane and Mark had purchased a rundown property nine years earlier on Ambergris Caye, just off the Belize coast and adjacent to the second-longest barrier reef in the world. After years of tireless work, they turned into a five star resort. Almost every year since, Silke had visited to hang out with her childhood best friend and support their efforts, but also to recharge her creative batteries. Her art fed her soul, but teaching and the business end of running an art studio drained her. Rachel wasn’t much help since she traveled two weeks a month for business. Tension drained from her body as she refocused on the thought of offshore breezes that awaited her in a few hours.

***

Kirin’s temper escalated to a dangerous pitch. She opened her laptop for the TSA examiner for the second time just as her boarding call sounded over the loud speakers. She cursed the security people under her breath as she slipped on her shoes and hurried to the departure gate. It always amazed her how the tedious procedures could rile her, especially since she flew as a regular part of her job.

“Idiots.” They seemed to get dumber every time she got on a plane. Fumbling for her boarding pass, she dropped the coffee she just bought. “Dammit to hell.”

“Your flight attendant will be more than happy to give you a cup of coffee,” the well-intentioned gate agent said as she handed back the boarding pass.

Kirin moved aboard then was forced to stand in the aisle of the overcrowded plane while a woman in first class rearranged all her belongings including a small crate containing some kind of animal. Once in coach, she tripped over some woman’s white cane and cracked her leg against an armrest. By the time she found her seat in the middle of the aircraft, she’d muttered every expletive in her literary repertoire and just wanted to scream. Her desire for that cup of coffee quickly became one for a Bloody Mary.

***

Thanks for stopping by. I hope this new story will be a perfect fall reading selection to warm your hearts. I’ll be offering chances to win a free copy in the future. Stay tuned.

A Cautionary Tale of Writing

In spite of a less than sheltered childhood and a little bit of a misspent youth, I’ve matured into a kind of wuss. It’s true. Years of trauma work, dealing with blood and guts every day, and I can’t deal with it.

I don’t like scary psychological suspense thrillers, and I’ve tried to watch Silence of the Lambs three times without success. 20 years ago I loved reading Robin Cook and Patricia Cornwell. Today I steer clear.

*

Fascinating, I know. So what?

*

I say all this because instead of being rabid-reader, today I am also a writer. Recently I had an enlightening experience that I wanted to share because it made me re-think  my reluctance to read other genres. And this is, in fact, a giant disclaimer because I want to talk about a book I read recently.

*

Several weeks ago I had the opportunity to present at a small conference with several other authors including, Amanda Kyle Williams, author of The Stranger Series.

Ironically, I received a pre release copy of her first book the stranger you seek two years ago. No idea why it was sent to me, and I had never heard of the author. But I started reading a rather grisly suspenseful story and stopped. At that time, I was trying to learn how to write and had chosen a romance to start. I summarily dismissed the thriller because I foolishly believed; it had nothing to teach me. Yes, I’d be laughing too, if I were you.

Flash forward two years. I was packing to go to the conference, and decided I’d take the Stranger-book for an autograph. (During the preceding weeks, I found AKW on Face book and opened a dialogue hoping to find out whether or not the author herself might have homicidal tendencies.)

*

The conference was fun and relaxing, and Amanda was nothing like expected. She’s a bit shy and extremely gracious. Her presentation Saturday night at the library was exceptional. I was so impressed by her talk that I ordered her second book for my Kindle the next morning at the Airport.

The Stranger in the Room is a taut, well written, carefully-crafted, page-turner.

*

I’m not going to review the book, per se. What I’d like to do is talk about what I learned as a writer from an exceptionally talented writer. There are abundant reviews on Amazon and elsewhere. Suffice it to say the unique protagonist, Keye Street, is a dry drunk, disgraced FBI profiler, but a talented investigator.

*

The first thing that surprised me was the care with which the author wove the gruesome case facts with gentle southern humor, warm characterizations and descriptions of the south, and mouth-watering recipes. Damn.

*

It provided a dramatic push-pull of pleasure and revulsion, with a healthy shot of page turning suspense. As a writer, I was fascinated with the craft in addition to the well-told story.

*

The characters were written as three-dimensional and unique individuals, so there was never any confusion when scenes made an abrupt turn. And although the hot, humid Atlanta cloaked the scene with an impressive blanket—it never slowed the pacing.

Even after I returned home to repack for another trip, I kept my Kindle nearby. Whenever I had a spare half hour, I would eagerly return to finish the book.

*

The reason for this unapologetic shout-out for Amanda is the lesson I learned about writing. I am too new at this field to close a blind eye to writers from other genres who may have something to teach me. One of the first lessons in being a writer is that we will always be students. We will always, always have things to learn about this craft, and those lessons may come from surprising sources.

*

Never say never.

*

I laughed hysterically when I saw my first example of what we lovingly call “Dino porn”. Robin Roseau had the last laugh, when she cranked out an amazingly funny novella. And you know what? It’s a good story.

It may seem obvious, but you can learn a lot by meeting and author in person. If you have the chance to attend a reading, book signing, conference, or personal appearance—by any author—don’t miss it.

*

And if you enjoy a well-researched police procedurals that keep you on the edge of your seat turning pages, check out Amanda Kyle Williams. As she says, Keye Street’s stories are a lot like, “Patricia Cornwell with a sense of humor.”

*** And yes, Balefire is coming!***

nope, it isn’t always easy

(okay, this is not really my desk. My office has a health department warning right now. This is where I write since the Dell tech left.)

Today is the last day of September. There always seems to be a never-ending list of things to do when fall comes. Shut down the cooler, start of the furnace, dogs to the vet, doctors appointment, event and travel planning. And, like my buddy, Lynn Ames,[Rainbow Awards Finalist-2013] (courtesy nod) I had to rummage through piles of receipts and payment records so I could meet with my NEW accountant. Yes, I filed for an extension a minute ago or was that April?

I filled out  the form online and dutifully paid my patriotic taxes so that my elected officials at could continue their frat party in Washington and get nothing done. But God help me if I don’t file my tax returns, you can bet I will end up in prison. (I’m not gonna go there, I’m not gonna go there, deep breath.)

Normally, I would be writing, revising, or staring intently at my computer screen with thoughts of sugarplums and new stories swirling around in my brain. But all that swirling is a list of things I need to get done. It’s apparent that I suffer from Fulminating Overload Paralysis—FOP. The more I have to do the less to get done.

Anecdote: Many years ago, I was preparing a move from a small house in Albuquerque to a new place in the high desert. Long story short there were problems with the people cleaning and packing, a mix-up with the movers, and an 11th hour melt down by me. All of which precipitated my chronic FOP.

I screwed up my courage and called a good friend to ask for…help. If you know me at all, you will understand how difficult this was. Nevertheless, she came over as I stood and the middle of my kitchen crying, pointing, shaking my head, and saying, “I don’t know what to do.”

She surveyed the room and gently replied, “Okay, let’s start with this corner.”

In an amazingly short time, the boxes were filled, stacked, and organized. The kitchen was clean, and we were enjoying a drink.

Yeah, it is funny in retrospect, and it was just that simple. But when I’m in the eye of the storm, I can’t see any way out. Some of you may know what I’m talking about, and most of you will throw up your hands and say ‘what’s the big deal, just Do It’.

It probably does seem illogical since I worked the majority of my life as a well-trained and extremely capable nurse. I spent the first seven years of my career in the emergency department where I lived on adrenaline and devoured problem solving for breakfast. Ironic, that at this stage in my life, I’m unable to apply the same principles of triage.

Alas,times change but the rewards I’ve reaped the past few years– as a writer have also been tempered by a lack of spontaneity and flexibility. In order for my mind to wander, I’ve restricted my extracurricular activities and flexibility. Routine has become much more vital to my happiness and productivity.

Make no mistake; much of this is simply the joy of aging. My energy and enthusiasm are no longer limitless. I weigh my decisions more carefully and pragmatically. I know this sounds a little negative or self-pitying. It’s not. The trade-off  provides me with insight and wisdom I’d never anticipated. The 10,000 foot view has given me greater perspective about the things I value in life. It’s a good place to be, well, except for that old FOP business. Wisdom and perspective doesn’t translate into perfection.

However, the taxes are done. The remaining obligations are on the calendar. Best of all, the mini maids are coming on Thursday  .

This isn’t at all what I planned to blog about; so you can thank Lynn Ames for prying open this can of worms. And since I recorded the final episode of Breaking Bad*, I just may go watch it.

…I guess it won’t be sitting on the couch.

* the final was really excellent.

…and today, October 1st, 2013,  the government is shut down by selfish, shortsighted, spoiled frat boys. Sigh. “of the people, by the people, and FOR the people.”       harumph.

Whaddabout ME?

 Just looked over my recent blog posts about everything BUT.

There are reviews, recommendations, and caterpillars. Good Lord.

Is that anyway to promote your work? Seriously? “If you were working for me, I’d fire you!”

Sigh.

Very true. Too much lack-luster and not enough spit-shine! So here goes.

I’m a writer. Loud and Proud. A new career which I started about 5 years ago. And in the past couple years, I’ve published four books (two were second editions–to be fair), a novella, and a soon-to-be-released new novel! So for anyone who may have missed the news, I will refresh this page (clever, huh?)

Damaged in Service is Book I of the four book Damaged Series. It kicks off the series with an overview of the primary character, FBI Special Agent Zeke Cabot. Traumaitzed by an undercover job to identify a serial killer responsible for the decapitation murders of a dozen homeless victims for medical science, she’s fragile.

Her escape to New Mexico is a mixed blessing. She’s captivated by a wonderful nurse whose chemistry is irresistible. But her past won’t stay past. Anne Reynolds has her own burdens and certainly not looking for a relationship …with a woman.

New Release

Defying Gravity, Book II, explores the challenge for two headstrong women daring to try. Zeke takes the risk of relocating to New Mexico and a new job. Anne risks her heart.

Dispatched with Cause, Book III, (in Progress) will ramp up the action as Zeke skates closer to the edge. Her denial of her symptoms is interfering with her job. Anne is fearful but unable to help.

 Windy City Mistletoe was written right after Book I was published as a Christmas gift to readers. It’s a Novella that takes place AFTER the series ends, when the two women take a holiday in Chicago. Happy!

 

   Balefire is a stand alone love story about two lives inextricably woven together over time and circumstance. Constantly shifting Yin and Yang provide each woman an opportunity to assess their lives and choices. It’s a warm story that begins in Belize and travels to Milwaukee, Door County, and New York. You will meet Kirin and Silke along with friends, families, cheats, and some fun times.

Look for Balefire later this Fall 2013

Not only that…you can like my Face book page: Barrett Writes

or Twitter 

or Goodreads Barrett

 

I would also like to give a shout-out to Claudia and Casey at  Bedazzled Ink for their support.

 

 

As well as Ann McMan —

Author and Graphic designer extraordinare at Tree House Studio for my amazing covers.

(gosh this is uncomfortable...)

so please go buy a book so I don’t feel so silly. http://bink.bedazzledink.com/

and support my talented team members.

Unsolicited Book Notes for: Letters Never Sent

Disclaimer:

Okay, It’s true that Sandra Moran and I write for the same publisher. (Bedazzled Ink) That’s the limit of our similarities. She’s tall; I’m short. She’s young, I’m…not. You get the picture.

Anyway, I have met her, and she’s incredibly nice…and smart! If you recognize  the name from FB, you’ll smile remembering Spencer, long runs, and more than a few injuries. And unless you’ve been under a rock, you know she had her first book released Aug 8th.

“Letters Never Sent”

I’m not qualified to be a “Book Reviewer” but as a friend, fellow author, and a supporter of women’s fiction I wanted to share a few thoughts. (Partly because I feel a little guilty since I’ve had the manuscript since May.) In my own defense, I was treading water trying to get my own book finished, and juggle a dozen other things. Ergo, I was not able to focus on, what I consider a richly woven story, with intricate characterizations, and historical depth. This is NOT a beach read. It’s a story you’ll want to crawl into and savor.

It’s a well constructed, with complex story lines that weave from the present to the past. The characters will draw you into tragedy of time and place. It is laced with courage and determination. They are women with whom you will become very familiar.

Through discussions about her research, I discovered lost memories of my own mother and probably hundreds like her. They migrated to the big cities in search of an undefinable dream for something more. Any of the women in this story could have been telling my mother’s story.

Sadly, I was too self-absorbed as a teen-twenty year old to ask–and then I lost her too soon, so I’ll never know. Through Sandra’s story, however, I believe I got a glimpse of what it was like for her in Chicago during the 1930′s. For that I’m very grateful to the author.

Don’t take my word for it, get your own copy or at least, check out a sample from Amazon.

I’m grateful to Sandra and so many women writers who are moving writing forward by telling new stories that push our boundaries and tell our stories to a new generation.