M.L. Doyle's Blog, page 3
February 3, 2019
Kingdom – A review
January 22, 2019
January = resolutions
January = resolutions
It’s January and the start of a brand spanking new year. I’ve searched Roku for free fitness channels and loaded them up. I’ve packed my refrigerator with tons of leafy greens with the focused goal of not letting any of them go to waste. I have a couple of large garbage bags full of clothes and shoes I didn’t wear in the last 365 days, and I’ve tossed out all the old shampoos, conditioners, lotions, makeup and beautifying products I acquired over the last year thinking they would somehow improve my life.
I spent money on all that crap and now I’m getting rid of it. As regretful as I may be for having purchased things I shouldn’t have, it feels good to start a new year with a lighter load.
Just as we all make resolutions at the beginning of a new year, writer’s set goals for the words they will produce and this year, mine are a bit ambitious.
For the last couple of years, I’ve been working on the second book in my Desert Goddess Series. The Bonding Spell, released in 2015, was one of the most enjoyable books I’d ever written. Staff Sergeant Hester Trueblood picks up a shiny, gold coin while on duty in Iraq and her life is forever changed. As the new embodiment of the Mesopotamian goddess Inanna, Hester returns to her home in Minneapolis, and tries to come to terms with her changed circumstances and the bitchy goddess voice in her head.
It’s a wild, Jim Butcher-style, urban fantasy romp that is funny, sexy and filled with mystery. I couldn’t wait to dig into the sequel, but had no idea when I started it, just how much more story there was to tell. “The Bonding Blade” has opened my eyes to more of Hester and Inanna’s world, the warriors dedicated to fighting and sacrificing for them, and the demi-god, Gilgamesh who is devoted, by destiny, to love them, no matter what they do.
It’s a wild, Jim Butcher-style, urban fantasy romp that is funny, sexy and filled with mystery.
As the New Year begins, my greatest goal is to publish “The Bonding Blade” with as much perfection as I can bring to it. I’m aiming for a late June or early July publication date.
While “The Bonding Blade” is going through final edits, reviews and promotions, I’ll be rewriting a couple of stories that were originally published in Amazon Kindle Worlds. Kindle Worlds have gone away, so the rights to these novellas have returned to me and I’m going to make full use of them.
In the first novella, Archimedes Ford is an FBI agent who has slogged through life carrying a heavy secret. His latest case brings him face to face with someone who will make it impossible for him to keep hiding any longer. Major Corey Turner spent his entire career with secrets too, until the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy finally ended. Archie Ford has difficulty concentrating on solving his complicated case, but he soon learns he’s not just saving the life of a young girl, but also saving his own.
“Archimedes and The Soldier,” is the first of two Archimedes Ford novellas which will both become spinoffs of The Master Sergeant Harper three-book mystery series already in existence.
And if that’s not enough, I plan to at least outline a forth book in the Master Sergeant Harper series. All I know is that Harper will be going to the Sergeant Major’s academy in El Paso, Texas. It’s a huge leap in her career and one she’s been aiming for, ever since she put on an Army uniform. But the academy is a tough school. Not everyone passes and British Sergeant Major Harry Fogg isn’t making it any easier for her.
They say, if you make New Year’s resolutions you should write them down or tell others so you have some tangible proof of your goals and a need to hold yourself accountable. Well, I’ve done it now. I’ll check back this time next year to see how close I am to meeting them.
Win a copy of The Bonding Spell, either by commenting here or on social media. One winner will be selected by random draw.
November 28, 2018
The best of – 2018
November 27, 2018
The best of – 2018
Like most people who write, I read a lot. I mean, a crazy amount. There’s rarely a moment in my day when I’m not reading something. I also listen to audio books, which means I “read” almost twice as much as I ever have before, driving, cooking, walking, shopping, getting ready for work and everything in between. These days I’ll read one book in the traditional way, while listening to a different book throughout the day. Depending on the book, I’ll switch back and forth between the two versions. Since the audio version can often feel like watching a movie or play, I’ve also been known to read the entire book then listen to the audio version. Taking in a story in two different ways always reveals something new. Since audio books can be crazy expensive, I borrow them from the library which helps satisfy my endless craving for more.
Bottom line is, my consumption has risen this year, which makes choosing the best more difficult. I’m going to list ten, but they are in no particular order.
Washington Black by Esi Edugyan
This damn book ruined me for other books for a long while. I downloaded it, read the first page and that was all it took. Not only did the story consume me completely until I finished, it clung to me like tar; sticky, dark and impossible to wipe off. A twelve-year-old slave, George Washington Black, is on a cruel sugar plantation that makes short lives of its chattel. The brother of Washington Black’s vicious master, Christopher, takes a liking to Washington Black, but we soon learn Christopher’s privilege is just as damaging as the master’s whip. Globetrotting adventures, hope, heartbreak and writing that leaves you in awe. I’m going to read everything Edugyan has ever written. One of her books will surely end up on my 2019 best of list.
Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones
I picked up Silver Sparrow because I’d been blown away by An American Marriage, the book Oprah has optioned for a movie and the one which has rocketed Jones to writing stardom. I’ve been Facebook friends with Jones since Silver Sparrow first came out but hadn’t gotten around to reading it. I’ve sort of lurked around her posts, watching as her recognition has grown and grown and grown. She’s had one hell of a year and I’m so happy for her.
In Silver Sparrow, an African American teenage girl learns her mother is, “the other woman.” The man who is her father, who comes and goes in the stretch limousine he drives for a living, is married to someone else. She becomes obsessed with her father’s other daughter and orchestrates occasions for their paths to cross. Jones demonstrates her skill in telling a story from multiple, sympathetic points of view, each one richly drawn and absorbing.
I am embarrassed to say I met Jones at the Decatur Book Festival this summer for the first time, face to face and was as tongue tied and senseless as a Beatles groupie. She was beautiful, calm and patient. I hope she forgets me so if I run into her again I can get a second chance at a first impression!
15 Lives of Harry August by Claire North
It’s the story for those of us who have wondered what life would be like if you could do it all over again knowing what you know now. Harry August, and a bunch of other people, discover they are immortal by living the same life over and over again. If you think this means they eventually get it right, consider there is a secret cabal who find their unusual lives threatening. North’s writing is as incredibly interesting as this unusual story. I listened to the audio version and Peter Kinney’s characterizations of so many different voices was completely engrossing.
I’ve read many mixed reviews of this book. Often people say they try to slog through hoping it will get better. Others says it’s too confusing, yada yada yada. I suggest saving 15 Lives for a long weekend, or a vacation where you will have several uninterrupted hours to really dig into it. A little extra effort pays off in the end.
Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel
This science fiction tale is told completely through interviews of the people participating in a crazy, secret project that results in consequences no one anticipated. It starts with the discovery of a gigantic, steel hand, about the size of a house, buried deep beneath the earth. I haven’t read the other two books in this three part series, but I intend to. Not only is the story unexpected and filled with surprises, the interview format is a curious writing device. The subjects aren’t always reliable, sometimes holding back information, other times providing too much. I applaud Neuvel for sticking to the restrictive format no matter what. The story is made more fascinating for it.
The Naturalist by Andrew Mayne
I smile when I think of this book. I almost forgot it since I read it in January. I remember thinking I’d started the year right with a great read. It belongs on this list since this is by far, the most unusual accidental sleuth I’ve ever read. Dr. Theo Cray is a computational biologist.
A computational what now?
This dude sees patterns and details everyone else misses. When he tries to use scientific conclusions to help solve a murder, he is dismissed and forced to do things on his own. For such a super intelligent guy, there are times when you want to kick him in the pants for doing stupid stuff, but you’re also amazed at how he pulls the facts together.
Mayne is a magician as well as a writer and you can see his sleight of hand at work here. There is a second book in the mystery series out now Looking Glass, and Murder Theory is slated for a March 2019 release. I’m adding both to my reading and listening list.
So You Want To talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo
I’ve been black all my life and all my life I’ve struggled to explain things to people who aren’t black Americans. How do you explain the issues about race in this country? How did we get to this point? Why didn’t having a black president make racism go away? And what about slavery? This link to a Youtube talk Oluo gives, is just a taste of what you will find in her book. Oluo speaks to white people in these pages, but it is for people of all colors and races. I learned so much from her. Her wisdom and simple, nonjudgmental explanations were magical to me.
In the world we live in today, when white nationalism and hate crimes are on the rise and, well … Trump, this book was like a buoy that helped keep me afloat. A white woman friend suggested it to me and now I recommend it to anyone who will listen. Thanks again Jerri Bell!
I sat in on Oluo’s interview during the Decatur Book Festival as well this year. It was well worth the hour of my time, just as reading the book is worth every word consumed.
The Boy on The Bridge by M. J. Carey
Simply put, if you liked The Girl With All The Gifts, you’ll enjoy The Boy On The Bridge. It’s a different world, a different set of characters, a different reason for the end of the world and a different point in time, but Carey tells us the story with all the same skill and depth as the first book. I was sucked in from the beginning and had the same desperate desire to see what happens next. I enjoyed it just as much as the first book.
The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish
This is a delicious, absorbing read that bounces back and forth between modern day historians studying the centuries old writings of a rabbi, and the life of that rabbi in the 1660s. The story mirrors the relationships between the self-absorbed graduate student and the senior history expert struggling with her failing health, and the ailing rabbi and his young scribe who worries she will be persecuted if it is discovered she is doing what is forbidden for a woman – writing. Kadish expertly switches storylines and points of view seamlessly so you are unaware you’re reading two separate books artfully melded together.
Fear by Bob Woodward
Ugh. I hate this cover but it is what it is.
This aptly titled book is just one of many that will be written about this period in our history. Woodward wrote this based on the administration’s first year. Think about that. Just one year. So much happens.
The fear comes in as you realize how well the stage is set for the second year. An out of control White House bouncing off the walls with policies that force us to remember we are Americans … jailed children, teargassed refugees, a midterm that shifted power and the looming results of investigation after investigation. This story isn’t over. Hopefully we all come out okay in the end.
The Undead 23: The Fort by R. R. Haywood
It’s hard to believe I’ve been reading this zombie apocalypse series through more than 25 books…a couple of days in the series carry over through more than one book and there are a couple of companion novels. No matter how many hundreds of thousands of words Haywood writes in this series, readers continue to beg for more. It’s funny, heartbreaking, fast paced and thoroughly enjoyable. I’ve read the entire series more than once and listened to it more than once and the funny parts still make me laugh. If you start from Day One, just know that was Haywood’s very first book. It takes him up to about Day Four before his mastery with characterization comes through. I can’t have a “best of” list without having at least one Haywood story included. By the way, Haywood’s Extracted series has been optioned for a movie. We’re still waiting for some smart producer to pick up The Undead world so we can enjoy it on the small screen.
That’s it. Those are my top ten selections out of the scores of books I read this year and it’s only November. I figure I can get a few more in before 2019 is here.
Read my recommendations along with those of a bunch of other authors in The Military Spouse Book Review blog. The lovely Andria Williams pulls this together each year featuring different authors in multiple posts. Keep checking in and sign up for updates. I get many of my reading list additions from TMSBR blog.
What were your favorite books this year? Suggestions and links are much appreciated!
November 2, 2018
So Many Words …
So Many Words …
Once again, I have neglected this blog. My neglect stems from the good news that I’ve been very busy writing other things and/or participating in events that have to do with writing. So, it’s all good.I’m having fun with rewrites of the next Desert Goddess book.
A few beta readers have given me some ideas and I’ve been busy incorporating them into the work. My brother, Larry, an enthusiastic fan, gave me lots of additional work to do, but he was right (for once) so it meant adding and subtracting and reworking and it’s taking a lot of time. Which is okay. Even with tightening and moving things around, Book II, The Bonding Blade, will be the longest book I’ve ever written.
I’m not going to predict a publication date this time since I keep pushing it back and pushing it back. Just know that when it does finally see the light of day, it will be the best book I could write.
In addition to those rewrites, I’ve been a bit more successful in the essay writing business. My piece about Bosnia was published in The War Horse. (YAY!) It was so dang hard to get this thing just right, but the editors on The War Horse don’t let you get away with half-stepping. Ever since I attended their writing workshop, I made it a goal to get something published there. I’m proud of this piece. I’ve had a lot of great feedback on it and I know that it touched some folks in exactly the way I wanted it to, so it’s all good. There will be more essays on the way. I’m picking at one about the convoy I took with my brother from Kuwait to Baghdad.
In 1997, we saw a lot of this type of transport in Bosnia.
Fort George G. Meade; The First 100 Years is now on sale at Amazon.com
Between reading submissions, writing essays and editing podcasts, work with the editors at The Wrath-BearingTree.com is turning out to be a worthwhile creative outlet. For November, the online magazine will publish a series of stories, essays and poetry about WWI as we recognize the 100th Anniversary of the Armistice. A hundred years. So much has happened since the end of WWI. I’ve included a piece that promotes the project, Fort George G. Meade; The First 100 Years, along with an essay excerpted from the book – Paving the Way for the Interstate. If nothing else, the pictures are really cool. In case you’ve missed the many times I’ve posted about this book (a project I worked on for TWO YEARS), you can read a free PDF copy at www.ftmeade.army.mil. But there’s no substitute for the hardcover version which can be purchased here. It’s on sale right now, by the way.
On Veterans Day, Mon. Nov. 12 at 5:30 p.m., I’ll be joining other veteran authors for a reading at The Writer’s Center. The editors of O-Dark-Thirty invited me to be a part of the event that is themed after their most recent issue, “Prisoners”. I’ll be reading from Shoshana Johnson’s memoir, “I’m Still Standing,” and looking forward to hearing from the others who will be there. If you’re around that day, I hope you will join us.
By Veteran’s Day the election will be another blip in your rear view mirror. As I’m writing this, it’s only five days … FIVE DAYS until the election. I surely hope you’ve done what you need to do to ensure your voice is heard. Even though my polling place is literally across the street, I couldn’t wait until Nov. 6, to cast my vote, so I stood in line, and looked around me with a smile. I have voted early in other midterm elections. The rooms are usually empty, the election judges bored and there’s little to no waiting. Not this time. The early polling place in my neighborhood was bustling. The best part was seeing the smiles on people’s faces. It was as if we were all breathing a sight of relief. We could FINALLY do something about this. In Maryland, they say some 40,000 people voted on the first day of early voting in 2014. The first day of early voting in 2018 in Maryland, almost 90,000 people voted. I was one of them.
July 5, 2018
My first essay
My first essay
Several months ago, I attended a writing workshop that prompted me to try my hand at essay writing. I wrote something I was happy with and, at the advice of several writer friends, sent it out to a few places. Then, as usual, I collected a series of rejects. Now, I get to add newspapers and magazines to my list of rejection sources, which is fine. Rejection is just part of the deal when you write for publication. When I did find a home for it, I was frankly, surprised that I’d finally received a yes. You’ll find it published on The Good Men Project, a place I plan to send more essays to as they come to me. But, considering it’s been MONTHS since I’ve blogged, I’ll post it here too. Let me know what you think of it. And if you’ve already read it, I hope you’re not sick of seeing it.
All I had worth stealing was my peace
He rifled through my drawers but the only thing he could find to tie my hands with was the charging cable for my Kindle.
I lay face down on my bed, listening to him tramping up and down the wooden stairs of my Baltimore row house, looking for things to steal. I’d already told him I didn’t have anything. No cash. No jewelry. Still, he searched.
I’d been in my office on the second floor, happy to have a day off to work on my latest novel. It was the first day of what would turn out to be sixteen days of a government shutdown and the reason why, every time there is talk of a shutdown, these memories come flooding back. That Monday, the day I was robbed, was the first day of my furlough.
I wasn’t supposed to be home.
On a normal day, he would have climbed through the tall, skinny window that faced the alley, torn open the screen, broken the slat blinds and found an empty house.
In my office, my brain had just settled into a creative mode. I’d written a sentence, maybe two when I heard the commotion downstairs, noise I at first attributed to my cats. But the ruckus was more than even their usual rambunctiousness could explain. So, I’d gone to investigate.
As I lay on my bed, my hands loosely bound behind my back, I heard him in the basement and pictured him pulling out each of the perfectly fitted baskets from my Pottery Barn coffee table. I heard him in the dining room as he wrestled with the finicky drawers in my antique china cabinet. I knew, no matter where he looked, he wouldn’t find what he wanted. I wanted him to take whatever he could find, anything and leave. I just wanted him to leave.
I’d finally convinced him to take my debit card. I gave him the four digit pin, repeating the number so that he’d remember it. He looked at that card, then looked at me. He knew. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he used that card, not only would they have my description of him, they would be able to trace his movements. I could see in his eyes that he knew this. He made another choice. He took the card, repeated the numbers, then marched me upstairs.
I wondered what he needed so badly that he would make that disastrous choice.
He could have just shoved me into my bedroom and closed the door. He could have warned me not to call the police. At that point, he still had a chance, still had an opportunity to recover from his bad decisions. Instead, he’d found my Kindle charger and used it to tie my wrists.
After about ten more minutes of rummaging around, I’d heard him leave.
It took seconds for me to free myself and dial 911. And it took seconds for the first officer to arrive. And just a few seconds more for my home to be filled with detectives and fingerprint people and more officers. Hours in an interrogation room, a metal chair, a metal table, questions, questions. Repeating the story to, first one, than another, than a third detective, describing the man over and over.
Shortly after he’d left my house, he’d used the debit card at an ATM, so of course, about three weeks later, he was arrested.
They called me in to pick him out in a photo lineup. I was nervous. When they showed me the six faces on the laser printed sheet, there he was, in the lower left corner. I stared him in the eyes in that black and white photo and saw the same sense of loss I’d seen when his gaze met mine after he’d climbed through my window.
He looked exactly as I remembered in that lineup photo. He’d worn jeans, a purple t-shirt, a dark hoodie and Timberland boots. I’d remembered he was tall, like my brother, Larry. He was slender, like my cousin Johnny. His skin was smooth, like dark chocolate, like my nephew Reuben and his hair was short cropped, like my cousin Billy. He was a clean, normal looking, black man in his late 20s or early 30s, like so many of the black men I know and love.
But this one had robbed me and tied me up. He’d had some sort of prior conviction so, after pleading guilty, the court sentenced him to 10 to 15 years behind bars. The numbers didn’t bring me any peace.
The memory that nagged at me was the look of shock on his face when he saw me, then he had looked up to the ceiling, as if to say to himself, “God damn it! She wasn’t supposed to be home.”
When I allow myself to remember that look, that curse to his fate, I realize that despite my nice home and nice furnishings and good car and steady job, not one bit of it was worth stealing or the price someone would pay to try to take it. He’d gone to all that trouble for absolutely nothing. If only he’d told me of his plans before he’d climbed through the window, I could have warned him he’d set his sights on the wrong target.
Of course, I never really felt safe in my house after that. And as much as he had searched, the only thing he’d taken from me, was my peace of mind.
Some might have the luxury of thinking that an arrested robber is our justice system at work. But to feel that way, you’d have to forget about what that system does to young black men who make the wrong choices. You’d have to forget about the lives that are ruined, about the men who are warehoused and used for slave labor, and then labeled and targeted and stuck in a perpetual loop of prison since no one will hire a convict and what do you expect a man to do when he has zero choices? And maybe that prior five year sentence had left him with no choices and his need was greater than the series of stupid decisions he made when he climbed through my window.
Sure he’d made his choices, choices that, if he’d been anyone else might have meant something completely different.
If he’d been some suburban young man who had been in a bar fight, would he even have had prison time on his record? Or would he have gone to jail, paid a fine, and been sent home? If he’d been a blond guy who’d broken into my house to feed an opioid addiction, would he have been given treatment instead of maximum security? If he’d been a collage athlete with a rich father and a lacrosse scholarship, would the judge have argue that ten years was simply too harsh a punishment for someone with such a promising future?
But he wasn’t any of those things.
When I think about the guy who robbed me, now, I think about the fact that he was tall, like my brother Larry, slender, like my cousin Johnny, with smooth, dark chocolate skin, like my nephew Reuben. And because he made the wrong choice at the wrong moment, because he’d found the only possible thing he could have used to tie my hands with, he’d have another conviction in a repetitive, life-ruining prison future, just like my cousin Billy.
