Mike Jastrzebski's Blog, page 72

On Accomplishing Resolutions

CE's post last week got me thinking because I try to be process person and never set new year resolutions. I stick to vagaries or easily accomplished goals. And I set these down whenever I feel like it. In fact I agree in all ways with CE's philosophy, so I started rethinking my lofty resolution of learning espanol in 2012. It is exactly the kind resolution bound to fail without deep thought. Such resolutions are difficult because they require fundamental and forever life changes and serious sacrifice.

The first difficulty is implementing fundamental change. If you are looking to make a change, you must act and alter your way of life. For instance if your resolution is to be thin, then you must start out by loosing weight until you reach an appropriate level. You diet and exercise until you drop from 220 to 160 pounds and reach a medically stipulated acceptable weight. This effort will take time amd alter your schedule, your friends, and how you feel. It is a fundamental rearrangement of your life.

The second critical difficulty is making those changes be forever. One reason many resolutions fail is the same reason people have trouble staying thin. They can loose the weight but not keep it off. Loosing weight is rather simple: you eat less and exercise more. The problem with this deceptively simple solution is it must be maintained for the rest of your life if you want to stay thin. You cannot go on a diet and then return to your normal mode. The weight will come right back. It is the same way with resolutions. You cannot achieve a significant resolution without altering your life momentarily but forever.

The third difficulty is accepting that the action encompassed in this fundamental, forever addition to your life will be matched by an equal subtraction from your life. To make the resolution permanent you must accept the loss of a fragment of your life. If you want to be thin, that may mean never having ice cream again. Or working out every morning may mean getting into the office later and subsequently working less hours and making less money. The additions that fulfil your resolutions are matched by subtractions that may or may not be acceptable to you.

Conclusion

Significant resolutions are achieved through a fundamental and forever change in the way we live our lives accompanied by serious sacrifices. My goal to speak Spanish fluently will not happen unless I am willing and able to routinely immerse in a Spanish speaking world for the rest of my life. And I mean more fundamental than watching "Cuando Me Enamoro" at night and listening to 710AM, Radio Mambil, by day, and more routinely than living in Miami for a month or two. I mean working in the jungles of Ecuador 6 months every year like a friend or marrying into a Puerto Rican family like my cousin. Only with a reallocation of the time in my life will I meet my resolution. That all leads to deep questions about what in my life will be sacrificed.

What do you need to do to achieve your resolutions whether they be writing more, cruising more, or something else? Maybe the sacrifices needed are too much to achieve the resolution. Maybe you can save yourself the disappointment by realising the value you will not have to give up.

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Tropical oasis

By Rae Francoeur

There are all kinds of ways for a writer to be on the water. Most who Write on the Water use boats.

I have to be ingenious about it since I have a swimming phobia, which complicates my need to be in, with or on the water. Were I to have arachnophobia, a fear of spiders, I probably wouldn't choose to be in the company of spiders. But a swimming phobia can coexist with a love of water. It just means that there's a lot of longing involved — longing to dive, longing to water ski, longing to slide off a dock and float mindlessly on my back.

Because I don't voluntarily swim — I had to learn in order to graduate from high school (extreme trauma, by the way) — my water adventures usually fall into the 'scary story' category.

One such story comes from the Everglades, one of my favorite bodies of water. I am currently planning another visit to the River of Grass, as it is often called. This river is vast and shallow — 60 miles wide and 100 miles long. Sawgrass grows in this wetlands prairie. Despite its modest depth, people do not voluntarily enter the River of Grass on foot. Among its many perils is the fact that the Everglades are an incubator for all kinds of life, from snakes to alligators to fish. You could even run into a cormorant, fishing underwater with its long sharp beak.

In fact you can walk in the River of Grass. And since it's three feet deep with a current that a turtle could outrun, swimming needn't be a requirement. So, a few years ago I signed a consent form and joined up with about ten others. A National Park ranger in Flamingo wanted to show us her secret spot, out in the River of Grass. Though it's shallow, there are drops of 3 feet or more. "You won't get in over your head," she assured me. "And besides," she said, "you're the tallest one here."

It was a river hike. I've crossed Kings River in the Sierras on foot. So I guessed I could do this. By comparison this will be like wading in a bathtub, I said to the group. Right?

We stepped off a narrow road and into the Everglades. All we knew was that we were going somewhere few people get to see. Some of us brought cameras but, it turns out, we were too busy grabbing each other to stay upright to find the wherewithal to compose photographs. I often had to hold the camera over my head since, once or twice, I was up to my chin in this murky bathwater.

We forded the Everglades, little by little. It took about an hour to get to our destination — what looked to be a clump of trees off in the distance. The footing was precariously uneven, at times. And, yes, the incubator was rife with life. We were all spooked by two things, the feeling of little fish winding in and out of our legs and the idea that some of them were gators, nudging us for delectability assessment. But our leader had made this trek into a bit of a dare and we, as a group, took the challenge. There was a lot of joking as we slogged forward.

We were nearing something called a hardwood hammock. It was, we soon discovered, a verdant green tall stand of trees gathered, it seemed, in solidarity, in the middle of the flat brown marsh.

I've read since that these hammocks are often impenetrable to humans because their first line of defense is a barrier of tightly interwoven razor-leaved shrubs and vines. After what we'd already been through, barbed wire probably wouldn't have stopped us from entering.

Hardwood hammocks are very slightly elevated mounds ringed with various trees like live oak, royal palm, Gumbo Limbo, mahogany, poisonwood, strangler fig and a couple of hundred other tropical species.

Most of the 200 tree species found in hardwood hammocks come from the Caribbean tropics.

  

Your first steps into the hammock are the most awesome of what will be an entirely incredible experience. It's like stepping into a cathedral. You immediately look up because that's where your eye travels — up toward the tall canopy and the mottled light.

The contrast from marsh to hammock is stunning. You've moved from hot, pounding sun into a silent, cool and moist Eden. Flowering vines, airplants, bromeliads, orchids of all colors, climb and hang from the trunks and limbs all around the inner perimeter. Inside this arched cathedral, then, is a gorgeous surround of backlit color, almost like stained glass. The footing is drier and there's very little vegetation on the ground due to the low light.

This hardwood hammock had a diameter of perhaps 12 feet. No doubt many an alligator took refuge there and will again. But like everything in the Everglades including the Everglades themselves, these secret temples are seriously imperiled. My annual visits are achingly bittersweet.

For those Writers on the Water who aren't obsessed, as I am, with capsizing your kayak or canoe, you can easily paddle to a hardwood hammock. And what that has to do with writing is pretty straightforward. It's an experience that feeds you for a lifetime. And it's a good story.

 

Rae Padilla Francoeur's memoir, "Free Fall: A Late-in-Life Love Affair," is available online or in bookstores. Write her at rae.francoeur@verizon.net. Or read her blog at http://www.freefallrae.blogspot.com/ or follow her @RaeAF.

 

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From Rags to Riches: Looking for promotion ideas?

If you're looking to promote your book and you don't want to spend a lot of money, you might want to consider a Goodreads paperback givaway. Unfortunately, if you don't have a paperback or hardcover copy of your book available, you're out of luck. The Goodreads rules state that you can't give away e-books in this promotion.  The cost is your cost for the paperback and the cost of postage to send the books to the winners.

The way it works is you agree to give away a certain number of books at the end of the promotion. Several months ago I made Dog River Blues (A Wes Darling Mystery) available for six weeks and gave away 5 paperback copies of the book. During that six weeks 670 Goodreads members signed up for the drawing and 59 put Dog River Blues (A Wes Darling Mystery) on their to-be-read list.

I am now one week into a six week promotion to give away five paperback copies of Weep No More. 106 members have signed up for the drawing and 10 have added Weep No More to their to-be read list.

Has it increased my sales? I don't know. But it has brought my name, and my books, to the attention of over 700 readers. I think it's worth it. If you are not a member of Goodreads it's free and it will give you contacts with many readers and writers. If you are a member or become one, feel free to friend me. After all, you can never have too many friends.

The Kindle edition of Weep No More is now available for .99 cents.

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Slow down

What? you say. Slow down? You're on a five knot boat trying to cover hundreds of miles on the ICW! What are you talking about?

Departing Sloop Point with iPad Chart Plotter

What a difference a week makes. I'm back into the groove, the rhythm of TALESPINNER. Every boat has its rhythm and most of the OPB's I've sailed on in the last few years have had faster speeds, faster paces than my little boat.

I was making good time in the first few days after I left New Bern. That first day I actually had a wonderful few hours of sailing down the Neuse River with the engine silenced. I crept into Spooner's Creek that night, anchored and got Chip rowed to shore just as the last glimmers of light left the sky.

Lockwood's Folly Inlet

The next day, I barely missed a couple of restricted bridge openings and got held up circling and waiting and then crept into the Sloop Point anchorage thirty minutes after sundown on New Year's Eve. Missing bridge openings, passing shoaling inlets, and anchoring after sunset – these things build confidence when what you fear might happen happen – actually does happen and you manage it okay. I even negotiated the Cape Fear River without running afoul of any ships, shoals or tugs.

It was weather that forced me to stop a couple of days ago. The forecast was for an arctic air mass to bring overnight lows in the teens, and I knew that since I couldn't run my propane heater all night, I needed to get to a dock to run the electric heater. This was the kind of cold that could kill people or pets. I pulled in to Osprey Marina here on the Waccamaw River south of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and it is the best marina I've ever stayed in – great facilities, reasonable prices and nice people. Last night when my electric heater bit the dust, the dock master loaned me a heater off his own boat. And best of all, they have great wi-fi so I was able to get lots of work done while I was here. But, when I fueled up and then sat down and did the calculations, I discovered I've been burning about three quarters of a gallon of diesel an hour. My little thirty-horse Yanmar doesn't need to burn that much fuel if I stop racing around thinking I need to do the speed of a forty-footer.

Today, I met a young Canadian fellow who pulled into the marina this afternoon after his first ever days run on a little boat he just bought. Now, compared to him, I'm a waterway veteran, but he certainly opened my eyes with his comments. As we chatted, I asked him where he was headed in the morning. He said he was headed for a spot only about thirty-five miles away because he didn't want to run his engine flat out, and he wanted to enjoy his trip down the waterway. I came back to my boat, looked again at my guidebooks and charts, and realized he had an excellent point.

This mad dash south is causing me to miss some very cool stops. You don't get to see much of an area when you arrive at sunset or after – and leave at dawn. In fact, what's the big deal if it takes me a week or two longer to get back to South Florida? We just had some pretty damn cold weather and Chip and I survived. If we get another cold front like that, we'll just have to go into a marina again (and buy ourselves a new electric space heater). But the further south we get, the less likely that is to happen, and we do fine with overnight lows in the thirties and forties.

Tonight, I met a man and woman doing the ICW in a twenty-nine-foot sailboat with an 8-HP outboard. They are delivering this boat that was a donation to a non-profit organization in Tennessee! They will cut through Lake Okeechobee and head up the gulf coast to the river system and on to Tennessee. Though their boat is only a few feet shorter than mine, without a good battery/electrical system, their living arrangements are much more primitive than mine. Yet, they seem to be enjoying their adventure at their own pace

There's sort of a cycle we go through when we attempt to do something new, whether it's a new job, a new hobby or a new sport. At first we're afraid we don't have the skills, then we start to feel confident but still try to overachieve, and finally, there is the moment when we can start to relax in our confidence. It's time for me to slow down, relax, and enjoy this waterway adventure. I'm happy to report that we have a spell of nice weather ahead, so tomorrow, we'll cover only thirty-five miles and enjoy Georgetown.

Fair winds!

Christine

author of the sailing thriller CIRCLE OF BONES available on Kindle and Nook

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Goals for a New Year…

C.E. Grundler

I've never paid much mind to that whole December 31/January 1 odometer flip – no big parties or much else – in fact it stands as tradition that I don't leave the house, and, like most every other night of the year, I'm sound asleep long before midnight. And this year was no different. I did my usual, I wrote until I saw double (my vision's subtle way of telling me it's time to step away from the keyboard) then nodded off on the couch in front of a zombie marathon. Or maybe it was Dick Clark, I'm not really sure. Either way, another year came and went with minimal fanfare. Truth is, I've been a bit too busy to pay attention, but I have noticed that this seems to be the week for resolutions here at Write on the Water, and reading everyone else's got me thinking.

Resolutions are all about setting goals and reaching them, whether it's that next book, a far horizon or a creative approach to waterskiing. And I've always approached my goals as an ongoing process, constant, continuous and ever-evolving. I try not to set grand goals, but instead focus on attainable achievements. I suppose it comes back to that displacement-speed approach to getting where I'm going – slow and steady, but persistently moving forward. Even the biggest achievements rarely arrive in a single simple step – they're more often the sum of countless small steps. And the true goal is not so much the goal itself – like sailing it isn't so much about where we're going but our choice of how we get there. And, as with sailing, we may just as well find us somewhere we never intended or imagined. The weather won't always be ideal, the boat won't always cooperate, but it's those challenges and obstacles we face that make us stronger and richer for the experience. And with that comes skill, confidence and ability, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.

Okay. That's enough philosophy for me. You want resolutions? I'll give you resolutions, but in my usual way, I'll set the bar nice and low, so I can accomplish these and move on to bigger and better ones.

Boating resolution #1:  We WILL NOT launch Annabel Lee next year. In fact, we will make sure she stays up on blocks in precisely the same location she has been parked for far too long. We will, however, complete the work we were so close to wrapping up last fall, and we will tackle a few other, more manageable projects so that by spring of 2013 ALL structural/mechanical work has been completed, and she can return to the water at long last.

Boating resolution #2: I WILL keep my eyes out for a vessel of the wind-powered variety, between the length of 8-10 feet, which falls within my limited budget and allows me to get out on the water and under sail before my sanity gives out entirely, and can serve as a tender to the mother-ship once she is back afloat.

Writing resolution #1: More mayhem, in the form of a heist/payback! My slightly sociopathic and somewhat violent heroine, along with the rest of the gang, will return for the third in the series, and I WILL have that book completed by November 2012.

Writing resolution #2: Go with the flow. The last six months have been amazing; a year ago I could have never imagined the changes 2011 would bring to my life, and this has all been leading up to the spring (re) launch of Last Exit In New Jersey and the launch of No Wake Zone. I have no idea what lies ahead – but I plan to enjoy it!

And once again, a Happy New Year to all!

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Yes, It's New Years In New England

(Photo taken of my step-son, Reid, this past weekend; if you could read his mind he might be saying, "Just let the old guy on twin sticks try to keep up with me this time.")

It's a New Year in New England and while the snow is scarce, winter is here. My fellow bloggers at Write On The Water who hail from the south have been taking advantage of the season to articulate their water-borne New Year's resolutions, so let me join the crowd. Here goes:

Wooden boat resolution #1: This year the boat gets launched on May 1st. Each year I write this launch date on my boatyard contract, but this year it's really going to happen. I had always assumed that the folks at the marina posted my contract on the office bulletin board because my old wooden sailboat had some kind of priority standing. Then, last year, someone let it slip that the May 1 date was, in fact, a source of shared office humor. Well, that will be the case no more. This Spring that baby goes in fully varnished, complete with freshly painted top sides and bottom, and new non-skid on the cabin top, and if you want to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with me I'll be in the cockpit at mooring #80.

Wooden boat resolution #2: If the lottery ticket thing doesn't pan out and I am once again left doing the boat maintenance chores myself, I'm petitioning for a July 4th observance of Cinco de Mayo.

Sailing resolution #1: This year I set sail for the far horizon. (Fortunately, this isn't all that far when you calculate for the the curvature of the earth.)

Sailing resolution #2: I will return from the far horizon. (Note to self: renew annual membership for Tow Boat US.)

Writing resolution #1: Publish my new Steve Decatur book, Devil's Bridge, before March 21.

Writing resolution #2: Capture a promotional video clip of me waterskiing behind our sailboat. Don't worry, I've got this one all figured out: my step-son, at the wheel of our little Whaler, gets me up and going, I get a quick hand-off to a second tow-line set to the sailboat which is underway with my wife at the tiller. Meanwhile, a third willing participant captures this with a video camera. I figure the resulting output will go viral thereby promoting book sales. Maybe even more so if the stunt goes the way predicted by the naysayers in our house.

So there they are. And Happy New Year to all, one full of carefully considered resolutions.

Lastly, some of you may have heard we are lacking snow up here in New England. While this is true, the skiing has been better than you might expect as seen by the short video below, which I recorded on the evening of December 31, 2011. What started as a fire ball at the top of the mountain became a stream of skiers, red flares in hand as they serpentined to the base lodge.

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Click below to watch the video clip

IMG_0173-5

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New Year's Resolutions

Write on the Water

Jan. 3, 2012

Happy New Year. Most of us here in Key West have recovered. Have you?

What are your New Year resolutions? None? Or none you expect to keep. It seems mine always sound the same and I am not sure I keep them. Not to my satisfaction. Writers are erratic animals. Insecure, too. Maybe that's why I make the same resolutions each year, or similar enough to make me think so.

My resolutions for 2012:

1) Write more. Most friends think I write a lot. I don't. I need to spend more time at the keyboard.

2) Read more. I am a believer that a writer needs to read, a lot. Stephen King thinks so to, so I'm in good company. Again, people see my office library and are amazed that I've read so many books. I should be reading when I am sleeping. Less sleeping more reading.

3) Achieve my resolutions.

I am often surprised that people think I write and read more than others do. I think I could do more, be better, so I make the resolutions knowing I will not make the mark, again. But it gives me something to aim for and that's what I need. A goal. I expect to write more this year. I am rewriting my 3rd and last lost mystery – Who's to Bless & Who's to Blame – that I begin in Mexico in the late '90s. I also need to put an ending to it. I gave myself a deadline of May. In June, I will begin the sequel of Stairway to the Bottom, tentative titled Nobody Wins. It will be a little different Mick Murphy Mystery. A lot darker and I'm toying with telling it from Norm's POV.

What resolutions do you expect to keep or not? I'd like to know I'm not alone.

Have a healthy and prosperous 2012.

www.michaelhaskins.net

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New Year's resolutions.

I have two sets of resolutions this year–one under the guise of writer and the other as a sailor. I'll list my sailor's resolutions first not because they are more important, but because for the next few months the boat is my main focus in life.

Sailors resolutions:

1) I vow to get the boat away from the dock. Living on a boat and cruising are two different ways of life and I no longer wish to live on a boat–I want to cruise.

2) I have four months to work on the boat. Whatever is not done will wait. Why? see resoultion 1.

3) I will spend most of 2012 at anchor. It's too damn easy to get stuck at the dock.

Writer's resolutions:

1) I will write and publish a new Wes Darling book in 2012.

2) I will write and publish a new Wes Darling book in 2012.

3) I will write and publish a new Wes Darling book in 2012.

That's all I have to say except have a Happy New Year and if you're out there cruising, keep an eye out for our boat, Rough Draft.

To buy mike's book for the nook: http://tinyurl.com/6qbaufm, for the sony reader: ttp://tinyurl.com/7f8xsw6, for Kobo reader: http://tinyurl.com/76l5dnd, at smashwords: http://tinyurl.com/8xcxws8. Also available in the Ibook store.

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Courageous, reckless, or just plain chicken?

by Christine Kling

Talespinner in her slip at the New Bern Grand Marina

My mini-Odyssey has brought me back at last to Talespinner snuggly tied up in her slip at the New Bern Grand Marina. I flew in on Monday and I've spent the last three days provisioning, sewing a window in my bimini, changing the oil and filters, replacing my bow running lights, and completing many other boat projects. I've spent hours going over the charts of the ICW between here and Florida, and I find that tonight I have that familiar shaky, nervous feeling in my gut. I think they call it fear.

New Bern is a quaint little town and there's a great shop on the main street called the 4 C's. I went in there to buy a pair of waterproof shoes for schlepping the dog ashore in the dinghy, and I chatted with the woman who was working there. She asked me the same question that I am often asked by folks who hear that I am a woman sailing alone. "Aren't you afraid?"

I always give the same answer, which is "No." I give my reasons about how you're probably safer in a boat than you are on the Interstate, that you're just as likely to get mugged or raped in the city – if not more so. Yada, yada, yada.

The Daring Duo in matching red oilies

Tonight, getting ready to start this 850 miles trip away from this comfortable floating dock with plenty of power to run the electric heater (the temperature was 27 degrees when I got up this morning), I'm thinking that my answer to her was mostly B.S. Courageous I am not. I'm always wondering – Am I going to run aground? Am I going to drag anchor in the strong tidal currents? Am I going to break down? Am I going to be able to care for my elderly dog and keep him alive in these cold temperatures? Can I handle this trip alone?

I am reminded of a story I have often told at book signings. This happened years ago when I was invited to a Friends of the Library luncheon in St. Pete. It was held at some bubble gum pink hotel on the beach and several authors were in attendance. They sat one author at each table with about ten library patrons and they were serving those fancy cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off which taste like you're eating airex foam. I sat next to this tiny blue-haired lady, and when she found out who I was, she said, "I read your book." I thanked her, and then she added, "Your character Seychelle, she's reckless." Then she bit into another foam sandwich.

Her comment stuck with me. I didn't think of my character as someone who was reckless. I had her do things that I thought were perfectly natural given the circumstances. That made me ask myself if I was reckless.

Let's see – I rode my bicycle 1,000 miles down the new Baja Highway when I was 19 years old, I crewed on a drug-running Norwegian schooner for the trip back north up the Mexican coast, I hitch-hiked through Europe, I took off for the South Pacific from Hawaii on a boat with a guy I had known 3 days . . . need I go on?

So, when I returned from that luncheon in St. Pete, I looked up the definition of the word reckless:

"Not recking of consequences; desperately heedless, as from folly, passion, or perversity; impetuously or rashly adventurous."

Okay, so I will claim ownership to parts of that definition – perhaps the folly, passion and rashly adventurous parts – on occasions, maybe even the perversity. But I am not heedless of consequences. I am scared to death of consequences.

But I know that tomorrow when I am underway sailing down the Neuse River, the shaky feeling in my gut will gradually go away. I get more nervous anticipating doing something, than actually doing it. Being nervous or afraid is normal and pushing through it is how you can get over it.

Oddly enough, I find it far more comfortable on a boat underway than I do putting my writing out before the public. You readers may not know it, but I agonize over every blog entry I write. And finally pushing that button to publish my new novel Circle of Bones took every ounce of courage in my body. The what ifs in the world of writing and publishing are far scarier to me than reefs, currents or shoals. What if nobody buys it? What if nobody ever reads it? What if they read it and they hate it? Putting your writing out there requires far more courage than sailing a boat single handed in my view.

Which brings me back to the title of this blog and which category most suits me. Given that it took me five years to get this novel out to the world, I think I am the latter.

I'd like to close this blog with this cool video that struck a cord with me today. I've been feeling nervous and scared, like the forces of nature were ganging up on me, and I'd like to think that if I am the penguin, the readers of this blog are the folks in the dinghy.

Happy New Year everyone!

Fair winds!

Christine

 

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Shifting gears…

C.E. Grundler

I'm a lousy dancer. I say that only because, if you think about it, I probably should be much better, considering my talents behind the wheel. For me, driving is like a ballet, an unconscious orchestration of clutch, fuel and brake, of shifting gears and turning wheel, of mirrors and turn signals, not to mention a flip of the radio station and sip of soda. Why those talents don't translate to the dance floor is more likely due to my inability to match the rhythms in the music than my ability to move my hands and feet. I do believe, however, my skill at shifting gears is a large part of what has helped me through 2011.

Last January started quietly enough. One book written, self-published, and selling moderately. Marketing was the key, I'd heard, and while I really wanted to focus on writing the sequel, more of my time went into half-hearted attempts to social-network and get my name out there. Far too much time. Simply put, marketing is not my strength, and to this day I'm not sure anything I did had a direct effect on my sales one way or another. But sales were rising, and I decided that I had better shift my attention into my second book. And that's when the emails and calls began; Thomas & Mercer wanted Last Exit and the still barely written sequel. Conversations, contracts, author questionnaires, and then back to writing No Wake Zone. And just as I was making headway it was time to shift again, now to edit LENJ, which stretched through an entire month of intensive work. That done, I shifted back to NWZ, even as I had to weigh in on a new cover and promo copy for LENJ, we worked on the boat, family members got sick and minor household emergencies kept taking me out of gear. More editing on Last Exit, this time with a copy editor. Back to NWZ, finishing up the first draft and then looping back around for a second pass, then off to the editor, just in time for a few days breather, then it was time to go another round with a second copy editor for LENJ. And just as I emailed that completed edit back – you guessed it – I received the first edits on NWZ. That faint burning smell? Oh, that's just the clutch in my brain.

The last six months have been a hectic, exciting whirlwind of non-stop shifts, and while I'll admit I've been a bit(!) stressed at times, I've had a blast. I can only imagine what surprises the coming year will bring. And even as edits proceed on NWZ, I'm already building the outline for book three. This time around: a little less murder but a whole lot more mayhem, and a large helping of payback in the form of a heist by land and sea!

To everyone: here's wishing you all a happy, healthy and wonderful 2012!

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