Mike Jastrzebski's Blog, page 76

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is tied to the culmination of the harvest, and no less so at Write on the Water.

For those of us who are trying to harvest readers, rapid change has been underway in the world of publishing. Fortunately, the immediate implication is that we have exciting new channels, such as e-books, for reaching readers. How exciting is this? It was satisfying at 200 books a quarter when I was out of the gate, much better when sales rose to 200 books a month, and nothing short of exhilarating at 200 books a day. And a whole new level of excitement is out there if I am fortunate enough to hit the 200 books an hour peak achieved by one of my Write on the Water fellow bloggers. Yet, ask any writer about the best part of writing and they'll tell you it's the instance of heartfelt individual feedback from a single reader. For that, too, I am thankful.

But writers can be a needy, self-promoting bunch, so let's not forget thanks that are better-placed: the thanks for family members and friends whose early support is so valuable and whose shared joy after publication is immensely rewarding, a thanks for the opportunity of each new day, and a wondrous thanks for the beauty of nature captured by a simple glance to the night sky, a walk along a shore, or a gaze across the sea.

Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels.

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Miami Book Fair

Last Saturday, 11 a.m., I was on a panel at the Miami Book Fair with fellow mystery writer Jack Harney. Bob Williamson, a friend and MWA member, was the moderator. It was a great opportunity for me but I think the whole set up was a little off. Anyway, it seemed like that for my panel.

The third guest never showed up and when I emailed the fair contact earlier about it, they sent an email back saying Jack and I now had an hour to fill. Never notified Jack, I had to tell him.

Also, originally I received an email saying there was another email coming with more information, a contract to sign and lodging information. I'm still waiting for it. So is Jack. Maybe they all went to guy that didn't show up.

I had to send three copies of my book, a photo and brief bio. I know they kept the books, probably for sale since someone from the fair said I needed to sign the fair's copy. When I opened it, the book was already signed. It was one I had sent them, I guess.

I didn't go expecting to be the talk of the show or to sell a truckload of books – though it would've been nice. I went for the exposure and expected something a little more from the fair. I noticed that the panel was recorded and I wonder for who. Will the tapes or CDs be sold? Will MWA, which paid a good sponsor fee, get some of that money?

I guess I would've liked them to follow through on the things they said were coming. Kind of what I expect from everyone. It was kind of like going to a restaurant, ordering a meal and having something else delivered. The waiter/waitress tells me it's delicious. But it wasn't what I'd been expecting . . . Oh well, I guess I am spoiled living on a small island where what you see is what you get.

I wonder if other groups had this problem or was it me. I guess I'll have to wait 'till the January luncheon or SleuthFest to find out.

Finally, Stairway to the Bottom, my newest Mick Murphy Key West Mystery, is on Kindle and Nook and should be a trade paperback on Amazon right after Thanksgiving. Books make wonderful holiday gifts. Check into it.

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My new Psychological Thriller, Weep No More, is only .99 cents for a limited time.

As a thank you to all of the readers who have bought my books I am offering my new psychological thriller, Weep No More for .99 cents for a limited time. If you haven't tried any of my other books, at .99 cents how can you lose? If you enjoy the book I hope you'll consider giving it a review.

Here's the blurb:

For Linda Morgan, an investigator with the Minnesota Department of Health, murder is the last thing she expects to confront while pursuing a sexual misconduct complaint against an egotistical psychotherapist.

Just out of an abusive marriage to a charming alcoholic, Linda fills her life with work and volunteering at a local women's shelter. She has little time to dwell upon the lack of a man in her life.

But in the course of one fateful week, Linda's life is unexpectedly overflowing with men. She meets a guy who considers her someone special, her ex-husband returns and tries to seduce his way back into her life, and a stalker takes an obsessive interest in her affairs.

Surrounded by dead bodies and deceit, Linda is forced to answer a question that's haunted her since childhood. Who can she trust? The clock is ticking down and the wrong answer could kill her.

To order for your Kindle click here: Weep No More

For all other eReaders click here: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/106771?ref=mikejastrzebski

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Opportunities and Lessons

My first exposure to boating was a twelve foot aluminum boat my father bought for fishing during the family's summer vacations. I kept tropical fish, so we named it Guppy. It was powered by a 14 horse Evinrude outboard older than I was and I spent many enjoyable winter hours tuning and painting that engine. We eventually sold the outfit to a neighbour when our family, growing older, lost interest in camping vacations.

Years later now, I still remember zooming about the lake, racing other kids and generally learning how to handle a small boat and having a great time. Those lessons stuck with me too.

Like many others, I learned to sail on the ubiquitous Laser during my university years. I next had the use of a Petrel for a summer while working as a swimming instructor in Northern Ontario, learning a lot about sailing from that boat. That Petrel by the way belonged to a fellow who only had one leg and who sailed it extensively on the small lake. This was long before disabled sailing – or disabled sports of any sort – became a cause célèbre.

A few years after this, one legged cancer victim Terry Fox ran halfway across Canada to raise funds for cancer research, doing a marathon equivalent of 26 miles daily. He only quit when his cancer returned halfway across the country and he died without finishing his goal of running across Canada.

A life lesson here: I had the opportunity to drive an extra fifty miles and meet Terry while driving through Northern Ontario. I thought about it and chose not to. I have ever since regretted not meeting one of Canada's true heroes – as opposed to hockey 'stars' or rock singers. When life hands you an opportunity like this, don't let callow youth or jaded experience hold you back. True heroes are rare. Grab the chance. Opportunities are fleeting, like falling stars they're gone in an instant. Regrets about what might have been stay with you.

Back to sailing. In 1978, with my minimal experience in, on (and underneath) the Laser and Petrel, I convinced my fiancée that we should honeymoon on a 25 Bayfield, sailing from Killarney into the North Channel and on to Little Current on Manitoulin Island. Why wouldn't she do this; I had talked her into marrying me, hadn't I?

My two most important lessons on that first cruise were to remember to tie off your halyards, especially if you're a newlywed, as they will clang against the mast all night if you don't; and to always be certain that the drain plug is in your dinghy before you drunkenly row back to your boat from a bonfire party. Oh yes, also make certain that the boat whose mast light you are (drunkenly) rowing towards is yours before you stumble aboard it at midnight in the stygian darkness of a Georgian Bay night.

Of course, Murphy had his hand in all this. Our neighbour, anchored beside us in a Shark on the first night of our honeymoon happened to be a minister. Wouldn't you know it? The next morning he pointed out the various uses of bungee cord on a boat – such as tying off halyards – while noting that there must have been some wind that night for the halyards to have been so noisy. Right! Who is kidding who here? We were newlyweds!

I never did determine whose boat it was I mistakenly boarded later that week and as for the lost drain plug… well, socks work just fine in a sinking emergency provided it's a small drain hole. I don't suggest that this will work if you ever hit a whale at sea but if you've got big feet, you might want to remember it.

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Problems, part II, aka Adaptation

Yes, I need to give a huge thanks to my friend Barbara who got something on the blog while I was struggling last night in St. Georges Harbor to pull in the one and only unlocked Internet connection after watching about 15 boats arrive after we did. There just wasn't any bandwidth left and I couldn't post the blog I had written. It's now nearly 2:00 in the afternoon and I've made it ashore and I'm ensconced in Bermuda Yacht Services' office with access to wifi and I'll copy and paste here what I wrote last night.

After all those days of waiting, the Caribbean 1500 fleet finally got to leave Hampton, VA on 11/11/11. And we had bananas aboard, but then I'm not superstitious. I think. One of the qualities that any sailing writer must possess is the ability to adapt. Richard finds himself suddenly on a delivery in Columbia and Mike is having to fudge on his promise to publish by November first or else – and the crew of the Emmy Kate is having to adapt to our circumstances that have led us to Bermuda.

Yes, Bermuda is the new Tortola for many boats in the Caribbean 1500 fleet. This is a rally, not a race, and when we found ourselves in the middle of a high pressure on the second day of the trip and we had little or no wind, we cranked up the engine and began to motor. And motor. And motor. Like most smaller sailboats, there is a limit to how much diesel we can carry and after two and a half days of motorsailing east in southeast winds, I jokingly said to another crew member, "Maybe we should stop in at Bermuda for more fuel." Soon, as we started to do more calculations and what little wind we had continued to blow from the very direction we wanted to travel, and the idea started to sound better and better. So that's how we ended up anchored here in St. Georges, Bermuda along with at least five other boats from the fleet and about twenty-five other southbound boats that are waiting on weather.

Most of the others will continue, but this crew's journey has come to an end here. More on that later. All this doesn't mean we didn't have a great time and many adventures, though. There were many hours when we sailed at five knots in 10-12 knots of wind. At the start of the race when we had strong winds for the first day, we actually saw this cat hit 9-10 knots of speed. We caught two mahi-mahi, one tuna, one marlin (that never made it onto the boat), and lots of weed. We also caught a nice ball of polypropylene line on one of the props, and I got to go swimming in mid-ocean with a sharp knife to cut it free. We ate great meals and played host to a tiny bird who joined us one night and slept in the cockpit until dawn.

Like on any new boat, we were all getting used to the noises, the creaks and groans that any boat makes at sea. I kept claiming that I thought the boat might be haunted because I kept hearing a woman singing (finally figured out it was the autopilot). But last night as we were motoring and pounding into fifteen knots of wind rounding the infamous reefs off the north end of Bermuda on the dark of the moon, I told Bob that I'd heard another sort of singing. He stood up because he'd heard that high-pitched tone too and we both looked aft. Neither of us could believe our eyes. We were being followed by this bright orange apparition with a flashing strobe on top. Our five-man Winslow liferaft that had been stowed under the aft deck of the cat had executed a perfect launch off our stern and was merrily bobbling along at five knots in our wake. Bob and I looked at each other and said, "What the f*?" We slowed the boat and brought it up to the stern and soon realized there was no way we were going to get it aboard. So now the crew of the Emmy Kate can claim a first — we were the first boat to arrive in Bermuda at 3:00 a.m. and tie up to the Customs dock while towing a beautifully deployed liferaft, complete with drogue and water ballast pouches. And we laughed, and laughed, and laughed. What else could we do?

And adapting to this situation means that our trip aboard Emmy Kate has come to an end. There is no way to get the raft repacked here and you cannot send new life rafts via FedEx or the like. They have to travel as cargo. So, the soonest the raft could be replaced is a couple of weeks and we cannot sit here that long. The owners must return to their lives and they will put the boat in a marina or on a mooring here in Bermuda and hire a delivery crew in a few weeks because the boat is going into charter work in Tortola for the winter.

Meanwhile, poor me, I get to spend the next few days touring this island I have never visited – which incidentally is a location in the new novel, Circle of Bones. Gee, life is tough, but I can adapt. And since I have been seeing all these boats coming in fleeing the bad weather to the south and waiting it out, I've also seen many boats losing their crew due to the long wait here. I'm considering putting out a shingle about crew for hire and hoping to find another ride to Tortola that will put a few shillings in my pocket. If not, I'll head home to Lauderdale for Thanksgiving. Such is the life of the sailing writer.

Fair winds

Christine

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Problems…

If you've been following the blog posts or the fleet viewer for the Caribbean 1500 then you might be aware that Chris' sail aboard the Emmy Kate has encountered a few problems and has had to divert to Bermuda instead of the British Virgins. Internet is intermittent so I'm not sure if a full blog will be available. However, she was able to get a few pictures to me. I've posted two or three here. I'm sure we are all waiting to hear the full story.

The Fleet

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dressed for the weather and ready to go!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris reading on her Kindle. Looks like there was some leisure time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Chris would say…

Fair Winds

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Who? Me?

C.E. Grundler

Recently, one of my husband's co-workers read Last Exit In New Jersey, and upon completion, remarked to my husband, "I'd be real careful around your wife if I were you."  My husband laughed and replied, "I know. She's got a bit of a dark streak."

'A bit' might be a bit of an understatement, actually. Fortunately he's come to understand my nature, or at least to accept it. I've always been somewhat morbid, intrigued by strange and unusual ways to potentially kick the bucket. In an ongoing quest to find new and creative ways to dispose of characters, my mind is always set into 'how could that kill you' mode. When I hear of some unexpected and strange misfortune, I mentally file it into my 'that could work' list. I wander the tool department, evaluating the drills, saws and sledgehammers with a dangerous gleam in my eyes. I watch Mythbusters, mesmerized by new and exciting ways to blow things up. I see warning labels on household cleaners and medicines as useful suggestions. Product X could lead to death if taken with product Y? Good to know. Installing too powerful of a kitchen range fan could potentially backdraft the carbon monoxide from the furnace and water heater, filling the house with lethal gas? Hmmm. (See what you learn when you're trying to kill fictional people? Note to self: stick with standard range fan.)

I have learned, however, that I need to be careful about when and how I speak.  A recent conversation with my father regarding deliberately misdirecting generator fumes led him to ask if I was having marriage problems, (gee, dad, really?) and though my husband and daughter know what I'm talking about and why, bystanders might not understand if they overhear the graphic details of a particular torture I'm devising. While it might offer much inspiration, Home Depot isn't the place for those conversations, my daughter reminds me, and I suppose she's right.  Years back I had a friend who worked with special effects props people, and his basement shelves housed several items from past movies, including a rather grisly and realistic severed hand, which I found amusing. He had an interesting story behind that one; not the horror movie it originated from, but how it led to a police raid on his home. It seems he'd taken photos of a project he was working on down there, and some alert photo lab employee noticed the gruesome item in the background, notifying the authorities. Needless to say, it was a good lesson that out of context, having a dark streak can draw unwarranted though understandable attention.  And after all, people might not realize I'm a mystery writer, but everyone knows it's those quiet ones you have to watch out for.

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Unexpected Departures and Choices

With John Urban in Italy, Christine heading on the Caribbean 1500, I am off to Cartagena tonight, delivering a Leopard catamaran to Colombia. This delivery is an unexpected trip for me. I was originally going to write about the raw data on my post this week to my blog Waves. But things change in life. One moment I am punching through my brokerage todo list, and the next I am packing my foul weather gear, sextant, and harness.

The situation makes me think of choices. I remember first discovering one of those books with multiple endings while in elementary school. You read a chapter and then make a choice. Do you fight the bully or run or tell the teacher? Then your choice determines which page you continue on. Jump to page 20 if you fight or jump to page 30 if you run. Every reader ends up with a different story, a different ending. This genre is a metaphor for how choices are in life.

I have heard it stated a couple different ways but it goes like this: there are a few choices in life that determine your future. I am not saying that's how my delivery to Colombia is, but it certainly does clearly set out a fork in my life. If the trip had not of come up and I stayed, what would happen? When I go, what does Poseidon hold for me offshore? When I return, what things will have changed?

And when looking back on these choices you can distinctly see the two separate paths, the one meandering off into the distances unknown, and your path, warmly beneath your feet. Looking back I always feel good about my choices. They have a familiar feeling like an old baseball glove. But I think I would feel the same warmth if I had made the opposing choice.

What choices have you made? How do you feel about them? I used to read those books with multiple endings and try out all the choices. I wanted to know what would happen to everyone. I wish I could split in two: one half stay ashore and the other sail off.

Please feel free to see the full dataset today or check back into my blog, Waves, next Wednesday for an interpretation of the yachting data in Fort Lauderdale and predictions for the future. You can follow me on SPOT.

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Picking a Different Kind of Live-Aboard Boat

by Tom Tripp

Over the years, I've met lots of different folks who live aboard their boats.  I might say, at the risk of perpetuating stereotypes, that as unique and varied as these people are, they usually fit into one of two groups when it comes to the type of boat they own.  There are the sailboat types and the megayacht types.  The former often live on shoestring budgets aboard modest yachts, while the latter are typically wealthy, retired folks who split their time between luxury homes ashore and their million-dollar-plus yachts.

I have a feeling, however, that there could be a third general group of live-aboards that eventually takes advantage of the huge number of fiberglass powerboat hulls that are out there.  For many years now, powerboat hulls from 20 to 40 feet have sprung from factories all over the country in numbers that dwarf the production runs of sailboats and large yachts.  In fact, if the trend of the last 15 years or so continues, new sailboats in this size range will only be delivered by the handful within a short time.  But the most important thing about all these production powerboats that have been built is that they will likely be around for a very long time.  Unlike older wooden boats, most of which eventually succumb to the entropy of all organic materials, fiberglass hulls will last nearly forever.

Carver 350 Mariner Exterior

What this means is that there is opportunity out there for people of varying means to acquire a powerboat hull that could provide a home afloat quite comparable to a home ashore.  The cramped quarters of a typical sailboat need not be the only possibility for potential liveaboards.

Carver 350 Mariner Exterior Salon

In many cases, there are reasonably priced powerboats in move-aboard condition.  In the end, it will depend on what you want to do with the boat if and when you leave the dock.  If short cruises are all you need, then propulsion needs are simplified and even gas inboards can be sufficient.  The images in this post are of a typical inboard power cruiser of the last decade, the Carver 350 Mariner.  The hull design might not appeal to all, but in terms of liveability, particularly at the dock or at anchor, it can't be beat.

If you're looking for a way to live aboard a boat, consider a powerboat from the last 10 years or so as one option, especially if you haven't ever lived aboard before.

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From Rags to Riches: The trouble with deadlines.

By Mike Jastrzebski

Readers of this blog know that I swore if my new book, Weep No More, was not finished by the first of November I was going to put it away and start work on the boat. The problem is, how could I do that when I was only a couple of weeks away from going live with the book?

My wife Mary has been editing the book over and over to clean it up for publication. It took a little longer than necessary, but I should be able to go live on Kindle by Monday or Tuesday of this week. I will then publish it on Pubit (Barnes and Noble), Smashwords, and in paperback with Createspace.

(Mary at work editing, 11/12/2011. It's a tough job but someone has to do it.)

This should take a couple of days, and then I will start on the boat. Our original plan was to work on the boat in November and December. At the end of December we wanted to pull the boat for a bottom job. We now plan to pull the boat at the end of January.

If you wonder how Mary and I feel about this; we want to go cruising ASAP, but we know we'll need money and the books have been adding to the kitty every month. Sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do, and I believe the secret to continued income from my books is putting out more books.

So next weekend I start on the boat but Mary will not start on the canvas at the same time. She's taken on a paid gig editing Christine Kling's newest book, Circle of Bones, which should be out before Christmas.

This is Mary's first paid editing job, but not her last. Mary plans to hire out for line editing when we start cruising. Now that business can be conducted over the internet, she figures she'll have time to edit other books while I write the next Wes Darling book.

She will not be setting up a web page until after the first of the year, but if you are interested in more information about her services feel free to write her through my web site. (mike at mikejastrzebski.com)

It's good to know that after the first of the year Mary and I will both be living the dream, or as the subtitle of this bog says: So you want to quit your job, move onto a boat, and write. As they say up in Minnesota where my new book is set, you betcha.

To purchase my books for your Nook eReader click here: http://tinyurl.com/7cjjt82.

To purchase for Sony eReaders click here: http://tinyurl.com/7f8xsw6.

To purchase for all other eReaders click here: http://tinyurl.com/75ro5cg.

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