Buck Turner's Blog, page 2

CommuniKate - Young Adult Paranormal Mystery Series

Okay, so something different today. From time to time, I like to change things up a bit, so today I'm going to talk about my young adult paranormal mystery series CommuniKate.

17-year-old Kate Walker is a young lady with a gift...or is it a curse? For most of her life, she's been on the outside looking in. With few friends and no boyfriend, Kate feels like a slave to her work. But that all changes when she's asked to the Winter Formal by the quarterback of the football team, Brad Culpepper. What is supposed to be the best night of her life turns out to be anything but. Waiting for her in the shadows is a serial killer who's been dead for fifty years. Fortunately for Kate, she has a guardian angel. His name is Zane Ellis and he's part of a secret organization who capture spirits from all over the world. To make sure Kate is safe, Zane takes her to a secret facility where there are other agents who share Kate's abilities. With the help of the other agents, Kate sets off to find the notorious serial killer, Simon Lepridge, before she becomes his latest victim.

Episodes 1 and 2 are already available on Amazon, with more to come in the weeks ahead. If you know anyone who enjoys fantasy or paranormal, this is the series for them.

Check it out, exclusively on Amazon at: Amazon.com: Shadow Whisperer: A Communikate Mystery (Episode 1) eBook: Turner, Buck: Kindle Store

Short Story - Little Black Book Challenge

So, Vocal.media had a Little Black Book Challenge, that recently ended yesterday. In a nutshell, you had to create a short fiction work between 600 and 2,000 words about someone who comes into $20k (lotto, found in the trash, etc.). The only stipulation was that you had to mention somewhere in the story a small black notebook. Read on if you want to check out my submittal. Feedback is always welcome.

GOOD DEEDS

On a bright morning in May 1948, Clyde Hawkins walked out of the Indiana State Penitentiary a free man. “Never again,” he said to himself as he glanced over his shoulder at the brick behemoth. Behind him was a twisted maze of concrete and steel, of chains and barbed wire. What lay before him was a world of endless possibilities.

Ten years was a long time to be locked up—the maximum sentence for a seventeen-year-old convicted of armed robbery. He could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist had Judge Whiteside not taken a “liking” to him. The old man hated Clyde from the moment he stepped foot inside his courtroom. Perhaps it was his long hair and braggadocios smile that had rubbed the old man the wrong way, but whatever it was had sealed his fate. Even the court appointed attorney knew right off the kid from Terre Haute was doomed.

“That oughta wipe the smirk off his face,” said the judge happily as he watched Clyde being led away in handcuffs. He had him sent north to Michigan City, where he was to serve his entire sentence in the Indiana State Prison, a notorious place that had housed the likes of John Dillinger and D.C. Stephenson.

But despite his age and wanton disregard for authority, Clyde took it like a man. After all, there was no denying what he’d done—robbing a young mother at gunpoint on Christmas Eve while her child slept in the next room—an unconscionable crime. Had he been a year older, his sentence would have been a quarter century, so he considered himself lucky.

With nothing more than the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet, Clyde headed out into a brave new world. On the one hand, he was a free man, but now he faced the harsh reality of an unforgiving world where everything came at a price. Fortunately, the necessities of life were provided by the state at a halfway house on the north side of town. It was far from glamorous, but it meant a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

He caught the bus outside the prison gate and let it take him as far as 7th Street, then got out and went the rest of the way on foot. A look at the address on his papers told him he was in the right spot. The house was run by a brute named Bill Cline. A former prison guard, Bill stood six-four, weighed two-sixty, was solid as a rock, and had a reputation for being a real hard ass. Clyde had heard stories about Bill on this inside, so he knew he had to walk a straight line, or he’d find himself back on the block.

Clyde stood at attention in front of Bill’s desk while he reviewed his papers. It was standard fare, prison issued, and signed by the warden, so there wasn’t much to scrutinize. When he was satisfied everything was in order, Bill showed Clyde to his room. It was on the ground floor, down a little hallway at the back of the building. Inside the dimly lit space sat a bed and a nightstand with a lamp. There was a small window on the far side of the room, beside which sat a writing desk and chair, and there was a separate bathroom that had a tub and a sink, and a little mirror that was split down the middle.

“Dinner’s at 6:30 in the dining room,” Bill said in a harsh voice. “Eat or starve, it’s all the same to me,” he said, then backed out of the room and slammed the door.

Clyde turned and surveyed the room. It wasn’t the Drake Hotel, but it sure beat the hell out of the six by eight cell he’d called home for the last decade. The first thing he did was make the bed. With that out of the way, he sat down at the desk and pulled out the center drawer. Inside was a worn-out black notebook and what remained of a pencil. He took a moment and thumbed through the pages. Everyone who had stayed in the room before him had made an entry. There must have been thirty of them, dating back to before the war.

He read for a while, but quickly lost interest. Then, he drew a bath and sat in the scalding water until all his troubles melted away. It was the first moment of peace he’d had in a long time, and he relished every second. When the transformation from man to prune was complete, he toweled off and stood in front of the mirror. Staring back at him was a man he hardly recognized. At only twenty-seven, he had the face of someone much older. A hard life can do that. His hair, which had at one time been long and unkept, was shaved to the scalp, and there was a scar on the left side of his face where a razor had cut him during the riot of ‘42. Even his eyes, once crystal blue and full of life, were now cold, their color a steely gray.

At dinner, he sat around a table with a half-dozen others who were in a similar predicament. In between bites, he watched as they devoured their steaks, cutting and gnawing at them like wild animals. People never change, he thought as he quietly observed the feeding frenzy. He’d heard his father say those words a thousand times. We are what we are. Even though they were free men, Clyde knew most of them would end up back behind bars. That’s the way life was.

Before bed, Clyde jotted down a few thoughts in the notebook, then did something he hadn’t done in a very long time—he got down on his knees and asked for forgiveness. If there was some greater power out there in the universe, he wanted him or her or it to know he had changed. He was remorseful for what he had done and had paid his debt to society. The only thing he longed for now was a chance to prove himself, to show everyone else he had changed.

The next morning, Clyde woke with a sense of purpose. His conscience was finally clear, and he had made his peace with the universe. With the few dollars he had in his pocket, he found the clothing store on Wabash and bought a shirt and a pair of slacks, then spent the rest of the day in search of a job. By sundown he’d secured work bussing tables at a local diner. The old man who owned the place had done a stint in Leavenworth, so he cut Clyde a break.

Weeks went by and as Clyde settled into his new routine, he longed more and more for a change of scenery. His dream was to live at the beach, some place warm like San Diego or Miami. He’d read about them in school when he was a kid and had always been fascinated by the ocean. But at the rate he was going, it would take years before he’d have enough money to move to a place like that. What he needed was a miracle.

When he wasn’t working, he spent most of his time at the Washington Park observation tower, where seventy feet up he enjoyed the best view in the entire state of Indiana. Endless blue skies overlook miles and miles of open water, golden sand, and emerald green hills. He’d stay up there for hours and look out at the deep blue waters of Lake Michigan and pretend it was the Atlantic. Often, he’d write in the notebook or just stare at the waves as they rolled in and crashed on the beach. It was peaceful up there, high above the world, where only the sound of the wind could be heard. Heaven.

One afternoon, while he stood on the deck of the tower, he observed a man sitting on a park bench at the foot of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument. He was middle-aged, wore a dark hat and glasses, and appeared to be reading a newspaper. Beside him sat a black briefcase. He watched the man for a couple of minutes, then lost interest, and went back to enjoying the waves. A few minutes later, he looked back, but the man was gone. The briefcase, however, was there, only now it was sitting under the bench.

Curious, he thought as he scanned the area.

A minute passed…five…ten, and when he was certain the man wasn’t coming back, Clyde descended the steps of the tower and set off in the monument's direction. From a distance he eyed the briefcase, unsure of what to do next. A quick stroll of the park turned up no sign of the man in the dark hat, so he grabbed the bag and went to a nearby picnic table, where he peeked inside.

“Holy shit,” he said aloud, as he stared at stacks of twenty-dollar bills. There must be twenty grand in here, he thought as he rifled through the money. He couldn’t believe his fortune; it was as if a prayer had been answered. Suddenly, a war raged inside him. That was enough money to get him to the coast, to live like a king. It was everything he ever wanted. But it wasn’t his money, not really, not in the eyes of the law. This was the moment he had prayed for, the one where he could prove to everyone, including his father, that change was possible.

With the briefcase beneath his arm, he hurried out of the park, crossed the street, and headed south toward the police station. This was his chance to redeem himself. When he got there, he sat the bag on the counter, told the officer who he was, what he had found, and that not a single dollar was missing.

The officer thanked him for his honesty and took his address in case there was a reward.

Clyde left the police station feeling better than he had since he was a teenager. The opportunity he had been hoping for had come, and for once in his life he was sure he had done the right thing.

After a good night’s sleep, Clyde woke to find the morning paper beneath his door. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he unfolded the paper and began reading. The morning headline read:

RANSOM GOES AWRY,

BOY LOSES LIFE.

PROMINENT FAMILY SEEKS JUSTICE

Seconds passed, and as the realization of what he had done began to sink in, Clyde hung his head in defeat. Just then, heavy footsteps could be heard in the hall outside his room.

As he was led away in handcuffs, the cops found the notebook on the desk where Clyde had been writing the night before. There on the page, written in pencil, were these words:

Today, I, Clyde Owen Hawkins, did a good and honest thing. You don’t know how hard it was for me not to take the money and run, but I didn’t. I made a promise to myself that I would never go back to that life, and I intend to keep it. I guess people really can change after all. Now, I know there’s nothing that can stop me from making it to the ocean. Nothing.

END

Excerpt from Silver Falls - Episode 1 - The Homecoming

After completing I'll Wait, I knew I had to turn my attention to a new project. It was difficult to finally part with Charlie and Anna, and though I may revisit that world at some point in the future, I wanted something fresh to work on.

Silver Falls is a fictionalized town that I dreamed up years ago, and I thought it might make the perfect backdrop for my new story about a cop with a history of scars who returns to his hometown when news reaches him of this mother's death. Part mystery, part romance, it is a mix of Virgin River and Riverdale.

With Episode 1 beginning to take shape (as in ~17,000 words currently written), I wanted to share with you an excerpt from Episode 1. I plan to release the first book in installments or episodes on Amazon for $0.99 each. There will likely be 4-5 episodes and I plan to release them once a month or perhaps more frequently, depending on how quickly I can produce and edit the content. Keep scrolling for an Excerpt from Book 1, Episode 1. Let me know what you think!

Excerpt from Silver Falls, Book 1, Episode 1

Summer was over, and in the blink of an eye, the heat that had for so long engulfed the town of Emmett's Grove, yielded to the cool winds of autumn. Up in the mountains, twenty miles northwest of Lynchburg, Virginia, the leaves had already begun their transformation. Brilliant greens faded into shades of gold and amber as they began their slow, steady descent toward lower altitudes. In the valley below, the James river, which had been choked by the summer drought, roared to life with the onslaught of autumn rains.

For Jayce Callahan, no other season quite compared to the brilliance of autumn. Something about the way the dazzling colors stood out against an indigo sky made him appreciate life even more. It was also the time of year when he was most productive. Owning fifty acres of pristine Virginia pine forest brought him great satisfaction. But with that satisfaction came work—chopping wood, clearing the property of downed timber, setting traps—all to prepare for the winter that would inevitably come. In those parts, up in the mountains, winters came without warning and could be long and harsh, not to mention lonely. But Jayce enjoyed the solitude, and besides, he wasn’t alone. He had his golden lab, Camo, to keep him company.

With a mighty swing, Jayce brought down the ax and split the final piece of cedar in half. As he stacked the last of the winter firewood, something off in the distance caught his attention. He looked up automatically as the unmistakable crunch of gravel beneath tires filled the air. Someone was making the ascent. He took a step back, concealing himself behind the wood pile, and as he did his right hand reached for the gun he kept holstered on his hip. Years of training kept him steady, focused, eyes sharp as a hawk.

His glanced at the cabin where Camo was on the front porch, standing at attention. She, too, had been alerted by the approaching vehicle and was staring intently at the opening in the trees where the drive entered the forest. Jayce gave the command, sending Camo leaping off the porch in his direction. Like her master, Camo was in her prime, and in a few strides she was at Jayce's side awaiting further orders.

"Good girl, Cam" Jayce whispered, reaching down with his free hand as he stroked the fur on the back of her neck. He had trained her well. Camo had been with him since he returned home from the war. He had raised her from a pup, and she was as loyal a friend as he'd ever had.

As the roar of the engine grew louder, Jayce steadied his hand on the gun. He wasn't yet ready to pull it from the holster. There was still a chance, albeit remote, a motorist had wandered off the main road. If not, only one person remained brave enough to make the journey, and he wasn't expecting her until tomorrow.

Jayce and Camo held their position and watched as the front of a rusty old pickup truck appeared from out of the darkness. It was her. On a Tuesday, no less. Jayce relinquished his grip on the gun. His rigid posture relaxed. Taking the cue from her master, Camo's tail went to wagging as she set off toward the mail truck.

SILVER FALLS

So, I've decided to try my hand at serial fiction. I know, it's a somewhat old way of getting content out, but I think it will keep me on my toes. I've been toying with the idea of a serial novel for a while now, and after finally sketching out plot lines, characters, setting, etc., I'm ready to pull the trigger on Silver Falls, a small town mystery/romance.

The premise is this - on the outside, 34-year-old Jayce Callahan (Cal to those who know him) seems to have it all - a good job, twenty acres in Virginia's Blue Ridge mountains, and a faithful golden lab named Camo. But beneath the surface lie scars that are too deep to heel.

When a letter arrives one day informing him of his mother's death, Jayce is forced to return to the town he swore he would never again set foot in. What awaits him is anything but a warm welcome.

I'll be releasing this in episodes (maybe 5-7) for the first book, with other books to follow. I'd like to be able to release an episode a month or more frequently, depending on my schedule.

Let me know what you think about the concept and the cover art (see below).

Outlook 2021 - What Story is up Next?

Now that 2021 is firmly underway, I am setting my sights on how the year is going to shape up in terms of new releases. First, let me say, it has been a grueling winter. With cold weather coupled with Covid-19, I've had to stay indoors more than in year's past. Instead of complaining, I decided early on to use this extra time to my advantage. That means A LOT OF WRITING!

It began with the release of The Long Road Back To You in early December. It has been well received and continues to do well on Amazon, which is great. Shortly after I released that book, I began working on the companion novel called I'll Wait, which came together very quickly. In fact, as I entered January, the first draft was completed, edited, and sent to my team of beta readers. In the past couple of days, I completed the final draft, which has this book slated for release on March 1st (looking forward to that).

Meanwhile, I've been sketching out some ideas for future novels. In fact, there are more than a dozen stories I've started, and some with greater than 10k words already written. Many of those stories are within the romance genre, which is my go-to these days, but there are one or two that stray outside those lines. Actually, I have begun work on a middle-grade fantasy book (think Chronicles of Narnia meets The Ocean at the End of the Lane). I'm very excited about this project as it gets me back to the kind of stories that first drew me to reading and writing many years ago.

As the year unfolds, I will undoubtedly change course several times, which is typical for me, but as you can see there is a great deal of work taking place. I think it's safe to say this will be my most productive year and hope to release 5-6 novels by year's end.

As always, I'm looking for your feedback. If there are any stories or ideas for stories you have, send those my way. Who knows, I ay be able to write my next novel based on your idea. Don't have a story in mind? What about a character or small town (love small towns, especially ones with a dark undercurrent).

Until next time...

Breaking the Genre Barrier

As writers, we‘re constantly told to choose the conventional path, which means choosing a genre and sticking to it. But what happens when you want to write romance today, horror tomorrow, and a children’s book the next? Are we bound to what our audience wants. My advice? Write about what stirs the emotion inside you. There’s nothing worse than reading a book by an author whose heart is not in the story. Remember, our books are a direct reflection of who we are, with little pieces of our heart and would mixed into each character and chapter. So, the next time you’re struggling with whether or not to break the genre barrier, do it!

Want To Have Your Story Told?

Okay, so I like to think I have good ideas, and sometimes I do, but that doesn't mean I don't need a little help from time to time. That's where you come in. I'm looking for a situation, time period, and problem I can use to write a short story or even novel. And if you have a location or a character with a great name, even better! Whatcha got?

Romance Novels - Breaking the Stigma

Have you ever found yourself perusing the romance section at your local bookstore or even online and felt like you were doing something wrong? Why is that?

For years, romance novels have been viewed as substandard writing, with little to no plot, and read by those who are looking to escape the realities of life, or just to read about sex. Okay, some of that may be true, especially in the days before the internet, but let's be honest, times have changed.

Traditionally, romance novels have been written for women, by women, and have cast women in submissive roles (damsel in distress searching for Prince Charming). Lonely housewives, those looking for something more from their unfulfilling relationship, or those seeking to secretly live out a fantasy on the pages have been the intended audience, but what if it's something more that drives readers to romance novels and what if it's not just about a tall, strapping man carrying a helpless, swooning woman off into the sunset?

When I'm asked about writing romance, the first thing I tell people is I don't like the word romance. Don't get me wrong, I like romance, just not the connotation that follows it in the writing world. The stigma attached to romance is so powerful there aren't enough words in the English dictionary to change it. That said, I like to say what I write is not so much romance as it is life. It's more about what we all desire at our core - to love and be loved - in many different ways (some of which are socially acceptable, while others might be a bit more risque).

And guess what? This isn't 1940. A strong man coming to the rescue of a helpless woman? Let's face it, we live in a different world - a world that is becoming more inclusive and equal by the second. Yes, this is a good thing. Now, we can write characters (both men and women) who are strong, independent, and fully capable of surviving on their own. I've been blessed to have grown up around some very strong women. My grandmothers, mother, and my wife are all strong women, fully capable of standing on their own two feet, equal in every way to the men they love, and in some cases stronger and more capable. It is for this reason I try to make my characters equals rather than one coming to the rescue of the other, because I believe it tells a more authentic and genuine story. And, let's be honest, when it comes to love, are we not constantly rescuing each other? After all, isn't that the most beautiful part of love?

I am a male write of romance (or something like it) and proud of it. I'm not afraid or ashamed to admit I like the idea of loving and being loved in return, of being strong when I need to be, but vulnerable at the same time, and not always assuming I have to be in control.

What are your thoughts?

What To Do When You Have Writer's Block

Writer's Block - the one thing dreaded by any author. It is the moment when all the creative juices stop flowing, and life itself seems to grind to a halt. Never fear! Writer's block happens to all authors, even the great ones, and while there isn't a magic pill to cure it, there are some things you could try to get the creative juices flowing again.

Here are just a few ideas:

Take a Walk. Sometimes, the best way to get your mind in creative mode is to get your mind off things. Take a walk around the neighborhood, exercise, get outside and enjoy the fresh air. Who knows what great ideas will pop into your head.

Read a book. There's nothing better to get the words flowing again than to read the words of someone else. Often, those words provide just the inspiration you need to write that next paragraph or chapter.

Take a mental break. Sometimes, we can write too much. Forcing the words doesn't necessarily equate to breaking the block. This can, at times, be counterproductive. Take an hour, a day, a week and let your mind relax and refresh, then you can come back with a new perspective and be ready to continue.

At some point in time, we will all experience writer's block. The secret is to find a way to remove it. Let me know what works for you.

The Writing Process - What's It Like?

I get asked all the time about the process I use when for writing novels? Most readers or writers, for that matter, are interested in how long it takes to write the first draft, how much editing is involved, etc. before you get to a finished product. So, I'm here to shed some light on the process I use. Now, it's only fair to say that this process is not set in stone, doesn't work for everyone, and changes slightly depending on what I'm writing, the length of the story, etc. All right, with that out of the way, here goes:

As a general rule, I always assume a novel (start to finish) will take anywhere from 90-120 days (3-4 months). Since I generally do not write epics (>100k words), this helps keep my timeline shorter. Most of my work, outside of short stories, falls in the 50k - 70k word range, which I believe is a good window for me. It also makes it easier on my readers as most of my books can be read in a single afternoon, while on a plane, or relaxing at the beach.

That said, I like to set a goal of 30-45 days to write the first draft. This mean for a 60k word novel, I need to write between 1,300-2,000 words per day. It is also important to note I get up around 5, write for 2-3 hours, then break. Later in the evening I will revisit, makes changes, etc. before moving on. At this stage I am less concerned about editing and more concerned with getting words on the page.

Once the first draft is complete, I move the entire work to my editing software (Autocrit) for the first round of clean up. This typically takes a few days. It is at this point I walk away for 3-7 days and begin thinking about the next project. Your mind needs time to detach from the story, to let fresh ideas spring up. When this waiting period is over, I return for a second round of edits (typically another week of work).

By now, were at the 45-60 day mark (halfway home). This is where is send my nearly finished story to my group of beta readers. I have a really solid group who do a great job of promptly reading my work, offering suggestions, etc. I typically allow 3-4 weeks for their feedback. Now, we're at the 70-90 day mark. I take the next 1-2 weeks to incorporate their suggestions, make changes, before final editing begins.

Once the final edit is complete (roughly a week), I'm ready to publish.

I hope this has been helpful. As always, if you have any questions, please leave a comment of reach out to me directly at buck.turner@outlook.com

Buck