Billy Ray Chitwood's Blog, page 27

The Beginning of a Book Launch

The Beginning of a Book Launch

A Common Evil – A Bailey Crane Mystery (Book 6)

Authored by Billy Ray Chitwood

The Beginning of a book launch?

First, an admission, I’ve never been very good at my own book launches. With this book, I would really like to get it as right as I possibly can. You see, I think my previous eleven books, five of them part of ‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’, are very good books – there are aside from ‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ a romance-suspense novel, two other mystery-suspense novels, and two memoirs. Some of these fictional books are inspired by true stories.

The truth is the manuscripts of some ‘Bailey Crane’ books sat and gathered dust for a few years before I cleaned them up, rewrote and edited them. Then, the books were published one after the other without any fanfare, without reviews, and put on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk. In short, I did no pre-launch, very little social networking, and tried to catch up by tweeting like crazy – it was not a professional marketing effort at all. Good Twitter followers, LinkedIn, Google Plus, and Facebook friends supported as best they could. Ergo, the sales never kept up with the hopes.

Look, I’m a humble guy and understand that my writing style might not please everyone. I do inject some musings, dabs of humor, and some diversionary little bits here and there, but I know the books are good, some close to damned good, have great characters and plot lines. I also know that there are millions of readers and books, so it behooves me to start doing something right in launching/marketing my books.

So, with this twelfth book, A Common Evil – A Bailey Crane Mystery (Book 6), I’m after some folks reviewing the book prior to publication, designing a dynamite cover, blogging some sample sections, tweeting, using Facebook, LinkedIn, and other platforms. I want to make sure that every best effort is made to make this book and all my books known to the reading public with the strongest launch effort I’ve ever attempted.

‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ are books that can stand alone, but the progression in age and circumstance of the central character, Bailey Crane, is evident book to book… One side note, one ‘Bailey Crane’ manuscript was lost in all my wandering – it was a book titled “Stranger Abduction” (it was to be Book 2 in the series – “Satan’s Song” is now in that position). “SA” was about a mother and daughter gone missing from Arizona who were never found (based on true events). As each book stands alone, the only missing elements with no “SA” have to do with some of Bailey’s personal life. I have searched everywhere I know to search for the missing manuscript, and, if it’s ever found it will be published.

So, now I have honestly shared with you my ineptness in launching my books and what I hope for in a new invigorated launch attempt. Now, here is a brief description of A Common Evil – A Bailey Crane Mystery (Book 6)…

Bailey Crane and wife Wendy have retired to a small fishing village in Mexico, living the good life in a most beautiful resort – a penthouse no less. Early one pre-dawn morning gunshots ring out at the resort and Black Hawk helicopters swoop in from the sea. Thus begins another adventure for Bailey. Several cartel people die in the ‘sting’ operation at the resort, most notably one of the more notorious cartel leaders. In many respects Bailey is partially responsible for the raid as the story will report, forcing him and his wife to reflect on safety issues and other living quarters.

Wendy will be kidnapped, and Bailey will be frantic in his attempts to find and rescue her. Bailey will have an emotional desert experience like no other experience he has ever faced. Other bad guys will be killed while the Mexican government and the principal Cartel boss attempt a coup of sorts. There is an abundance of romance, mystery, suspense in this book about corruption and evil, and the ending will come where the Sonoran desert meets at an estuary and the beautiful Sea of Cortez.

Next week I will share some of Bailey’s narrative in the book, perhaps have a cover design for your preview and acceptance.

Now I’m off to find some reviewers for A Common Evil – A Bailey Crane Mystery (Book 6). If anyone reading this blog would like to give me a review, just contact me at the Twitter link below. Please include your e-mail address. Thank you.

Billy Ray Chitwood – June 12, 2014

Your comments are welcome.

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio)

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My personal website – Books – Reviews – Blogs)

https://linkedin.com/nhome/ 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard – Goodreads (My books – Blog – Reviews)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood and http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – Bio – My books)

        

Writing Therapy

Writing Therapy

Posted on June 6, 2014 by billyraychitwood


Writing Therapy

Unless your brains and emotions have been so scrambled that you’re hopelessly lost and unable to vent in any form, try writing as therapy. Who knows, you could save thousands of dollars in psych office visits…

Take me, for example, those who occupy psych offices are loony types – he says rather tongue in cheek but not without respect. Me, I write books and blogs for my therapy and my thought is I might use this space to describe what it is my words and phrases are trying to convey.

My writing first and foremost is hopefully entertaining and connecting with some kindred souls. There is no formula that I use for writing – I simply take off and hope in the end it all makes some sense. Sure, I try to build a cohesive story, mixed with some interesting characters, some philosophical meandering, and a dash of humor. There was a time when I taught ‘Advanced Writing’ and I’m the first to admit that my style probably defies all the rules of good story-telling…you know, the ‘big bang beginning’, the sustaining plot and sub-plots, the unforgettable characters, the action, or, the ‘mesmerizing middle’, and the ‘bigger bang ending’. Don’t get me wrong, I try for these good elements and to one degree or another make them.

Where I likely deviate a bit from rules is my subconscious need to ‘diarize’, to inject so much of me into the narrative and out of the characters’ mouths. You see, I really want to write something most worthy but I have a selfish motive… I want to see if I can find pieces of me that give me a better sense of my life and times. We have all begun somewhere, been delivered to this place or that place, and have our scars to show for the life experiences. Me, I’ve always been an incurable romantic, a risk taker, not so much a multi-task type of guy, more interested in finding and evaluating all the variables in my journey, finding the reasons for this action and/or event.

So, through the made-up characters and the stories (even those inspired by true events) I’m hoping to get a better handle on me. The dialogues and the personalities are my inventions, and somewhere there on the lines and between the lines, am I. There is no question about my writing ability. Humbly, I believe it good to excellent – given a careless mistake here and there. The story will be simple and compelling…interesting but with some digression here and there. The books I’ve written are like the wanderlust author who penned them – hobos looking for a place to settle…but, then, hobos don’t look to settle, methinks.

I’m envious of those good folks who live in the same house, city, community, town for most if not all of their lives… I’ve lived in some beautiful places over my journey and part of me wishes I had never left some of those places. Like now, I’m living in a magnificent home with a bluff view across the valley on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee, and, guess what, I’m getting antsy for another move.

Therapy? Hey, I’ve got to do a lot of writing!

One more thing… I’m finishing up my twelfth book titled “A Common Evil” – The setting is a small fishing village on The Sea of Cortez in Mexico. It is the sixth and final book of my ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ and possibly the best. “A Common Evil” stands alone as do all the books in the ‘Bailey Crane Series’ and there are some musings in the book taken from my experiences while living in this fishing village by the sea. Actually, I can say the book was inspired by some actual events that took place in the very resort where I lived. All the books in the ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ are quick and simple reads that will attest to my claims in this blog post. Obviously, I hope you will read “A Common Evil’ and the rest of the ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’ — you will find me on and between the lines in each and every book. LOOK FOR IT – COMING SOON!

Thank you for taking time to read “A Common Evil’ when it is available – and any of my novels and/or memoirs now available at links below. If you enjoy one of my books, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend.

Billy Ray Chitwood – June 6, 2014

Please leave a comment if so inclined. Thank you and best wishes

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (Bio – My books – Reviews – Blog)

https://www.goodreads.com/author/dash... – Goodreads (My books – Blog – Reviews)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood) – Follow me

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood & http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – Bio – My books)

Writing Therapy

Writing Therapy

Unless your brains and emotions have been so scrambled that you’re hopelessly lost and unable to vent in any form, try writing as therapy. Who knows, you could save thousands of dollars in psych office visits…

Take me, for example, those who occupy psych offices are loony types – he says rather tongue in cheek but not without respect. Me, I write books and blogs for my therapy and my thought is I might use this space to describe what it is my words and phrases are trying to convey.

My writing first and foremost is hopefully entertaining and connecting with some kindred souls. There is no formula that I use for writing – I simply take off and hope in the end it all makes some sense. Sure, I try to build a cohesive story, mixed with some interesting characters, some philosophical meandering, and a dash of humor. There was a time when I taught ‘Advanced Writing’ and I’m the first to admit that my style probably defies all the rules of good story-telling…you know, the ‘big bang beginning’, the sustaining plot and sub-plots, the unforgettable characters, the action, or, the ‘mesmerizing middle’, and the ‘bigger bang ending’. Don’t get me wrong, I try for these good elements and to one degree or another make them.

Where I likely deviate a bit from rules is my subconscious need to ‘diarize’, to inject so much of me into the narrative and out of the characters’ mouths. You see, I really want to write something most worthy but I have a selfish motive… I want to see if I can find pieces of me that give me a better sense of my life and times. We have all begun somewhere, been delivered to this place or that place, and have our scars to show for the life experiences. Me, I’ve always been an incurable romantic, a risk taker, not so much a multi-task type of guy, more interested in finding and evaluating all the variables in my journey, finding the reasons for this action and/or event.

So, through the made-up characters and the stories (even those inspired by true events) I’m hoping to get a better handle on me. The dialogues and the personalities are my inventions, and somewhere there on the lines and between the lines, am I. There is no question about my writing ability. Humbly, I believe it good to excellent – given a careless mistake here and there. The story will be simple and compelling…interesting but with some digression here and there. The books I’ve written are like the wanderlust author who penned them – hobos looking for a place to settle…but, then, hobos don’t look to settle, methinks.

I’m envious of those good folks who live in the same house, city, community, town for most if not all of their lives… I’ve lived in some beautiful places over my journey and part of me wishes I had never left some of those places. Like now, I’m living in a magnificent home with a bluff view across the valley on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee, and, guess what, I’m getting antsy for another move.

Therapy? Hey, I’ve got to do a lot of writing! 

One more thing… I’m finishing up my twelfth book titled “A Common Evil” – The setting is a small fishing village on The Sea of Cortez in Mexico. It is the sixth and final book of my ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ and possibly the best. “A Common Evil” stands alone as do all the books in the ‘Bailey Crane Series’ and there are some musings in the book taken from my experiences while living in this fishing village by the sea. Actually, I can say the book was inspired by some actual events that took place in the very resort where I lived. All the books in the ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ are quick and simple reads that will attest to my claims in this blog post. Obviously, I hope you will read “A Common Evil’ and the rest of the ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’ — you will find me on and between the lines in each and every book. LOOK FOR IT – COMING SOON!

Thank you for taking time to read “A Common Evil’ when it is available – and any of my novels and/or memoirs now available at links below. If you enjoy one of my books, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend. 

Billy Ray Chitwood – June 6, 2014

Please leave a comment if so inclined. Thank you and best wishes.

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (Bio – My books – Reviews – Blog)

https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard – Goodreads (My books – Blog – Reviews)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood) – Follow me

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood & http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – Bio – My books)

         

Melodie's Magic

Melodie’s Magic
Posted on May 29, 2014 by billyraychitwood

Melodie’s Magic

Melodie had the face of an angel, her soft blue eyes and Madonna face framed with long blond curls and a smile melted the heart. There was instant magic the first moment I met this child of deplorable chance.

By marriage Melodie was the daughter of the daughter of my wife’s step-mother. One of two children, Melodie asked for no special treatment, was afforded little to keep her as natural as it was conceivably possible to do. Yet, there were times when special treatment for her Cerebral Palsy was necessary, when she would fall and could not get up, when roughness of play would cause her injury or pain. Through whatever the moments might bring, Melodie wore that smile which gave her ownership to my heart and made me want so much for her.

I fell in love with little Melodie the first time I saw her and she with me. With each visit, my life was enriched by her sweet disposition and also saddened by the fact that she would never grow to lead a normal life – a life of an active wife and mother, a life of exploring, hiking, doing the things that lovers and families do. There is no accurate portrait I could paint that would do justice to this angelic child of special design.

When she saw me walk through the front door her mood became combustible with joy and she would hobble to greet me. I would hold her, cover her pale cheeks with my kisses, and ask her to tell me about her recent experiences – which she gaily did while being teased by her sister. Soon, she would settle into games with the toys she loved so much, busy with the little spats that came when the sister would tease her by taking a toy.

While it was always a strange rapture to see Melodie it was also an emotional release when leaving. With that feeling of release came an odd guilt – here was a child I truly adored but felt the need to be away from her because I had to watch her awkward movements, to watch her face change with a spasm of pain, when she saw what her sibling was doing but she could not. It tugged so much at my heart that I would rush our departure…such an amalgam of colliding emotions that I needed to be gone.

There were many visits until the time came for life shifts, a relocation move, a divorce, or a death.

Then, Melodie was gone from my life, but I think of her often, wonder what life options have been offered to her, where indeed she has ended up.

This is a personal post with no real final objectives. I simply think of Melodie from time to time, miss seeing that angelic face and her cute little actions, wonder about her and the path her life might have taken. Her parents loved her dearly, wanted her to have as close to a normal life as she could have, and they chose wisely not to play ‘favorites’ with her. But, amid the family façade of normalcy there was a palpable sadness… I felt it each time I visited, and, despite that love I felt for Melodie, my own fragile heart had to be away from her.

Life can be presented and received so differently by people. For me, my heart awakened each time I saw that beautiful little lady hobble toward me with her arms and heart open to me. In those moments there was something so special which will live with me forever. For me there was in those moments something indecipherable but almost certainly messaging from the soul…some binding acknowledgement of love. Alas, with the ecstasy came anomalous stirrings of the heart.

Flash Truth authored by Billy Ray Chitwood

Please leave a comment is so inclined. Thank you and best wishes.

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com – (personal website – my books – reviews – blogs)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA – (IAN – Independent Author Network – my books)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood – (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://www.goo.gl/M52bQd - LinkedIn

Melodie’s Magic

Melodie’s Magic

Melodie had the face of an angel, her soft blue eyes and Madonna face framed with long blond curls and a smile melted the heart. There was instant magic the first moment I met this child of deplorable chance.

By marriage Melodie was the daughter of the daughter of my wife’s step-mother. One of two children, Melodie asked for no special treatment, was afforded little to keep her as natural as it was conceivably possible to do. Yet, there were times when special treatment for her Cerebral Palsy was necessary, when she would fall and could not get up, when roughness of play would cause her injury or pain. Through whatever the moments might bring, Melodie wore that smile which gave her ownership to my heart and made me want so much for her.

I fell in love with little Melodie the first time I saw her and she with me. With each visit, my life was enriched by her sweet disposition and also saddened by the fact that she would never grow to lead a normal life – a life of an active wife and mother, a life of exploring, hiking, doing the things that lovers and families do. There is no accurate portrait I could paint that would do justice to this angelic child of special design.

When she saw me walk through the front door her mood became combustible with joy and she would hobble to greet me. I would hold her, cover her pale cheeks with my kisses, and ask her to tell me about her recent experiences – which she gaily did while being teased by her sister. Soon, she would settle into games with the toys she loved so much, busy with the little spats that came when the sister would tease her by taking a toy.

While it was always a strange rapture to see Melodie it was also an emotional release when leaving. With that feeling of release came an odd guilt – here was a child I truly adored but felt the need to be away from her because I had to watch her awkward movements, to watch her face change with a spasm of pain, when she saw what her sibling was doing but she could not. It tugged so much at my heart that I would rush our departure…such an amalgam of colliding emotions that I needed to be gone.

There were many visits until the time came for life shifts, a relocation move, a divorce, or a death.

Then, Melodie was gone from my life, but I think of her often, wonder what life options have been offered to her, where indeed she has ended up.

This is a personal post with no real final objectives. I simply think of Melodie from time to time, miss seeing that angelic face and her cute little actions, wonder about her and the path her life might have taken. Her parents loved her dearly, wanted her to have as close to a normal life as she could have, and they chose wisely not to play ‘favorites’ with her. But, amid the family façade of normalcy there was a palpable sadness… I felt it each time I visited, and, despite that love I felt for Melodie, my own fragile heart had to be away from her.

Life can be presented and received so differently by people. For me, my heart awakened each time I saw that beautiful little lady hobble toward me with her arms and heart open to me. In those moments there was something so special which will live with me forever. For me there was in those moments something indecipherable but almost certainly messaging from the soul…some binding acknowledgement of love. Alas, with the ecstasy came anomalous stirrings of the heart.

Flash Truth authored by Billy Ray Chitwood

Please leave a comment is so inclined. Thank you and best wishes.

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com – (personal website – my books – reviews – blogs)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA – (IAN – Independent Author Network – my books)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood – (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://www.goo.gl/M52bQd - LinkedIn

        

Writing And Me

Writing And Me
Posted on May 22, 2014 by billyraychitwood

Writing And Me

It is more than likely that we who write have many idiosyncrasies, patterns, and similarities. Some authors/writers have a special time during the day when the prolific flows occur. Some of us prefer early morning, others late night, still others when the spirit moves them. Presumably we can all agree that the time-element for writing is an individual thing.

What I write does not always do it for me but it comes close enough to make me feel that it is good writing. Sure, even after all the editing and re-writes, I can probably go to any page and find a word or phrase that I would change. Also, almost assuredly, there will be a small number of careless and clumsy typos and/or noun-verb disagreements. Will it bother me? Of course, it will bother me because I try for perfection – like we all do.

The plot, sub-plots, characters, and action? Will they be all that I want them to be? In some instances, yes. In some, no. However, if the tie-ins meet my approval, if the characters are drawn well, I will settle for the finished product. The essence here is that one strives to write the perfect novel, short story, blog, flash fiction, but can always find flaws, minor though they might be. I have come close, by my reckoning and my measuring stick, to writing an almost perfect novel, better than the first, the second, or the others I have written. I say ‘almost’ because there was something else that could have been written to make it all the way perfect. The reason that ‘something else’ was not written? So much time was consumed in the writing, in the re-writing and editing, that I tired and my impatience settled in the end for what was there.

So, what am I trying to say? Like the good golfer who can never win his first PGA tournament, like the good tennis professional who just can’t win the big final, like the carpenter who thinks he can get by with nails instead of screws, we as writers are good but cannot quite take it to the next level. We have the talent but maybe we lack that special spark of enlightenment, that patient ‘stick to it’ quality that will make our books best sellers and movies.

Do not get me wrong here. Writing does it for me. When I turn that special phrase that says everything I want it to say, that’s magic. When I write something that emotionally rouses me to tears or to anger, that’s really special for me. When my fingers dance merrily around those laptop keys in an almost automatic flowing, and, in the re-reading, it knocks me off my feet, that’s a winning lottery ticket. So my plots are not too convoluted and my stories are rather simple. That’s okay because somewhere in that mesh of words is part of me, visible on and between the lines – my legacy to those who love me and those who wish to know me.

With so many million writers across the globe, some for real, some not so much, the odds are long and near impossible for us to reach that pinnacle for which our egos wish to attain. When I ineptly try to market my books with my many tweets (ad nauseam for many folks, I’m sure!), add some amateurish book trailers, do Facebook and LinkedIn, offer KDP freebies, and doctor up my Amazon US and UK author pages, and nothing seems to bring the sale numbers up, do I despair? Sure, it is a natural reaction. Do I give up? Not in my make-up. I’m staying the course, writing for me and the world. It might take a while for the world to reach me, if ever it should, but I will have a writer’s life of ups and downs. There is so much to learn in this digital world and so much of it is a jigsaw puzzle I cannot put together. Being in Twilight, set in some of my ways, I’m not willing to spend so many hours of my day trying to figure out RSS feeeds, SEOs, Widgets, Apps, and the mechanics of cyberspace. So, I will write, do what I minimally can on the internet, and hope for the best. Plus, I’m too cheap to hire someone to do it all for me.

Careless and clumsy errata? Sure.

Good writing? Damned straight, it’s good!

While I won’t be making the NY Times Best Seller List anytime soon, I’m having a ball, writing my blogs and my books… It keeps me young and obstinate!

Who knows! Maybe one day all the elements come together, that extra spark of hidden genius, that incredible flow of words that say everything in perfect connection, and suddenly the total package of fulfillment comes… Author Stardom!

If one truly believes he/she can write, gives honest assessments to their skills, and, most importantly, loves to write, then I say, stay the course. Success or no success, I have glimpsed life and have given my pen the joy of describing it. The desire to be known, the ego, will always be there, but, beyond all that, I intend to enjoy the process of writing for itself. Many of us wish for those elusive moments of fame and fortune, and some cannot seem to handle it once it comes. If that fame and fortune never comes, you and I will have found much bounty and joy in the writing process.

Writing does it for me! (Warts and all!)

Billy Ray Chitwood – May 22, 2014

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (My books on IAN – Independent Author Network)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

PLEASE COMMENT IF SO INCLINED. THANK YOU.

Writing And Me

Writing And Me

It is more than likely that we who write have many idiosyncrasies, patterns, and similarities. Some authors/writers have a special time during the day when the prolific flows occur. Some of us prefer early morning, others late night, still others when the spirit moves them. Presumably we can all agree that the time-element for writing is an individual thing.

What I write does not always do it for me but it comes close enough to make me feel that it is good writing. Sure, even after all the editing and re-writes, I can probably go to any page and find a word or phrase that I would change. Also, almost assuredly, there will be a small number of careless and clumsy typos and/or noun-verb disagreements. Will it bother me? Of course, it will bother me because I try for perfection – like we all do.

The plot, sub-plots, characters, and action? Will they be all that I want them to be? In some instances, yes. In some, no. However, if the tie-ins meet my approval, if the characters are drawn well, I will settle for the finished product. The essence here is that one strives to write the perfect novel, short story, blog, flash fiction, but can always find flaws, minor though they might be. I have come close, by my reckoning and my measuring stick, to writing an almost perfect novel, better than the first, the second, or the others I have written. I say ‘almost’ because there was something else that could have been written to make it all the way perfect. The reason that ‘something else’ was not written? So much time was consumed in the writing, in the re-writing and editing, that I tired and my impatience settled in the end for what was there.

So, what am I trying to say? Like the good golfer who can never win his first PGA tournament, like the good tennis professional who just can’t win the big final, like the carpenter who thinks he can get by with nails instead of screws, we as writers are good but cannot quite take it to the next level. We have the talent but maybe we lack that special spark of enlightenment, that patient ‘stick to it’ quality that will make our books best sellers and movies.

Do not get me wrong here. Writing does it for me. When I turn that special phrase that says everything I want it to say, that’s magic. When I write something that emotionally rouses me to tears or to anger, that’s really special for me. When my fingers dance merrily around those laptop keys in an almost automatic flowing, and, in the re-reading, it knocks me off my feet, that’s a winning lottery ticket. So my plots are not too convoluted and my stories are rather simple. That’s okay because somewhere in that mesh of words is part of me, visible on and between the lines – my legacy to those who love me and those who wish to know me.

With so many million writers across the globe, some for real, some not so much, the odds are long and near impossible for us to reach that pinnacle for which our egos wish to attain. When I ineptly try to market my books with my many tweets (ad nauseam for many folks, I’m sure!), add some amateurish book trailers, do Facebook and LinkedIn, offer KDP freebies, and doctor up my Amazon US and UK author pages, and nothing seems to bring the sale numbers up, do I despair? Sure, it is a natural reaction. Do I give up? Not in my make-up. I’m staying the course, writing for me and the world. It might take a while for the world to reach me, if ever it should, but I will have a writer’s life of ups and downs. There is so much to learn in this digital world and so much of it is a jigsaw puzzle I cannot put together. Being in Twilight, set in some of my ways, I’m not willing to spend so many hours of my day trying to figure out RSS feeeds, SEOs, Widgets, Apps, and the mechanics of cyberspace. So, I will write, do what I minimally can on the internet, and hope for the best. Plus, I’m too cheap to hire someone to do it all for me.

Careless and clumsy errata? Sure.

Good writing? Damned straight, it’s good!

While I won’t be making the NY Times Best Seller List anytime soon, I’m having a ball, writing my blogs and my books… It keeps me young and obstinate! 

Who knows! Maybe one day all the elements come together, that extra spark of hidden genius, that incredible flow of words that say everything in perfect connection, and suddenly the total package of fulfillment comes… Author Stardom!

If one truly believes he/she can write, gives honest assessments to their skills, and, most importantly, loves to write, then I say, stay the course. Success or no success, I have glimpsed life and have given my pen the joy of describing it. The desire to be known, the ego, will always be there, but, beyond all that, I intend to enjoy the process of writing for itself. Many of us wish for those elusive moments of fame and fortune, and some cannot seem to handle it once it comes. If that fame and fortune never comes, you and I will have found much bounty and joy in the writing process. 

Writing does it for me! (Warts and all!)

Billy Ray Chitwood – May 22, 2014

http://www.about.me/brchitwood 

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (My books on IAN – Independent Author Network)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

PLEASE COMMENT IF SO INCLINED. THANK YOU. 

        

 

Chasing Sunset

Chasing Sunset

Posted on May 16, 2014 by billyraychitwood1

Chasing Sunset

The bright yellow Corvette sped along the California Coast highway, flashed brightly in the afternoon sun, occasionally crossed carelessly to the shoulders on each side of the road. The handsome man driving was tensely absorbed in his thoughts, his tropical Tommy Bahama silk shirt flapped wildly in the swirling air, ballooned over his slender frame, presented a bloated caricature. His deep black hair flowed in all directions. Tears rolled heavily down his tanned sculpted cheeks, his blue eyes blurred by the erupting flow, his lips set in a determined pose. To his left a beautiful and indifferent Pacific Ocean continued its ageless ebb and flow. To his right lovely palms and lush green land joined with deep canyons.

The news of his mother’s death had reached him in his dressing room after the last scene of a bad B-movie was shot on the sound stage. That news was preceded by a private eye’s photo proof of his wife’s infidelity… And, even with these items of irreversible bad news, Ricky Snow knew in his heart and mind that this was a preordained day of reckoning. His mother died of a stroke. His marriage died of an anemia of sorts, a lividness and weariness of soul. He heard not his fellow actors as he hurried to his car, the semblance of an idea forming in his head. He sped away from the studio lot and was now on the Coast Highway chasing the sunset.

Ricky registered all the beauty around him but it had no palliative effect on his dark mood. He was aware of all that he had in the material world, the sumptuous house in Holmby Hills, more money than he could use, the praise lavished upon him by adoring fans during his film career, the dreams that had come true for him over his relatively short life span. He indeed ‘had it all’ and it had come to mean nothing to him. Ricky gave the gas pedal another downward nudge.

*

I’ve been dying for so long. Somehow I know that. All around me my entire life I’ve somehow known I’m dying…not of any medically known disease but of some fatal atavistic flaw in my nature. Up, down, up, down, my emotions have displayed themselves daily in my life… Now, the two women meaning the most to me are dead, and, if not directly responsible for those deaths, my acts and deeds had their hard measure in the outcomes… The thoughts bounce into each other.

It is strange how all the acts and deeds of a lifetime come to me at the ripe age of forty-five as I race down this beautiful highway… Was it the rotten childhood, the broken promises, so many defeats without victories? Was it the first marriage which I corrupted or took part in its ultimate corruption? Maybe it was the second marriage…or the third… Hollywood is a storybook land for all things to happen. Maybe it was the first introduction to booze, grass, or to cocaine…sure made life seem simpler for a while. Why was I so smart to get off the alcohol and dope? Guess it made sense to me…maybe I felt I could clean myself up and be a decent man.

Funny how you can chase a dream and finally catch it, only to find disenchantment and misery in the end…and the women in my life…so many and so beautiful. Why did they end up in the attic of my disappointments? Only Mom seemed to know that mad torturing tornado that was loose inside of me. Melanie for a time seemed to know as well…then she tired of me and sought elsewhere the satisfaction for her own needs. Who can blame her? I cannot.

I’ve been dying for so long…so very long. Psychiatrists are loony…they could never help me. No, it is in my wiring, the weird inscription upon the walls of my being. I’ve desired. I’ve attained…the beautiful women, the lovely homes and cars…but I revert back to thoughts of dying…not always the grave or tomb dying but the withered dying of the self of me… I no longer truly care for life… Was it the early faith of my youth that I lost in the rapacious hungers that gripped me in adulthood? Was it simply that meaning was lost in the mundane pleasures of living? It would perhaps be a comfort to know how my life got so entangled within itself, but there is no longer a desire to really know. Little by little an invisible knife has whittled my life to this day, this hour, this place, and I am enjoined to its purpose.

I’ve been dying for so long…so very long…

*

A siren began as a lightly heard whisper within Ricky’s mind, became louder and intrusive to his life’s thoughts. His present reality returned to him and he knew that two California Highway patrolmen were chasing him. He glanced at his speedometer… 105 miles per hour. A sad smile came now with the tears, and he wished no one harmed because of his actions and deeds – he had been there, done that.

Ricky slowed the Corvette, and the highway patrolmen got closer and closer.

Just ahead on the Coastal Highway there was long curving rise, a magnificent site to his mind, with the blue Pacific waters off to his left on the outer edge of the curve, and a rocky canyon off to the right.

Ricky slammed hard his right foot down on the gas pedal until it reached the floor of the car. He glanced momentarily in his rear mirrors and saw the highway patrolmen trying to keep his pace.

Another sad smile joined his tears as he left the highway, hit the gravelly space in front of the wide white metal fence guard, tore through, and went sailing through space above the craggy rocks in the canyon below.

*

So, now I die… I have chased the sunset, my final quest, and it is mine. This is the moment of serenity that I can never explain to anyone… Goodbye, Mom, I shall now see if you were right about that wonderful dimension of which you spoke.

*

The two patrolmen watched at the broken fence at the highway, saw the flames rising from the canyon below, looked with sorrowful eyes and shaking heads.

“This was not an accident, Herb,” one man said to the other, “this fellow did exactly what he planned to do… He wanted to die.”

Some flash fiction authored by Billy Ray Chitwood – May, 2014

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My bio and my books)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner

http://thefinalcurtain1.wordpress.com (My blog)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – My books)

Please comment if so inclined. Thank you.

Chasing Sunset

Chasing Sunset

The bright yellow Corvette sped along the California Coast highway, flashed brightly in the afternoon sun, occasionally crossed carelessly to the shoulders on each side of the road. The handsome man driving was tensely absorbed in his thoughts, his tropical Tommy Bahama silk shirt flapped wildly in the swirling air, ballooned over his slender frame, presented a bloated caricature. His deep black hair flowed in all directions. Tears rolled heavily down his tanned sculpted cheeks, his blue eyes blurred by the erupting flow, his lips set in a determined pose. To his left a beautiful and indifferent Pacific Ocean continued its ageless ebb and flow. To his right lovely palms and lush green land joined with deep canyons.

The news of his mother’s death had reached him in his dressing room after the last scene of a bad B-movie was shot on the sound stage. That news was preceded by a private eye’s photo proof of his wife’s infidelity… And, even with these items of irreversible bad news, Ricky Snow knew in his heart and mind that this was a preordained day of reckoning. His mother died of a stroke. His marriage died of an anemia of sorts, a lividness and weariness of soul. He heard not his fellow actors as he hurried to his car, the semblance of an idea forming in his head. He sped away from the studio lot and was now on the Coast Highway chasing the sunset.

Ricky registered all the beauty around him but it had no palliative effect on his dark mood. He was aware of all that he had in the material world, the sumptuous house in Holmby Hills, more money than he could use, the praise lavished upon him by adoring fans during his film career, the dreams that had come true for him over his relatively short life span. He indeed ‘had it all’ and it had come to mean nothing to him. Ricky gave the gas pedal another downward nudge.

I’ve been dying for so long. Somehow I know that. All around me my entire life I’ve somehow known I’m dying…not of any medically known disease but of some fatal atavistic flaw in my nature. Up, down, up, down, my emotions have displayed themselves daily in my life… Now, the two women meaning the most to me are dead, and, if not directly responsible for those deaths, my acts and deeds had their hard measure in the outcomes… The thoughts bounce into each other.

It is strange how all the acts and deeds of a lifetime come to me at the ripe age of forty-five as I race down this beautiful highway… Was it the rotten childhood, the broken promises, so many defeats without victories? Was it the first marriage which I corrupted or took part in its ultimate corruption? Maybe it was the second marriage…or the third… Hollywood is a storybook land for all things to happen. Maybe it was the first introduction to booze, grass, or to cocaine…sure made life seem simpler for a while. Why was I so smart to get off the alcohol and dope? Guess it made sense to me…maybe I felt I could clean myself up and be a decent man.

Funny how you can chase a dream and finally catch it, only to find disenchantment and misery in the end…and the women in my life…so many and so beautiful. Why did they end up in the attic of my disappointments? Only Mom seemed to know that mad torturing tornado that was loose inside of me. Melanie for a time seemed to know as well…then she tired of me and sought elsewhere the satisfaction for her own needs. Who can blame her? I cannot.

I’ve been dying for so long…so very long. Psychiatrists are loony…they could never help me. No, it is in my wiring, the weird inscription upon the walls of my being. I’ve desired. I’ve attained…the beautiful women, the lovely homes and cars…but I revert back to thoughts of dying…not always the grave or tomb dying but the withered dying of the self of me… I no longer truly care for life… Was it the early faith of my youth that I lost in the rapacious hungers that gripped me in adulthood? Was it simply that meaning was lost in the mundane pleasures of living? It would perhaps be a comfort to know how my life got so entangled within itself, but there is no longer a desire to really know. Little by little an invisible knife has whittled my life to this day, this hour, this place, and I am enjoined to its purpose.

I’ve been dying for so long…so very long…

A siren began as a lightly heard whisper within Ricky’s mind, became louder and intrusive to his life’s thoughts. His present reality returned to him and he knew that two California Highway patrolmen were chasing him. He glanced at his speedometer… 105 miles per hour. A sad smile came now with the tears, and he wished no one harmed because of his actions and deeds – he had been there, done that.

Ricky slowed the Corvette, and the highway patrolmen got closer and closer.

Just ahead on the Coastal Highway there was long curving rise, a magnificent site to his mind, with the blue Pacific waters off to his left on the outer edge of the curve, and a rocky canyon off to the right.

Ricky slammed hard his right foot down on the gas pedal until it reached the floor of the car. He glanced momentarily in his rear mirrors and saw the highway patrolmen trying to keep his pace.

Another sad smile joined his tears as he left the highway, hit the gravelly space in front of the wide white metal fence guard, tore through, and went sailing through space above the craggy rocks in the canyon below.

So, now I die… I have chased the sunset, my final quest, and it is mine. This is the moment of serenity that I can never explain to anyone… Goodbye, Mom, I shall now see if you were right about that wonderful dimension of which you spoke.

The two patrolmen watched at the broken fence at the highway, saw the flames rising from the canyon below, looked with sorrowful eyes and shaking heads.

“This was not an accident, Herb,” one man said to the other, “this fellow did exactly what he planned to do… He wanted to die.”

Some flash fiction authored by Billy Ray Chitwood – May, 2014

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My bio and my books)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood) 

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood 

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner 

http://thefinalcurtain1.wordpress.com (My blog)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – My books)

Please comment if so inclined. Thank you.

         

'Hereeee's Johnny'

‘HEREEEE’S JOHNNY’

Posted on May 8, 2014 by billyraychitwood

'Hereeee’s Johnny'

Okay, many of you here in the US and across the pond won’t remember a late night talk show host named Johnny Carson who was one of the best and most enduring comedians/entertainers of my era. Johnny’s co-host, the inimitable Ed McMahon, always introduced his boss at the beginning of the show in this vibrant-drawnout fashion.

Because Johnny Carson was one of my favorite entertainers, the ‘Johnny’ I’m introducing here in my blog is one of my favorite authors – and he is also super-entertaining and sometimes comedic in his way. I say, ‘in his way’, because he is quite British but not so ‘stiff upper lip’! :-) He is also my friend.

The hat? Look up the word ‘Galericulate’ and you will find its meaning, ‘covered as with a hat’. This is John Dolan’s trademark, and I prefer to think the meaning of ‘galericulate’ can be extended to ‘what’s under the hat’. It is indeed ‘what’s under the hat’ that makes John Dolan an outstanding and unique author. There is a lyrical and poetic quality to his writing that is reminiscent of the great English poets and writers down through the ages. With his serious narrative he blends humorous break points and some philosophical thought. Mostly, his talent as a wordsmith keeps the reader glued to his pages. Despite his other interests it seems clear to me that writing is John’s raison d’etre.

John Dolan’s new book, A Poison Tree, just out this merry month of May, 2014, is the third book in his ‘Time, Blood, and Karma Series’. A Poison Tree is rich in word magic, telling the story of our anti-hero, Englishman David Braddock, and how it came to be that he would travel to Thailand and begin an uncertain life in a strange new country. A Poison Tree is a wonderful story of fascinating characters, sketched so vividly that we the readers know them, love them, and perhaps hate them. It is a story of England’s Midlands, the mores, and the sorrowful and ugly events that will tarnish a noble man and cause a maelstrom of emotions. A Poison Tree is a most compelling read where the first chapter grabs you and leads you to a conclusion that will have you gasping for air.

BUY SITES for A Poison Tree:

Amazon US – http://www. goo.gl/A6t512

Amazon UK – http://www. goo.gl/1NK3ok

A Poison Tree is a prequel to John’s first book, Everyone Burns, and his second book, Hungry Ghosts. These two books will take the reader on some thrilling rides on the Thai island of Samui and Bangkok. Mayhem, murder, and John’s absorbing and riveting style will again keep you glued to the pages.

BUY SITE for "Everyone Burns":

Amazon US – http://www.goo.gl/Xdh

Amazon UK – http://www. goo.gl/nnuhwO

BUY SITE for "Hungry Ghosts":

Amazon US – http://www. goo.gl/dyunVU

Amazon UK – http://www. goo.gl/gpzxXU

You can follow John on:

http://www.twitter.com – @JohnDolanAuthor

https://www.facebook.com/JohnDolanAuthor

http://johndolanwriter.blogspot.com (His Galericulate blog)

Each of John’s books stands alone but tracks the wanderings, musings, and actions of David Braddock in the seven-book ‘Time, Blood, and Karma Series’. You can read my 5-Star reviews, along with many other 5-Star reviews, on amazon.com, amazon.co.uk, and on Goodreads. Book 4 of the series, Running on Emptiness, will be out in 2015.

Here is my 5-Star review of A Poison Tree:

John Dolan’s literary genius is constantly evident in “A Poison Tree,” his third installment of the ‘Time, Blood, and Karma Series’. Ultimately, there are to be seven books in the series, each book standing alone but tracking our anti-hero, Englishman David Braddock, and his amusing, dangerous, and sad adventures. If you have read “Everyone Burns”, Book 1, and “Hungry Ghosts”, Book 2, you will have experienced the delightful and masterful way Mr. Dolan handles his craft…my bet is you will be a fan for life.

Books 1 and 2 take place primarily on the Thai island of Samui and Bangkok and deal most absorbingly with murder and mayhem, as David Braddock rather stoically attends to the business at hand. In Book 3, “A Poison Tree,” we will come to know how and why David left England for Thailand. Mr. Dolan’s magical penning begins most compellingly and dramatically in Chapter 1, and continues through forty-odd chapters weaving his captivating prose with colorful, unforgettable characters, English mores, and some of life’s devastating events which ultimately betray Braddock’s sane and sensible nobility. No spoilers here, but I can say without fear of contradiction that the ending will have you gasping for air. “A Poison Tree” is truly a 5-Star read.

If you are a first-time John Dolan reader, welcome to his fresh and beautiful world of words, at times humorous, at times poetic in the penning, at times emotional and somber, and always deliciously entertaining. When one speaks of writing purity, that person must surely have Mr. Dolan in mind.

In 2015 his fans will be treated to Book 4 in the ‘Time, Blood and Karma Series’ – “Running On Emptiness.”

I’m first in line…

A final word about John Dolan… He is a man of honor, humility, wisdom, and wit. It is my humble opinion that he will become one of England’s premier authors and poets. Like most of us who build our heroes and demons in the books we write I’m guessing that John includes his own persona in many of his characters, particularly David Braddock. With each book of John Dolan that I read there is an emerging portrait of a man who is noble and good, a man who writes most eloquently the thoughts of us all.

Any friend of John wishing to re-blog this post has my permission to do so.

Billy Ray Chitwood

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

Comments are welcome.

(NOTE: the custom is to display one’s blog awards in posts… On this occasion, I am not posting my nine blog awards.)