June Collins's Blog, page 6

WORK IN PROGRESS

Maybe I’m being lazy but I have decided to post a random chapter from my, as yet unfinished, sequel to Goodbye Junie Moon.

I would REALLY appreciate some input because I rewrite everything a hundred times before completing any manuscript.

CHAPTER 8

During the year it had taken our book to hit the bookshelves I had trod water. Still a bit rudderless, I came no closer to adopting the child.

After leaving New York I had gone immediately to my family’s dairy farm in Australia. I loved my family dearly, yet, even there, I felt so different. My siblings, now grown, had little in common with me other than parentage. Indeed, my mother, when referring to me, often lamented “I’m sure the hospital gave me the wrong baby.” Another frequent comment “After June visits, I feel as if a cyclone has blown through.”

I sometimes wondered if I was on the wrong track. My family members were all so stable, striving in ‘respectable’ jobs to attain that nice home, that secure retirement. I had always been able to make money but it meant little to me as I lived for each day. Whenever I doubted myself, I clung to the words of Oscar Wilde “…….To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist; that is all!” Yet it did make me an outcast, if only in my own mind.

After visiting the family, I had chuffed alone around Australia’s outback on a motor bike. Passing through some of the small provincial towns on my way North, I had been refused service in a few café’s. I suppose my mode of dress made the proprietors’ nervous. It was a time when ladies uniformly encased their legs in stockings and wore knee length dresses or skirts and blouses. For practicality, I had unearthed my old Vietnam army fatigues and boots. And maybe it wasn’t just the army gear but the rifle slung across my back that they objected too. That was my protection against snakes.

In Alice Springs, I had offended a family when they climbed out of their late model BMW and saw me sitting on the curb, talking to a bunch of aboriginals. I ignored their comments as too petty to take aboard. Still, it gave me food for thought. In New York I had felt like a Martian and here in the Aussie outback, I still didn’t ‘fit-in’. For the hundredth time since leaving Vietnam, I wondered just where I did belong.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the natural beauty of the desert with its craggy canyons and its monolithic rocks. It was the dry season and I camped under the brilliant stars at night with nothing between me and mother earth except a ground sheet. At Ayers Rock, huge flocks of white, sulphur-crested cockatoo’s routinely woke me at dawn as they left on their daily sojourns, screeching and blotting out the sky as they passed endlessly. The flapping of a million wings and the barrage of piercing calls were more effective than any alarm clock. As their noise receded the pink sky was gradually revealed. I then rose, brushed a feather or two from my hair, and lit the fire. There is nothing better than starting a new day with a cup of hot tea in cold, desert air.

Other hardy campers were sprinkled around the base of Ayers Rock. We shared our food, our drinks, and our stories. They came from all over the world – everywhere but Australia. The Aussies were all away exploring England. I remember a handful of Japanese tourists who were grateful for my inept translations. I recall a young Scotsman who entertained us around the huge bonfire each night with his bagpipes. Such pleasures cost nothing.

They were, of course, the days before civilization arrived. The days before the government, observing ‘political correctness’ changed the name to the aboriginal word, Uluru. The day before the hotel for less hardy tourists was erected. The days before regulations about climbing the rock were implemented.

That wonderful, wild outback was more healing than any high paid psychiatrist. But too soon, my feet grew itchy as they invariably did. I stashed my uniform, gave away my camping gear and headed for Europe.

Stopping off in London, I forked over a chunk of my book advance to a Matchmaker who promised to set me up with a millionaire. After all, if I must marry to adopt that child, it may as well be to a millionaire.

Unfortunately the millionaire and I had busy schedules and the only time we could catch up was in between flights at The Charles De Gaulle airport when we were both heading elsewhere.

I found my way to the meeting place. He was already at the restaurant, wearing an identifying red handkerchief in his breast pocket. As I approached he stood and held out a chair, his eyes appraising me from head to toe. He was tall and only slightly overweight. I was relieved that he seemed quite normal, and pleased that he didn’t smoke. The lunch went well. We talked a lot, drank a little and found several things we had in common. He was average looking and pleasant. I could probably put up with him. Of course I did not immediately pop the question about adopting a street orphan. As we prepared to continue on our separate journeys I pulled out a pen, ready to jot down the place and date of our next rendezvous.

“I’ve enjoyed meeting you” he said, stooping to hug me. “You are one smart, attractive lady. But we won’t meet again. You’re too short.”

Pulling myself up to my full five foot three inches, I retorted “Wouldn’t it be more gentlemanly to concede you are too tall?”

In Europe I adopted a more conventional lifestyle. I was living on The Hotel Schiff (a stationery vessel anchored permanently on the Rhine River in Frankfurt) when Robin contacted me.

“It’s time to return Junie Moon” his voice crackled over the phone in the ship’s overcrowded office. I was leaning uncomfortably across the desk, stretching the coiled black phone cord to bring the phone as close to my ear as possible.

“Nat has set up a full schedule of radio and television interviews for us.”

I digested the timely news. Winter was coming and Frankfurt had been smothering under a heavy fog the last few mornings. Besides, I was sick and tired of eating hard boiled eggs and cold bread rolls for breakfast. There seemed to be nothing else on the ship’s menu and if there was, my Deutch was too limited to order it.

Arriving back in the USA, I discovered The Khaki Mafia was selling in the hundreds of thousands but not in the millions I had hoped for.

During my absence, Robin and Liz had divorced and the ‘Witch’ had disappeared as well. Liz kept the New York condo and Robin had acquired a country estate in nearby Westport Connecticut. Re-making his image, he had added leather patched tweed jackets to his Brooks Brothers wardrobe, purchased a limousine and hired Vincent, a cheerful Jamaican who now doubled as Robin’s live-in, chauffer/houseman.

I accepted Robin’s invitation of temporary accommodation at the Westport Estate. He and I did the promotional tour, accompanied by Lisa, Crown Publishing’s P.R. woman. In New York and L.A. we were guests on most major television talk programs. There was Mike Douglas and David Frost and Merv Griffin and shows like “Whose Line is it” among others since forgotten. We sometimes woke at daybreak and raced to have breakfast with the truck drivers. These were the men who placed the books in the book stores. If they liked you they placed your books at eye level.

Accompanied by Lisa, who took good care of us, we flew to a different city each day, hitting all the major cities on the East Coast and the Mid-West. We gave newspaper, magazine and radio interviews and returned to the hotel in time for dinner each night. Once again I reigned as Queen for a Day.

With Liz out of the picture, Robin was again in hot pursuit. His new lifestyle was alluring. I enjoyed Westport and his acreage property with its picturesque duck ponds. Contemplating a life spent between there and Port Antonio was tempting but I knew how fickle he was.

THE ONGOING SAGA OF INDIE PUBLISHING & Mitt Romney’s campaign.

The two subjects of heading are not related.

During the past week, in my endeavour to get some recognition for my memoir Goodbye Junie Moon, I wasted more money. This time I wrote a press release and paid $299 to a Press Release company called MMD. After comparing several such companies, they seemed like the best. Think again!  They claimed to send my Press Release out to thousands of newspapers, magazines and and radio stations. I got not a nibble. I’m sure they would say it was because I did not pay the extra $500 to have them write it.

I know ‘memoirs’ by unknown writers are at the bottom of the reading pile. Still, I thought some of the older readers might remember my story and be interested. It looks like ‘Old news is no news.’ Normally I would say ‘DARN’ but this time I expostulate (good word, Huh!)  SHIT!!!  So, YOU INDIE AUTHORS, I’ll keep you updated on my trials. I am determined to beat this system.

NOW, for NON AUTHORS, you might wonder where Mitt Romney fits in. – Did you watch Clint Eastwood trying to promote Mitt on TV this week?

I almost cried. I’ve always loved ‘tough guys’ starting way back when I was a schoolgirl and I fell for Humphrey Bogart. I’ve watched Casablanca dozens of times and even took a trip to that city and looked at the place where the movie was made.

In later years I have dreamed of a few passionate interludes with either Bruce Willis or Clint Eastwood. What happened to Clint? He could NEVER grow old! He could fight anything,- even old age, couldn’t he? Alas, this is one battle he has lost and it made me aware of my own mortality. Bruce, if you read this, don’t show your face unless you’ve had a face lift or used at least a gallon of face cream. It’s just all too depressing.

 I almost forgot Mitt, but YES, he looks okay. But then so does Barack. They’re probably using the same dentist.

Until next time, Cheers.

HAVE I LEARNED ANYTHING ABOUT PROMOTING EBOOKS?????

Not a helluva lot! Another two days of giving out free ebooks has passed. Still I’m groping in the dark, fully aware that my lack of expertise with the computer and blogging is my handicap. I really wish it was back to ‘ the good old days’ when one sold their book to a publisher, no matter how difficult that could be.

It is the millions of self published ebooks that are choking the market. I know that mine is one of them but so many are rubbish and it makes it that much harder to find one with merit – in which category I put my own. I have recently downloaded ebooks that are nothing but 100% narrative! Ugh! Writing 101- Show, Don’t Tell.

On a POSITIVE NOTE; this, my second ‘give away’ had better results than the first. Doesn’t it seem strange to judge success by how many freebies you gave out? But apparently that is the way the game is played.

On my first Freebie, during 3 days I gave out only 360 downloads. This time, in 2 days, I gave away almost 2,000. The increase, I believe, was mainly due to a site called FreeBooksy. I paid them $50, a very reasonable amount, and they advertised my ‘give away’ for two days. Their promotion was well done and I don’t hesitate to recommend them to any Indie author.

This post is of no interest to those of you who are not authors, I know. I will follow up soon with a more general subject. Until then, Cheers.

ANOTHER FREEBIE.

MARK YOUR CALENDARS. Goodbye Junie Moon is up for a FREE DOWNLOAD on 27-28th August.

Obviously that blog heading of celebrity names did not work. So much for that book info. Serves me right for trying to be tricky. So you’ve read the reviews – if you haven’t yet read the book, try it now and let me know what you think. Cheers, June

PATTING MYSELF ON THE BACK

The following are my first reviews on Amazon. Of course I am thrilled with them. I would like to thank each reviewer personally but due to my total stupidity with anything to do with computers and social networking, I have not known how to do so. So, if any of you read this, please accept this post as a big, personal thank you. Hope Ellis, wherever you are – no-one could ask for a finer review. You understood my character perfectly. Thank you! As for Darlene Craviotto, I read her book,  An Agoraphobic’s Guide -And How Michael Jackson Got Me Out Of  The House and I loved it. She is an accomplished writer. Look her up on Amazon.  I hope my reviews transform into more readers for Goodbye Junie Moon and I hope my blog followers, friends, will forgive me for ‘blowing my own horn’. Cheers!

The truth (for a change), June 30, 2012

By Florida Bookworm – See all my reviews

This review is from: Goodbye Junie Moon (Kindle Edition)

There are plenty of books out there about the war in Vietnam, but few tell the story like this one. This is a memoir written by someone who was there, not as a soldier, but as an entertainer. June Collins is not afraid to show the seamier side of some of the people who were there to profit from the war, and to use anyone they had to to do so. This would seem like an unbelieveable tale, if it had not been documented by news stories and other sources. I for one am pleased to have read something that tells it like it was.

5.0 out of 5 stars Fascinating Memoir, August 12, 2012

By Darlene Craviotto “Darlene Craviotto” – See all my reviews

(REAL NAME) This review is from: Goodbye Junie Moon (Kindle Edition)

Just finished Goodbye Junie Moon, and I must say that I really enjoyed it. It gave me a totally new perspective on war (especially the Vietnam War), and Ms. Collin’s back story about growing up in Australia also held my attention. It’s not easy to intercut between two time periods, and two separate (but connected) storylines, but Collins pulls it off skillfully. The editing was superior (as sometimes in e-books it isn’t) and it was a fascinating memoir well told.

5.0 out of 5 stars Hello Junie Moon, August 7, 2012

By Hope Ellis – See all my reviews  Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)

This review is from: Goodbye Junie Moon (Kindle Edition)

I loved this book. It made me laugh, it made me cry, but most of all it made me feel I was there. June had a life one usually only reads about in fiction, but this is not fiction. Her story before going to Vietnam was happy, sad, conservative, promiscuous, affluent, poverty stricken, a life of contrasts, a life that was a novel on its own. Then as a dancer in Philippines, Japan, Korea and Vietnam she grew in strength, giving us her readers a true picture of life and war. She is not only a heroine as a whistle blower, but a heroine and a mentor for anyone worried about stepping out of their own comfort zones. Hello June and congratulations.

FROM FRANK SINATRA TO ROD STEWART TO TOBY KEITH TO CHARLIE DANIELS TO ONE DIRECTION.

I love them all!

What’s this heading about, you might wonder.

Well, I do love them all. My taste in music is pretty eclectic – as long as it has a beat. Once a dancer – always a dancer! But to be perfectly honest, this heading is a bit of an experiment.

I’m still in the learning stage of blogging and as you can see, I have yet to lure thousands of followers to my site.

I keep reading books on how to get internet exposure and one of them claimed that putting a celebrity’s name in the title works wonders. So, we shall see! You too can check it out. Today I have 699 hits. What will I have next week?

But getting back to music – I saw Charlie Daniel’s in concert twice and I would see him again if it were possible. Sure, he’s getting a bit long in the tooth but no-one can make a fiddle howl, cry, laugh the way he can. He’s a Good Ole Country Boy – A Rebellious Relic – An American Patriot. Just listen to his lyrics. He tells it like it is and his message is timeless.

Now American country music is high on my list of favorites but I also love Usher, Pink (she’s so damned honest) Beyonce, Enya and Tony Bennet. Like I said; very eclectic.

When driving my car long distances I play rousing, toe tapping stuff to keep me awake.

I once owned Diamond Lil’s, a classy shop-tearoom combo in downtown Seattle. I played a lot of Enya. She kept the customers relaxed and shopping longer.

During the time I lived in Seattle there was a local news story about a ‘Seven Eleven’ that was having trouble with louts gathering in their parking lot at night and driving the customers away. The remedy – the owners blasted classical music outside all night long. Problem solved!

Now, until my next episode, help me count the numbers just for fun. June

IN Search of Truth.

IN Search of Truth.

This is a group for anyone who is interested in REAL life which probably eliminates many. This group is not into Fantasy- Horror- and the innumerable women out there ‘trying to find themselves’ in print at our expense – including  ‘Eat, Love, Pray’. Even if it was a best seller, I couldn’t finish it. What good does it do the reader that some stranger ‘found themself.’ Join here if you have the courage and feel the same way. There is nothing better than a good, true, upbeat story about ‘Real People’ who are not lost.

Give us a bit more humor and a bit more reality and to hell with ‘political correctness’!

*****************************

The above is the heading for a group I am moderating on ‘Goodreads’, the popular site where authors, readers, and bloggers meet.

I don’t expect my group to become popular as there are so many fans of Fantasy and Horror. That is fine by me. My goal is to find those out there who still find pleasure in reading about ‘real’ life, ‘real’ people.

And I am not trying to disparage the many women who are writing books as a form of catharsis while they attempt to find themselves. If you too are lost and such books help you – then, right on! But as for me, I have never been ‘lost’ and with few exceptions, I gain nothing from such books and find them hard to read. I sometimes think that the words ‘being lost’ might actually denote ‘being dissatisfied.

Have you ever noticed that men never say they are lost or trying to find themselves?

Don’t confuse ‘finding themselves’ with finding ‘their way’. They are, of course, entirely different.

As life unfolds, we all change in various ways. The person we were as a young child does not always indicate the person we will evolve into as a teenager- or in our forties – or in more mature years. Our life’s experiences shape and mould us. We are in many ways like a book; not all chapters are the same and nor should they be.

If you have read my book Goodbye Junie Moon, you may have noticed that I constantly said that I didn’t know ‘where I belonged’. Again, this is not the same as the above. I was never lost, even though I have been many different people; – the young, innocent girl; the worldly woman. After returning from war, many people have difficulty finding where they fit back in. It took awhile but eventually I once again ‘belonged.’

I hope my Goodreads group attracts a few like minded souls. People who find pleasure in reading about other people’s lives; their trials and triumphs. Or people who like to laugh at life. Nothing beats a good laugh. I am not, however, holding my breath!

Real Women Can Be Loud!

I consider myself a passionate person. Whatever I do, I throw myself into it with fervor. The same goes for conversation – I listen avidly to another’s good story and I can become excited when relating my own. If I’m excited my voice may grow loud and I have a habit of emphasizing a point by waving my arms about. Mind you, my voice is not normally loud – well not that loud. My mother always said that a visit from me felt like a cyclone had blown through. A conservative lady, she meant it in a nice way. Moments of her life were enlivened by living vicariously through me.

Now I admit that I may become loud when excited! It is hard to contain excitement and I am still as curious and full of life as ever. If that occasionally transpires into unmannerly vocal chords, so-be-it! In moments of exuberance I have even been known to let out a yahoo or two. Quite frankly, I’ve never given a damn for social/political correctness! Discipline and self control are admirable traits and necessary if you are in the military. For a writer with a zest for life, too much of either can stifle creativity and life’s joie de vivre.

Robin Moore(author, The French Connection) always said “You’ve got to live it up to write it down.” I endorse that thought, even if it was an excuse for life’s excesses.

That’s my thought for the day. Now on with the story;

WHISTLEBLOWERS!

On the 11th July H.J. Halterman posted a ‘comment’ on this blog. He informed me that one of the ‘bad guys’ from my story has recently passed away. Death always sets us thinking about the deceased.

My feelings about this person’s passing were ambivalent. Long ago I lost my anger. Over time I always forgive. We all have good in us and this person did too. He  previously had a brilliant military career and was bathed in glory - until his own actions took it away. As the instrument of his exposure, I expect he hated me to the end.

Do I have regrets? Not really! The unjust actions of he and his cohorts dishonoured many young men at a crucial time in their lives.

As I stated in the foreward of Goodbye Junie Moon, there are seldom any rewards for whistle blowers and often harsh consequences.

I would not want to have to do it again – my emotions quieted long ago. But if I found myself in that same situation once more – and if my emotions were again stirred to turbulence by my conscience – I would have no choice.

As always, I gratefully acknowledge whistleblowers everywhere.

I WISH I COULD HAVE KNOWN……..

Do you sometimes fall in love with authors after reading their stories? I sometimes do! I always wished I could have known Hemmingway. More recently I read a book on Amazon titled ‘Rena’s Promise’. It was a heart wrenching story about two Jewish sisters sent to a concentration camp during WW11. As I’ve already mentioned – my reading habits are far reaching. This young girl was one of the very few to survive Auchwitz, partly due to her sewing skills (she did the sewing repairs for the camp commandant) and partly due to her resourcefulness and luck.

I was so impressed with her that I went to some lengths to find her, only to discover she had recently died in the U.S.A. I would love to have known such a person. If you too feel this way about certain writers, please let me know in ‘comments’ or in ‘contact me’.