Stuart R. West's Blog, page 52
January 22, 2016
Sporing up the dead with Tamara Jones
Give a big hollah to Tamara Jones, author of the wickedly wild and wooly horror epic, Spore.
TJ: Hollah back! Thanks for having me. :)
SRW: Okay, Tamara, let’s talk turkey. Spore is a zombie book, yet not. It’s creepy in a good way, but doesn’t deal with brain-eating zombies. Tell everyone what the book’s about. And don’t be boring about it. Cause the book’s anything but boring.
TJ: The elevator pitch version is SPORE's about people who used to be dead and the comic artist who tries to save them. To expand a bit more, Sean Casey, a haunted, financially struggling artist, becomes the focus of community - and ultimately global - panic and desperation after dead people return to life due to a fungus in the water table. If the dead rising wasn't bad enough, one of the 'Spores' was a murder victim whose killer wants her to resume being dead, and someone else is killing children in ways that match Sean's worsening nightmares.
SRW: Your protagonist is a foul-mouthed comic book artist. Cool! How has your background as an artist helped to form the book?
TJ: Actually, not as much as you might think. I was a graphic designer who mostly created retail packaging and corporate advertising. I had to research comic drawing just as much as any other topic for a novel. About my only freebie was knowing what the tools are, since I'd used many of them in college. The job itself - and Sean's frustrations with it - came straight from research and talking to comic people.
SRW: I have an affinity with you, my friend. I slaved away for 25 years in the art/corporate world. Enough was enough. I quit. Are you still toiling in the art world?
TJ: Absolutely not. I do some of my own ad work, and I made the social media Chapter Graphics in the print version of the novel. That's about it.
SRW: What I really liked about Spore was the satirical elements regarding the fringe groups surrounding the revived. Lots of groups forming. Do you think this is a reality?
TJ: I think it very well could be. While we - as both a species and a nation - have always had splinter groups, factions, and protesters, social media has really amplified the ability to group with your own 'tribe'. Major events - like people coming back to life - only amplify that clumping together of like-minded individuals. It was fun dumping the various shouting, and often conflicting, factions into Sean's life.
SRW: So if the dead start coming back to life, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do?
TJ: A lot depends on how they are at arrival. If they're brain eating zombies, I'd hole up, grab a baseball bat, and wait it out as best as possible. If they're like the Spores, I'd probably be one of the people holding signs welcoming them back.
SRW: Spore, in my opinion, was more of a sci-fi tinged thriller than straight-up horror. Is that how you position yourself as an author?
TJ: Generally speaking, yes. I'm a speculative thriller author.
SRW: I liked the easy-going, sexy nature of the two protagonist’s relationship. Based on reality? Can we expect a romance from you?
TJ: I'm not sure which of the protagonists you're talking about - Sean and Mare? Some of their relationship is like mine with my husband, only the roles are reversed. He's the no-nonsense, stalwart one, I'm the idealistic artist type. If you're talking about the other two, they're completely different from my life. As for a romance novel? I'm not ruling anything out, but it's not likely. That's not where my skill set lies.
SRW: Good!
My wife’s a scientist. She took you to task about the title, “Spore.” Because she said it truly wasn’t about “spores.” Feedback?
TJ: Well, it is, obliquely, about a spreading fungus (spreading panic, Sean's ever-increasing nightmares infecting his life, etc), and the people are called 'spores', so for me - and my editor - the title works. Are they actually reproductive bodies or seeds that grow new organisms? No. Of course not. They're people. ;)
SRW: I enjoyed the subplot about the spored woman coming back to life. Sorta made it feel epic. Plus, we don’t usually get tertiary tales about characters like that. Very well done, Tamara. Was this something you always had in mind, or did it develop organically? Sporically?
TJ: Sporically? lol All of my books include intertwined yet independent story lines and I try to use them to show other sides of the main story that the primary protagonist doesn't see or experience. I think it gives a rounder, more layered experience. Plus it's just how my brain works. This character, and her journey, weren't specifically planned as much as unearthed as the story unfolded. I knew her name, and that she'd been killed but came back. The rest was a surprise.
SRW: You told me there’s a graphic novel coming out based on the protagonist, Sean’s, work. This sounds uber-cool. Fill us in.
TJ: GhoulBane(the comic Sean draws throughout the novel) was picked up by Cohesion Press last summer. An 80-page graphic novel, GhoulBane - Attack on Minos, written by me and illustrated by Monty Borror, will be available worldwide sometime later this year (I don't have a release date yet). It's violent, funny, and a bit snarky. Very fun to write!
SRW: I wanna read more of your books. What’s your hawt genre? What have you written? What’s firing up your keyboard now?
TJ: I write Forensic Fantasy novels (aka The Dubric Byerly Mysteries) for Bantam as Tamara Siler Jones, so you can pick up Ghosts in the Snow, Threads of Malice, and Valley of the Soul pretty much anywhere. I have some ebook original short stories too, SPORE, GhoulBane coming up, and my agent's shopping around a quirky women's fiction thriller along with another graphic novel based within the Dubric universe. After that, I don't know. I have several things in progress including a book about two kids with special powers on the run from a murder rap and an assassin, and another Dubric novel about an arsonist. Everything else is still in the planning stage. You can check out my entire bibliography and read sample chapters at http://www.tamara-jones.net/
SRW: There you go, folks. Check out Spore. It’s very good.
Thanks for having me!
Website: http://www.tamara-jones.net/
Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/Tamara-Siler-Jo...
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/tamar...
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tamarasilerj...
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/tambojones
G+: http://gplus.to/tambo
January 15, 2016
Hippie Check-Out Girl
I used to hate going to the grocery store with my wife. But that's all changed. There's a check-out girl that makes going to the store seem like a trip to Disneyland. She wears plastic flowers in her hair. A 70's styled-blouse balloons over her apron, the chaotic colors of the Scooby-Doo van. Unfortunately I was out of town over Christmas, but I just knew--absolutely so--she would be wearing antlers and a red nose.
But it's her endless patter that's the best: caffeine fueled, breathy and full of sing-songy cadences.
"What's a good-looking couple like you doing out on a day like this?"
"Buying some stewed tomatoes for my mother," I answered.
"That sounds like an absolutely wonderful thing to do. You must be a very good son. And these stewed tomatoes are great."
My wife was dumb-founded, said nothing. But I wanted to keep the good times rolling, rocking with the early '70's.
"Oh, you've got some of the great sushi here," she said. "I recommend this one." Pokity-poke went her finger into the plastic cover. "Good for you, too. It's a shame not more people eat healthy. Honestly, I believe that we'd be a much healthier, happier country. I mean, is it too much to ask..."
She went on and on while I stood, fully enraptured.
At the end of our first encounter, she sang some sorta jingle. Told us to have a "wonderfully, blessed day."
Service like this, I don't usually expect.
And then my glorious encounter ended on a glum note. The bag boy (baggist? bagger?) was sullen, the dark flipside of hippy girl, staring at me with stoned eyes.
"Thanks," I told him.
"Yeah, whatever, man." He looked at me, considering his follow-up. "Have a nice night." Then his gaze wandered outside. "Or day. Whatever. Just as long as you have a good."
Not only couldn't he get the time of day right, but he was night to Miss Glory Hippie's day.
My wife threw down the gauntlet and swore she'd never get in Miss Glory's line again. I, on the other hand, search her out every time I grocer.
Nothing changes in her sparkly, psychedelic, unicorn world. Always ready with a wonderful compliment. Makes me feel proud to purchase pork. But I have to wonder how does a kid become a hippy in the self-entitled, self-indulgent 21st century?
If it were up to me, in a grocery-store democracy, I'd vote her in as "Employee of the Decade." Just a few decades removed.
Speaking of hippies, there're two of 'em in my new comedy mystery, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock. Along with a buncha other strange characters. Just sayin'.
But it's her endless patter that's the best: caffeine fueled, breathy and full of sing-songy cadences."What's a good-looking couple like you doing out on a day like this?"
"Buying some stewed tomatoes for my mother," I answered.
"That sounds like an absolutely wonderful thing to do. You must be a very good son. And these stewed tomatoes are great."
My wife was dumb-founded, said nothing. But I wanted to keep the good times rolling, rocking with the early '70's.
"Oh, you've got some of the great sushi here," she said. "I recommend this one." Pokity-poke went her finger into the plastic cover. "Good for you, too. It's a shame not more people eat healthy. Honestly, I believe that we'd be a much healthier, happier country. I mean, is it too much to ask..."
She went on and on while I stood, fully enraptured.
At the end of our first encounter, she sang some sorta jingle. Told us to have a "wonderfully, blessed day."
Service like this, I don't usually expect.
And then my glorious encounter ended on a glum note. The bag boy (baggist? bagger?) was sullen, the dark flipside of hippy girl, staring at me with stoned eyes.
"Thanks," I told him.
"Yeah, whatever, man." He looked at me, considering his follow-up. "Have a nice night." Then his gaze wandered outside. "Or day. Whatever. Just as long as you have a good."
Not only couldn't he get the time of day right, but he was night to Miss Glory Hippie's day.
My wife threw down the gauntlet and swore she'd never get in Miss Glory's line again. I, on the other hand, search her out every time I grocer.
Nothing changes in her sparkly, psychedelic, unicorn world. Always ready with a wonderful compliment. Makes me feel proud to purchase pork. But I have to wonder how does a kid become a hippy in the self-entitled, self-indulgent 21st century?
If it were up to me, in a grocery-store democracy, I'd vote her in as "Employee of the Decade." Just a few decades removed.
Speaking of hippies, there're two of 'em in my new comedy mystery, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock. Along with a buncha other strange characters. Just sayin'.
January 8, 2016
Author J.G. Faherty's got The Cure for what ails you!
This week on Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley, I’m interviewing J.G. Faherty, author of the immensely entertaining horror suspense thriller The Cure.
SRW: Welcome, J.G! So…what’s J.G. stand for? Or will you have to kill me if I find out?J.G: No, I’m a relatively peaceful guy, as long as you don’t try stealing food off my plate! I guard tacos religiously. JG stands for James Gregory. When I first started writing, I didn’t want to use the same name as what I use for business (Greg), so that when people search me they don’t get confused.
SRW: I have to say I really enjoyed The Cure. Why don’t you start by telling the readers what the tale’s about?
J.G: In The Cure, Leah DeGarmo is a veterinarian with the ability to cure animals—or people—just by laying hands on them. But there’s a twist. She only has a few hours to pass on whatever illness or injury she’s taken in or she suffers it herself. Some very bad people get wind of this and decide she’d make a great weapon, and she ends up on the run from both criminals and the military. Along the way, she discovers her powers are more complex than she ever realized.
SRW: Now, The Cure is being marketed as horror. While there’re definitely some horrific elements to Leah’s predicament and curse, I found it to be more of a suspenseful conspiracy thriller with light science-fiction overtones. It reminded me of some of John Farris’s earlier works (The Fury, etc.) and of Stephen King’s Firestarter. Am I way off base here? Is that what you were aiming for?
J.G: I never considered it horror. To me, it’s a supernatural thriller, or maybe a paranormal thriller, whatever they’re calling them these days. I think it got labeled horror by so many people because I’m known more for that than anything else, and because it came out through a publisher that does mostly horror (Samhain Publishing). I think Firestarter is an apt comparison; so is F. Paul Wilson’s The Touch.
SRW: I’m a sucker for colorful villains. In The Cure, you’ve created three: Tal, Del and Marsh. Bad guys every one of them. Not to take anything away from your protagonist, Leah, but when the trio of villains took center-stage, things become really interesting. Are you a villain fan? And where did you dream these bad boys up?
J.G: You can’t have a great protagonist without an equally strong villain. Yin and Yang. As for where they came from, Marsh was easy. I needed a corporate bigwig. Del and Tal came about because they are again two side of the same coin. Both evil, but Tal is stone cold and stubborn whereas Del is more complex, he has a sense of humor and is very adaptable, yet he’s just as nasty.
SRW: We share an affinity for four-legged pets (particularly dogs in my case). In The Cure, there’re a few scenes that made me cringe regarding animal cruelty. (Movie-makers can kill off the entire boat-load of occupants of the Titanic and I don’t shed a tear; put a dog in peril and I lose it). From your forward in the book, I know you’re against cruel animal exploitation and experimentation. Did you write this book in part as a pro-animal message?
J.G.: I don’t think I wrote it with that kind of message in mind, although it does seem like it. I am a big animal rights person, though, and for me nothing is worse than hurting an animal. I can’t even watch Will Smith’s version of I Am Legend because the damn dog dies. So, for me, there couldn’t be anything more evil than a villain who hurts animals, and nothing more gut-twisting than a veterinarian who can only cure the sick if she hurts another animal.
SRW: Furthermore, you’re pretty cruel to your heroine at times (and the hero as well). Nature of the genre, I suppose. As a writer of horror and suspense myself, at times I wonder if I’ve gone too far by torturing my protagonists. But sometimes you have to “kill your darlings,” so to speak. Level with me…did you want to pull back at all?
J.G: I don’t believe in pulling back, although I don’t believe in going too far, either. Whatever is appropriate for the plot, both from the writer’s standpoint and the reader’s. I’m cruel to the characters in the book, but never gratuitous.
SRW: You paint a pretty negative image of today’s U.S. military super-power. As a person (not a writer), do you believe the military’s capable of kidnapping a civilian and putting her through horrific scenarios as you’ve created?
J.G: Of course. I don’t think there’s anyone today who doesn’t think that. Our military buys and sells cocaine, supplies anti-US militants with weapons, and regularly co-opts academic research for weapons and defense purposes. You’d have to be foolish not to think they’d want to study the perfect assassin. I’m no conspiracy theorist, but my head’s not buried in the sand, either.
SRW: Without giving anything away, you’ve left the book open for a sequel. Hedging your bets, J.G? Or is one planned? If a sequel's forthcoming, what can you tell us about it (again without giving any spoilers! A hard task, I know.)?
J.G: I’d like to do a sequel someday. I have some ideas. But as of right now, it’s not in the works.
SRW: And here I thought I’ve been prolific! You’ve written a volley of other works, J.G. Tell the readers a little about your work over-all. And do it in iambic pentameter for fun! (Or anything else you can think of to break up the monotony of listing a huge paragraph about your other books.)
J.G: I won’t do a huge paragraph, not my style! 5 novels, 9 novellas, more than 50 short stories. Compared to some of the other people who started writing around the same time as me, I’m a turtle in a race with hares. If you want to get an idea of what I write, start with Carnival of Fear, my first novel, or my book of short stories, The Monster Inside. If you’ve got a tween or teen in the house, my Stoker-nominated YA novel Ghosts of Coronado Bay would be a good choice.
SRW: You have an interesting and varied background, J.G. How has this played into your writing? How about your haunted upbringing?J.G: Well, I personally wasn’t haunted. Not that I know of, anyhow. But living in the Hudson Valley of New York, I grew up in an area known for ghosts, hauntings, monsters in the woods, cursed lands and roads, and Revolutionary War cemeteries. It’s also the UFO capital of the East Coast. So... yeah, lots of fodder for stories!
SRW: What’s next on your laptop? What can readers look forward to?
J.G: My next novella, Death Do Us Part, comes out Jan. 5th. It’s an homage to the old Tales from the Crypt stories, full of revenge, mayhem, and the living dead. After that.... who knows?
SRW: There you have it, folks. Go get The Cure and check out J.G.’s other tales of horror and suspense while you’re at it. J.G. can be found here:
www.twitter.com/jgfaherty
www.facebook.com/jgfaherty
www.jgfaherty.com
http://jgfaherty-blog.blogspot.com/
Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/jgfaherty
January 1, 2016
The 12 Disasters of Christmas!
Yeah, sure, The 12 Disasters of Christmas is a lousy SyFy movie (which I, um, have seen, of course) dealing with a star appearing and bringing on unprecedented disasters. Or something. It didn't make a lick of sense.Kinda like the weather patterns during the last week.
Ye gads, winter storm Goliath brought down a mess during the week of Christmas. While everyone's traveling, natch. In Kansas City, ice laid down a nice platform for its friend, snow, to follow. My daughter was in Iowa picking up her newest car (the third in her very short driving tenure if you're keeping track; here's hoping she doesn't blow this one up). One day, Iowa temperatures reached a high of 4 degrees! FOUR DEGREES! And the day my daughter was set to drive back in a Brand New Car, a blizzard hit.
Meanwhile, my wife and I were in Oklahoma visiting her family. Christmas Day was a balmy near 70 degrees! Hawaiian shirt weather. Then some cosmic jokester decided to pull the rug out from under us. The next day, the temperature plummeted down into the 30's. It poured three straight days and nights, never stopping. Noah type weather. My in-law's back acreage turned into a swamp. Winds were crazy, impossible to battle. At one point, we couldn't get our car doors open. Once we did, items flew out in a crazy Dorothy from Oz tornadic swirl. For the first time, I actually heard the wind howl! Not in a horror book either! A flag post rattled, sounding like a flock of geese heading South. All night long, the winds hammered at the windows, shaking the house, wanting to come in from the cold. Grocery carts were blown into busy streets causing mass chaos. Then ice and snow swept in as the temperatures kept dropping.
And the poor people residing in the Southwest? They have no idea what snow is.
"What are these strange white flecks in the air, Ma?"
"Hope it ain't nuclear fall-out, Pa."
Yep. The 12 Disasters of Christmas. At our doorstep. We don't need a cheezy SyFy flick to tell us the end-times are near!
On that cheery note, there's one thing that remains constant on Christmas. Two things, really. The first is family. They're always there, always open and loving. The second thing, of course, is a special tradition at my in-law's house. Without fail, every year on Christmas, the power goes out. (Some traditions are better left to the past and fond memories, I think). One year, a squirrel sat on a power line and pulled everything down. Another year, the storm of the century knocked everything out. This year the winds were the culprit. A Christmas miracle! Every year!
Here's hoping the weather straightens itself out in the new year (I'm giving you a stern look, Weather!).Speaking of screwy things, my new comedy mystery, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock, is now out. Read it now, yell at me later.
December 25, 2015
Here's hoping Santa stuffs your banana hammock...wait...WHAT?
Ho, ho, ho! Tis the season to give and in the spirit of the holidays, I'm unleashing my newest book, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock.
Sure, I hear you asking, "But, Stuart, this doesn't sound very holidayesque at all!"
Au contraire, mon fraire!
Bad Day in a Banana Hammock is my first straight-up comedy. All wrapped up for the holidays in a snug banana hammock. No angst, no darkness, no horror. Just (I hope) dumb fun. Perfect for the holidays!
Santa gives and keeps on giving! Like the Energizer Bunny.
Banana Hammock is a cozy mystery. Sorta. Gone are teacups, replaced by male g-strings. A femme fatale using the (false?) name of "Kat" replaces the customary kitties. Comfy chats about food are relegated to spam and fast-food burgers. But it's a cozy, I tell you!
Here, this explains it better:
Zach wakes up with no memory, no phone, and no clothes except his stripper g-string. And oh yeah! There’s that pesky naked dead guy in bed next to him. Problem is Zach's not gay. Or a murderer. At least, he doesn't think so. Only one person can help him, his sister, Zora. Of course Zora's got problems of her own—she has three kids at home and is eight month's pregnant with the fourth. So she’s a bit cranky. But that’s not going to stop her from helping her brother. With kids in tow, the siblings set how to find the true killer, clear Zach's name, and reassure Zach he's not gay.
Full disclosure time: I wrote the book on a dare. A writer friend (looking at you, Meradeth Houston) dared me to pen a book about a vapid male stripper involved in a mystery. I did it. But it's his sister that's proving to be the fan favorite. Zora is a very pregnant, very irritable ex-detective who knows her stuff and ain't afraid to use a gun. Forget about getting her husband dinner on time...the game is afoot!
“An hilarious murder mystery romp. Ride along with Zach and Zora on this most entertaining of mysteries.”
-Heather Brainerd, author of the Jose Picada, P.I. mystery series.
“A fun, quirky whodunit so full of wild antics, it will keep you guessing...when you're not giggling.”
-Heather Greenis, author of The Natasha Saga.
“Bad Day in a Banana Hammock will have you wiping up tears of hysterical laughter.”
-Suzanne de Montigney, author of the Shadow of the Unicorn series.
Enjoy! (Um, I hope...yes, yes, yes, I'm absolutely shameless).
Happy holidays!
Buy it here: Bad Day in a Banana Hammock!
Sure, I hear you asking, "But, Stuart, this doesn't sound very holidayesque at all!"Au contraire, mon fraire!
Bad Day in a Banana Hammock is my first straight-up comedy. All wrapped up for the holidays in a snug banana hammock. No angst, no darkness, no horror. Just (I hope) dumb fun. Perfect for the holidays!
Santa gives and keeps on giving! Like the Energizer Bunny.
Banana Hammock is a cozy mystery. Sorta. Gone are teacups, replaced by male g-strings. A femme fatale using the (false?) name of "Kat" replaces the customary kitties. Comfy chats about food are relegated to spam and fast-food burgers. But it's a cozy, I tell you!
Here, this explains it better:
Zach wakes up with no memory, no phone, and no clothes except his stripper g-string. And oh yeah! There’s that pesky naked dead guy in bed next to him. Problem is Zach's not gay. Or a murderer. At least, he doesn't think so. Only one person can help him, his sister, Zora. Of course Zora's got problems of her own—she has three kids at home and is eight month's pregnant with the fourth. So she’s a bit cranky. But that’s not going to stop her from helping her brother. With kids in tow, the siblings set how to find the true killer, clear Zach's name, and reassure Zach he's not gay.
Full disclosure time: I wrote the book on a dare. A writer friend (looking at you, Meradeth Houston) dared me to pen a book about a vapid male stripper involved in a mystery. I did it. But it's his sister that's proving to be the fan favorite. Zora is a very pregnant, very irritable ex-detective who knows her stuff and ain't afraid to use a gun. Forget about getting her husband dinner on time...the game is afoot!
“An hilarious murder mystery romp. Ride along with Zach and Zora on this most entertaining of mysteries.”
-Heather Brainerd, author of the Jose Picada, P.I. mystery series.
“A fun, quirky whodunit so full of wild antics, it will keep you guessing...when you're not giggling.”
-Heather Greenis, author of The Natasha Saga.
“Bad Day in a Banana Hammock will have you wiping up tears of hysterical laughter.”
-Suzanne de Montigney, author of the Shadow of the Unicorn series.
Enjoy! (Um, I hope...yes, yes, yes, I'm absolutely shameless).
Happy holidays!
Buy it here: Bad Day in a Banana Hammock!
December 18, 2015
Murder, Madness & Love! It can only mean an interview with Yolanda Renee!
Hey, give a warm welcome to Yolanda Renee, author of Murder, Madness & Love, a sublime mystery of...well...read the title. Yolanda has several other titles outs I haven't yet read, but believe me, they're queued up, ready to go.
SRW: Yolanda, hey, thanks for braving my blog!
YR: You're quite welcome. I love interrogations when done by a master. That light, is it necessary? And I'd love a cup of coffee if you don't mind. Please, ask away.
SRW: (The light's part of the interrogation, Yolanda! Deal with it!) Recently, I finished Murder, Madness & Love. And I really liked it. Tell everyone what it's about.
YR: Murder, Madness & Love is a murder mystery with a romance that creates nothing but problems for a dedicated detective. The tagline says it all: After a gritty detective becomes involved with a beautiful widow suspected of murder, rumor and obsession obstruct his quest for justice.
SRW: One of the things I really loved about the book is the questionable nature of the heroine (anti-heroine?). Masterfully, you kept me guessing until the end whether she truly is a "black widow killer." Very strong Hitchcockian vibe there. Well done! So, did you have in mind, before you wrote the book, her true nature? Or did you, you know, wing it?
YR: Thank you, Stuart. I love that term Hitchcockian! I still enjoy watching his work. I knew when I wrote MML that I wanted Sarah to be suspect number one. I'm glad my efforts worked. Her job was to keep Quaid tangled in barbed wire throughout the story.
SRW: The book's set in Alaska. Brr. But the setting was a blast of fresh arctic air. You know what you write. Are you an Alaskan? (Or is that a politically incorrect terms these days?)
YR: I'm a former resident of Alaska. I traveled there on vacation when I was twenty, and extended my stay by 4 years. I hiked the Brooks and Alaskan Range, and left to finish my education. I'm not there now, because my husband doesn't like the cold. We compromised and spent 17 years in Washington State. He's a Florida man, but right now, we reside in Pennsylvania.
As far you being politically incorrect – who decides what is or isn't?
SRW: (Apparently not Donald Trump! Ahem...) I see your next book is a sequel. In name only, at least. Revolving around detective Steven Quaid. Can we talk a little bit about this guy?
YR: I'd love to; Quaid is part Tlingit Indian and Irish. He's a dedicated detective with no black marks in his file – until Sarah's case. He's unusual as a detective in that he wants the white picket fence, but he's unlucky in love. Then he meets Sarah, and his luck really sours, but like most guys, his job defines him and when that goes sour, he overreacts. In Memories of Murder, he's trying to correct the errors he made during Murder, Madness & Love, but his foe, Lucifer, knows his weakness.
SRW: Yikes...Lucifer?
YR: Yep. The antagonist in Memories of Murder was raised to believe he's the son of Satan. Lucifer taunts detective Quaid with notes written in blood.
SRW: All right. Honestly, Quaid was kinda ticking me off. First, he falls in love with his main suspect. Uncool. Then he makes some major blunders. Finally the killer is unveiled. Um...no thanks to detective Quaid. Not really. He sorta falls into the resolution. So, tell me, Yolanda...should detective Quaid be busted back to school crossing guard?
YR: You should have heard the remark an agent gave me when I told her the ending. I'm also sure it's the reason she's not representing me. But I was tired of the usual detective story. Quaid is almost too perfect, he needed a monkey wrench thrown into his life and Sarah is it. He falls in love with her before he's aware of her background. Then when he realizes who she is, he goes too far in the opposite direction. His brain believes he's being suckered, his heart isn't listening.
As far as going back to school, he does. In book 2, Memories of Murder he goes to Quantico for training. The bad press that follows this case is damaging the department, and he's determined to win back his stellar reputation. His ego takes a real hit, but aren't these the cases that turn a good decent detective into a hard drinking, shortcut taking master of the game? Quaid has a long, long journey yet.
SRW: I consider myself a pro at sussing out the killer in murder mysteries. When my wife and I watch Castle, Major Crimes, etc., no problem. First seven minutes, I point to the actor, arrogantly proclaim, "He/she's the killer." Makes my wife mad. But I have a 91% accuracy profile. Yet your book completely bamboozled me on the identity of the killer. Comment please (while complimenting me in the same sentence; my blog).
YR: Every mystery writer wants to fool the reader, so thank you for being sweet enough to say that I was able to fool you, especially with your accuracy rate. (Does that fit your requirement as a compliment?) I did work hard to bamboozle the readers. Setting up the red herrings was and is always super important in any mystery. Your question tells me I achieved my goal, thanks.
SRW: I'm not a romance fan. And a good part of your book deals with romance (don't worry, non-romance folks! There's great stuff between the mushy stuff!). Maybe it's because I'm a novice at reading romance books, but, um, some of the dialogue struck me as super bodice-ripping, Harlequin time. Tell me, Yolanda, does anyone in a burning, passionate romance honestly call one another "angel" or "warrior?" Keep in mind, I'm a stoopid guy. Enlighten us stoopid guys, Yolanda!
YR: First, there is no bodice ripping!
My first love was the mystery, and my second was a good romance. I wanted the love story to be part of the finished product. If I could do it over, I'd probably handle it a bit different, but as to 'angel' and 'warrior,' I took that from real life. My husband and I do have pet names for each other (although not angel or warrior) and yes, we are a bit of a Harlequin tale. We eloped on Valentine's Day and kept it secret. We then had a ceremony for our families. I wrote what I knew, but as I said, next time, less will be more.
My husband is a man's man with a very romantic soul! I have a feeling you are too, something your wife might admit too, but not you. No man does. I'm just thrilled that men are reading my books, and lately I've seen more and more male authors adding romance to their books – in all the genres. When you're fighting evil, what better monkey wrench than love to frustrate the situation. Even Batman has his Catwoman. If I remember correctly, romance plays a huge part in your book Zombie Rapture.
SRW: Um, moving on...
Another thing I really loved about your book, Yolanda, is just when I thought we were settling into "cozy territory," you pull out some very vivid, excellently written, Argentoesque (look it up, folks) murder scenes. I cheered! I liked the juxtaposition quite a bit. So...Yolanda, where does your writing heart beat? Murder? Mystery? Romance? All of the above?
YR: Thank you for the comparison. I cut my teeth on Stephen King, so horror is a big part of my background. Honestly, I've yet to read a book that doesn't have some romance in it. As far the genres I prefer, it's all of the above, and recently I added science fiction. I don't limit my imagination.
SRW: Casting couch time. Detective Quaid is easy: Nick Nolte. (Hey! He was once voted sexiest man of the year by People magazine {you believe that? It's true!}). Sarah? Hm. Let's go with Meryl Streep. Only we'll need to kinda "photoshop" her into the part via younger roles. My picks. What're yours, Yolanda?
YR: I don't like Nick; they're constantly showing his hideous mug shot. Plus he's a blonde, definitely not my detective. I actually saw the Rock, Dwayne Johnson, as Steven, and Sarah Michelle Geller as Sarah. I was hooked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now own the series. While the Rock might be bald, he can rock the long hair! The Scorpion King comes to mind.
SRW: (Psst...don't tell anyone, but I own the Buffy series, too). Do I understand correctly you're involved in a zombie project (gasping for air and way overly excited; where're my meds???)? Anything else new on the keyboard we can look forward to?
YR: Thank you for asking. The third in the series is Murder & Obsession. This time Quaid is framed for murder and escapes into the Brooks Range where he not only has the cops on his trail but a grizzly's picked up his scent. Murder & Obsession is scheduled for release in March 2016. I'm currently working on a prequel to the series called The Snowman. It's a novella about Quaid's first case. "The Snowman" is mentioned in Murder, Madness & Love.
And yes, I just released a book of short stories called When Zombies Attack: Tales of Horror and Romance. After all, where there's love there's always a little horror, isn't there? When Zombies Attack is titled after a zombie story that I wrote on a dare. Zombies, of all the monsters scare me more than any other, and haunt my nightmares. Which just happens to be where I find all my antagonists. My warrior husband is always rescuing me from them (waking me when I scream and sleeping with the lights on when necessary).
Oh God, did I just confess that I call my husband warrior. (Wiping the sweat from her brow, Yolanda reaches up and switches off the light.)
SRW: Ah HA! Gotcha!
YR: Yes, okay, I do call him warrior, but you'll never get his pet name for me. That's it. I'm done! Interview over! Got anything stronger than coffee?
SRW: (Hands her a shot of Jack.) Thanks for putting up with me, Yolanda. Now, readers, go out and get Ms. Renee's book! It's very good!
YR: Thanks Stuart. You weren't lying about this being a grilling, but quid pro quo; I have a few questions for you!
SRW: Uh-oh...but, hey, that's where you'll find me on our epic two-part grilling: http://www.yolandarenee.blogspot.com/
And here's where you can find Yolanda and her books:
BLOG - AMAZON- FACEBOOK- GOODREADS- PINTEREST - TWITTER
SRW: Yolanda, hey, thanks for braving my blog!
YR: You're quite welcome. I love interrogations when done by a master. That light, is it necessary? And I'd love a cup of coffee if you don't mind. Please, ask away.
SRW: (The light's part of the interrogation, Yolanda! Deal with it!) Recently, I finished Murder, Madness & Love. And I really liked it. Tell everyone what it's about.
YR: Murder, Madness & Love is a murder mystery with a romance that creates nothing but problems for a dedicated detective. The tagline says it all: After a gritty detective becomes involved with a beautiful widow suspected of murder, rumor and obsession obstruct his quest for justice.
SRW: One of the things I really loved about the book is the questionable nature of the heroine (anti-heroine?). Masterfully, you kept me guessing until the end whether she truly is a "black widow killer." Very strong Hitchcockian vibe there. Well done! So, did you have in mind, before you wrote the book, her true nature? Or did you, you know, wing it?
YR: Thank you, Stuart. I love that term Hitchcockian! I still enjoy watching his work. I knew when I wrote MML that I wanted Sarah to be suspect number one. I'm glad my efforts worked. Her job was to keep Quaid tangled in barbed wire throughout the story.
SRW: The book's set in Alaska. Brr. But the setting was a blast of fresh arctic air. You know what you write. Are you an Alaskan? (Or is that a politically incorrect terms these days?)
YR: I'm a former resident of Alaska. I traveled there on vacation when I was twenty, and extended my stay by 4 years. I hiked the Brooks and Alaskan Range, and left to finish my education. I'm not there now, because my husband doesn't like the cold. We compromised and spent 17 years in Washington State. He's a Florida man, but right now, we reside in Pennsylvania.
As far you being politically incorrect – who decides what is or isn't?
SRW: (Apparently not Donald Trump! Ahem...) I see your next book is a sequel. In name only, at least. Revolving around detective Steven Quaid. Can we talk a little bit about this guy?
YR: I'd love to; Quaid is part Tlingit Indian and Irish. He's a dedicated detective with no black marks in his file – until Sarah's case. He's unusual as a detective in that he wants the white picket fence, but he's unlucky in love. Then he meets Sarah, and his luck really sours, but like most guys, his job defines him and when that goes sour, he overreacts. In Memories of Murder, he's trying to correct the errors he made during Murder, Madness & Love, but his foe, Lucifer, knows his weakness.
SRW: Yikes...Lucifer?
YR: Yep. The antagonist in Memories of Murder was raised to believe he's the son of Satan. Lucifer taunts detective Quaid with notes written in blood.
SRW: All right. Honestly, Quaid was kinda ticking me off. First, he falls in love with his main suspect. Uncool. Then he makes some major blunders. Finally the killer is unveiled. Um...no thanks to detective Quaid. Not really. He sorta falls into the resolution. So, tell me, Yolanda...should detective Quaid be busted back to school crossing guard?
YR: You should have heard the remark an agent gave me when I told her the ending. I'm also sure it's the reason she's not representing me. But I was tired of the usual detective story. Quaid is almost too perfect, he needed a monkey wrench thrown into his life and Sarah is it. He falls in love with her before he's aware of her background. Then when he realizes who she is, he goes too far in the opposite direction. His brain believes he's being suckered, his heart isn't listening.
As far as going back to school, he does. In book 2, Memories of Murder he goes to Quantico for training. The bad press that follows this case is damaging the department, and he's determined to win back his stellar reputation. His ego takes a real hit, but aren't these the cases that turn a good decent detective into a hard drinking, shortcut taking master of the game? Quaid has a long, long journey yet.
SRW: I consider myself a pro at sussing out the killer in murder mysteries. When my wife and I watch Castle, Major Crimes, etc., no problem. First seven minutes, I point to the actor, arrogantly proclaim, "He/she's the killer." Makes my wife mad. But I have a 91% accuracy profile. Yet your book completely bamboozled me on the identity of the killer. Comment please (while complimenting me in the same sentence; my blog).
YR: Every mystery writer wants to fool the reader, so thank you for being sweet enough to say that I was able to fool you, especially with your accuracy rate. (Does that fit your requirement as a compliment?) I did work hard to bamboozle the readers. Setting up the red herrings was and is always super important in any mystery. Your question tells me I achieved my goal, thanks.
SRW: I'm not a romance fan. And a good part of your book deals with romance (don't worry, non-romance folks! There's great stuff between the mushy stuff!). Maybe it's because I'm a novice at reading romance books, but, um, some of the dialogue struck me as super bodice-ripping, Harlequin time. Tell me, Yolanda, does anyone in a burning, passionate romance honestly call one another "angel" or "warrior?" Keep in mind, I'm a stoopid guy. Enlighten us stoopid guys, Yolanda!
YR: First, there is no bodice ripping!
My first love was the mystery, and my second was a good romance. I wanted the love story to be part of the finished product. If I could do it over, I'd probably handle it a bit different, but as to 'angel' and 'warrior,' I took that from real life. My husband and I do have pet names for each other (although not angel or warrior) and yes, we are a bit of a Harlequin tale. We eloped on Valentine's Day and kept it secret. We then had a ceremony for our families. I wrote what I knew, but as I said, next time, less will be more.
My husband is a man's man with a very romantic soul! I have a feeling you are too, something your wife might admit too, but not you. No man does. I'm just thrilled that men are reading my books, and lately I've seen more and more male authors adding romance to their books – in all the genres. When you're fighting evil, what better monkey wrench than love to frustrate the situation. Even Batman has his Catwoman. If I remember correctly, romance plays a huge part in your book Zombie Rapture.
SRW: Um, moving on...
Another thing I really loved about your book, Yolanda, is just when I thought we were settling into "cozy territory," you pull out some very vivid, excellently written, Argentoesque (look it up, folks) murder scenes. I cheered! I liked the juxtaposition quite a bit. So...Yolanda, where does your writing heart beat? Murder? Mystery? Romance? All of the above?
YR: Thank you for the comparison. I cut my teeth on Stephen King, so horror is a big part of my background. Honestly, I've yet to read a book that doesn't have some romance in it. As far the genres I prefer, it's all of the above, and recently I added science fiction. I don't limit my imagination.
SRW: Casting couch time. Detective Quaid is easy: Nick Nolte. (Hey! He was once voted sexiest man of the year by People magazine {you believe that? It's true!}). Sarah? Hm. Let's go with Meryl Streep. Only we'll need to kinda "photoshop" her into the part via younger roles. My picks. What're yours, Yolanda?
YR: I don't like Nick; they're constantly showing his hideous mug shot. Plus he's a blonde, definitely not my detective. I actually saw the Rock, Dwayne Johnson, as Steven, and Sarah Michelle Geller as Sarah. I was hooked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now own the series. While the Rock might be bald, he can rock the long hair! The Scorpion King comes to mind.
SRW: (Psst...don't tell anyone, but I own the Buffy series, too). Do I understand correctly you're involved in a zombie project (gasping for air and way overly excited; where're my meds???)? Anything else new on the keyboard we can look forward to?
YR: Thank you for asking. The third in the series is Murder & Obsession. This time Quaid is framed for murder and escapes into the Brooks Range where he not only has the cops on his trail but a grizzly's picked up his scent. Murder & Obsession is scheduled for release in March 2016. I'm currently working on a prequel to the series called The Snowman. It's a novella about Quaid's first case. "The Snowman" is mentioned in Murder, Madness & Love.
And yes, I just released a book of short stories called When Zombies Attack: Tales of Horror and Romance. After all, where there's love there's always a little horror, isn't there? When Zombies Attack is titled after a zombie story that I wrote on a dare. Zombies, of all the monsters scare me more than any other, and haunt my nightmares. Which just happens to be where I find all my antagonists. My warrior husband is always rescuing me from them (waking me when I scream and sleeping with the lights on when necessary).
Oh God, did I just confess that I call my husband warrior. (Wiping the sweat from her brow, Yolanda reaches up and switches off the light.)
SRW: Ah HA! Gotcha!
YR: Yes, okay, I do call him warrior, but you'll never get his pet name for me. That's it. I'm done! Interview over! Got anything stronger than coffee?
SRW: (Hands her a shot of Jack.) Thanks for putting up with me, Yolanda. Now, readers, go out and get Ms. Renee's book! It's very good!
YR: Thanks Stuart. You weren't lying about this being a grilling, but quid pro quo; I have a few questions for you!
SRW: Uh-oh...but, hey, that's where you'll find me on our epic two-part grilling: http://www.yolandarenee.blogspot.com/
And here's where you can find Yolanda and her books:
BLOG - AMAZON- FACEBOOK- GOODREADS- PINTEREST - TWITTER
December 11, 2015
A Little Krampus for the Holidays!
Okay, what is it exactly with the Germans? First, they idolize David Hasselhoff. Then they celebrate Christmas with the legend of Krampus.
Not heard of Krampus? (And, no, he's not the advertising cartoon spokesman for Midol). Krampus is a truly nightmarish legend, a demon who punishes bad children at Christmas-time. Merry Christmas everybody! Have a gander:
Gives you that cheery Christmas spirit, right? Krampus is furry, has horns (some say phallic in origin; best not to go there), cloven hooves like a goat. And sometimes he carries a bathtub or sack on his back to stuff bad children into it and drown them. Happy holidays! He also carries chains and bundles of birch branches to beat the children with. I know right? Gives you that fuzzy holiday warm feeling.
Curious, I researched ol' Krampus's origins. Well, apparently Krampus's back-story has historians stumped. They could only trace it back so far. But anthropologists agree, Krampus predates Christian theology, reaching back to ancient Pagan beliefs. Some believe Krampus is the Horned God of the Witches; other anthropologists postulate that over time Krampus has transformed into a representation of the Christian devil. But he was there first.
Oddly enough, Krampus works in tandem with Saint Christoper, the patron of children. They're pals. Unlike Krampus, though, St. Chris bestows gifts upon the nice children. But, I have to wonder, what if they accidentally got their lists messed up? For example, what if Little Cyndy Loo-Who pays for what ornery Kevin did to his classmates? A simple bureaucratic, Christmas-time slip-up can result in unwarranted death! Terrifying! Ho, ho, HORROR!
In the '50's, German government pushed to do away with Krampus. Pamphlets were distributed, proclaiming "Krampus is an Evil Man!" (That'll show 'em!) But you can't keep a good demon down. Krampus has resurged in popularity again in recent years (you know, like Donald Trump). The night before The Feast of Saint Nicholas in certain parts of Europe is dedicated to Krampus. Called Krampusnacht, people (or ARE they?) dressed in Krampus costumes run through the streets, causing havoc and bugging people, giving coal to children and who knows what else. A Krampuslauf is a run of Krampus costumed people. Tradition has it you offer them schapps for their efforts. Some gig.
And, of course there's a new horror film out now celebrating Krampus (um, I kinda want to see it).
But honestly, what kind of parent would push this tale onto their children? Only the most sadistic kind, of course!
"Wilhelm, you've been very naughty this year. Krampus is going to come and drown you tonight."
"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
The father sits back in his lounge chair, grinning around his pipe, another year of fine parenting.
Happy holidays everyone! Don't let Krampus get you!
Not heard of Krampus? (And, no, he's not the advertising cartoon spokesman for Midol). Krampus is a truly nightmarish legend, a demon who punishes bad children at Christmas-time. Merry Christmas everybody! Have a gander:
Gives you that cheery Christmas spirit, right? Krampus is furry, has horns (some say phallic in origin; best not to go there), cloven hooves like a goat. And sometimes he carries a bathtub or sack on his back to stuff bad children into it and drown them. Happy holidays! He also carries chains and bundles of birch branches to beat the children with. I know right? Gives you that fuzzy holiday warm feeling.Curious, I researched ol' Krampus's origins. Well, apparently Krampus's back-story has historians stumped. They could only trace it back so far. But anthropologists agree, Krampus predates Christian theology, reaching back to ancient Pagan beliefs. Some believe Krampus is the Horned God of the Witches; other anthropologists postulate that over time Krampus has transformed into a representation of the Christian devil. But he was there first.
Oddly enough, Krampus works in tandem with Saint Christoper, the patron of children. They're pals. Unlike Krampus, though, St. Chris bestows gifts upon the nice children. But, I have to wonder, what if they accidentally got their lists messed up? For example, what if Little Cyndy Loo-Who pays for what ornery Kevin did to his classmates? A simple bureaucratic, Christmas-time slip-up can result in unwarranted death! Terrifying! Ho, ho, HORROR!
In the '50's, German government pushed to do away with Krampus. Pamphlets were distributed, proclaiming "Krampus is an Evil Man!" (That'll show 'em!) But you can't keep a good demon down. Krampus has resurged in popularity again in recent years (you know, like Donald Trump). The night before The Feast of Saint Nicholas in certain parts of Europe is dedicated to Krampus. Called Krampusnacht, people (or ARE they?) dressed in Krampus costumes run through the streets, causing havoc and bugging people, giving coal to children and who knows what else. A Krampuslauf is a run of Krampus costumed people. Tradition has it you offer them schapps for their efforts. Some gig.
And, of course there's a new horror film out now celebrating Krampus (um, I kinda want to see it).But honestly, what kind of parent would push this tale onto their children? Only the most sadistic kind, of course!
"Wilhelm, you've been very naughty this year. Krampus is going to come and drown you tonight."
"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
The father sits back in his lounge chair, grinning around his pipe, another year of fine parenting.
Happy holidays everyone! Don't let Krampus get you!
December 4, 2015
Thanksgiving Post Show
Thanksgiving has come and gone. Maybe a semblance of normality can return to our lives now. Until Christmas.
Don't get me wrong. I love Thanksgiving. The true meaning of the holiday is to gorge on food until you pass out. And, yeah, yeah, yeah, all that stuff about giving thanks and being with family and what have you.
Since downsizing from a house to an apartment, my mom still insists on hosting the holiday at her residence. Makes for some mighty crowded eating. And there's no escape, not in such confined quarters. Back at her house, I could always wander off upstairs and nap the day away. But at the apartment, everyone's trapped.
After dinner, we sat in a circle in the living room, no exit, no relief.
Hard of hearing, Mom cranked up some Christmas music. Rod Stewart, for God's sake. We didn't even think she knew who he was.
"Mom," I shouted, "can you turn that down?"
"What?" I think she believes her hearing is normal, so her standard is the one everyone should go by.
Santa Claus is coming to towwwwwwnnnnn (you better believe it, baby! Yow!)....
"I said, 'can you turn that down?'"
"I'm sorry..." Mom shook her head, a hand up by her ear. Pantomiming. Sitting right in front of the boom box. "...I can't hear you."
You better look out (look out, look out, look out, AYEAHah!)...
Frustrated, I got up, turned it down. One song later, she turned it up again.
Finally, the CD ended. Mercifully, Mom forgot about it. And the family conversations began. For me, the most interesting (not necessarily the best!) part of Thanksgiving.
One of my nieces had her socks and shoes off. "Why're you barefoot?" I asked. "It's, like, Winter outside."
Her mother interjected. "Don't look at her toenails. I haven't had time to cut them. I mean, I don't mind cutting her nails. But I won't do his." With a wrinkled nose, she pointed at her husband (my brother). I felt her pain and immediately wondered just how bad his toenails were, imagining all kinds of greens and purples.
Defending his toenails, my brother said, "I can't even reach my toenails. It's not worth slipping a disc in my back to cut my stupid toenails."
"So you're gonna go Howard Hughes style?" I asked. "Grow 'em out?"
"Yep, Howard Hughes style."
I thought about it. Turned to my wife and said, "Would you cut my toenails?"
Pretty much she just stared at me. But the toenail conversation went on for a while after that.
Finally, the newest member of our group (another niece's husband), offered, "Um...I can't believe we're talking about toenails on Thanksgiving."
While I felt a little empathy for him, I just shook my head. Rookie.
Can't wait to do it all over again in three more weeks.
Speaking of being trapped...Leon Garber's trapped. Trapped between a homicidal maniac, the police and a mysterious evil organization set to take him down. And, really, all Leon wants to do is continue his hobby: ridding the world of abusers.
Secret Society available here. (But don't tell anybody...otherwise it won't be such a secret society any longer).
Don't get me wrong. I love Thanksgiving. The true meaning of the holiday is to gorge on food until you pass out. And, yeah, yeah, yeah, all that stuff about giving thanks and being with family and what have you.Since downsizing from a house to an apartment, my mom still insists on hosting the holiday at her residence. Makes for some mighty crowded eating. And there's no escape, not in such confined quarters. Back at her house, I could always wander off upstairs and nap the day away. But at the apartment, everyone's trapped.
After dinner, we sat in a circle in the living room, no exit, no relief.
Hard of hearing, Mom cranked up some Christmas music. Rod Stewart, for God's sake. We didn't even think she knew who he was.
"Mom," I shouted, "can you turn that down?""What?" I think she believes her hearing is normal, so her standard is the one everyone should go by.
Santa Claus is coming to towwwwwwnnnnn (you better believe it, baby! Yow!)....
"I said, 'can you turn that down?'"
"I'm sorry..." Mom shook her head, a hand up by her ear. Pantomiming. Sitting right in front of the boom box. "...I can't hear you."
You better look out (look out, look out, look out, AYEAHah!)...
Frustrated, I got up, turned it down. One song later, she turned it up again.
Finally, the CD ended. Mercifully, Mom forgot about it. And the family conversations began. For me, the most interesting (not necessarily the best!) part of Thanksgiving.
One of my nieces had her socks and shoes off. "Why're you barefoot?" I asked. "It's, like, Winter outside."
Her mother interjected. "Don't look at her toenails. I haven't had time to cut them. I mean, I don't mind cutting her nails. But I won't do his." With a wrinkled nose, she pointed at her husband (my brother). I felt her pain and immediately wondered just how bad his toenails were, imagining all kinds of greens and purples.
Defending his toenails, my brother said, "I can't even reach my toenails. It's not worth slipping a disc in my back to cut my stupid toenails."
"So you're gonna go Howard Hughes style?" I asked. "Grow 'em out?"
"Yep, Howard Hughes style."
I thought about it. Turned to my wife and said, "Would you cut my toenails?"Pretty much she just stared at me. But the toenail conversation went on for a while after that.
Finally, the newest member of our group (another niece's husband), offered, "Um...I can't believe we're talking about toenails on Thanksgiving."
While I felt a little empathy for him, I just shook my head. Rookie.
Can't wait to do it all over again in three more weeks.
Speaking of being trapped...Leon Garber's trapped. Trapped between a homicidal maniac, the police and a mysterious evil organization set to take him down. And, really, all Leon wants to do is continue his hobby: ridding the world of abusers.
Secret Society available here. (But don't tell anybody...otherwise it won't be such a secret society any longer).November 26, 2015
Butter Battle on Aisle Nine
I spent six hours at various grocery stores last Saturday. Prepping for Thanksgiving.
Of course a good part of my time was gobbled up by taking my mother shopping. When you deliberate for fifteen minutes on what type of butter to buy, something's not right.
"What's the cheapest butter?" asked Mom.
"Looks like $2.99."
"Huh. Highway robbery." Mom's stock answer for everything. Which I guess is pertinent to someone somewhere. Just not to the growing line of agitated shoppers behind us. But Mom wasn't going anywhere.
"Mom! It's the cheapest option. On sale. You want it?"
"I dunno..."
"I've read all the prices on all of the butter to you. $2.99 is the cheapest."
"But...it's all so expensive."
"How about I buy the butter for you? Can we just move along? We still have to hit the meat aisle." (A dreaded encounter that goes on forever).
"Yes, Stuart, I know, I know! But the butter's so expensive. I swear...everyone's out to make a dollar."
Well, yeah, sorta the nature of capitalism and commerce. Clearly, I was on the losing end of the argument. But by now, I've realized Mom's not gonna change, best just to go along with it. Problem was we weren't going anywhere.
"Mom, here's Blue Bonnet. It's cheaper. $1.99."
"Is it margarine?"
"Um...says vegetable spread."
"Forget it. I've heard it's not good for you."
"Mom! How is it not good for you? I mean, yeah, it's processed. But, come on, vegetables? Gotta be better for you than regular butter!"
"I know what I know. Not good for you."
Back to debating the price of butter. Or as my mom says, "the price of tea in China." Which I still don't understand.
"How 'bout this butter, Mom? It's...$3.50. On sale. You save .50."
"Just in the last year, prices have gone up. It's ridiculous."
A woman burst between us, thrusting an arm into the elusive butter section. "ExCUSE me, I need butter."
Didn't deter my mom.
"Mom, see how fast that lady got her butter?"
"I don't know..."
Truly a weighty decision. I guess. Finally, I just plunked the cheapest item into her cart. "Mom, here's your butter."
"Huh. What a rip-off. Highway robbery."
Happy Thanksgiving to those in the States! Think of me while you're eating butter.
Speaking of giving, my first book, Tex, the Witch Boy is FREE, dangit! Till the end of November. Click the link if you're feeling lucky!
And since I'm in such a giving mood, why not hit up Ghosts of Gannaway, on sale now for .99? Perfect American historical gobbling good scares.
Of course a good part of my time was gobbled up by taking my mother shopping. When you deliberate for fifteen minutes on what type of butter to buy, something's not right.
"What's the cheapest butter?" asked Mom."Looks like $2.99."
"Huh. Highway robbery." Mom's stock answer for everything. Which I guess is pertinent to someone somewhere. Just not to the growing line of agitated shoppers behind us. But Mom wasn't going anywhere.
"Mom! It's the cheapest option. On sale. You want it?"
"I dunno..."
"I've read all the prices on all of the butter to you. $2.99 is the cheapest."
"But...it's all so expensive."
"How about I buy the butter for you? Can we just move along? We still have to hit the meat aisle." (A dreaded encounter that goes on forever).
"Yes, Stuart, I know, I know! But the butter's so expensive. I swear...everyone's out to make a dollar."
Well, yeah, sorta the nature of capitalism and commerce. Clearly, I was on the losing end of the argument. But by now, I've realized Mom's not gonna change, best just to go along with it. Problem was we weren't going anywhere.
"Mom, here's Blue Bonnet. It's cheaper. $1.99."
"Is it margarine?"
"Um...says vegetable spread."
"Forget it. I've heard it's not good for you."
"Mom! How is it not good for you? I mean, yeah, it's processed. But, come on, vegetables? Gotta be better for you than regular butter!"
"I know what I know. Not good for you."
Back to debating the price of butter. Or as my mom says, "the price of tea in China." Which I still don't understand.
"How 'bout this butter, Mom? It's...$3.50. On sale. You save .50."
"Just in the last year, prices have gone up. It's ridiculous."
A woman burst between us, thrusting an arm into the elusive butter section. "ExCUSE me, I need butter."
Didn't deter my mom.
"Mom, see how fast that lady got her butter?"
"I don't know..."
Truly a weighty decision. I guess. Finally, I just plunked the cheapest item into her cart. "Mom, here's your butter."
"Huh. What a rip-off. Highway robbery."
Happy Thanksgiving to those in the States! Think of me while you're eating butter.
Speaking of giving, my first book, Tex, the Witch Boy is FREE, dangit! Till the end of November. Click the link if you're feeling lucky!
And since I'm in such a giving mood, why not hit up Ghosts of Gannaway, on sale now for .99? Perfect American historical gobbling good scares.
November 20, 2015
Go Team Adventure!
My wife and I love having adventures!Okay, we kinda, sorta like having adventures.
Fine, I dread having adventures, flat out loathe them. Sorta less dramatic.
But you need to understand..."adventure" has become a sort of euphemism for us regarding mishaps.
It all started back in the winter of 2005...(cue flashback music, muddying of the screen)...
We were both snowed in at home, couldn't get to work. The entire city was under siege by a giant two-foot tall marshmallow of wetness. Yet something about the day, the climate, the gloom and good-time feeling screamed out "Chili!" Problem was we didn't have all the fixings.
"Hey, wouldn't it be fun to walk to the grocery store?" asked my wife.
I said, "Sure!"
You know how your parents used to moan about trudging through five feet of snow to school "back in the day?" That's what it was like. Only worse.
The snow plows couldn't even make it out of the parking lot. We were knee-deep in snow. The wind whipped the fallen snow around, a blindingly white tornado. Shark teeth of icy death bit into my face. Tears of anguish froze on my frost-bitten cheeks. I hung onto my wife's belt-loop like a prison love-slave. Why? Because I'm a slave to love.
"Are we there yet?" I screamed, because I couldn't see, couldn't hear. Couldn't feel my legs.
"No! We still have six more blocks to go! We're gonna have chili! Just follow in my footsteps!"
What ordinarily takes 15 minutes to walk took an hour. Took me twice as long to thaw out.
Once home, I said, "That sucked!"
My wife laughed, said, "It was an adventure."
Huh. I decided right there my adventuring should be lived vicariously through Indiana Jones.
But it became a thing, the kinda thing only people who are attuned to one another understand.
We've had quite a few adventures since then. Once we were going to my wife's parents' house in Oklahoma, usually a four hour trip.
But we got so wrapped up in chatting, my wife forgot to take an exit to the right highway. Neither one of us realized it until we were in some Godforsaken town way off the beaten path, hours away. Turned into a seven hour journey. Never go from Kansas to Oklahoma and take a shortcut through California. An "adventure."
As I said, I don't like our "adventures." Again, I'm sorta lying. Any "adventure" with my wife is always worth it. Only after the fact.
Are you looking for adventure? Look no further...Secret Society by Stuart R. West (sure, it's kinda sick & twisted adventure, but you'll stay dry and warm on your sofa reading it).
