Lincoln Cole's Blog, page 35

Marc Estes, RRBC Author

Check out this RRBC Author, Marc Estes! 

Website







Four Pieces For Power: Book 1 of the Vendicatori



$14.46



By Marc Estes

When mysterious strangers arrive at the home of Andrew Correo, they provide him with life changing news. He learns of the Vedicatori, a secret organization established by his ancestors, an organization he now has the chance to inherit control over. In order to gain this control, he needs to compete with Robert Stavero in a global scavenger hunt. They must search for four illusive crystals that, when brought together, will tell them their final destination. 

Accomplished writer, Marc Estes, is the award winning author of the Vendicatori Series. His 2014 debut novel, Four Pieces For Power, Book One of the Vendicatori marks the first in a series of Vendicatori novels developed by Mr. Estes. Book Two of the Vendicatori: Rekindle the Flame was released in 2015. He is a two-time winner of the Vermont Playwright's Award for his plays, What Would Dickens Do? and Glass Closets. What Would Dickens Do? also won the 2012 Robert J. Pickering Award for Playwriting Excellence. His play, Gumbo (adapted from the short story by Charles Huckelbury) was a finalist in the 2011 Safe Streets Arts Foundation Short Play Competition and was presented at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. His play The Practice of Killing (co-written with Robert Johnson, and adapted from the short story by Mr. Johnson) has been published in the Spring 2013 edition of Tacenda Literary Magazine. In 2013 he was also awarded the Robert Chesley Award from the Chesley/Bumbalow Foundation in Los Angeles and selected to receive the Artist in Residence Grant from the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation in Taos, New Mexico. His play Going Home was presented at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in the Fall of 2014. Mr. Estes is currently at work on the third installment in the Vendicatori Series, The Dragon and the Phoenix, as well as developing his new 33 series (expected early 2016). Estes is a native of New England and graduate of the University of New Hampshire.

You can also find him on twitter: @vendicatori33

Show him some support as an Indie Author during this Pay it Forward week!

Karl Morgan, RRBC Author

Check out this RRBC author! He's got a lot of great books that are available on Amazon and other platforms! His genres are Sci-Fi and fantasy, and he writes a lot of space operas similar to Graveyard of Empires!

Hand of God (Modern Prophets Book 3)







By Karl Morgan

A quick bio about him:

I love science fiction and fantasy! As a normal, breathing human being, I have my own ideas about how and why we are here. I also have my views on why evil and good exist in this world. Put all of that together and I am blessed to have the chance to share my words with you, my readers.

Writing continues to be an adventure for me. Each story refines my skill and allows me to delve into different aspects of my personality and to better define my world-view. But please do not think that makes me special. We are all on our own adventures, and hopefully, each of our lives allows us to learn and grow. If you are interested in stories that will challenge how you see the universe around you, my books might be right up your alley. Expect the unexpected. I have written space operas where you can travel the universe and see how much and how little things change from planet to planet and species to species. I have and am writing crazy stories about people who somehow end up with incredible talents that can and do change the world. And believe me, the adventure has just begun.

Now I am focused on changing my preconceptions. I am not a fan of very violent stories or movies. I am almost ready to publish a new book that throws that idea into the trash can. If you want to see the cobwebs and dust bunnies in my head, try one of my tales. If you turn out to be as crazy as me, join the adventure! All the best!

Worth checking out his stuff if you're interested in supporting another Indie Author!

Great Southwest Book Festival

Second Chances has earned an Honorable Mention in the 2016 Great Southwest Book Festival! Just got the email today! That is another competition it's been honored in, and now I'm just waiting to hear back from several more! It's a long process.

Also finished up the first draft of Raven's Peak, so hopefully soon I'll be able to get it ready for publication and build some notice of it's own.

Thanks!

Book Loft Sunday, March 13 at 1pm

Hey, everyone!

I'll be at the BookLoft on March 13th to sign copies of Second Chances! Can't wait to meet everyone out there and it should be a lot of fun! Come out and say hello!

Underground Book Reviews: Second Chances

The novel started very strongly for me, with the opening scene immediately commanding both my attention and my empathy. A black mother listens at the back of a crowded school hall, while bigoted white parents take to the stage in turn, to voice their concerns about the prospect of students from a deprived area being given access to their school. While they wring their hands and come up with various reasons why this is all a bad idea, the mother’s two daughters are listening in obvious discomfort. I felt uncomfortable myself, cringing on their behalf. Things seem to work out for this family for a while though. The younger daughter, Kenni, gets into the school, and before long the white parents realize they had very little to be upset about. Meanwhile, the older daughter Nicole is accepted as an intern by white lawyer Richard, after his wife politely points out that he only ever seems to hire white people. Things start to unravel when Kenni is then told she has to go back to her old school on a technicality, and whilst in the middle of trying to fight this decision, the mother goes missing.  The novel quickly then propels the older daughter Nicole into main character status as she is forced to accept responsibility for her younger siblings, get Kenni back into the good school, and find out what happened to their mother, all while trying to work, go to college and keep on top of things as an intern.

At this point, despite a little too much ‘telling’ every now and then by the author, I was enjoying the story very much. I believed in the characters, and wanted everything to work out for them. Nicole is a great protagonist, and it was interesting to see the journey Richard went on as well. On the surface he has a perfect life as a successful lawyer, but it turns out he has his own demons too. These come to light when his estranged brother turns up asking him to come and visit the rehab clinic he has set up. It is obvious that the brothers have chosen very different paths in life, but why is that, what does Richard need to face from his past, and can they be reconciled once he has?

As Nicole struggles to find out what happened to her mother, Richard tries very clumsily to help her, whilst dealing with his own issues. As I mentioned before, every now and then I felt like there was too much ‘telling’ and not enough ‘showing’ in the story. However, it was not enough to irritate me, and as the book was otherwise well written, with great characters and dialogue, I was able to get past it. On the plus side, this book is a well thought out and executed examination of modern class and race divisions in America. It has believable characters, who you begin to really care about.

On the down side, the book was too short for me. I felt like the section where Richard tries to counsel a young alcoholic called Ben at the clinic went on too long, and the book seemed to end too abruptly after this. This part was well written and interesting, don’t get me wrong, but it seemed to take everything off on a tangent, away from Richard and his character. This would have been fine if the book had been longer, as there would have been the time to get to know this new young character, to identify and empathize with him. I could see how his own personal tragedies had an impact on Richard coming to terms with his own, however, I just couldn’t help feeling a little short changed that the book ended so soon after this. It was not a poor ending, nor was it unrealistic, I just felt like it came too soon. It was as if by the time I had gotten to understand the characters and learned their back story, it was all tied up and over. It is, however, a credit to the author that I felt like this about his characters. They were too good, and I simply wanted more.

On the whole, this was an enjoyable and well written novel. It examines timeless themes of social inequality, prejudice, and the very human urge to keep hoping and trying for that second chance.

Second Chances

Giveaway for Second Chances on Amazon! Win your copy today!

https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/d0817b52c0afbbd9

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Finished First Draft of Raven's Peak

Finally! Took forever, but I finally have the first draft of Raven's Peak put together. It's right over 60,000 words, and during rewrite I plan to add several important sequences, so I'm expecting at least 75-80k by the time all is said and done.

It's rewarding being able to finally stop trying to stumble to the end. The last few scenes were hard to write since they are so important, but now that I'm done I'll be able to start cleaning it up for publication!

Woohoo!

Second Chances Sample

First two chapters of Second Chances! Pick up your copy today!

Chapter 1

 

“This is not a race issue. This is a commitment to education issue.”

The room erupted in applause, as though saying the words made them true. A man whistled in the back, cheering wildly. The blonde woman stood at the microphone in a yellow sundress, nodding emphatically at the crowd. Her demeanor was aggressive as she spoke:

“I have lived in underprivileged areas. What I am saying today is not about race. And I just want to say to anyone who wants to cry that it is a race issue, I'm sorry. That's your prejudice, calling me a racist because my skin is white, and I'm concerned about my children's education and safety.”

Lakeisha felt a strong mix of emotions, none solid enough to grasp onto. Hatred, anger, despair, frustration, they all swirled and ebbed inside her. Her skin was darker than the other people in the room, but that didn’t give them the right to treat her like a criminal. To treat her daughter, not yet a teenager, like an animal. She looked down at her innocent child, wondering what was going through her mind.

Kenni was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the blonde mother currently addressing the crowd with a blank expression on her young face. She had deep black skin like her father but her mother’s nose.  It was—thankfully—the only trait she had inherited from Lakeisha. All of her good parts came from James.  

She always reminded Lakeisha of her late husband, a bittersweet token of what they once had and was no longer. Kenni was eleven, not really sure what was going on at this town hall meeting, yet she could still feel the hatred and fear emanating from the audience of white parents.

The hate wasn’t directed at Kenni or Lakeisha. Not precisely. There was never a mention of names or examples, only abstract comparisons. The fog of hate was simply present in the auditorium, an apparition filling the air as people vented their frustration and anger.  

The bleachers were packed in the school auditorium at Northmont middle school, row upon row of well-dressed white parents. The murmur running through the crowd was that of a cornered animal, ready to strike and protect its young.  Most of their white children had been left at home with babysitters while the parents went to do battle.

“I can’t believe this,” Nichole murmured from beside her. She shuffled a step closer and folded her arms defensively, frowning.  “I can’t believe they would say things like this.”  

Nichole was her elder daughter, having just turned seventeen and soon to graduate from high school.  Her skin was lighter than Kenni’s, but she still stood out in the crowd.

“Neither can I,” Lakeisha said.

They stood with a small pocket of black and Latino parents, certainly no more than twenty, huddled in the back right corner of the auditorium. Most were stuck standing since seats hadn’t been set up this far back. They didn’t feel like mingling, so instead were tucked away and out of sight of the white parents filling the rest of the area. 

This group gathered together in quiet desperation, amazed the white townsfolk were so brazen and outspoken about the recent court order: a few weeks earlier, an injunction had been put in place that would add diversity to their school by allowing more students to be bussed in from neighboring districts. 

Lakeisha had brought Kenni along because this represented her future. She was one of the students who would be starting at Northmont in a few weeks. After living in a poverty-stricken neighborhood for fifteen years, Lakeisha had finally won the right for her children to change schools, along with a selection of other parents in her district. 

It had been a long-running lawsuit that would send hundreds of low-income children, mostly black, to this highly ranked suburban school. Northmont School District’s minority numbers were in the single digits, so the judge thought it would be good for the school as well. 

It was too late for Rico or Nichole to benefit from the lawsuit. Rico had already graduated, and Nichole was in her final year, but Kenni and Tyler would have a better chance at a good education. They would be leaving one of the worst performing schools in the state and attending one of the best.

This was supposed to be a public forum, a chance for all of the parents to come together and discuss the new integration plan and how best to enact the new policies.

But that wasn’t what this was. It had devolved into a public forum of outrage, a chance for parents to shout and receive adulation. How dare they allow these ‘hoodlums’ into their school? How dare the judge take away their right to self-segregate?  

There was no quiet conversation; no debate. Person after person picked up the microphone only to reinforce the prejudices of the crowd.  This was an echo chamber, rising in volume.

Lakeisha was regretting bringing her youngest daughter along now. She had expected…well, she certainly expected some sort of response. But this? It was the twenty-first century.  She had never expected this kind of hatred to be the topic of conversation.

But, maybe she should have.  Had things really changed that much in suburban America?

A man walked to the microphone after the blonde woman, big, burly, and wearing a polo shirt: “Maybe we should look at all of this a different way.  The state says we can’t do anything about it. That the lawsuit is through and their hands are tied. That we can’t fight it. But maybe if we change the start time of the school day…move it forward twenty minutes, or an hour. Maybe then fewer children will want to come!”

Roaring applause, as though the man had just delivered a stirring speech during wartime. Not as though he had just suggested sabotaging the lives of hundreds of innocent children; not as though he were offering a petty solution to keep disenfranchised children out of this predominantly white school.

Another woman stood, willowy in a red dress. She took the stage:

“We are talking about violent behavior that is coming in with my second grader, my third grader, and my middle schooler that I'm very worried about. And I want to know—you have no choice, like me—I want to know when they will install metal detectors. I want to know where they will be in our schools and who is going to pay for them.”

More cheers. Metal detectors, not books. That was the concern that received cheers from this crowd.

Another man:

“Being from a nearby town, I've watched the dismantling of an award-winning school. I've watched it. I went to private school because I had to—not because I wanted to, but because I had to. So I know the routine.”

And then yet another person voiced their concern:

“We need security. The same security they had in their schools.  I deserve to not have to worry about my children getting stabbed, or taking a drug, or getting robbed because that's the issue.”

And each time, the crowd of white parents cheered and the crowd of black and Latino onlookers withdrew a little further. Lakeisha was heartbroken but just as determined about her child going to the school as she was before coming to the meeting.  

More, even. She’d hoped things would be different, but if she had to claw and fight her way to get her children a better education, she would.  It was just disheartening that she would have to fight at all. Why were these people so committed in this battle against fellow Americans?

She thought to take the microphone. To tell her side of the story, the side that was being ignored in this entire discussion. She wanted to defend her family, tell these people that she also wanted the best for her children. She wanted to tell them that they weren’t different and they didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

But she didn’t take the microphone. There were a lot of people here tonight to speak, but none of them had shown up to listen.

“It’s just…” Nichole started to say.

“…unbelievable?” Lakeisha finished for her.

Nichole nodded. “I don’t get it.”

“They are afraid of change,” Lakeisha said.  “Everyone is. They just want to give that change a face.”

Nichole was silent for a second.  “You mean our face?”

“Exactly.”

Kenni looked up at her mother, a confused expression on her young face.  Lakeisha saw the way she scrunched up her nose, the same movement Kenni’s father always made when he was concerned about something. It solidified the resolve Lakeisha held in her heart to finish this.  They would do this as a family, no matter the cost, for him.  It’s what he had wanted.

“Are they talking about us?” Kenni asked.

Lakeisha couldn’t think of a good answer. Of course, they were talking about them, at least abstractly how they believed them to be, but that didn’t feel like the right thing to tell her eleven-year-old daughter. How could she explain something like this to her child? Why did she have to explain this?

“I don’t know,” she said instead.

“They don’t even know us,” Kenni replied.

“No,” Lakeisha agreed.  “But they think they do.”

A board member stood up, waving his hands to quiet the crowd. “We feel the same way, but there is nothing we can do about it.  The courts have ruled and we don’t like this any more than you do.”

“We will just leave!” one man shouted from the back of the auditorium.

“They can’t do this to us!”

“I don’t want my children to be at risk!”

“We shouldn’t…”

And on and on it went.

 

***

 

“I don’t want to go to that school!”

“I know you don’t, honey,” Lakeisha said. It had been almost a two-hour drive home from Northmont high school after the town hall meeting, so she was exhausted.  All she wanted to do was take a hot bath and relax, but first she had to get her children into bed.

Something Kenni wasn’t interested in right now. 

“I won’t go!”

“You have too.”

“But I won’t know anyone there. And all of the children will be white.  They won’t like me.”

Lakeisha knelt down in front of her daughter.  They were in their kitchen at home, just returned from the meeting, and it was getting late.  It was the end of summer, so her children didn’t have school in the morning, but she still had to work.

“They will love you,” she said, “because you’re my little sweetheart. My little angel.  How can they not love you?”

Kenni frowned.  “But what if they don’t?”

“Then that will be their loss. You just need to be strong, Kenni.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, eyes falling to the floor. 

Lakeisha gently lifted her chin up so she could look her in the eyes.  “I know you don’t,” she said. “But I need you to be strong.  For me, and for your father.  Remember how much he wanted you to go to a better school?”

“I remember,” Kenni said softly.  A tear slipped down her cheek.  “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Lakeisha said.  “Now go brush your teeth and get into bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

“Okay,” Kenni said. She disappeared down the hallway, her tiny feet padding against the hardwood floor.  Lakeisha watched her go, and then stood up.

A sharp pain flared across his midsection and she cried out.  She leaned heavily against the counter, fighting a wave of dizziness.

Nichole came running into the kitchen.  “What’s wrong?”

Lakeisha forced a laugh, biting back the pain.  “I bumped into the counter,” she lied.  “Hit my side pretty hard.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  Do you know where Rico is? He was supposed to be watching Tyler.”

“He’s at Anita’s house,” Nichole replied.  “Headed over right after we got home.  He did put Tyler to bed, though.”  

“Such a hurry to go?”

“He’s in love,” Nichole said with a laugh.  

“He didn’t say anything.”

“He called me,” Nichole said.  “A while ago.”

“Oh.”

“You really need a cell phone, Mom,” Nichole said.  

She waved her hand in dismissal.  “Can’t afford it right now. But I’ll look into it later. I promise.”

“Okay. But I’m telling you, they come in handy.”

“I’ve gotten by this long without one,” she said. “I think I’ll be alright.”

Nichole headed back into the living room. Lakeisha grabbed a drink from the fridge and then followed.  Her side was still hurting, but it was a dull pain now.

“Is Tyler asleep, or watching TV?”

“Asleep,” Nichole said.  “Out like a light. Boy can that child snore.”

“I know,” Lakeisha said, laughing. “You should have heard his father. That man sounded like he was sawing logs all night. If Tyler is anything like him, we’ll need to put sound proofing in his walls so we can get some sleep.”

“I remember,” Nichole said. “Before the accident, the entire house would shake when Dad went to bed.”

“Yeah,” Lakeisha said.  She turned to her daughter. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look you get when you want to say something.”

“It’s nothing.”

“What is it?”

Nichole bit her lip.  “Is it really worth it? Sending Kenni, I mean.  They don’t want her there.”

“They’re just overreacting.”

“But what if…I mean, I’m sure she will be safe, but…”

“That sounds like something they would say,” Lakeisha said. “We can’t stoop to that level. Kenni will be fine, and after a few days, no one will even remember tonight’s meeting.  It just takes time for things to become normal, and once they do people realize they were freaked out over nothing.”

“I know, I just mean…this was something Dad really wanted…”

Nichole trailed off, realizing what she was saying.  Lakeisha sighed.

“I’m doing this for him. You know that, right?”

Nichole nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Did you think about going to Northmont too?”

“I did,” Nichole said. “But I’m not going to transfer. It’s my senior year, and it would be too hard to transition.”

“That’s alright,” she said.  “You have too many friends. Too much to give up. It’ll be rough for Kenni, but she’ll be alright. She’s a strong girl.”

“She is,” Nichole agreed.  “And she’ll get through this.”

“How about the college hunt? Still searching for somewhere you want to go?”

“I think I decided on one I like.”

“If you need any help, let me know.”

Nichole smiled.  “I will, Mom. I promise.”

Lakeisha knew Nichole would never ask for help. Lakeisha had never gone to college though she’d always wanted to, so it wasn’t her area of expertise. She helped as much as she could, and her goal was to make Nichole as strong and independent as possible. 

College was simply outside her world of knowledge. She was intensely proud that Nichole was going.

“Maybe you should look for a part time job. Or an internship.”

“I don’t know about an internship,” Nichole said.  “It seems like a lot of work and I won’t even get paid.”

“It’s worth it, though,” she said.  “For the experience.”

Nichole shrugged.  “Maybe.  I’ll ask around and see if any law firms are accepting resumes.  It can’t hurt.”

Another sharp pain ripped across Lakeisha’s abdomen.  She doubled over in pain.

“Mom?”

“I’m alright,” she said, gasping.  She forced herself to stand.  “Guess I hit my side harder than I thought.”

Nichole wasn’t convinced. “Should we get you to a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said.  “I just need some sleep.”

She forced herself to smile and then walked down the hall to her bedroom.  Agony threatened to rip her stomach open, but she refused to show it.

She made it inside the room, locked the door, and let the pain overtake her. She buried her face into her pillow and curled into a ball, crying.

Ten minutes later, the pain subsided.  She lay on the bed, exhausted and with a sheen of sweat on her skin.

The episodes were getting worse and more frequent. They had started in her side a few months earlier and gradually spread, covering her entire midsection and intensifying.

She had gone to the emergency room when it first started.  The doctor said it was probably indigestion or gas. They hadn’t bothered to run any tests and told her it would pass but to come back in if it got any worse.

The bill she received had been in the hundreds for a simple examination, something she couldn’t afford; she hadn’t made a second trip.

A few minutes passed and she was feeling better. Good enough to get up and walk around a little bit. She wandered to the kitchen and opened the back door, breathing the cool night air.  The house was quiet, which meant her children were asleep.

She lay back down in the lonely bed, wishing like she did every night that she still had her husband beside her.  He died five years earlier in a car accident, only months after Tyler was born.  He had left her alone to raise the children with barely enough life insurance to pay for his funeral.

He was the one that had fought to get his children into a better school. He was the one that believed in the future, that his children deserved a better life than their parents had.  He was the one that added their names on the lawsuit and demanded equality from a deaf world.

And he was gone.

Chapter 2One year laterRichard

 

“Remind me why I went into law.”

“You did it so you could help people,” Deborah replied, not looking up from her magazine.

“Really?” Richard said, scratching his chin.  “I thought I did it so I could bring paperwork home with me every night.”

“That too.”

Richard sighed, rubbing his tired eyes and glancing over at his wife. She was sitting on the couch beside him, reading Vanity Fair in her nightgown. She had shoulder length brunette hair and green paste on her face that was supposed to clean out her pores. 

They spoke quietly, just above a whisper, so they wouldn’t bother their children. Richard was still in his work clothes even though it was almost ten o’clock.  Both of their children sat on the other couch, watching some police procedural show. The volume was kept low and they sat close.

“I think I watched too many TV shows when I was young,” Richard said. “I thought it was all glamor and courtrooms, giving closing speeches that would win over a jury.”

“You give great speeches honey.”

“I haven’t been in a courtroom in half a dozen years,” he replied.  “Ever since I was a public defender. Now I just go to board meetings and cut deals with other lawyers to keep their clients from being litigated.”

“Do you miss the court rooms?”

“A little,” he said, shrugging.  “More than I thought I would.”

“When you worked as a public defender you told me you hated it.”

He shrugged.  “Most of the time I did.  But I hated the cases I was being given, not the practice itself.  I just didn’t like the system: it wasn’t innocent until proven guilty, it was—”

“Guilty until proven rich,” Deborah interrupted, glancing up at him and smiling.  “You’ve told me.”

He chuckled.  “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“What are you working on tonight?” she asked.  She picked up her cup of tea and took a sip.   

 “A filing.  One of our clients is getting sued in a patent dispute, so we’re counter suing.”

“Is their claim legitimate?”

“In patent law?  I don’t think anyone even knows what a legitimate lawsuit would look like.”

“Ah.”

“I have to submit a few documents tomorrow, then see how the other team decides to play it.  If they want to settle out of court then it should get resolved in a few weeks for under a million.”

“So you have some time?” she said.  “You don’t need to get it all done tonight.”

“No,” he said.  “But I do need to look through these resumes.”

He held up a stack of papers. It looked to be several hundred sheets thick.

“For what?”

“A new intern,” he said.  “Our last two graduated, and we need someone else to handle copyediting.”

“Need any help?”

“I think I’m okay,” he said.  “I’ve narrowed it down to these four candidates. They are the most qualified.”

“Can I see the others?” Deborah asked, gesturing toward the stack. 

He shrugged and handed it over.  “Sure.”

She accepted the stack and set it next to her, glancing at the top few resumes.  Richard watched her out of the corner of his eye, curious what she would say.  One of the things he always loved about Deborah was that she had an opinion about everything.

That, and she loved to argue.

“What time is it?” she asked.

He glanced at his watch. “Almost ten.”

“Ah,” she said, leaning forward and setting her tea down. She raised her voice and addressed the children: “That means it is bedtime.”  

“One more show?” Sally pleaded. 

She was just past her fourteenth birthday, and she also loved to argue.  The only thing she liked more than arguing with her parents was annoying them. Richard knew that, no matter what his wife said, she would stay up to watch TV in her bedroom until past midnight.

“Bed,” Deborah repeated.  

Francis, their other child, yawned.  “Okay,” he said.  He was younger than his sister by a few years, and completely the opposite in personality: he would go out of his way to keep his parents happy, which was good and bad. Richard always worried that they were forcing him to participate in sports and clubs that he didn’t want to do, but was too scared to tell them so.

“You both finished your homework, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” they said in unison.

“Then brush your teeth and finish combing your hair…”

All three disappeared from the living room, leaving Richard alone.  He turned the television off and looked over the four resumes, trying to decide which candidate he liked the most.

A few minutes later Deborah reappeared and sat next to him.  She didn’t say anything, just grabbed a few papers off her stack and started glancing at them.

“I like this one,” Richard said after a few minutes.  “He was on his school’s debate team for three years and they went to the state finals twice. He’s a junior.”

He handed the resume to Deborah, and she glanced it over.

“This one,” he continued, holding up another, “is starting his freshman year of college, so he’s going to be able to work with us a lot longer before graduating.  He went to a better high school, too.”

“Mmhmm,” Deborah said, glancing at the offered sheet.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I just said: ‘mmhmm.’”

“You always say that when you disagree with me about something.”

“I don’t disagree. They are both great candidates. And I’m sure those other two are as well,” she said, pointing at the other ones in his lap.

“But…?” he prompted.

She laughed.  “But, three of them are men and all of them are white. Your last two interns were also white men.”

He frowned at the papers.  “These are the best candidates.”

“Are they?” she asked.  “On paper, these four are great applicants, but no better than many of the others you already dismissed.”

“You don’t think they are qualified?”  

“I’m not saying they aren’t qualified, but you chose children from rich families: they are all coming from amazing high schools and going to even better colleges. All four of them come from money and will end up making a lot of it whether or not they get this internship.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, “why not give this opportunity to someone who could actually use the help?”

Richard felt a little defensive: “We are only looking for a copyeditor.”

“That’s all you want out of this.  What do they get out of it?  For these four applicants, your firm is just a stepping stone, along with many others, that will help them achieve their goals.  For some people, this could mean a lot more.”

Richard thought about it for a second.  “Who do you recommend?”

“Her,” Deborah said, offering a sheet to him.  Richard hadn’t really noticed it in the pile, dismissing it after only a cursory glance.

“She went to an unaccredited high school,” he said, looking it over.  “That’s as far as I looked on her resume.”

“She graduated with honors,” Deborah said.  “She also got really good test scores on the SAT and ACT.”

“Above average,” he said, shrugging, “but the same as all of the other candidates. Everyone here is above average.”

“But she worked harder to get there,” Deborah said.  “Since, as you pointed out, she went to an unaccredited high school.”

He nodded, conceding the point.  “She doesn’t have a lot of extracurricular activities listed.”

“You said all you wanted was a copyeditor. Not an Olympic athlete.”

“Yes, but…” he trailed off, not really sure what he was trying to say.  “It’s nice to see people who can put more down on paper, even if it’s only mostly true. It shows that they have confidence in themselves, that they know how to play the game.”

“Or, that their parents know how to play it,” Deborah said. “Maybe this girl doesn’t know how to manipulate things in her favor. Maybe you could teach her.”

Richard sighed, setting the resume down.  

“You said I only picked white candidates.  Is that why you picked this one? When I went through the resumes, I didn’t take race into account.”

“Maybe you should,” she said.

“So I should give this resume a leg up because she’s black?” he asked.

“You said yourself that she’s on par with the other applicants, so why didn’t she make it into your top four to begin with?”

Richard didn’t have a good answer for that.  Part of him was convinced it had nothing to do with the other candidates being white. But another part of him wasn’t so sure.

“All things being equal, I would say ‘no’ you shouldn’t add race into the mix,” Deborah continued.  “But, are all things equal?”

Richard didn’t respond, but he did accept the resume.  He glanced it over, frowning.

“So, you think Nichole Blake is the right choice?”

“I don’t know,” Deborah said, sipping her tea.  “But, I think you have to ask the question: are you only looking for help, or do you want to help someone else?”

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Second Chances Won the Regional Excellence Book Award

I got the email this weekend, and Second Chances has won its second Literary Award. This one was from the Regional Excellence Book Award for the Fiction Category in 2016. 

March will have a lot more contest results and feedback, so here's to looking forward and getting some more good news in the coming weeks!

Thanks everyone! I adjusted my Second Chances page to include both awards, and I added them to my Amazon page too!

Second Chances Won New Apple Award!

Just got an email today from the New Apple Award Program that Second Chances is a Medalist Winner for their Visionary category! They only pick one winner per category, so they will send out a press release for the book and some other stuff in the coming weeks!

So now, It's a finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards, a Winner in the New Apple Awards, and It has received positive feedback from Reader Views and Literary Classics, though those ones won't post any award information for at least a few weeks if not months.

Here's to hoping this is just the beginning of awards rolling in for this work!