T.C.Winters's Blog, page 3
October 6, 2014
Paper copies are here!
The October winds are stirring the trees outside my window. Fall is the start of the much anticipated slower season for me. From now to the end of February I will be working on Sweet & Savage and I hope to have it available in the summer of 2015. Marketing turned out to be a huge time suck for me, but I'm learning, and it gets easier every day. If anyone has any advice I am willing to learn.
Speaking of marketing, the paperback edition of Blue Falcon has been added to Amazon and Createspace. Ten free copies will be given away on Goodreads. Click the link below to enter.
On Saturday October 11 I will be attending an author signing at the Greenwood Public Library. I will be in Cincinnati at the end of October and at the Carmel Public Library on November 1st. I would love to meet you, so be sure to stop by my table.
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Blue Falcon by Tia Catalina
Speaking of marketing, the paperback edition of Blue Falcon has been added to Amazon and Createspace. Ten free copies will be given away on Goodreads. Click the link below to enter.
On Saturday October 11 I will be attending an author signing at the Greenwood Public Library. I will be in Cincinnati at the end of October and at the Carmel Public Library on November 1st. I would love to meet you, so be sure to stop by my table.
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Blue Falcon by Tia Catalina Giveaway ends November 04, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter to win
August 30, 2014
Learning Curve
As of today, my book, Blue Falcon, has been out for two weeks. In this short period if time, I have gained a decade worth of knowledge about social media, audio books, and print books. None of this could have been accomplished without the help of my friends and fellow writers. It does take a village!
To all my readers, a heartfelt thank you. You are the best.
To Donya Lynne and Jillian Jacob, I owe you both.
Until next time,
Tia
To all my readers, a heartfelt thank you. You are the best.
To Donya Lynne and Jillian Jacob, I owe you both.
Until next time,
Tia
August 23, 2014
Networking
Just spent a week in an RWA networking class. WOW! There was a lot I didn't know about Facebook and Twitter. Still trying to process it all, but I'd love to hook-up with my classmates. Give me a shout-out and I'll connect.
August 13, 2014
Excerpt Three
We went south along Piestewa Freeway, then east on Thomas before pulling up to a squat, one-level, concrete-block building covered in white stucco. Someone thought the stucco made a good canvas—the side of the building had graffiti plastered all over it. Every cop in Arizona must have heard the call, because the scene teemed with activity.
Jared had the door open before he put the car in park. “Don’t move,” he
ordered.
Screw that. I hopped out and rode his heels to the front door. A blinking red sign indicated the establishment was a gentlemen’s club. The sign anchored the yellow police tape that draped around the crime scene. The double doors to the lounge area stood wide open, held in place by two bar stools. Jared stopped suddenly and I collided with his back.
He turned around and favored me with a heavy sigh. “Stay,” he barked.
I heeled, but not before I got a peek inside. A headless corpse rested against a stage, his torso upright, his neck a coagulated waterfall of blood. A staging area had been set up to preserve the evidence. From the doorway, I could see the stain on the floor where his life had run dry. The rusty smell of blood reminded me of Iraq. The image didn’t exactly whisk me away to a blissful oasis. I no longer wished to venture inside.
Jared motioned to a uniformed cop. “You. Walk her back to the car and make sure she stays put.”
To me, he said, “Behave. It’s my ass on the line.”
This drew a few curious stares from the officers within earshot. Their faces went blank when they realized who had spoken.
Jared might have my vote for Prom King, but Mr. Congeniality is off the table.
Jared had the door open before he put the car in park. “Don’t move,” he
ordered.
Screw that. I hopped out and rode his heels to the front door. A blinking red sign indicated the establishment was a gentlemen’s club. The sign anchored the yellow police tape that draped around the crime scene. The double doors to the lounge area stood wide open, held in place by two bar stools. Jared stopped suddenly and I collided with his back.
He turned around and favored me with a heavy sigh. “Stay,” he barked.
I heeled, but not before I got a peek inside. A headless corpse rested against a stage, his torso upright, his neck a coagulated waterfall of blood. A staging area had been set up to preserve the evidence. From the doorway, I could see the stain on the floor where his life had run dry. The rusty smell of blood reminded me of Iraq. The image didn’t exactly whisk me away to a blissful oasis. I no longer wished to venture inside.
Jared motioned to a uniformed cop. “You. Walk her back to the car and make sure she stays put.”
To me, he said, “Behave. It’s my ass on the line.”
This drew a few curious stares from the officers within earshot. Their faces went blank when they realized who had spoken.
Jared might have my vote for Prom King, but Mr. Congeniality is off the table.
August 12, 2014
New Excerpt
Les wasn’t much for small talk, so he dove right in. “She’s Grace Garcia. A Marine. Honorable discharge. I found the first sergeant from her old platoon. He thanked us for calling. Seemed she hadn’t been receiving help from the VA for a war injury, and she’s cashed only about half of her benefit checks. She’s been off the grid for a while. Apparently, some of the guys in her old squad were fixing to come hunting for her. They think she’s a hero or something. Got the limp in a firefight on the streets of Ramadi.”
Ex-military. That explained her careful surveillance in front of Mom’s house. “What the hell was she doing riding around the streets of the deadliest city in Iraq?”
“She was outside the wire with five other Marines in an APC.”
“Les, I don’t speak Marine. What’s an APC?”
“Armored personnel carrier. Sorta like a tank, but it transports people. Things seemed hinky, and they went out to do a little recon to see what was going on in the area. Whenever there’s a chance of interviewing a female citizen, the custom is to bring along a female Marine.”
“Did the tank run over a roadside bomb or get hit with an IED?
“Nah, they encountered a confrontation of some sort in town. A couple of the guys got shot up pretty bad. She grabbed an M-4 and protected them until reinforcements could get there. They want to honor her for being a hero, but during the firefight, one of the bastards came out of a house using a child as a shield. I don’t have the details, but the kid died and Garcia got hurt. She hasn’t been right since, and she’s refusing any type of commendation.”
This information should have awed me into silence, but I had to ask, “Are you sure she wasn’t out playing Pied Piper with the boys in her platoon?”
He grunted. “Yeah, happened the day before they transferred the area to the Army. Some sorta shindig was scheduled the next day where the Marines handed over control of the city and shifted the flags. The insurgents planned an attack during the ceremony. Thought everyone would be preoccupied. Their little joy ride forced the rats outta their hidey holes.”
He took a swig of coffee, and I waited for him to continue. “There had been plans for a full-scale war the following day. Their outing put a stop to it. Saved the lives of an unknown number of our military, both Army and
Marine.”
Ex-military. That explained her careful surveillance in front of Mom’s house. “What the hell was she doing riding around the streets of the deadliest city in Iraq?”
“She was outside the wire with five other Marines in an APC.”
“Les, I don’t speak Marine. What’s an APC?”
“Armored personnel carrier. Sorta like a tank, but it transports people. Things seemed hinky, and they went out to do a little recon to see what was going on in the area. Whenever there’s a chance of interviewing a female citizen, the custom is to bring along a female Marine.”
“Did the tank run over a roadside bomb or get hit with an IED?
“Nah, they encountered a confrontation of some sort in town. A couple of the guys got shot up pretty bad. She grabbed an M-4 and protected them until reinforcements could get there. They want to honor her for being a hero, but during the firefight, one of the bastards came out of a house using a child as a shield. I don’t have the details, but the kid died and Garcia got hurt. She hasn’t been right since, and she’s refusing any type of commendation.”
This information should have awed me into silence, but I had to ask, “Are you sure she wasn’t out playing Pied Piper with the boys in her platoon?”
He grunted. “Yeah, happened the day before they transferred the area to the Army. Some sorta shindig was scheduled the next day where the Marines handed over control of the city and shifted the flags. The insurgents planned an attack during the ceremony. Thought everyone would be preoccupied. Their little joy ride forced the rats outta their hidey holes.”
He took a swig of coffee, and I waited for him to continue. “There had been plans for a full-scale war the following day. Their outing put a stop to it. Saved the lives of an unknown number of our military, both Army and
Marine.”
August 11, 2014
Excerpt from Blue Falcon
A postcard with a twenty-year-old postmark sat on top of the heap. The rightful recipient was Graciano Garcia and the author was his former lover, Joy Cooper, begging him to come back to her. My mailbox reads G. Garcia, because spelling out Grace is asking for trouble in this neighborhood. The similar names explained why I had received the postcard in error. After reading the postscript, I felt compelled to make up for the two decades the card had been missing in action. The signature line said, "Always Faithful,
Joy."
Semper Fi.
The Marine Corps motto. Always faithful. The words spoke to me. I couldn’t let
this Joy think the man she loved had dumped her. I wanted to let her know her
Graciano had never received her plea. In the past five days, I’d contacted and eliminated every possible Graciano Garcia in Phoenix. Out of options, I started searching for Joy Cooper. The washed-out return address indicated the postcard came from the Phoenix area. With the help of the library computer, I’d found one local woman with the same name. She lived in the Willo Historic District of Phoenix, a tree-lined area known for historical homes with multi-paned windows and wide front porches.
Joy."
Semper Fi.
The Marine Corps motto. Always faithful. The words spoke to me. I couldn’t let
this Joy think the man she loved had dumped her. I wanted to let her know her
Graciano had never received her plea. In the past five days, I’d contacted and eliminated every possible Graciano Garcia in Phoenix. Out of options, I started searching for Joy Cooper. The washed-out return address indicated the postcard came from the Phoenix area. With the help of the library computer, I’d found one local woman with the same name. She lived in the Willo Historic District of Phoenix, a tree-lined area known for historical homes with multi-paned windows and wide front porches.
July 29, 2014
Romance Writers of America Conference
The RWA national conference in San Antonio ended last weekend with an awards ceremony that was filled with pomp and loaded with fashion. The River Walk provided a perfect backdrop for networking and educational programs. I visited two military facilities and had an opportunity to learn from some of our real life heroes. While I am not cut out for this type of service, I admire and respect the men and women in our armed forces. Allow me to take this opportunity to thank those individuals who serve our country. You all have my deepest respect.
Until next time,
Tia
Until next time,
Tia
July 7, 2014
New Beginnings
Seven years ago publishing a book was something I only dreamed of doing, but with the help of my RWA chapter sisters, and Token Dude, I am set to release a romantic suspense novel in August of 2014. My local chapter has provided me with an enviable education and critique partners who have managed to not only tolerate my sarcastic wit, but have taught me to sharpen it.
Understanding my limitations, as well as my talents, has taken more time and patience than I thought possible. For me, having a professional editor and proofreader is a must. If I type a boo-boo, a boo-boo it will remain until someone points it out to me. While working with critique partners, I learned I have a talent for brainstorming. Not all of the storms in my brain are good ones, but being able to help someone else dig down deep and develop an idea is priceless.
For all of the potential writers out there, the best advice I can give you is to not go it alone. Find a local writers group and confess your deep, dark desire to write. Believe it or not, no one will laugh. They'll tell you to pull up a chair and make yourself at home.
Until next time,
Tia
Understanding my limitations, as well as my talents, has taken more time and patience than I thought possible. For me, having a professional editor and proofreader is a must. If I type a boo-boo, a boo-boo it will remain until someone points it out to me. While working with critique partners, I learned I have a talent for brainstorming. Not all of the storms in my brain are good ones, but being able to help someone else dig down deep and develop an idea is priceless.
For all of the potential writers out there, the best advice I can give you is to not go it alone. Find a local writers group and confess your deep, dark desire to write. Believe it or not, no one will laugh. They'll tell you to pull up a chair and make yourself at home.
Until next time,
Tia
