I didn’t have an opportunity last Sunday to post my weekl...

I didn’t have an opportunity last Sunday to post my weekly blog. Sylvia and I, along with our three cats, made a trip to Maryland and Washington, D.C. for a much needed vacation and to spend time with our son. We’re back home now, which the cats greatly appreciate as they missed being on our deck where they spend a lot of time.

The Detroit Tigers are clinging onto first place in the American League Central Division, although they only have a 6.5 game lead over second place Cleveland. The Tigers are currently nineteen games above 500, with a 84-65 record, with about thirteen games left in the regular season. Go Tigers!

The Detroit Lions lost their first game of the 2025 NFL season, falling to the Green Bay Packers 27-13. Hopefully, the Lions can bounce back today against the Chicago Bears. 

The Michigan Wolverines began the 2025 NCAA football season ranked 14th. After losing last week to Oklahoma, they plummeted to 23rd. Hopefully, after yesterday’s resounding win against Central Michigan University 63-3, they’ll climb back up the rankings. 

The Michigan State Spartans aren’t ranked yet this year, but currently have a 3-0 record, beating Youngstown State University yesterday 41-24. Hopefully, they’ll make it into the rankings soon.

“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” — Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on September 14th, the thirty-seventh Sunday of 2025 and the second one in September. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Francisco Gómez de Quevedo, Spanish poet and writer; Gisbert Cuper, Dutch classicist and historian; Alexander von Humboldt, German naturalist and explorer (Kosmos); Theodor Storm, German judge and author (Immensee, Der Schimmelreiter); Hamlin Garland, American writer (Middle Border); Paul Fechter, German writer (Der Zauberer Gottes); Martin Dibelius, German theologist (Die Lade Jahwes); Anton Zischka, Austrian writer (Lebendiges Europa); Yi Sang, Korean author and poet (Dying Words, Wings, Child’s Bone); Pietro Germi, Italian actor, writer and director (Divorce Italian Style, The Facts of Murder); Robert McCloskey, American children’s book writer and illustrator (Make Way For Ducklings); Eric Bentley, British-American critic and writer (In Search of Theater); Mario Benedetti, Uruguayan journalist, novelist and poet; Davidson Nicol, Sierra Leonean diplomat and author; Michel Butor, French novelist and essayist; Martin Caidin, American aviation writer; Larry Collins, American writer; Allan Bloom, American philosopher and author (Closing of the American Mind); Hans Faverey, Dutch poet; Kate Millett, American feminist and author (Sexual Politics); Leo Ferrier, Surinamese writer (Atman); Bernard MacLaverty, Northern Irish writer (Grace Notes); Michael Lydon, American music journalist and a founding editor of Rolling Stone; Christian Petzold, German screenwriter and director (Afire, Transit); and Robert Ben Garant, American screenwriter and actor (Reno 991!).

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I found out last week that Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 is now on the long list for the 2025 Chanticleer International Book Awards in the Global Thrillers category. There’s plenty of competition to see who moves onto the short list. Stay tuned for an update when the short list is revealed.

 

 

 

My Work In Progress

I didn’t have a chance to continue  my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best, but plan to be back at it this week. Since my last post, there were another nine new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 297. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

The cold metallic clang of Finley Harding’s boot hinges hitting the cobblestone echoed down the vacant street. He adjusted his thoracic harness and stepped away from the carriage with a look of concern. A smooth and well-crafted sign moved ever so slightly in the wind over the street. Tankard Town.  Finn shook his head. What a silly name for a part of the city that boasted more machinist shops than saloons. 

It was ridiculous, but it made Finn smile, not that anyone could see since the street was nearly vacant.

The autostoker extended its change plate, waiting for a fare. 

Finn dropped three coins into it as the engine’s hiss sent a warm fog into the cold, damp night and a chill down his spine.

 He watched the intricacy of the mechanism as the extended arm retracted into the stoker’s side. The gears engaged and the carriage began to rumble down the street. No driver, no passenger it rolled away as if magically transported. It was indeed a wonder.

 Finn patted his pocket and felt the letter that led him here. His friend, Marston Hayward, requested a meeting but was nowhere to be seen. What little patience Finn possessed, particularly in this situation, began to fray with his friend’s absence. After all, it was well past eleven. Finn frowned, his annoyance growing by the second.

This was nothing unusual.  Finn closed his eyes to get a hold of his emotions, pushing his annoyance down deep. He hated that part of him, but it was there, nonetheless.

The distant sound of hobnails on cobblestones redirected Finn’s attention to a small alley ahead on the right. A glint of shimmering metal hit him directly between the eyes, descending from the darkness so quickly it nearly blinded him. 

Finn tilted his head, shielding his face, and sniffed the air, wondering if some newly engineered automaton was now patrolling the streets.

There was no reek of oil that Finn associated with machines, not even the light hint fumes that evaporated off the creations and filled the air. There was a slight essence, though, almost like ladies’ perfume. It wasn’t easy to place, and there certainly were no ladies in sight.

Lurching slightly, Finn peered down the alley. “Hello? May I be of assistance?”

The light that stunned his vision vanished down the dimly lit alley. He disliked unexpected circumstances that distracted him from his purpose. They frustrated him when a mystery presented itself and he couldn’t give it all his attention. His bottom lip twitched. I’m curious about this meeting. What agenda would it present?

He knew there were several reasons why Marston might have wanted to see him. It was months since the two had communicated. They parted ways when the war ended. Now, here he was with a handwritten missive and a few odd occurrences that made him wonder.

 Finn knew the area enough to feel somewhat safe, but he didn’t want to stand and wait for Marston long. Instead, he hurried toward a bench made of cogs and parts of old machines and clocks. He ran a hand over it and smiled. It was a statement piece.

Once he sat, he reached into his long, brown duster. It wasn’t fancy in the least, but it was the best-looking coat he owned. He felt one of the many watch pieces that lined his pocket, and tinkered with an automaton, trying his hand at something micro, but he failed every time. When he felt the small notepad at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled it out, along with a pen.

He jotted notes on many occasions to help with his meetings and various reports. These were his observations and passions. Tonight, he pondered the true reason he was there. He read these notes one after another, recalling his horror and disgust.

May 18th, 1870

Thomas Ross, slave to Barnabas Latimer, was killed during a culling party where they lynched black men for doing little to nothing.

May 20th, 1870

Betsy Laurent, black woman, mother of three, was sold to a brothel owned by none other than Felipe Vanderbilt, Latimer’s best friend.

May 25th, 1870

A black man known only by the name of Cain disappeared three days ago. No one saw him leave or be taken. Possible runaway or potential lashing gone wrong. Also owned by Latimer.

Good for him. Finn hoped  the man escaped.

After the war was won by the South, many men, women, and children of color or mixed race went missing, were sold, or were killed every day. It was a nightmare.

Yes, I’m sure that’s what the meeting was bout. If I was discovered taking notes, I’d be punished, but I will find a way to take down Governor Latimer—one way of another.

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved