Into the Fire

One might assume this post is specifically geared or directed toward readers because, of course, readers affirming authors is what all authors desire. To quote an undesirable but popular term: It's "dope". Disgusting, I know, but as are some vulgarities: understandable. Yes, we authors need affirmation from readers in reviews found posted at Amazon, our blogs, Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter – all notable social media confabs, and in personal conversations, texts, emails, etcetera.

However, I think it's important to note here that sometimes authors need that affirmation from other authors. And, frankly, I think there are some authors who could do more for their writing peers. I'd like to commend authors Brenda S. Anderson, Barbara Ellen Brink, and even Mark Dawson who's managed to retweet three of my reviews of his John Milton novels which doesn't speak to my work which of course he's never read, but it does send people here to my blog to discover my other reviews and recommendations of authors plus reveals my novels. I'd also like to personally thank Sibella Giorello who used a quote of mine from an article posted here about her superb heroine Raleigh Harmon. 

Women's Fiction author Brenda S. Anderson is a wonderful promoter and celebrator of other authors, featuring them on her website, Facebook, and elsewhere.

Barbara Ellen Brink, Mystery, Romantic Suspense, and Speculative author, is often quick to write reviews of other authors' novels with thoughtful commentary.  

Merrie Destefano, Speculative/Fantasy author, is one more author who recommends books written by others with real words of praise for their talents. 

So, point being, Readers: authors love your affirmation however you're able to give it. Authors, you need to step up and affirm other authors because you, of all people, know how meaningful it is to receive it. 

Father, you are the ultimate affirmation that we need. Apart from you, we can do nothing. We're always desperate for you whether we know it or not. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

                          From Chapter 15 of my novel Breath of Life 

     Astounding how a mood could turn around so fast. I felt like celebrating. Maybe I'd run over to Tully's. At that moment Carmen appeared in my doorway.

     "I'm headed over to Tully's," she announced, her voice softer than usual. "You headed that way by any chance?"

     "You must've read my mind," I said, standing and pulling on my sport jacket. I joined her in the corridor, and we walked together to Tully's.

     "So, how are things?" I asked, feeling like I could handle anything now. She looked over at me as if she was gauging my interest. Before she could reply, I said, "Carmen, I know I've been aloof. I apologize for that. I wouldn't inquire if I wasn't sincere."

     "I believe you. Maybe I'm surprised that you are," she ventured with no aggression.

     "That's a reasonable statement. Unusual time for me, I guess. Life is changing, and I guess the process demands I focus on someone besides myself for a change," I admitted.

     She almost stopped in her tracks but kept herself moving. "I can't believe you'd be honest enough to say that to me."

     I had to laugh. "Just last week I probably wouldn't have."

     I held the door open for her and paid for her weird coffee and pastry in spite of her resistance. We sat down and enjoyed a couple minutes of silent respite.

     "So, you never told me," I started.

     "Told you what?"

     "How are things?"

     She looked down at her coffee and then out the window. "A little crazy."

     Her voice was quiet and not at all grating. I waited for a further reply.

     "The man I told you about keeps calling me."

     "Can't blame him for that. Is he respectful?"

     "Yeah, but he doesn't take no for an answer."

     "Are you weakening?"

     "No."

     "Good."

     "You mean that?" she asked almost timidly.

     "You bet I do, Carmen. Why should some guy who tosses off one commitment, a legal one, no less, be allowed to take up residency in someone else's life who happens to notice the last person the guy invested in didn't mean enough to him to even wait out the finality of the divorce before launching into another involvement? Doesn't sound like he's in it for the long haul to me. Looks like he found an attractive, vivacious, professional woman he'd like to fool around with. That means no disrespect to you in any way, shape, or form." The jerk. I actually experienced some protective ire.

     She looked at me and slowly gave me a glowing smile – no doubt she was a pretty woman. There was no agenda there either but rather genuine gratitude just like the initial time I spoke with her about personal issues.

     "Thank you."

     Oh, geez, was she going to cry?!

     "So, how are things with you, Michael?" she asked, taking a bite of pastry after a few moments to gather herself. "You mentioned change."

     Ahh, my turn to come clean. What should I say? The truth was too invasive. There must be a way to speak honesty without unveiling the whole scenario.

     "For me, there's considerable change. I'm not quite to the point where I can put it all right out there yet. Uh, I'm, well, I'm in the beginning stages of a relationship that feels like I wish I could've been there my whole life." Well, how was that for the truth?

     Her eyebrows rose at my admission. "Wow. That's not bad for not being able to put it right out there yet."

     I had to laugh a bit. "I guess so. There's more to it. I'm just not able to explain it even to myself."

     "Sounds like what I'm looking for, Michael. What'd you do? Ask for a miracle?" she asked mockingly.

     I looked into her eyes, a light brown color, surrounded by dark full lashes. Lovely, really. But sad, too. Maybe tired, also – possibly of being unfulfilled.

     "I didn't have to ask. The miracle came to me," I said quietly. Dead serious.

     Carmen was perceptive, not unlike Shaylen. Maybe some women just read men well. She pondered my answer.

     "Are you giving me a spiritual response to my sarcastic question?"

     "Yeah, I am."

     The surprise was there, although she tried to conceal it.

     "I wouldn't expect it from me either, Carmen. And I didn't go looking for God. I guess He came looking for me. This is no small change on my part, as your reaction registers. But I'm pursuing it – Him – the best way I can, which isn't very procedurally correct for all I know. Anyway, I can't ignore I need to do this anymore." There. The truth from the mouth of Michael Jamison. Another miracle in motion.

     She was thoughtful before she spoke again. "Can't say I haven't wanted God, a husband, a family, maybe going to church. I guess life has a way of getting out of control. You go down a path you don't really want to and suddenly there's no other one available."

     Regret rang in her words like an old cathedral bell.

     "There's only one thing I can say to that, Carmen. If Michael Jamison can find God, there's no doubt Carmen Roth can. Slam dunk for you." I said it and I meant it.

     She smiled with appreciation again, and this time I know I saw tears in her eyes. "You're not at all like I thought you were."

     "I was, Carmen. This is very, very new. I'm glad you can see a difference in such a short time. Further evidence of a miracle."

Breath of Life is only available in print soft cover, but at this time it's selling for well below cost at the bargain price of $5.91! 

Father, every good and perfect gift comes down from you. Writing is a gift to me – apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough for anything and everything you've given me. I'm always desperate for you, Jesus. And grateful beyond my ability to express. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

And there you have them: words from authors. A diverse bunch, don't you think? You can guess which quote is my favorite. 

Father, thank you for your writers and authors. Not all of them know from whom their talents come. Reach those who are still here and have yet to meet your Son. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Just one of those tunes to be enjoyed and to hum and sing along . . . Love this song. 

God, you know every artist, every tune, every intent, every thought that creates the music. May you reach the hearts of those who make music. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Killa City by Mark Dawson is Book 16 in the John Milton Novel Series.

John Milton is being hunted. Again. Group 15 is up and running. Again. And Control – an unknown-to-John woman – wants her Number One to eliminate him. Doesn't matter that John wants nothing to do with "The Firm", is no threat to them, and simply wants to be left alone. No. That's not good enough for her. 

John has one connection who might have the information he needs to avoid the inevitable chase. "Tanner", who once worked under a different Control when John was Number One, now lives and runs a business in Kansas City ("Killa City"), Missouri . When John shows up at his place of business, Tanner is shocked and slightly fearful. That fear causes Tanner to do two things: get information for John from an old contact in London and another he will soon regret. 

When John needs a vehicle since his dream ride was left in Las Vegas, Tanner gets him in touch with a friend who sells cars at auction. When a young man at the auction buys an old beat up van for $500, John notices when the kid goes out to the parking lot to pick it up, two men try to steal it from him. Well, you know John can't let that happen and while he gets up in their business and lays them out, the kid drives off as fast as he can. Since John suspects foul play, knowing the van isn't worth what the kid paid for it, he tries to find him to leave his number in case there's trouble. And of course there is.

The KC Mafia is thoroughly invested in recovering this van and sends their best to bring it back from the boy's (Enzo) house. What they didn't expect was an encounter with John Milton when they arrived. 

This turn of events causes a chain reaction of spectacles that puts everyone involved in dire danger and takes them outside the city where ingenious preparations have to be made for the inevitable battle ahead which include John calling in a favor. 

Two dirty cops, a Mafia wannabe kid (and friend of Enzo's) whose uncle is involved with the local Mafia, two Irish brothers who launder the Mafia's money, the current Number One, a coach, and Enzo, his mom Connie, and another of Enzo's friends Aldo, all participate in the final showdown which will ultimately determine who lives and who dies. 

John's determination to keep his mission of helping those he can while doing his best to extinguish that part of him which used to do the "cold-blooded kills" assigned to him doesn't always lead to the peace he seeks. Having realized he can't provide his own redemption, he trudges forward making his way toward crossing off some emotional debts as he's able. He continues to deny himself personal relationships because of the invisible threats to his attachments, but perhaps more frequently than before we get hints of his loneliness and the desires that come with it for real connection. 

Some interesting characters in this one, some cliché bad guys but that's to be expected given their "occupations", and an interesting act of mercy which is sure to be dangerous for John's future. 

As usual, we get another thriller from Mark Dawson, kind of in idle at the beginning before switching to overdrive. 

Father, you're the only giver of good and perfect gifts. Thank you for gifting Mark with his wonderful talents. May you receive your due credit from every artist who employs what you've given them. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

     Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

                    From my solo mystery novel Race: 

Chapter 13 (the final paragraph of the chapter)

     The hardest part of the day for me came now. I used to stop off at one – or a few – of my favorite bars. I hated going back to the house. My house. The one Sheila shared with me for a quick 13 years. She loved the two-story with dormer windows, and I gave her free rein to decorate as she pleased. She made it a great home. Now it always feels empty. Unfinished. Broken. In the end she didn't want much from me other than my signature on the divorce papers, but I mail her money every month accompanied by a letter explaining why I need to do this for her. I know she reads the letters – she's not vindictive, and I know she loved me once. Really loved me. When she didn't cash the checks, I sent cash. Nothing's come back to me so I kind of chokehold a morsel of hope for us. Crazy, I know. The odds of that happening are like betting a 50 to 1 shot on any given race day. But every now and then one of those longshots comes in and makes a last chance gambler pretty happy. 

Father, apart from you I can do nothing. Thank you for it all – even though thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

One of my favorite memories as a little girl is swinging on my dad's arm, hanging from his flexed bicep. Dad was an amazing man who loved his family and worked hard to be the example of a strong but often tender man, truly a self-made man, son of Italian immigrant parents, who probably never finished junior high school but worked from being a box boy to become an Executive VP of a retail chain. I put him and my mom through the grind in my late teens and twenties, but they always let me know how much they loved me and how I could always come home if I ever needed to. 

Another memory I treasure is going camping with my BFF and her parents to Sun Lakes State Park in eastern Washington. We had the greatest times during those hot summer weekends. Truly those were some of the best times of my young life.  

When I was around four years old I got to experience a dream come true when we visited relatives in Montana. My first horseback ride turned out to be a bit of a thriller and really scared my parents – but not me. The horse I rode decided I wasn't strong enough to hold him so he galloped away with me. The guide had to chase after us and grab his rein to pull him up. I apparently thought it was great fun – and, of course, the man who "rescued" me rode a white horse. 

These are just a few of my favorite old memories. Would love to read some of yours. 

Father, you've protected me my entire life. There's no way in this life or eternity that I can ever thank you enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

                  That says it all. On a road trip . . . 

Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to get away for a bit. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Loved The Yardbirds. Got to see them in person back in the day. They were definitely good live. 

Father, only you know hearts and give gifts and talents. Only you. Thank you for always seeking after those who are lost. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.