Into the Fire

This is from Chapter 5 of my latest release Then . . . you available in both Kindle/ebook and paperback. 

(From Chapter 5)

     She buttered a warm biscuit and dabbed some honey on it, savored the taste. She put a small portion of scrambled eggs on her plate and took a strip of bacon. “This is a treat, Stone. It’s rare when I eat a real breakfast. Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome. I’m a breakfast junkie.” He shook some green Tabasco on his eggs. “Probably because I tend to eat early in the evening but rarely get to bed early. So I wake up hungry.” He stopped eating and talking and looked at her. Serious.

     “What?” she said, intimidated.

     “It’s weird talking to you. No one’s ever here. I’m surprised we’ve had a conversation.”

     “Really? You seem really easy to talk to. I wouldn’t normally admit to just anyone all the stuff I said to you last night. I mean, I did of course owe you an explanation for the intrusion, but I could’ve opted to tidy it up a bit, I guess. That didn’t even occur to me. I do apologize for being such a wreck.” She felt the color heat her face.

     He kept his eyes on her and took another bite of eggs. His stare did tend to unnerve her, but she did her best to hold his gaze.

     “Your eyes are green,” he said.

     “You walk with a limp. Your right leg. It’s permanent. Some atrophy from a serious injury.”

     “Shattered the femur. Enemy sniper. He missed his target. Should’ve been my head. Hardware keeps it together.”

     Her professionalism kicked in. “Please understand how I say this. A massage could help you. And by that I mean it could give your musculature some stimulus to increase the circulation, the blood flow, plus there are other specific techniques which could relieve pressure areas. I would love to help you.”

     Her sincerity and business-like delivery impressed him, but she had no idea what her words actually said to him. He kept his eyes focused on her, trying not to watch her lips speaking them. He almost missed when the words ended. He continued to look her in the eyes for an extra couple of moments.

     He finished his nearly full glass of milk in one large, quick gulp. “Understand how I say this: under the circumstances it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. But, thank you.” He said it quieter than he normally spoke and with a respectful consideration to his tone.

     His look once again unnerved her while the flame consumed her entire face. She hurried and collected their plates and rinsed them in the sink.

Father, thank you is never enough for the stories you've given me. Thank you for these characters who touch my heart as they come alive in my mind and on the pages. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

I'm not that smart. I could give you lists of things that don't interest me. And, if they don't or didn't, I rarely retain(ed) the information beyond the minimal. I never liked classical or country music – and, yes, complete opposite types of music. Therefore, although I might recognize the music or a song, I cannot identify the composer or the singer of either. Now if you're talking "classical" rock? Different story. I can still remember the lyrics to myriad songs and who did them. 

The point being: I limited my intake of memorable knowledge. I've always had "tunnel-vision", been "single-minded." I've read many novels now considered classics, most of which I enjoyed. But I also didn't read a lot of what are considered classics. And my tastes in reading and writing have been contemporary literature for years now with very few exceptions. 

I did well in school from the beginning to the end, but, as fun as it was to enjoy my friends there and some of my teachers, I never truly liked school. I didn't want to go to college, but I went for a year because my parents wanted it for me. I took as many literature/writing classes as I could – that first year they give you irrelevant review classes which you should not have needed, but you had to take them anyway. 

When I got to the racetrack (Thoroughbreds) at the age of 20, I abandoned learning anything other than horse racing, breeding, and everything to do with all of it. Soaked it all in. I had written a lot before then, but the 7-day-a-week work curtailed much of that only eliciting a rare return to an occasional free verse. 

Most people love to learn new things. Generally speaking, I don't. There are very few things that inspire me to apply my learning skills to them. I took some time to enjoy and experience my Konica 35 mil camera with film back in the day until I became comfortable with it. Took some fabulous snapshots during my trip to Europe and beyond. Many years later that camera was stolen. I have a nice Rebel now, but it's digital and it frustrates me. 

My serious writing – as in novels – began later in life than many authors. I'm not one to enjoy research, but I've had to do some to enhance my characters and make them realistic. Email conversations with people in the professions my characters chose to be (i.e. film critic, architectural designer, computer forensics/etc., police detective/procedures, etc.) proved to be fascinating and beneficial. I would say it was because I dealt "directly" with those people who were willing to subject themselves to my questions and respond in detail. I loved that part. 

All that to say, many authors are fluid in so many areas and subject matter. Not me. Many authors are disciplined in their writing habits – some because of deadlines and some because that's who they are. Not me. In no other area can I be called what's inferred by the term "free spirit", but in writing my novels I guess it fits. Once I wrote three novels in one year, and these weren't those 80K word counts. These were all over 100K in word count. During another segment and more recently, it seems one a year is the most I can do – although while writing Race, I started two others so I basically had three going at once which is definitely not normal for this sequential lady. 

Now you know a part of who I am and was. Definitely nothing special. But still an author of novels. Raw Romantic Redemptive

Father, you've watched over me the entire time both before and after meeting you. Jesus, you rescued me. Holy Spirit, I will never forget the creative ways you showed me Jesus. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Cold Fire by Dustin Stevens is Book 1 of the 9 Jeremiah "Hawk" Tate Series. I didn't know this was considered Book 1 because I've read all of them so far but this one. Dustin made some editorial changes to this novel – but it isn't a story easily forgotten.

Hawk is readying the shutdown of his Montana Yellowstone/mountain guide outfit for the winter when a nice-looking woman stops by the office to hire him to help her find her brother who hasn't contacted her or her mother in several days. Supposedly from New Mexico, she won't take his standard refusal due to the encroaching weather conditions and keeps multiplying the zeroes on the price tag she's offering him. Although he hears the slight eastern-European accent in her voice, the money seals the deal. Gathering all the information he can about the man's last known whereabouts, he plots their course on his maps. 

As they're hiking the considerable distance, the woman is relentless in pursuit furthering Hawk's suspicion that something isn't quite right. It isn't until they locate the man that Hawk finds out just how not right the entire trip has been. 

When he finally makes his way back to his office, he knows where he needs to go and who he has to see. His old boss and friend, Hutch, still in his position in the DEA that Hawk left five years ago, listens as Hawk explains the totality of what happened in his bad adventure with the woman. A plan is launched, but nothing is working right. When Hawk teams up with his colleague Diaz, they're always one step behind. When they are forced to split up to solve this conundrum, Hawk heads for the head of the snake . . . in Russia. 

A similar story in some ways to The Terminal List (Jack Carr), Hawk finally figures out who's at the top of all he's experienced. 

There are some errors in places of this novel that better research would've made right, but the story is basically a good one. 

Father, only you know the hearts of those you've gifted. Please help them to understand that apart from you, no one can do anything. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

Sensuous smooth jazz by none other than Brian Culbertson. A song from the Trilogy red "album" recordings. 

Father, music is a gift to us. Thank you for it. And may each one who has received the gifts of music realize from whom theirs comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen

A Hint of Murder by Karin Kaufman is Book 4 in A Kelsie Butler Mystery Series. 

While Kelsie Butler is enjoying her coffee on this rainy morning, standing with her dog Stella looking out her front door, she spots an unusual something tied around her crabapple tree. She retrieves a wrapped in plastic note in a creme colored envelope with matching stationery inside. After reading it, she's sure it's a prank written with a Shakespearean quote and talking about a committed murder with another to follow. Anyone who knows her would know she was an adjunct English professor before she came to her current home in Fairwood, probably assuming she would recognize the quote which she does. But to be sure, she opens her huge book of Shakespearean quotes to the page where it's located to find another note with a second "hint" to the next murder. That's when she realizes someone has broken into her home and stashed this second note either before or after posting the first one outside on her tree. 

And so begins her search for the person who would violate her residence and plot murders with clues and a timeline to discover who it is that's doing this. 

When her friend and fellow sleuth Angela get together to discuss the clues and break-in, they later inform their third partner in mystery-solving, Gwen, owner of Fig's pastry and coffee shop. When she races over there to help plan their next steps, Kelsie knows she must take these to the police to report the break-in, still not convinced the notes aren't some sort of prank but drawing the line at someone being in her home. 

It's as she's leaving the precinct, after reporting the crime and allowing photocopies to be made of the notes since she wasn't allowed to speak directly to Chief Sinclair at that time, that what she sees suddenly changes her mind about the notes being a prank.

Things begin to escalate, a neighbor helps identify who planted the initial clues, and indeed the body count rises along with enough gossip to implicate more suspects. 

A Hint of Murder is a very quick read full of interesting twists and guilty parties – but not of murder. There's one person to find, but Kelsie's done with the game. When Gwen decides to charge after the next clue by herself, nothing goes as it should. 

A fun read and very well done by Karin Kaufman, the Queen of Cozy Mysteries. 

Father, thank you for the gifts and talents you've given Karin. I pray your blessing over her in every way – that she can feel it, body, soul, and spirit. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Death and Destruction are never satisfied,

     and neither are the eyes of man. 

Proverbs 27:20 (NIV) 

Running on empty at the end of this week.

Monday Musings touched on the sloppy lack of editing/proofreading in a bestseller's novel. 

Tuesday Tunes went way back to a big hit of a long time ago by Paul Anka. 

Wednesday took a swipe at the lack of benevolent promotion by mid-list to A-list Christian authors of their lesser known colleagues. 

Throwback Thursday reminded me of a special and unique group of friends that meant so much to me for a brief season of my life. 

And now Friday is here, and all I've got left are the fumes from the fires I hoped to light during the week . . . 

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend where you focus on that which is unseen.

Father, help us all to do the right things when you ask, to hear your voice better, and to always be thankful for your rescue of our sinful souls. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

You probably wonder why I keep posting these pictures of myself from a very long time ago. I've come to the conclusion it's because they remind me of a very special – but brief – time in my life where the people in my circle of friends were not only special but unique, and for that short season I treasured experiencing their incredible talents and friendships. This photograph captures who I was at that time, still retaining some innocence, didn't yet know Jesus, trying to discover what my life was supposed to be about while still learning the ins and outs of "being." Very few photographs of me capture who I feel I was or am. This is one of them that did. Memorable times and people for me.

Father, you let me go for a while until I came to the end of myself. Thank you for rescuing me. I'll never forget the day I surrendered to you, Jesus. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

This is a somewhat difficult post to write. Not because it's unreasonable and critical but because it targets some of my fellow authors. I simply ask that those authors who read this would consider what I'm discussing here and try not to be offended or scoff at the suggestion(s). 

Regarding mid-list to top bestselling authors of Christian fiction, it's a given that you have deadlines, marketing duties, appearances to make, classes to teach, speaking engagements, and all the rest of what can come with a successful writing career. In that brief segment of free time you're granted, you undoubtedly have lined up pleasurable and relaxing things to do with family and/or friends to recharge, refresh, and renew your inspiration. Within the hustle of writing novels, you do your best to allow time to commune with the Lord, perhaps even fitting a personal retreat into the mix of allotted time "for you." 

For the reasons above, this post might feel like an "Aw, c'mon! Really?!" moment. And perhaps for you it might be. 

Down here at the bottom of the stack of authors, those of us who write books that haven't managed to rise to the next level have noticed that as we attempt to get to know our favorite authors, promoting their work however we can, writing reviews that praise their stories because we truly enjoy them, mention them and their talent on whatever social media where we're engaged, ask for and supply questions for interviews, offer contests to win one of their books, etcetera, we do it for two reasons. The first is because we think their work deserves the attention we give them. Two is because we know that the more positive publicity/promotion an author receives, the odds are the more books will be sold.  

Personally, I've read novels outside my favorite genres because I'd communicated with the authors who wrote them and decided I'd do all I could to make others aware of their entertaining, meaningful work. 

Christian authors of course have their favorite genres and their favorite authors. The question I'm asking here is who among the mid-list to A-list group of authors will go that extra mile in promoting those who will benefit from their endorsements and promotion? They've earned their positions in the literary world. And no one that I know expects any author to promote a novel they don't like. But some of us down here on the lower rungs do, in fact, write some pretty good stories and could sure use a nod from those authors at the top of the ladder. Why? Because you have a status that influences a large audience, and we would appreciate the smallest effort to point a reader or two our way. Your recommendation matters. It's influential. Simply: we need it. 

Now. I'm not whining about my lowly position in the bookselling realm. I'm speaking for a few authors I know who are very talented, write in popular genres, and, quite frankly, we could all use a boost. It's no fun to be ignored by those we've shown respect. Especially our fellow Christian authors. 

Let me add a personal addendum here: I know that my novels are for an audience that will appreciate my tagline: Raw Romantic Redemptive. The most important word in that tagline is Redemptive. But some will see the "raw-ness" of portraying the world as it is (without graphics and profanity) offensive, so I concede: author or not, they will not typically be my audience. 

I would just encourage other Christian authors to take a step away from your usual friends' books and take a chance on a few other authors. If you like their work, say so because it matters. 

Thank you. 

Father, you know my heart here. Please direct my words to those who will appreciate and understand them. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

For all you "seasoned" citizens, we've been there, done that, thought that. Memories . . . 

Father, thank you for all the talent and gifts you so benevolently give. May each one know from whom their talent comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.