Into the Fire

Blow Up starring David Hemmings, directed by Michelangelo Antonioni, with appearances by Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles, and the super model Verushka was the primary inspiration that led to me talking a friend into working to save for a trip to Great Britain and Europe. A very long time ago . . . We worked, we saved, we went. On our final day in London before leaving for home, I got to see David Hemmings in person in his personal manager's office. He walked in and said, "Good morning," to me. Ahh, memories.  

Father, you guarded and protected two young, naive American girls during our exciting escapade. I can't thank you enough. Ever. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

Authors often picture certain individuals for their characters. Some even cut out pictures to post around their work spaces – kind of keeps them on target for who those characters really "are." 

When I wrote . . . in a love song, I was given a mental characterization of the protagonist rather than a visual picture of who he was. As many of you know, the story was created as a result of me imagining what kind of man would be singing the lyrics to The Marshall Tucker Band hit "Heard It in a Love Song." 

Well, as time goes along and we recall certain characters, every now and then a visual of a certain character takes shape as in a real person. Actor Max Thieriot (his latest hit TV Series Fire Country) would be the perfect Dale Rivers. 

That's a wrap! 

Father, thank you for inspiration, words, pictures, ideas, and novels. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

The great Supremes in this hit-filled album. Truly awesome threesome. Loved their music. 

God, you know all hearts and minds. May each one you've gifted look to you with heartfelt gratitude. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Deal is A Ham Novel, Number 6 in the series by Dustin Stevens. 

As with all of Dustin Stevens' "Ham" novels, the aftermath of her assignments leaves a brutal mess. Not that those she's assigned to haven't earned what's coming to them, but it's always a lethal dose of reality for them before their final breaths are taken.

"Mikey" is Ham's "boss" although neither of them really regard him as her boss because she normally works independently. Having served together, they know and respect each other. Ham's opinion of Mikey is he was the best operator she ever worked with. Now he runs a serious, sophisticated, security operation out of a fake mechanics garage. Basically, they take care of the desperate needs of people who can't take care of their serious problem(s) themselves. 

In this case, a friend (Talia) from a long time ago on the battlefield calls Mikey, desperate for him to rescue a 9 yr. old boy (Trey) she knows is in imminent danger while being aware her life is about to be terminated. She was a wartime journalist who both Ham and Mikey knew, but Mikey had gotten close enough to Talia to tell her if she ever needed him to call. When Mikey calls Ham from out of town for this emergency rescue, Ham's on it. From that moment on, this case belongs to both Mikey and Ham. 

There is utter chaos when Ham arrives at the boy's house. She's forced to convince a traumatized boy to trust her to get him out of his house before the horror he's already witnessed happens to him.

Once the difficult process of securing Trey is accomplished, the hunt for multiple killers is on, not to mention how to figure out exactly who's conducting all of this murder and mayhem and why this 9 yr. old boy is a target. Mikey and Ham have to discern how to get more information which proves to be convoluted and slow-going until Ham inadvertently discovers an important clue. 

Having read all of the books in both the Ham Series and the Hawk Tate Series by Dustin Stevens, Deal is some of Dustin's best (if not the best) writing by the author. Characterizations and images/descriptions are very well done and what had seemed habitual in the books I've read, the errors in this one were minimal. My only concern was the ending. It felt incomplete in spite of a touching moment shared between Ham and Trey. If you read this story, you might understand why I felt that way. 

If you enjoy a heroine who's as tough and sharp as the tomahawk she carries as her weapon of choice, and you can stand the avenging brutality that courses through her at times with just brief glances at the tender heart she's buried deep within her psyche, the Ham Series are the books for you.  

Father, thank you for all of your writers and authors. May each one know from whom their talent has been given. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

During the night the mystery was revealed to Daniel in a vision. Then Daniel praised the God of heaven and said:

     "Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever;

         wisdom and power are His. 

     He changes times and seasons;

         he sets up kings and deposes them.

     He gives wisdom to the wise

         and knowledge to the discerning.

     He reveals deep and hidden things;

         He knows what lies in darkness,

         and light dwells with Him.

     I thank and praise you, O God of my fathers:

         You have given me wisdom and power,

     you have made known to me what we asked of you,

         you have made known to us the dream of the king."

Daniel 2:19-23 (NIV)

Chapter Two from my novel Race – my only mystery/police procedural. 

TWO

A long day ahead presented itself accompanied by the gut feeling this was indeed a homicide and it wasn’t going to be an easy solve. My partner Jesse Davidson called to tell me he was en route. The ME arrived shortly after Jesse’s call. Doctor Loren Walsh set the initial estimate of time of death at sometime between midnight and 3 AM., a fairly precise window, putting the girlfriend at the top of my suspect list if natural causes were ruled out.

     Racetrack security, our patrol officers, and Detectives Phil Phelps and Mark Griffin helped keep the group outside the tape from crowding the scene and separated and contained those who first arrived because of Carmella’s frantic screaming. At my request they’d contacted the particular guard who manned the gate during the shift when Carmella supposedly arrived back at the track and sent a replacement to relieve him so he could come and talk to us.

     We needed to notify the owner of the racetrack and inform him of our investigation. No doubt he wouldn’t want this publicized and neither did we, but word always manages to get out. I’d send Detective Griffin to do this after we got done with the preliminaries.

     The official cameras flashed recording the scene, and the two other detectives converged to get interviews after discouraging those with cell phones attempting to take pictures although the crime scene itself was not visible.

     Jesse arrived looking a whole lot more refreshed than anyone should at this hour. I’m obsessive about how people dress so I notice Jesse’s attire. Dapper dude that he was, he’d elected to wear pressed Levis and some kind of Redwing boots with his professionally cleaned button-down pale yellow shirt with the one button undone at the neck to expose the tight-curving collar of a blinding white T-shirt, and his black leather jacket which he tossed into his car to don his ballistic vest. The brisk morning air sent a shiver more than once under my light POLICE windbreaker, my polo shirtsleeves not providing much warmth in spite of the extra layer my vest provided.

     “So. Guy dies in his sleep? Girlfriend can’t remember if she’s in bed with him? Convenient, huh?”

     “Looks that way.”

     “That her over there?”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Kinda hot, huh? How ‘bout him? He a looker too?”

     “Oh yeah.”

     “Okay. We find the other guys and gals these two’ve been sleepin’ with and we got a suspect pool. If we need one.”

     “Pretty much.” 

Father, you kept after me to write this one. Thank you for providing what and who I needed to do it. I can never thank you enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

The romance in my soul . . . (Originally posted: 02/01/2014)

Hard-wired for it, I can't remember that thing called romance never being with me. Not in the gushy, girly-girl, over-the-top kind of way. Not that I can fault that. It is what it is. But rather so deep in my soul that it covers everything else. It rises to a three-note tune and overwhelms me. The melancholy or the sensuality or the desire to immerse myself in its beauty. It's integral to who I am even when I don't know who that is.

This romance in my soul emerges from the sad, sacred sounds of Chris Botti's trumpet. It hovers inside me bringing all the insecurity of that first date. First kiss. Lips touching.

I sense the holiness intended – but corrupted.

The intensity of sensation that God intended for good. The genesis of romance from God's heart to the human will. Tainted but salvaged in potential obedience.

I can't take the sensuality away from it. Hand in hand they travel. Merging. Right or wrong.

I capture the essence of romance in my novels. Because I must. If I do nothing else well, I write romance – total immersion. Not demanding it conform to me or anyone else but that it treasure the gift of God to humanity.

Romance is not about the fluff, it's about the soul deep stirrings of approaching love. The fear of not attaining it – that it will skitter away without being realized. The tingle and excitement produced by the glance from a certain individual will disappear unrequited. But it's also about the anxious hesitation and apprehension of the possibility that love will grab you and never let go. Romance is all of that and everything in between. It slips into our pubescent worlds and graduates with intensity in innumerable forms with unlimited imagination. Not always pretty and performed to a preconceived notion or script, romance writes its own tale and concludes with short-lived episodes or uncompromised commitments.

Real romance is worth a story. If you dare to write it, write it real. 

Thank you, Father, for letting me feel the romance that reigns pure in your Spirit. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

I know of authors who are rigid in their disciplines when writing. I know of authors who plot their stories before they write a word. Some use outlines. Some use photographs. Some use white boards with all kinds of methods to inspire them. Some keep a schedule and stick to it. Some claim to be "seat-of-the-pants" writers (which I am), but still manage to do some pre-work planning and/or plotting for their novel(s). 

I'd be the proverbial "black sheep" of all of them if compared. I don't have a schedule. I don't plot my novels, but I do have a mental picture of the characters and a part of their situations before my story begins. I'm undisciplined and have no excuses for it. 

The only thing I can say definitively about my writing is that it comes from my heart with a direction from the Lord. So why am I "lazy" and "undisciplined" about writing? Sometimes the words and ideas come in quick bursts and the pages follow. Other times, I'm far away from those words and can't make them perform.

I don't write just to be writing. That doesn't work for me. I don't write pages and pages and then keep writing more without going over them and rereading them, making corrections. 

That's who I am as an author. Certainly not one to impress anyone or to suggest anyone follow my lead. Do it the way the Lord has it planned for you. That's the best any of us can do. 

Father, you know exactly what I need and when I need it. Help me to "pick up the pen" and finish this one. Please. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Back in the 70s. The lyrics are typical of that time, believe me. Hope you enjoy Pure Prairie League's Amie.

Father, you know all hearts and minds, every thought. Nothing is hidden from you. Thank you for your benevolent gifts to people. May all know from whom they are given. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

I had hoped to have another book review for you today, but I didn't finish it in time. I also thought I'd discuss some writing topics with you this Monday, Monday, but, alas, I couldn't come up with anything that interested me at the time of preparing this post. So . . . 

I'm being honest in telling you I got nuthin' for you this Monday Musings . . . day. I apologize. 

You have a good one! Make the most of it. 

Father, thank you for giving me what I need most when I need it. Thank you for always being here. I'm desperate for you. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.