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.
I'm currently reading a novel which shall remain nameless at the present time because it is filled with all kinds of mistakes. Okay, you say. So who is this inept author? A bestselling novelist, writer of multiple series in the mystery/thriller genre.
Here's the thing. With so much personal success, does it matter enough to stick to a high standard of publication?
Does this author (or conglomerate of authors) care enough to use an editor, a proofreader, a beta reader, or any of the safeguards generally used before publishing? Because if this book is indicative of self-editing, it's a major failure in that department. Overused phrases appearing very close to each other. Descriptions "borrowed" from previous novels in the series whose storylines are too similar to this one. Words left out of sentences. Habits previously attached to one character show up in another character doing it when they never have before. And, frankly, the list goes on.
Believe it or not, as an author, I'm capable of overlooking some errors. No publishing professional is perfect, and mistakes do get overlooked. But this? This looks like a first draft which no one felt needed to be reread.
Father, I know this: apart from you, I can do nothing. Help me to be the one you designed me to be, to give it all my best. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and His understanding no one can fathom.
Isaiah 40:28 (NIV)
Chapter One from my novel Race:
Race
MONDAY
One
It was hard to say what witnesses noticed first—the shrill piercing screams or the nearly naked young woman uttering them. Apparently she woke up next to a dead boyfriend, both of them allegedly passed out from too much alcohol consumption. The designated “sleeping” tack rooms at the track were located at the end of the long shedrows. Though not large this couple’s was tidy with a few creature comforts such as the mounted flat screen, a queen-size bed, a sturdy and colorful throw rug, a small locked black metal file box, and what looked like a well-preserved near-antique chest of drawers with a pole rigged above it to hang clothes on.
When I arrived at the scene at 3:30 AM, Carmella Ortiz stood barefoot on the dirt in the shedrow, now clad in the couple’s bedspread concealing her apparently barely there lingerie. She spoke fast with intermittent tears and a hint of a Latino accent. Her story was she’d gone over to her sister’s place for some girls’ night-out event and proceeded to get too drunk to drive back, so her sister dropped her off at one of the racetrack gates, and after she staggered into the tack room, she passed out. When I spoke to her I asked if Mr. Wonderful was present at the time, she said she thought so but couldn’t really remember. Must’ve been some girls’ night-out. Easy to verify.
After speaking with the young woman, I took a few moments to survey the group huddling behind the tape and to inhale the familiar fragrant aroma of horses, listening to the whooshes of their nostrils, some of them pawing their hard rubber mats at the fronts of stalls wondering what all the commotion was about. Brought back memories of high school summers spent working at the track, of underage drinking and girls who liked taking their clothes off, guys who loved it when they did. Funny how some things never change.
Next I needed to ascertain Mr. Wonderful’s whereabouts the previous night and wait for the determination of cause of death. Turned out his name was Roman Diego, the assistant trainer for Walter Casey who was kind of a local big-shot, perennially in the top five leading trainers. Lying on his right side at the edge of the bed, Roman’s only clothing was the beige sheet covering his manhood, no blood anywhere, and it looked like he fell asleep—or passed out—and never woke up. Long dark wavy hair obscured his face, but his torso and left arm bent at the elbow and resting on the mattress were well-muscled which made me think he probably exercised the Thoroughbreds at his barn.
The crime scene tape forbade entrance to the immediate area which would surely annoy the people who had to work at this end of the barn and live in the neighboring tack rooms, not to mention spook a few Thoroughbreds with its unfamiliar yellow color flapping in the cool breeze.
Death always presents an inconvenience.
Father, thank you for all the help on this one, for giving me what I needed to get it done. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
