C.M. Albrecht's Weblog

This is how I see it.

Tag: Detectives

Rules of Writing

I sent an early crime novel to a publisher who had already published one of my novels, but she rejected it, saying that, in a mystery, the victim is only there to provide a puzzle for the reader. Therefore, I should bump somebody — anybody — off in the first few pages and devote the rest of the novel to the investigation whether it be by police detectives, a private detective, or an amateur sleuth. Carefully following her own advice, she rejected my mystery on the grounds that I didn’t murder anyone until just over a hundred pages into the story.

I felt bad, naturally, but at the same time, something in me rebelled. Over the years I had read a great many detective novels and mysteries, and, although at the moment, I couldn’t offer book and page number, I was pretty certain my publisher’s theory was in error. I was almost certain I had read many crime novels, be it private eye tales or police procedurals,  in which a murder didn’t occur until later in the book.

Okay, I got over it and moved on.  A bit later I  found a new publisher.

But the other day I chanced to pick up a tattered old novel by Ngaio Marsh, arguably one of the true queens of mystery fiction, and decided to read it. In this particular novel, “Tied up in Tinsel”, we don’t stumble across a body until page 242 in a book that has only 286 pages. Wow! Obviously, the editor who rejected my little novel also would have thrown Ms Marsh’s effort into the circular file and in her disgust, she might well have sent Ms Marsh a stern message about the way to write mysteries. Too bad for an editor who had made up her mind about what constitutes a mystery novel. But reading the book and remembering the editor’s remarks, the entire incident poured back into my mind and I got all wound up again.

All this the above is a prelude to my remarks that in novel writing, there are no rules. The very word novel conjures up images of something new and different. Now a mystery novel with no murder might not go over well with readers, starting with editors, but still it is legal. There’s no law that says you have to have a murder. A short story, maybe. Remember “The Purloined Letter” by Mr. Poe.

In “Vanity Fair”, Thackeray talks frankly, to his reader. He knows it’s just a story and he knows the reader knows it’s just a story, so tongue in cheek, he goes ahead and tells it, stepping in from time to time to remind us that, after all, it’s just a story.

Fowles puts himself right into the background of a novel while observing the proceedings and of course, in my favorite mystery novels, the narrator, the detective, tells his story as he remembers it. He’s just a reporter giving us, as Sgt. Friday would say, the facts. He’s not the real author of course, but we can suspend belief and assume that private eye Raymond Chandler is just calling himself Philip Marlowe to avoid being stalked by beautiful women with pearl-handled .25 automatics in their handbags.

In fact, being a very young reader when I began reading Marlowe novels, I was severely traumatized to learn one day that Mr. Chandler was in his sixties, meaning Marlowe was in his sixties. Philip Marlowe kicking butt in his sixties? To me, a kid of sixteen, I couldn’t believe anybody in his sixties was still able to walk, much less kick butt or write about the butts he kicked. And I felt very betrayed, almost the victim of a bad joke. But I was a vapid youth of sixteen. Maybe only fifteen.

Most people today lack the patience to wade through “Moby Dick”, but when it was written, I believe people liked a more leisurely novel, something they could spend hours, even days on. They wanted their money’s worth. Remember, at that time there wasn’t much else in the way of entertainment, at least not in that price range. But today what editor would accept a long tedious novel that stops cold, and before continuing, offers lengthy dissertations on whaling, or any other industry?

If there is anything to be gleaned from this little outburst, it is that as author, you are God. Rules, schmules, it’s your creation and you have the right to say anything you want to. Now if you step too far out of recognized lines, you may never find a publisher, but these days with the Internet and self-publishing opportunities being offered every time you log on, you can still get your stuff published.

Now, I don’t suggest you go too far off the grid if you hope to find a traditional publisher who is willing to take a chance on your work, but I do feel that, as the writer, you still have the right so say what you want to.

I should mention that what makes books  like Moby Dick, Sherlock Holmes, Don Quixote, etc. isn’t always their construction, but their unforgettable characters. Remember that.

So the takeaway here is to write what you want to. Once you’ve written it, you might want to see how it compares with similar works. If you feel it’s a little outré in some respect or another, you might want to make a few changes. If you like it the way it is, submit it and see what comes out of that. BIG PUBLISHERS probably won’t look at your masterpiece no matter what it is, but there are a great many independent publishers now. Most of them are open to unpublished writers and if all of these reject your stuff, you may want to revisit the entire work and see what’s holding you back. If you do get feedback, by all means, listen to it. Listen to it, but you don’t have to do more than that. It’s up to you. You’re the writer.

In my case, hearing about the rule that the murder should happen on page three or thereabouts, I nevertheless stubbornly felt I was okay with what I had written and time has proven me to be correct, insofar that another publisher accepted Deadly Reception, and I haven’t had any complaints. So you just have to consider what you’ve written and if you firmly believe you’re right, then stick to it. Sooner or later you’ll connect with the right publisher and hopefully you’ll establish a good relationship.

One last thing that may give you solace: If and when you do get some BIG PUBLISHER to publish your book, you’ll have a very short window of opportunity. If sales after a couple of months or so aren’t what the publisher wants, off with your books head (or cover). It’s gone. Buried without any ceremony, and all you’ll have are the few copies sitting your shelf to remind you that you once had a book published. As an added humiliation, if you’re really unlucky, you may stumble across a few copies of your book in Big Lots or a 99c store but let’s hope that doesn’t happen to you.

If you allow them, most of the indies will keep your book on the Internet forever. You may not sell a lot of POD copies because of the cost, but your masterpiece can float around as an E-book on Kindle, Nook and so on forever and who knows? Maybe one day, like Van Gogh, you’ll be DISCOVERED! Hey, if Picasso and Warhol can be “discovered”, anything can happen.

Editor

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A Sure-Fire Movie Formula

You need some Characters:
 There is a bad guy and a good guy. The good guy isn’t perfect, but he’s not as bad as the bad guy, who actually has some good qualities and may articulate his point of view very clearly just before killing his victim.
Everything that can go wrong for the good guy does go wrong. His situation is hopeless…and he’s angry. If the good guy is a cop he never ever calls for backup. The good guy has a wife, girl friend and/or kid that the bad guy will take hostage later on.
If the good guy’s a cop he can be a recovering alcoholic, but maybe he’s not recovering. In any case, his wife and/or girl friend can’t deal with him, and his bosses, while they may secretly admire his results, do not like the way he gets them. He’s very probably a loose cannon. At least one associate cop can’t stand him and they’re in constant conflict. We see that the associate cop would love to get something on the good guy. As mentioned above, The good guy has a kid just waiting to be taken hostage by a bad guy.
Somewhere an expendable (read ‘asset’ if the good guy is connected to the CIA), has to be facing the camera in close up while waiting to be struck down from behind by an assailant he/she didn’t see coming, preferably when he just learns something that may help the good guy.
The good guy has an acquaintance. He’s a whacko computer nerd who can hack any computer in the world, or alternatively he’s a whacko weapons freak who has in his closet enough weaponry to start WWIII. The key word here is that he’s a Whacko.
The real surprise bad guy turns out to be the good guy’s closest friend/mentor/boss/associate, someone who is completely above suspicion until the end.
In the end, the real bad guy gets the good guy cold and his finger is tightening on the trigger (cut to trigger) and we hear the shot, but then the camera pulls back and see that the cop who never liked the good guy has come up behind the real bad guy and nails him just in the nick of time.
You need Locations:
There has to be an abandoned factory for a hair-raising cat-and-mouse game between bad guy(s) and good guy. If you have a Terminator budget you can use an operating factory, but for everyone else, abandoned factory is the way to go. This is also where the gang always meets, where they take people to beat and/or kill them, brutalize women, and where the good guy inevitably ends up, alone of course.
There absolutely has to be at least one scene on, around and/or under one of the downtown LA bridges and/or in the usually dry riverbed below. Maybe there’s something in the Los Angeles City Charter making this mandatory. This holds good even for big budget movies like the Terminator franchise, so it cannot be overlooked.
And The Conclusion:
In a bittersweet ending the good guy and his hostage are reunited. All is forgiven and he has been vindicated and justice has been served. We however, have not been served; we have been taken. (Again.)
Hollywood

The Sand Bluff Murders

ImageThe Sand Bluff Murders

Sand Bluff is a town long ago bypassed by the freeway. Sleepy, yes. But Sand Bluff was a sleepy little town long before that. When Jonas McCleary gets a job on the police force, he’s perfectly happy. An easy job in a small town where, as one local denizen puts it: “Most excitement this here town ever had was that time back in sixty-two whenever that Elvis bus had to stop and fix a flat.”

Besides, Jonas is getting onto thirty and he’s hoping to meet Miss Right so he can settle down and get married.

The first day he has his eye on a possible Miss Right, but on the third day he has his eye on a murder. A murder in little Sand Bluff? Wow, and before Jonas has even had a chance to get to know the town, he’s hit with another one. Twyla Peters, Sand Bluff’s resident hussy, is found lying in a pool of blood.

For its size, Sand Bluff has a lot of strange characters and Jonas has a lot to learn before he even gets started, and in the end, he has to grope his way down some dark passageways if he hopes not only to nail a murderer, but stay alive long enough to do it!

“The plot was amazing. – Marina Stevkovska

http://writewordsinc.com, amazon.com, nook.com, etc.

THE MORGENSTERN MURDERS

In this sequel to The Sand Bluff Murders, former police chief Jonas McCleary has gone into business as a private investigator.

When a prominent surgeon and his wife are murdered, the family’s daughter comes under suspicion and in order to clear her name and track down the killers of her parents, she hires Jonas to investigate.

When she dangles a five-thousand dollar check under his nose, how can Jonas say no? He doesn’t promise to clear her name, but he does promise to do the best he can to bring out the facts whatever they may be.

But Jonas has a rough road ahead of him when another person is found dead and the mystery surrounding the case only deepens.

In the end Jonas may have to lay his life on the line to bring this case to a satisfactory conclusion.

From Write Words, Inc. Cambridge Books http://www.writewordsinc.com

“This is one of those books that will keep you guessing all the way to the end.  Loved it and can’t wait for the next Jonas McCleary to hit my hands.”

— Martha Cheves “Stir, Laugh, Repeat”

Un polar un peu pas comme les autres. Vous m’en direz des nouvelles. http://www.writewordsinc.com (Cambridge Books) En angliche, bien entendu.

 Image 

 

 
 

How not to have control

penI‘m sure most of us like to believe we’re in control of our lives, even though experience tells us we’re mistaken. It’s certainly a comforting thought to know that you’re totally in control of everyday events around you, but of course we know that’s not strictly true.

Best laid plans…etc. We’ve all had the experience of planning say, a picnic only to find it decided to rain that day. I remember one time when I confidently went out and bought an expensive stereo on the time payment plan only to be laid off my job a week later. And so it goes. It’s pretty disappointing to finally realize and admit that we don’t really have much, if any, real control over our lives.

But when it comes to writing, ahhhh. When you’re writing, you’re God are you not? You’re completely in charge. You dream up a plot or situation and start creating characters to act out their given parts and you have the option of changing any and everything you want to. Right?

Well…maybe. Maybe usually, but here too there can be exceptions.

I know some writers make detailed notes and outlines when they write, others less so and some just sit down and start writing. In my own case, I normally don’t do much if any outlining on the computer. Being primarily a mystery writer, I usually begin dreaming up a plot and creating at least some of the characters in my head and before I actually begin writing, I usually know the ending. I know who the baddie is and how to expose a murderer. But nearly all of this is bumbling around in my mind.  Once I begin in earnest I usually make a list of the characters as they come along so I can remember their names and anything else of importance about them, but that’s about all. I’m not saying it’s the best way and it’s certainly not the only way, but alas, it’s my way and I’m too old to learn new tricks. After all, I can barely use a cell phone and consistently hold the TV remote backwards. If it was a gun I’d be dead right now.

All this preamble brings me to the point of this.

After a number of stillborn attempts and misbegotten ideas I finally began to put together a plot for (hopefully) my next epic opus. It came to me complete with a title: “The Morgenstern Murders”.

I had this Morgenstern. He was one of those investment banker birds who made a killing in the big bust and quietly retired to a luxurious compound overlooking the lovely Pacific Ocean in sunny California. Naturally, because of the many people whose fortunes and sometimes, lives, were ruined due to his shenanigans, he had accrued a pile of enemies as big as his fortune.

Before long I was actually writing. Started off well. I was fully in charge. But then, about a week or so into this work, something unexpected happened.

That jerk Morgenstern didn’t want to be an unscrupulous investment banker. He wanted to play doctor. Doctor?!

Slipping completely out of my control this guy had decided to be a doctor instead of an investment banker. That meant I had to go back and add “Dr.” every time I mentioned his name. Luckily, on the computer that isn’t so difficult. And he didn’t like to be such a lowlife either. Enemies? Sure. As a doctor, he had opened several abortion clinics in the bay area and found his clinics plagued by protesters who marched daily around displaying placards. They even located his compound and began marching outside in front of his home.

Okay. I didn’t ask for that and didn’t expect it. I honestly don’t know where that came from, but there it is. Even my fictional characters come out and mess up my plans.

Now let me say right here that this isn’t a moral story. I couldn’t dream of writing a scathing philippic against abortionists, and I certainly can’t blame those who are against it. I write mysteries and don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to make a statement. Blame Dr. Morgenstern if you want to blame somebody. I don’t know how or why he decided to become a doctor and set up abortion clinics.  I certainly don‎’t have the expertise to speak for or against abortions. I’m not writing to make any judgments, and I’m not here to defend those who don’t believe in abortion and I can’t judge the doctors who perform this service. Being a male, I’ve never had occasion to consider having an abortion. Fortunately too, the possibility has never come up in my extended family. Everybody related to me already has plenty of kids and more on the way. I suppose one thing in favor of abortions would be the savings in birthday presents, but I kind of enjoy all those little birthday parties even when the cake is on the heavy side.  On the one hand, I wouldn’t advise anyone to have an abortion, but on the other hand, it’s certainly not up to the likes of me to tell women I don’t even know how they should live their lives.

I hope to get this book finished before the end of the year, and God willing, it will be available early next year and I’ll be done with the late Dr. Morgenstern. Yes, despite his change of career, he still gets whacked. (Call it fate, Kismet, destiny.) And although he isn’t really a bad guy, I’m just not that emotionally involved with him to be upset at reading of his demise.

So the takeaway here is that we’re not only not in control of our lives, but evidently we aren’t always in control of our fiction either, but I guess that isn’t all bad. Makes the whole journey more interesting and sometimes even fun.

A Section of River Road

Here’s a short excerpt from River Road:

Homicide Detective Hugh Rafferty stood in the center
of the kitchen holding Fido, his hefty black cat in his arms.
In dismay his sharp eyes roved over the disaster that
surrounded him.
A huge dark brown stain matted the filthy linoleum floor,
Cabinet doors sagged open, some broken, as was the
kitchen window. The oven door hung sideways and the
kitchen fanlight was hanging by one electric wire. Rafferty
wrinkled his nose at the familiar smell that permeated the
room.
Fido struggled to get down, but Rafferty held him fast.
“No no, Fido. You know you can’t be wandering around
crime scenes. Jesus…”
Jeff Malone, a husky man in his early forties stood in tshirt
and jeans holding a clipboard in one hand and a digital
camera in the other.
“Yeah Raf. Crime scene is right. This is about as bad as
it gets. The bastards that did this—” He broke off and
sucked in his breath. “I mean…this is sick, man.”
“I hear you,” Raf agreed. “Just when you think you’ve
seen it all.”
His eyes continued to rove about the kitchen. Cracked
tiles sullied the counters. Litter cluttered the counters and
the floor.
“But hey,” Raf went on, “look at the bright side, Jeff.
Somebody did us a favor. When we bring this puppy back
to life, she’ll be worth three hundred grand. Maybe a little
bit more.”
“Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us, Raf. But—you
know, only giving me a forty thousand dollar budget to
work with—this isn’t going to as easy as the last flip.
Besides, if you ask me, this was a poor time to be trying to
flip a house. This’s not like a couple of years ago.”
“You said that the last time, Jeff. In fact you always say
that. But somehow you always come through for me. And
we won’t be greedy. If we offer a good value, the right price,
somebody will buy. I —” He broke off to answer his ringing
cell phone. Still holding Fido firmly in his grasp, he fished
the phone from his side pocket. “Yeah. Yeah. Where? Jesus.
Yeah. Okay, I’m on my way.” He shoved the phone back
into his pocket.
Jeff stood patiently looking at his employer.
“Looks like my city needs me, Jeff. Crime never takes a
holiday. Well, you’ve got enough to start on. I’ll touch down
with you later.”
As Raf headed for the door, Jeff nodded and looked at
his clipboard. Raf turned suddenly back.
“Well, come on man. We’ve only got four weeks to flip
this puppy.” He looked down into Fido’s yellow eyes.
“Come on, Partner. We’ve got us a homicide to investigate.”
“Yeh,” Jeff came back, “and you need a new hat.”
Raf pulled off his ragged and stained straw hat to reveal
a thick mass of uncombed red hair. He looked fondly at the hat.
“Hey, I’m sensitive about this hat. This is my lucky hat. I
wouldn’t trade it for two new ones.” He slapped the hat
back onto his head. “Now get busy.”
***
Raf pulled his Ford off onto the right embankment of
River Road, opposite the small army of other vehicles,
including two television vans.
Raf sighed and grabbed Fido up in his arms. “Come on
big boy. We’ve got work to do.”
The day was warm but hazy and the tree line that edged
down toward the river looked slightly fuzzy. Carrying Fido
in his arms, Raf crossed the roadway.
A uniformed officer snapped his notebook shut as Raf
approached.
“Looks like you and your partner there have
another nasty one on your hands, Raf.”
“Gee, thanks, Jason. Just what I needed. “You know Fido
can’t stand the sight of blood.”
Jason laughed. “Sorry about that. Tell him to look the
other way. Here’s the deal: The girl was apparently riding
her bicycle in the rain along the road here.” He waved out
toward the roadway, dry now on this warm day. “Evidently
her bike was struck from behind by a vehicle, throwing
her off. But her body turned up down below there, under
a tree.” He waved his arm downward in the direction of
the river. “We don’t think the force of the blow threw her that
far, not by a long shot. Somebody got her down there one way or
another and smashed her head in with a rock.”
Raf’s face sobered. He set Fido on the ground and pushed
back his straw porkpie hat, allowing his tumbled red hair
to fly out. “Sexual assault?”
“Medical Examiner thinks so. Her shorts and panties are lying
by the body.”
“Oh boy…well, come on, Fido.”
Closely followed by Fido, Raf struggled to maintain his
balance as he slip-slid down through the wet grass and
gravel to the huddled corpse.

And we haven’t yet met Lucretia St. James, the medium.

River Road from http://www.writewordsinc.com and most sites.

Tape Review

Here’s an encouraging review of my sticky mystery, Tape
Title: Tape
Author: C. M. Albrecht
Publisher: http://www.writewordsinc.com Cambridge Books
ISBN: 1-59431-910-3 or 978-1-59431-910-5
Genre: Mystery

Cover Art by Shelley Rodgerson

A collection of strange characters will make you smile as you follow their movements. A man who finds detecting so interesting he sets up an agency in partnership with a girl covered in tattoos. The agency is located in her father’s garage, but they have to move when he gets a car.

A serial killer gets out of prison and the hunt is on when he returns to his old habits. A missing grandfather brings the erstwhile detecting pair their first client who has the habit of taping everything. This killer also brings a cop known as “The Hat’ into their lives.

This is a tale with twists you won’t expect as the talented author, C. M Albrecht, plants red herrings to keep you following trails that lead you in circles.

Recommended for the mystery fan who enjoys new sleuths and unusual characters. Enjoy.

Anne K. Edwards
The Slippery Art of Book Reviewing

Review of The Sand Bluff Murders

Here’s a neat review from Café Reads, Where books and beans are celebrated,
http:/cafereads.blogspot.uk

TUESDAY, JULY 31, 2012
Special Blend: The Sand Bluff Murders

Rating: 8/10 in Mystery/Thriller

Summary: “Newly hired officer Jonas McCleary is into his third day on the job in the tiny town of Sand Bluff —and Sand Bluff has its first murder in twenty years. Before Jonas can begin to get his feet wet, local hottie Twyla Peters is found murdered…Now, faced with two seemingly unconnected murders, McCleary is really put to the test. But the worst isn’t over.”
Provided by author

Published: Cambridge Books, 2012 (soon to be published)

Where I got it: sent to me in PDF form

More information: http://www.writewordsinc.com/

Review:
With a touch of humor and romance, The Sand Bluff Murders throws a likeable lead into a chaotic and intriguing mystery plot. As the mystery unravels, the first-person narration forges an important bond between reader and lead character, whose wit and sarcasm endear him to the reader. The writing is polished and practical. What really grabbed me was the dialogue, which captures the essence of a conversation without insulting the readers’ intelligence. Albrecht shows his skill and precision as an author when he summarizes the protagonist’s back story later in the book, rather than pummeling the reader upfront with a lengthy biography. I was also impressed with Albrecht’s pacing and chapter breaks. Albrecht clearly understands the mystery genre and has assembled his suspects, alibis and intrigues accordingly.

On the flip-side, I would have liked to see the book open in media res. Also, as a matter of personal taste, I thought some emotional stakes for the lead would have given the reader a more holistic view of his character. At times, the lead’s sarcasm makes him sound immature and less believable as a law enforcement officer, much less a detective. Some of the suspects are also underdeveloped as characters, but this is not a capital offense in mystery novels, since they are typically plot-driven.

Overall, I highly recommend this book. Albrecht has the potential to become a successful mystery writer, and The Sand Bluff Murders–with its witty narration, charming protagonist and solid mystery plot–is definitely worth the read.

Author’s Note: Clinically proven to be more effective than the other leading novels.

Tape

Izzy is a dyslexic daydreamer with a tattooed girlfriend named Vero. Both in their twenties, they still live at home with single parents.  Two boats without a rudder.

Izzy’s dream is to be a private detective, and with high hopes, he drops an ad in the Penny Saver. Who would answer a PI ad in a Penny Saver you ask? Dema Wilson, an equally challenged young black woman with a tape obsession so serious she should have her own reality show.

But Dema’s grandpa has disappeared and the police aren’t willing to do much to help. After all, he’s a grown man. But Izzy and Vero are willing to help.

They don’t know however that Shorty Thompson, a serial killer is on the loose and he has a ‘hit list’ of people he feels have wronged him. Dema’s grandpa is on that list.

If these guys get out of this alive they will at least have grown up a lot and learned a lot as well. There could just be a future for all three of them.

TAPE  ISBN 978-1-61386-014-4

Available now e-book and soft cover from http://www.writewordsinc.com (Cambridge Books), amazon Kindle, b&n Nook  and most sites.

Doctors recommend Tape over Twine, Staples and Paper Clips two to one.

The Detective/Writer Type

So what about me? 

I’m me.  I’m a private eye. I work alone.

I wear a fedora and a trench coat even when it’s a hundred and five in Sacramento.  I pack an 11mm Marley I bought at the Archie Goodwin estate sale.  I know which end the slugs come out of.  But 11mm slugs?  Hard to come by these days. People say I’ve got attitude.  Attitude they don’t like.  I get that a lot. 

The cops and me? We work toward the same end, but we’re like water and electricity. They think I cramp their style. They hate that  I don’t have to play by their rules. I usually end up  needing a lawyer.  The last one I had fell off the back of an ambulanceful of mesothelioma patients and got run over by a speeding Cooper. 

I’m alone and  on my own.  It’s a mean life.  I’m used to it.

When my casebook’s empty— and it’s empty a lot—I write books. Crime books.

Okay, really, I’m not at all like that.  I’m just a mild-mannered fellow who loves mysteries and detectives (public and private alike). I sit at my desk and drink coffee, piddle around on the computer and daydream. Marley? What’s a Marley? I’ve never seen one. I don’t even think there is such a thing. I think Archie just made the name up along with the Heron he used to drive.

I’ve never gone strapped anyway (except for cash), and I’ve never shot anybody and nobody’s ever shot me. My wife got shot at once, but that’s another story. I’ve been happily married to the beautiful Irma since 1967.  While my head’s in the clouds, she helps keep my feet on the ground.  That ain’t easy.

I’m sure people in law enforcement snort at boo-boos they run across in crime fiction.  They may think writers are stupid or simply ignorant.  FYI we may or may not know what we’re writing about, but in writing there’s a loophole that covers this.  It’s called poetic license. It’s legal. 

I like murder mysteries, «romans durs» and «romans noirs». A couple of my books are not only murder mysteries, but fall under those classifications as well.  My stuff isn’t as hard-boiled as the first “me” above, but it’s not as soft and sweet as the second “me”, the guy who sits at the computer and day-dreams. It falls somewhere in between. I try not to get fancy. I like to keep my writing realistic and the story lines believable and plausible.  Just saw a film where the guy learns to his regret that he’s used all the slugs in his automatic. We “pros” of course know that the slide would have stayed back after his last round and even a real dummy would have realized his weapon was dry. But hey, that’s Hollywood. I don’t want to go Hollywood (unless they call me.)

I have a wonderful publisher, Arline Chase, and an equally wonderful editor, Shelley Rodgerson (who’s a whiz at creating neat covers as well!)

Check these efforts out right now for some easy reading:

The Music Series: “Music”, “Evidence”, “Still Life with Music”

“The Little Mornings”

“Marta’s Place”

“Deadly Reception”

“Tape”

“River Road”

“The Albemarle Affair”

Cambridge Books www.writewordsinc.com and at all the very finest sites.

Author Jay D.

Welcome to my world

Rosie Amber

Book Reviewer, Avid Reader and Bookworm. Campaigning to link more readers to writers. People do not forget books that touch them or excite them—they recommend them.

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