Fast, Fun, Feisty, Frugal

My new book, UP CHIT CREEK, is a shorty. A novella. A fast read for busy people without sacrificing character and plot. There might be a few delicious caloric descriptive passages removed, but who needs the extra weight?

 Especially when you are sitting on a subway train or a bus or a plane. If you're a fast reader, you can devour my shorty in no time.

Wikipedia says novellas can go from 17,500 to 40,000 words, with the most common being 30,000. My publisher, Imajin Books, picked 30,000 words max for her Qwickie line. As a comparison, novels are most commonly 80-90,000 words.
 




But - it will be FUN. Yes, this author of the dark suspense (Emily Taylor Mysteries and Sweet Karoline, not to mention all those short stories), has written a funny story. Well, I hope you find it funny anyhow. The plot of killing old people at a retirement residence doesn't sound funny, but my character is a spitfire. She's witty and smart and speaks her mind outrageously. A member of The Flower Pots, she's an "old hippy" who still likes to kick back with a spliff or two. Someone you might have met at Woodstock (the original).
 


It's frugal, too, since the novella will cost you about $3.00. Trust me, selling at this price doesn't make or my publisher rich, but it's just so damn satisfying. Of course, if we end up with a million buyers, we'd be just fine, but that's not something I expect. (Luckily, neither does my publisher.)

Pretty good price for something that will make you LOL and with characters you will remember.

Written on the little laptop pictured to the left!

The launch of UP CHIT CREEK happens Saturday, May 2, 2015.
 

May 2  Be Up  Chit Creek?

You are personally invited to dive right in. How can you do that?  Let me count the ways!

 1.     In person. Come to a panel discussion and the book launch at The Brantford Public Library, Main Branch, 173 Colborne St., Brantford, at 2 p.m. on May 2. Open House at our place afterward.

2.     Online! Download a copy of the e-novella through any of these links. You can do this right now. You’ll get the book on May 2. You can order on May 2 or after May 2. The Tooth will set you free.

3.     If you don’t have an ereader, download it onto your computer and wait until you do. Tell me you downloaded it and in goes your name for a free paperback when (if) I get one.

4.     You want an autographed copy? You can have your ebooks authorgraphed right here: https://www.authorgraph.com

UP CHIT CREEK

No one is surprised that “nosy Rosie” is the one who finds poor Mr. Hummel in the garden. The surprise is the knife in his back. Nothing like this has ever happened in Chittendom Creek, let alone at the ReVisions Retirement Residence. When the oldies start dropping like flies, it’s Kira Callahan to the rescue.

To solve the murder, Kira enlists the assistance of her friends, The Flower Pots—so named due to their past and present semi-legal activity. But Kira is up Chit Creek when a final ingenious plan to capture the killer almost ends with a victim close to her heart.

Amazon/Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Up-Chit-Creek-Catherine-Astolfo-ebook/dp/B00VEYO0PW

Kobo:

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/up-chit-creek

Google Play:

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Catherine_Astolfo_Up_Chit_Creek?id=ryC5BwAAQBAJ&hl=en 

     

Smashwords doesn’t have pre-orders, so on or after May 2:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/531663

Other Dates for In Person Visits can be found right here: http://www.amazon.com/Catherine-Astolfo/e/B005PWZ6D4

On the Journal: Part 3

At 5 a.m., the aviary choir runs through its note lines, high and squawky or melodic. Most people are still asleep, thus the usual swish of traffic is a faint whisper in the distance. Although I am not really pleased at being awake at this time, I decide it's a good time concentrate on the journal I've been meaning to write.

Prior to this gift of a quiet couple of hours, I attempted several times to pen my magnificent, insightful thoughts on life, love, art, history, philosophy. I always leave out geography and science and mathematics and not because I am so good at them I'd shame the rest of the world.
Love I figure I could wax prosaic about simply due to the numerous times I've been mired in it.

Above is an example of how I get distracted. I begin to research journal writing. I preach. I switch from pencil to pen to laptop. I make a plan. I never actually get to the diary itself.

Several days, I am interrupted by house showings. We have our home up for sale and it's not doing well. Everyone else I know sold their place in under a day. Not us. We like to wait until the market cools, then obsessively clean every day, and hop in the car and wait down the street while potential buyers stroll through. Voyeurs in our own neighbourhood. You'd think that would be a good time to journal, but with the stress of removing the last possible piece of dust and jamming the cat into her carrier, I barely remember my shoes let alone a diary.


When I do have time and still nothing flows from my fingertips, I glance back at old journals for inspiration. Here’s an example of an old travel diary: “Eilat. Amazing topography. Dinner at Pago Pago. ‘Wasaga Beach - even a ferris wheel’. Swim, Sun.” Isn’t that descriptive? Not for you, I’m sure, but it’s strange how these few words immediately bring back the trip.

 I smell the azure sea, blink at the reddish sand, wonder at the luxury of the hotels. Pago Pago smells of fish and salt from its open windows, a long wide wooden deck of a restaurant. Strolling in the warm night, hand-in-hand with my husband, we wander through a fair and I transpose back to childhood playing with my cousins and my sisters at Wasaga Beach. The fair a weekly treat. We have lots of time to swim in the pools and loll in the sun on this trip.

Another journal does the same for me. “On top of hill - Israel, Saudi, Egypt, Jordan. Egyptian soldiers at breakfast. Nuweiba - famous Bedouin group. Coloured canyon. Dahab means gold; city is yellow.” From high above, I can see the vast scrubby desert undulate in all directions. Turn in a circle and you can see four countries, our guide tells, so we do. Each of them burns in my memory. I am amazed, aghast, frightened by the beauty of the land and the ferocity of human beings. How can we as a species hold so much anger and greed when we have this vastness, this sandy parchment, these green oases at our feet? Naively I gaze at the Egyptian soldiers on the other side of the barbwire fence, calmly eating their breakfast, smile and talk and occasionally touch the assault rifles by their sides. Once in the Sinai Peninsula, we hear that there is trouble in Sharm El Sheikh, so we won’t go that far. Its history is rich and terrifying. In 6000 BC, it was broken off into Bedouin, Greek and Roman sections. The latter of course attempted to force a “christian” conversion on all, resulting in years of battle, death, destruction.

We pass by the port town of Nuweiba, famous for its Bedouin camps, but we see only rocky hills and pebbled dirt. We have a guide, a driver, and an armed police officer with us, because even tourists are subject to the violence this year.  The city of Dahab is a yellow bulb on the dirty brown landscape. Its name means “gold”.

This is what I get from one page in my diary. We don’t reach the city of St. Catherine’s and Mount Sinai until the next entry. So naturally I begin to think.

Perhaps, at least right now, at this age, I don’t need to write in detail. Maybe point form is fine. After years of typewriters (I can hear my granddaughter asking, Gramma, what’s a typewriter?) and computers, writing with a pen is slow, visceral. No thesaurus is a click away.

I like the idea of jotting. It’s quick, yet not easy: I’ll have to pick the right words that will trigger the memory to return. Yet obviously the name of a city, the timetable of our day, can evoke the trip we took. Perhaps that will work for day-to-day stuff too. I know I like making lists. This would be kind of a life list. Short, but to the point.

PS Post blog - sold house.

On the Journal: Part 2

              According to a bunch of articles on the subject of journaling, what I have been doing is writing a diary. This is not a dictionary distinction, but one made by those who view the business of journals in a serious light. 

Diaries (according to Cheryl Craigie) are simply records of daily life. Like my lists, for instance.  A journal, on the other hand, is “a repository for all of the things that interest and inspire you. It also provides a safe environment to experiment and grow creatively.”

Wow. That kind of sounds like work to me. Something that only serious authors are allowed to create. Yet Craigie’s article claims it’s fun.

Myrko Thum says the journal is a conduit for self-reflection, goal setting, and fulfilling those goals as promises to ourselves.  It’s a planner, an idea repository. This sounds more like my lists. Although it appears to be easier to write than hauling a book around everywhere to jot down ideas and creative events, this kind of record seems to be even more serious minded.

Speaking of serious, there are lots of online articles on journaling as therapy. For instance, many psychologists and psychiatrists employ the technique as treatment for depression, PTSD, social and medical difficulties. That totally reminds me of the blogs I wrote while undergoing treatment for breast cancer. It truly was therapeutic and even, so I was told, helped some others get through the same experience.

Educators use journals for practicing of grammar and spelling skills. As a teacher, I sometimes read the journals, and sometimes the students told me it was private. In both cases, I never marked the entries, and, after a while, most of the children appeared to enjoy the process. Perhaps this is what has been missing in my personal journal experience: stick-to-itiveness.

Other experts emphasize the thoughtfulness of journal writing. We take time out for ourselves. We focus on our inner reactions, emotions, and ideas that we don’t want to share aloud. It’s a sense of exerting control on our environment by examining our experiences and labeling them. A few minutes of quiet, individual deliberation tucked into a busy, loud, crowded world.

Peggy Nolan, in the Huffington Post, gives twenty-six reasons for keeping a daily journal. Some of them include accountability and reduction of stress.

Personally, my stress level went up just thinking about having to write in the journal every single day. I guess that’s my aforementioned lack of self-discipline speaking, which prompts me to wonder if I ought to impose some kind of writing schedule on myself. Perhaps I’d write more than a few short stories per year and a novel every other year.

Maybe I’d find peace of mind. Wikipedia calls journals “windows to the soul”. What if they’re right? I haven’t kept my window open for very long. Maybe I should change that.

Phylameana lila Desy claims that the act of writing a journal “drains the brain of mindless clutter”. That is definitely something I can use. Julia Cameron in “The Artist’s Way” recommends writing every morning to clear out useless data and negative emotions so we can start our day fresh and unencumbered. Sounds like a fabulous idea to me. Probably much better than reading a newspaper filled with the terrible acts that humans commit.

My brief foray into journal research has convinced me. I am going to try it—on a daily basis, not sporadically. For me, it could me an exercise in self-discipline. Want to join me? I’ll let you know how my experiment goes. Feel free to share yours!  cathy@catherineastolfo.com

www.catherineastolfo.com

On the Journal: Part 1

     No, that wasn't an auto-correct. I did write Journal, not Journey. The two words share the root of the French "jour" meaning "day" and are therefore both based on time. According to those who should know and don't mind telling us that, we should journal daily, just as we journey along in our daily lives.

     But I am terrible at journalling unless combined with a journey outside my regular sphere. A visit, a trip, a vacation, in other words, inspires me to write something down every day. Not so much when I'm home, despite the fact that I would love to be a regular journal-er.

     I admire and envy those who keep a running account of their daily adventures, thoughts, ideas and observations. I wish I could make myself do it.

     Recently I have been purging my home of "junk" after 25 years of living in the same house. I discovered a whole bunch of gorgeous little writing books with lovely covers and decorative pages. You see, although I am sporadic at writing in the journal, I adore those exquisite books. My favorite is a leather-bound journal that I bought in Turkey. That one I use to write plot outlines.

     Reading over the short-lived diaries, I realize that my writing in them tends to become lists. Bucket lists. Financial lists. Shopping lists. Lists of ideas for stories. Complaint lists.
    
     Here is one such list that I found yesterday. It's entitled "10 Things To Do Before I Die". I wrote it a whole bunch of years ago, likely around 1999, before the 2000's even existed. I'm including a little update with each one, so you know how far I got with this particular list.

10 Things to Do Before I Die  (not in order of importance)

1.  Visit Barbados √ Two years ago, we went with my cousin and her husband. We had a ball. It was worthy of being on the list! But now it can be replaced with some other exotic location—or a return trip to Barbados would be great too.

2. Visit Auschwitz. Dreadful, I know, but there is something that has always compelled me to go there. If I fully believed in past lives, I might suspect I'd been there in person already. But I haven't made it in this life...yet. Surprisingly, no one wants to go with me, but it's staying on the list.

3. Have a traditional publisher publish my book. √ Thanks to Cheryl Kaye Tardif of Imajin Books (www.imajinbooks.com), I can check this one off my list. By 2013, I had five published! Not to mention a bunch of short stories in "real" magazines. This item stays, however, since I have more to write.

4. Reach my ideal weight and stay there. All I can say to this is, ha ha ha ha ha ha. Still, I'll keep it on the list.

5. See Sisbro be a HUGE success. Sisbro and Co. Inc. is my children's film company. (I am a not-so-silent partner.) We haven't made a huge success yet—but there have been strides in that direction. This one stays on the list.

6. Go on a cruise. √ We went on a Mediterranean cruise last year with a bunch of our best friends. It was awesome! Glad I had that on my list. Might have to see about a couple more of those, so let's leave this here for now.

7. Return to Israel/Palestine and see Halil and Amitiée. This one hasn't been achieved—yet. It stays here. Someday I'll tell you all about these two people.

8. Get to know Vince's kids better. √ As the "other woman", it was a difficult thing to be accepted or liked by my husband's children, and I didn't blame them. But oh my god, I am grateful every single day that I can check this one off the list.

9. Learn to relax. Well, I have employed some pharmaceuticals and red wine to help with this. Seriously, however, it's not an art I have perfected by any means. Leave it on the list.

10. Learn to take care of myself and not worry so much. I think I've done a pretty good job of this one. It should probably stay on the list, though, since it's something to practice every day.

On the Journal...Cathy

www.catherineastolfo.com


This is the purple diary in which I found my Bucket List circa 1999. I think I bought this one in Turkey, too. Should've written that down...

Part One: Sahara and Miss Monk Go To Florida

     We've been talking to the girls about this trip for a year. You'd think they would be ready. Sahara (who will not answer to any nicknames at all, a family tradition that she ignores) complains, her voice constant and loud. Raven, whose name has been switched to Monkey or Miss Monk for a variety of reasons, quietly stares at us with a deep seated suspicion borne of the belief that a car ride leads only to the vet. We promise them sunshine and lollipops, but they aren't convinced.

     Into the cat carriers, we spray the pheromone stuff that's supposed to calm them down. In the freezing air, Vince plows through the snow to warm up the car for them. We bundle up in hats, mitts, coats and scarves and pack everything. Despite the fact that they have four legs each, Sahara and Miss Monk don't even offer to help. Once we have all the luggage arranged, the big pheromone-soaked pet tent strapped safely into the back seat, little bowls handy for fresh food and water along the way, we are ready for the girls to board.

     During the preparations, they wound themselves in and out of our legs, over our feet, tripped us on the stairs. Now they are nowhere to be seen. We wait a few quiet moments. Sahara, unable to stifle her curiosity, pokes her head into the hallway. I snatch her up and shove her, legs stiffened and howling, into the carrier. Immediately I remove her to the waiting, warm automobile, lest her howls spook Miss Monk. Naturally I am too late.
     Monkey darts past us and burrows her way under our bed. Now, ours happens to be a king-sized monstrosity with wooden sides only a very small child (or cat) can squeeze under. Judging from the dust balls, not even the Merry Maids have been able to get under there with a vacuum hose. Miss Monk has scratched a little pocket into the box spring. With a nice sharp exacto knife, we manage to make the rip larger, but she simply burrows totally out of reach. However, she purrs to let us know she's pleased with herself.
     An entire frustrating impossibly long hour later, several litres of gas keeping Sahara and me warm, and Monkey strolls out into the hall. Vince quietly follows her, down the stairs where she finds the doors shut, up the stairs where she finds the doors closed, and finally into her master's arms. (Who am I kidding with the "master" monicker?)
     We're on the road to Florida! The girls sing joyously - or should I use piteously? - for a few kilometres and then...silent resignation.

     Whichever one of us is not driving balances Dave Hunter's book, Along Interstate 75, on our knees. If you are planning a trip to Florida, we highly recommend it. (Insert commercial music here.) As Dave suggests, we take the Ambassador Bridge between Windsor and Detroit, which fortunately is fairly devoid of traffic. Under our wheels, we can feel the difference between the economy of the Canadian versus the American city.
We approach the border with a little bit of trepidation. We've got  our passports, the house rental contract, and the vet's papers, ready for inspection. Luckily there's not much of a line up and we slide up to a booth very quickly.
"Afternoon."
Yes, it is. Might have been morning if Miss Monk...
"Afternoon," Vince says.
"Where are you folks headed?"
Folks. Such a...well, folksy kind of word.
"Florida."
Always answer the question. Provide no more detail unless prompted.
"For how long?"
"Two months."
"Do you have more than $10,000 with you?"
"I wish."
Silence.
"No."
"Tobacco?"
"No."
"Alcohol?"
"No."
"Okay." Hands back the passports. "Have a good time."
You didn't even ask what the huge tent in the back seat is for!
"Thanks."
Right away, there's the toll booth, after that a twisting left, and we're on I75 headed south. The girls are still silent. Vince and I are grinning like Cheshire cats.

Consider Yourself Well In! Guest Peter Clenott

"Consider yourself well in, consider yourself part of the family"

I haven't really met Peter in person, but he's one of our Imajin-nation, so he has to be great. Here are some things I have learned about him. He has three wonderful kids (even though they're teens LOL). He writes mainly in the YA genre in their honor.  In August 2013, DEVOLUTION will be published by Imajin Books. He's also one of those people whom I admire for their social services and non-profit work. Sounds like he's politically involved, too, so look out Massachusetts!

Now, to the best part - Peter's new book, Devolution.

DEVOLUTION features sixteen-year-old Chiku Flynn. Chiku was born in the Congo rainforest to two anthropologists studying the native chimpanzees. For the first eleven years of her life, Chiku is more chimp than child. She nests with the chimpanzees, grooms them and has no qualms about sticking a leaf tool in the soil and slurping up the ants and termites she uncovers. When she is eleven, her mother is killed, and Chiku is sent back to the United States to grow into a maladjusted teenager medicated for anxiety, depression, mood disorder, hyperactivity, you name it. When her father disappears, Chiku must return to the Congo to discover her true heroic self. In Swahili, Chiku means ‘chatterbox’ but the chimpanzees of the Maiku National park, with whom she can communicate using sign language, know her simply as Talk Talk

An Excerpt for my followers - FREE!
     Perched on a branch in a tree at the top of Chimp Hill, the highest point on the island, Scallion studied the night sky. In times past, the moon, the stars, all of the bright objects set in the darkness above, would have held no meaning for him or for his fellow chimpanzees. With good reason their curiosity was focused on the earth and upon the rain forest in which they lived, how it fed them and nurtured them. This had been true since the beginning of time, since the first chimpanzee found a home here. Only the arrival of the girl and her parents had changed that, changed everything, in fact.
     Scallion didn’t feel the wind breathing through his brown fur, didn’t feel its soft tickling. Sometimes the moon shone a brilliant red or even purple, colors reflecting off the water of the Mamba River, which flowed around Chimp Hill and created his island home. On those nights the young chimpanzee reflected upon days buried deeply but firmly in his memory when he and the human female played tag and leaped through the trees, wraaing and hooting and pretending they were of the same kind.
     Tonight the mouth-shaped moon seemed to be frowning. The girl had explained to him, using her hands in a language her father was teaching them, that they all lived on a great big ball. Using the thumb and middle finger of her left hand she would pinch her right wrist and explain to them that their world made a circle every day so that light was a part of the morning and darkness an expected feature of night.
     "The moon," she signed, touching her forehead with two fingers in the shape of the crescent, "is a ball of rock that floats in the air so far away birds can never reach it. Chimpanzees can never get there either, but our kind can."

Buy Devolution HERE

It's still only 99¢ for its debut price, so get it on your ereader now and read it to your kids!

UNDER THE COVER!

Well, not really under the cover, but here IS the cover you've all been waiting for. Jefferson Airplane serenades Karoline into the world....When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don't you want somebody to love, don't you need somebody to love...?

And here's a snippet of my wonderful Kirkus Review:

  "In her latest novel, Astolfo (Legacy, 2012, etc.) takes what at first glance appears to be a straightforward story of murder and guilt to an unexpected place ... where love is discovered.  -->

A deliciously vibrant portrait that realistically muddles good and evil."—Kirkus Reviews

Judge a Book by Its Cover! And - off to Guelp today.

Come over to see me at Alison Bruce's blog, Summer Shorts, since I am in Guelph with her today!

Also thinking about Sweet Karoline's cover. If Mel Bradshaw is right about the explosive nature of this book - maybe there should be a bomb on the cover?? What do you think??

Here's a trivia question for you: what singer do I see every time he comes to Toronto and what does he have to do with Sweet Karoline?

Endorsers! How I Love Thee!

Since we have to wait a little bit for Sweet Karoline to show up, I want to introduce you to my amazing endorsers.

What's an endorser, you ask? Well, the first criterion is that the endorser must be another writer whom you admire. The second criterion is that s/he is willing to read your novel in manuscript form, ignore any errors (this is pre-edit, you see), and tell you what they think. You expect them to be honest, because obviously if they don't like the book, they won't provide an endorsement.

Fortunately for me, I found six authors who fit the criteria perfectly. I'm going to show them to you, two at a time, alphabetically.

I met Mel Bradshaw through Crime Writers of Canada. Before I met him in person, I had already read his book, Victim Impact, and loved it.  Once I met him in person, I loved him, too, and his wonderful wife, Carol.

Here's a quick peek from his website:

Torn from the Headlines: Victim Impact

Drug wars and courtroom drama in the Golden Horseshoe. The rights of the criminally accused versus the needs of the victims. A twenty-first century thriller.

When criminologist Ted Boudreau’s academic interest in biker gangs brings tragedy into his home, a penal progressive must confront his inner vigilante. There will be other victims. Can all receive justice?

“It’s a haunting novel… a must read.” (Don Graves, Hamilton Spectator)

I have to admit I haven't gotten to the Shenstone stories yet, but I have them ready to read once I complete two other novels I've got my nose into. Mel knows why I am especially interested in the Shenstone mysteries! Quarrel with the Foe and Fire on the Runaway are on my shelf. You should get them on yours, too. Go here for all the links: Mel's Website

"Detective Sergeant Paul Shenstone of the Toronto police gets his first case as lead investigator in 1926. His professional assets include a year of university, combat experience during the Great War, and a bachelor's freedom to focus on a problem without family distractions. His liabilities? A thirst for whiskey despite Prohibition, a fondness for women, and a tendency to go it alone rather than fit into an organizational pigeon-hole."

Mel Bradshaw and Me at a Signing with the "Other Mel" (Campbell) to Mel's left.

 Next in line is Liz Bugg. I recently attended the launch of her third book, Yellow Vengeance. (That's one of the two novels I told you about that I'm currently reading.) I have read the first two as well, and love them all.

Here's a sneak peek from Liz's website about her first book, Red Rover.

Thalia Spencer is missing. Is she in trouble or simply avoiding her family?

This fast-moving thriller follows Calli Barnow through the twists and turns of Toronto’s neighbourhoods, from rundown but friendly Kensington market to the Church Street gaybourhood, through the ravines of Rosedale and Mount Pleasant’s Mausoleums.

Calli is an engaging companion, flawed but determined, pursued by her own demons as she tries to find a missing girl before more trouble finds her.


The above synopsis mentions the three things I love about Liz's books: the fast pace, the setting descriptions, and the wonderful Calli whose witty, sardonic voice endeared her to me from the start.

Liz and I at the launch of Yellow Vengeance.

I've met Liz on a number of occasions and, I'm happy to report, not only do we like each other's writing, we like each other too! What a perfect combination.

Got get Liz's books at her website right here. 

Consider Yourself At Home!

Another Guest from my Family of Imajin Books! Chris Redding introduces us to her newest book.

Which Exit Angel

Just released. Get it for the introductory price of 99 cents for a limited time.

Blurb:
She's an angel who hasn't earned her wings. He's a preacher who is questioning his faith. How are they supposed to fend off the coming apocalypse?

Excerpt:
A bell rang, but Detective Angela Sky wasn’t getting her wings.
Not that she wasn’t due, she just hadn’t made the commitment yet. She’d get around to it, right now she had a murder to investigate.
She fished her Smartphone out of her pocket to see who had sent her a text message. That’s what had been ringing, well, dinging because she’d left it on the default sound for incoming messages. Dang technology. Harder to solve than most homicides.
Gabriel again. Sighing, she put the device back in her pocket. He’d have to wait. She pulled her shirt from her sticky back. Dang New Jersey humidity. The dog days of August in New Jersey was not her idea of a good time. She didn’t want murders of angels to take place at all, but she’d enjoy a cooler climate.  Even the sun going down hadn’t taken the heat out of the air.
The body in question had already been removed, but had there been a chalk outline it would have included wings.
Bunny Watts, the deceased, had received her wings more than a hundred years before. She’d been a guardian angel, but no one in Heaven or Earth seemed to know what she was doing down a dark alley on a humid Saturday night in the small Shore town. 
Another person had been there too and that someone had killed Bunny. It was Angela’s job to solve the crime. The way kidnappers crossing state lines were FBI jurisdiction, angels’ deaths were her bailiwick .
The only witness sat in a Sea Witch, New Jersey, police car.
Sea Witch? What the heck kind of name was that for a town?

Buy here: http://amzn.com/B00D1TPXZY
Where to find Chris Redding
http://chrisredddingauthor.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/chrisreddingauthor
www.twitter.com/chrisredding
Enjoy and thanks to Catherine for having me today.
You're most welcome, Chris!

One of the Family: Guest Kat Flannery

 

My Guest today is one of my Imajineers: our family of authors published by Imajin Books. Kat Flannery talks to us about how she writes her incredibly realistic characters.


When I’m writing I often visualize the characters to look like an actor or actress.

With my last book CHASING CLOVERS, I was asked all the time what actors I thought should play my characters and of course I had the answers right away, Ilsa Fisher and Dwayne Johnson, yes the rock. 

I’m not one who thinks my books could ever be movies, but hey, you never know. So just for fun and in case Hollywood comes calling I thought I’d help them out with who I think should play my main characters.

 Nora Rushton: I created Nora to be somewhat exotic looking in the fact that she had black hair and blue eyes. She is a healer, or what most call her a witch.

I knew right away that she’d be soft and timid, yet when required she’d have a feisty side too.

Emily Blunt came to mind. She appears to have the same quiet, stoic mannerisms I created in Nora, but the fire needed to play her too.

Otakatay was bit harder for me to pin down.
He is tough as nails, gritty, lethal and will kill you if he needs to.


He is half Lakota and half white with a dark look to him.
 
All the regular actors don’t come to mind when I think of him, until it hit me when I was writing this post, Jason Momoa. Yes, that was it. Dark, feral, beastly look, with a yummy appeal to him as well.

Excerpt from Lakota Honor: PROLOGUE

Colorado Mountains, 1880

     The blade slicing his throat made no sound, but the dead body hitting the ground did. With no time to stop, he hurried through the dark tunnel until he reached the ladder leading out of the shaft.
 He’d been two hundred feet below ground for ten days, with no food and little water. Weak and woozy, he stared up the ladder. He’d have to climb it and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wiped the bloody blade on his torn pants and placed it between his teeth. Scraped knuckles and unwashed hands gripped the wooden rung.
     The earth swayed. He closed his eyes and forced the spinning in his head to cease. One thin bronzed leg lifted and came down wobbly. He waited until his leg stopped shaking before he climbed another rung. Each step caused pain, but was paired with determination. He made it to the top faster than he’d thought he would. The sky was black and the air was cool, but fresh. Thank goodness it was fresh.
      He took two long breaths before he emerged from the hole. The smell from below ground still lingered in his nostrils; unwashed bodies, feces and mangy rats. His stomach pitched. He tugged at the rope around his hands. There had been no time to chew the thick bands around his wrists when he’d planned his escape. It was better to run than crawl, and he chewed through the strips that bound his feet instead. There would be time to free his wrists later.
     He pressed his body against the mountain and inched toward the shack. He frowned. A guard stood at the entrance to where they were. The blade from the knife pinched his lip, cutting the thin skin and he tasted blood. He needed to get in there. He needed to say goodbye. He needed to make a promise.
     The tower bell rang mercilessly. There was no time left. He pushed away from the rocky wall, dropped the knife from his mouth into his bound hands, aimed and threw it. The dagger dug into the man’s chest. He ran over, pulled the blade from the guard and quickly slid it across his throat. The guard bled out in seconds.
     He tapped the barred window on the north side of the dilapidated shack. The time seemed to stretch. He glanced at the large house not fifty yards from where he stood. He would come back, and he would kill the bastard inside.
     He tapped again, harder this time, and heard the weak steps of those like him shuffling from inside. The window slid open, and a small hand slipped out.
     “Toksha ake—I shall see you again,” he whispered in Lakota.
     The hand squeezed his once, twice and on the third time held tight before it let go and disappeared inside the room.
     A tear slipped from his dark eyes, and his hand, still on the window sill, balled into a fist. He swallowed past the sob and felt the burn in his throat. His chest ached for what he was leaving behind. He would survive, and he would return.
     Men shouted to his right, and he crouched down low. He took one last look around and fled into the cover of the forest.



Click the title and buy Lakota Honor now! On sale for a limited time.


BIO
     Kat Flannery has loved writing ever since she was a girl. She is often seen jotting her ideas down in a little black book. When not writing, or researching, Kat enjoys snuggling on her couch with a hot chocolate and a great book.
     Her first novel, CHASING CLOVERS became an Amazon’s bestseller in Historical and Western romance. This is Kat’s second book, and she is currently hard at work on the third.
     When not focusing on her creative passions, Kat is busy with her three boys and doting husband.

Kat's Website: http://www.katflannery-author.com (or click on the banner above)
Kat's Blog: http://kat-scratch.blogspot.ca

Three Random Things about Author Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  

 Three Random Things about Author Cheryl Kaye Tardif

Today's special guest is international bestselling author Cheryl Kaye Tardif, who is celebrating the release of her new thriller, SUBMERGED, during her official Blog Tour. I asked Cheryl to share three random things about her, and a bit about SUBMERGED.

Turns out we have a lot in common, since I too did background "acting" (in This is Wonderland).

Cathy, since we both have film connections, I thought it would be fun to share some random experiences I've had in the film industry. So here are my Three Random Things…

1.     Just over 20 years ago I worked as a background actor or "extra" in Vancouver, BC, and one of the shows I worked on was The Commish, starring Michael Chiklis (from Vegas and The Shield fame). I appeared in a few episodes, but the most memorable one was a Halloween show ("The Witches of Eastbridge" episode) where a killer was poisoning candy. I was in a scene with several cast members, including Michael—about 10 of us altogether. I think Michael thought I was one of the main actors because he introduced himself to me and shook my hand. Minutes later I met Stephen J. Cannell, producer/writer extraordinaire. Then I sat beside one of the guest actors for the scene.

2.     One of my other jobs as a background actor was for a scene on The Heights (a popular FOX show back then, similar to Melrose Place.) In my first scene on the show I was partnered with a much older man for a scene in a lounge. Since there can be a lot of waiting and retakes, I decided to make my "roll" fun and I convinced my partner that we were playing the part of older man and expensive escort. I even took off my wedding ring. When I told my husband afterward, he just rolled his eyes. He knows me well. I can make even a somewhat mundane task seem exciting. J

3.     On set for another episode of either The Heights, the director decided they didn't have enough extras for an outdoor scene on a busy city street. So we were asked to change our appearance as much as possible so they could use us more than once. Watching it back later with my husband, I pointed and said, "There I am." I had my hair down and was wearing a black jacket. A few seconds later, walking in the opposite direction, I showed up on screen again, hair up and wearing a blue jacket. I think that was also the scene where two of the main male actors had to scarf down hotdog after hotdog until the director finally said it was a wrap. I felt kind of sorry for those guys. They looked a little green…

And now I am dreaming about other movies—my movies, from my novels. One day. Until then, here's a little SUBMERGED appetizer…

From Cheryl Kaye Tardif, the international bestselling author that brought you CHILDREN OF THE FOG, comes a terrifying new thriller that will leave you breathless…

SUBMERGED

"Submerged reads like an approaching storm, full of darkness, dread and electricity. Prepare for your skin to crawl."

—Andrew Gross, New York Times bestselling author of 15 Seconds

Two strangers submerged in guilt, brought together by fate…

After a tragic car accident claims the lives of his wife, Jane, and son, Ryan, Marcus Taylor is immersed in grief. But his family isn't the only thing he has lost. An addiction to painkillers has taken away his career as a paramedic. Working as a 911 operator is now the closest he gets to redemption—until he gets a call from a woman trapped in a car.

Rebecca Kingston yearns for a quiet weekend getaway, so she can think about her impending divorce from her abusive husband. When a mysterious truck runs her off the road, she is pinned behind the steering wheel, unable to help her two children in the back seat. Her only lifeline is a cell phone with a quickly depleting battery and a stranger's calm voice on the other end telling her everything will be all right.

*SUBMERGED has a unique tie-in to Tardif`s international bestseller, CHILDREN OF THE FOG.

Get SUBMERGED today.

Learn more about Cheryl Kaye Tardif at http://www.cherylktardif.com and follow her on Twitter.

Enter Cheryl’s March Giveaway – 59 Prizes! http://www.cherylktardif.blogspot.com

How to Write a Review #2: Star Wars

How to Write A Review Part 2: Star Wars

As a retired teacher, I am biased in my view of ratings (pun intended). I came from the “old school”, literally. I never believed in scoring something unless there was a set of criteria laid out from the beginning. When I gave an assignment, I also gave the evaluation scheme with it. If the student wanted an A, I would describe what s/he had to do or demonstrate.

The most objective appraisals, of course, involve right or wrong answers such as 2 + 2 = 4. No debate. As for all other evaluations, some subjectivity is involved. However, when the assessor has knowledge of and experience with the task or skill being evaluated, the subjectivity is dependable.  

That brings me to Amazon reviews.

As a reader I am asked by the site to give the book I’ve just read a star rating. This score is extremely important to the author of the novel. Amazon uses the ratings to sell/promote the books. Readers most often only look at novels with a 4-5 star rating. But what are the criteria? What does the rating mean?

She loves me, she loves me not.

Well, there are no criteria. Unless you are a professional reviewer  and have studied the various genres, the rules a writer is supposed to follow, the techniques or skills to be admired, and so on, you will be completely subjective in your evaluation. You’ll have no scoring template to go by.

In fact, Amazon assumes that this is the case. Clearly the scoring guideline wants you to be totally subjective. Five stars means “I love it”. How much more biased can you be?? 4 stars = “I like it”. 3 stars = “It’s okay”. 2 stars = “I don’t like it”. 1 star = “I hate it”. You HATE a book? Oh my.

When I look at the ratings on my own books, I often cringe. The Bridgeman has a 4 star rating. I would expect that its score would be somewhat lower because the subject matter is dark. Despite the hopeful ending filled with love and community, it nevertheless describes the underbelly of society. Victim, on the other hand, is a pretty tame read. There’s lots of native philosophy, hope, and love. It has a four and a half star rating. Legacy and Seventh Fire both have 5 stars. 

 I have to admit, however, that the number of reviews is low. (Want to do a review for me??) See all the books here: My website or on Amazon .

My author rank today is 140,000 out of several million. Could be better, but still an achievement.

However – all of this ranking and promoting and highlighting and selling is partly the result of the number of stars a novel has. And the number of stars is so subjective that I don’t see how my books can possibly be compared to anyone else’s. What my readers love or hate may be polar opposite to what you love or hate. In fact, I often look at a one-star rating and wonder what planet that reader must be on in order to    despise a particular work that I loved. But that's all my own bias!

In addition, while I'm ranting, apparently some authors go into a competitors' review profile and put a one-star rating there on purpose. Huh? I sincerely hope this is some kind of urban myth, but maybe not.

So – what to do? One of my colleagues refuses to give stars at all. That might be a good strategy, except for the fact that Amazon bases its promotions and highlights on stars. My policy is that I never post a review that’s only 1 or 2-star worthy. In other words, I didn’t like the book at all. Maybe that skews my ratings, but so what? Nobody is going to look around for those lower ratings anyway. They’re going to go for the 4 & 5 star books. If there are one or two stars scattered among the other 5-star scores, the lower scores are going to be dismissed.

I will write a 3-star review if the reasons I didn’t like it are technical. Such as, the editing could be improved, but the plot and character descriptions, etc., are essentially good.

The only way to really get the low-down on the book is to read the review. Ignore or take the star rating lightly. (And I did have that previous rant on “how to write a review”, so go read that, too.) To me, it goes hand-in-hand with not bothering to post a 1 or 2 star reaction. 

Unless Amazon creates objective criteria for loving or hating a book, perhaps based on expert reviewers’ point systems, I am keeping with my policy. What about you?

Birth Announcement: Number 5

Anne and Karoline's apartment. Slightly modified by imagination.

Last night I gave birth to book baby # 5. Her name is Sweet Karoline. After all the pain and suffering it’s a bit of a relief. It does mean that I have to send her into the world now, though. All this time she’s been protected in the womb of my imagination.

Her siblings wait for her to join them on bookshelves and online. They are all girls, too. Just like Michael Jackson I gave my children the same names. They all end with “An Emily Taylor Mystery”. They’ve got so many traits in common you might think they’re quadruplets. Except that they were born a couple of years apart.

Karoline, however, is completely different. She’ll always stand alone.

I’m about to enter my new baby into the world. First I have to register her birth. Next I’ll give her to my first readers. They will be gentle but nevertheless they will find flaws with her. They’ll poke and prod her and do all kinds of checks on her. Like examining all her commas and inner dialogues and clues.

After that she’ll go off to publisher’s school. This might subject her to rejection. Several times over, perhaps. Publisher schools are private and very particular about their students. When she does get accepted she’ll again be poked and prodded. She might even be rearranged. Parts of her may have to go or be redone. She’ll learn a lot. In many ways she’ll be a different book when she graduates.

Once all her schooling is finished she’ll be on her own, out in the world. I hope she receives acceptance, joy, success and good health. But I can’t protect her forever. She’ll be at the mercy of reviewers, bloggers, random media and readers around the world. She’ll get to travel a lot.

Her sightseeing missions could be short lived. Or they could be wildly successful and blessed with longevity. I can only dream that she'll be awarded and feted. You never know what your children might do. You love them no matter what.

Meanwhile I’ll be at home. I’ll enjoy her successes from afar. Grieve for her failures. Work on sibling six, which has already germinated.