Saturday, July 31, 2010

Adding a new chapter

For my readers, please stop at chapter 11. I am adding a new chapter to follow. A few key points were bothering me, matters that needed some explaining. What you now have as chapt. 12 will become chapt. 13 and so on.

I will post a master document on Google Docs, then send you all the URL to access the file at your leisure.

Apologies for any disruption!

Friday, July 30, 2010

To my readers

When you downloaded your copy did it convert into the RTF format and open in Wordpad? At least one reader says this happened.

It probably makes sense to load the whole thing to Google Docs for ease of reading...

Can't take it anymore

I really tried not thinking about the book, but I can't. Too many things I know need work. Don't worry, readers, everything that's bugging me is in the later portions of what you have so please keep reading.

I will hold off on any changes until Saturday...unless Friday moves slowly.

And yes, I AM LOOKING UP HALLOWEEN TOURS. Will keep you posted on what I wind up doing.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Are the cops looking for me???

The other day I came home to find a business card intentionally tucked into my mailbox.

It was from the Plainfield Police Department. This is odd for a number of reasons. I don't live in Plainfield, have not been through there in months and that was just for vehicle inspection. They wouldn't cross the county line and go into another town to randomly leave a business card behind, would they?

The business card did not have message on it like "Please call regarding..."

Just a card, name and number. I called twice but got voicemail. Didn't bother leaving a message.

My mind ran through the possibilities: A case of mistaken identity? Did someone give a false address on a report? Are they investigating one of my neighbors? The secret behind the dangling card may be something rather simple...or sinister. At the very least it could be a great opening to a mystery novel!

So I will give the number a try again after work, this time I will leave a message. Then maybe I will know the real story.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Yeah, who am I kidding...

I did not look at Heritage Fields at all last night.

Not one page. Didn't even open the master file. I flopped on the couch, ate french fries and watched reruns of Avatar: the Last Airbender.

No sir, no rewrites last night.

Until I tried to fall asleep. That's when the brain kicked in with new fixes. Curse you, my subconscious. Curse you!

I did NOT go the computer and implement the changes though. That's both a mistake AND the best thing I could do.

I might forget the ideas I came up with last night, but I also need to make time for not working on the book.

Got to do stuff like exercise. I'm getting squishier. That needs to stop.

I also really have to make a decision on Halloween like NOW. Three months can vanish in a blink. I need to find a tour pronto and still don't know if I should go to Scotland or Ireland.

"Who is that black man roaming the haunted hills of the Celts on Samhain?" That would be me, but only if I get off my butt and book my accommodations.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Last call for readers

I have sent the first cut of Heritage Fields to everyone who shared their email with me. If you are interested in reading a copy but have not shared your email with me, do so ASAP.

I am going to kick back and unwind for a few days. No rewrites or edits. Clear my head. But at the end of the week I expect to get back in the trenches.

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away