Help along the way

It's alive! It's alive!

We all have that same feeling when something we have created comes to fruition. Writing is a solitary journey. One spends days and nights pouring their heart, thoughts and ideas into a keyboard, or handwritten into a notebook or even, * gasp * using a typewriter. Okay, I don't do that, but I do jot down things in a composition book. All the rest of the actual writing of a story for me is done at the keyboard.

There are times, however when one leans on the advice and expertise of others to get through a work. A good writer never wants to leave details to guesswork. One must research facts, places and scenes to be believable, keeping in mind that fiction is just that, made-up-stuff. There are times when one needs to bend the facts to fit a story. It's what we do.

But help is always around a corner. I have a writing group that is second to none. The advice on writing and the business of writing is only a question away. With such talented people, the answer comes quickly.

And then there is the technical side. My latest creation is outside the genre in which I usually write. 'The Bear' is a modern day cold war era style novel. With that, the technical aspects of writing about the military and military hardware is not something I can just completely make up. It is with great appreciation and respect that I give thanks to two persons who helped me along the way. In 'The Bear', I give special acknowledgment to my contributors and their help in making me sound like I know what I'm writing.

Special thanks to former Petty Officer James Walker, USN (USS Sea Devil) and Lt. Colonel Rex Schlagenhauf, USAF (ret) for their technical contributions to this book.

With that being said...The Bear 

available exclusively at Amazon.com (for a limited time). Enjoy the ride.

I have been assimilated

I sat in my pod today looking at the analysis equipment within my earthly vessel. I sat attached. Upon my wrist was my time-tracking device. It was 1:21 pm. The internal glow from the visual interface that sat upon my control panel was interrupted only by the numeric output rolling across. The manual input plate called for me. I am 1 of 14.

I pulled a small device from my thigh. It keeps me connected to the whole of the hive. With it, I may find any information required to complete my objective. The 3/4G connection instantly scrolls information from anywhere within the collective. All members of the hive may be visited with its messaging or audio interface.

As well, I have a radio controller attached to me, its form embedded within my ear. From it I may communicate and instruct the other 13 of 14 within my unit. I am 1 of 14. A third unit attached to my waist contains all the information we require to manage components within my vessel, its contents and the location of each piece. From it we control the flow of equipment and unit output as we assimilate others into our world.

I have been assimilated. I am 1 of 14.

Coming soon, a new thriller

Many years ago, after I finished my stint in college, I didn't pick up a book for some time. I was tired. All those years of study, all those years of reading ... it was time to sit back and let my brain have a rest. 

Not long after that, a man named Tom Clancy put out his first book, 'The Hunt for Red October'. It was that book and his subsequent work 'Red Storm Rising', which is still my favorite of his works, that brought me back into reading. 

As a child of the cold war, I was hooked. This is what I grew up with. The nightly news often led with headlines of the Soviet Union. I have always been fascinated by the struggle between the two powers. Although I enjoyed most of Tom Clancy's later works, when the Soviet Union fell, my interest in that genre of writing waned.

As the world changes, it often stays the same. I invite you to look for my upcoming novel, a throwback to the cold war era, but set in the modern day world. 

Coming soon ...

“Captain to the conn.” Tull placed the mic on the hook just as his commander walked back into the station. “About that time, sir.”

“Any traffic about?”

“You were right about traffic slowing down. There’s almost nothing running.”

“Well, lets get underway.” Dawson turned, giving the order. “Bring us up to scope depth, all ahead slow.”

“Slow sir?”

“We need to see what’s up there first, and we don’t want wake, even a small trail from that could become luminescent. You churn the waters at night, you disturb it’s life forms. It’s mostly carriers that people know about, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“All ahead slow, aye.”

The constant hum of machinery faded into the background, the sub deathly quiet as the USS Columbus began her passage into the Great Belt. The black hull slipped easily through the dark waters as the overcast sky painted a bleak picture upon the northern world. The rush of current from the Baltic pushed past, doing everything it could to keep the intruder away from her shoals. The shallow bottom of the Belt was not the featureless abyss that was the cruising plain of the open ocean. Here, the ancient geology of the Kattegat islands and narrow passages, and sunken vessels from times long forgotten all conspired to swirl the brackish waters along the hull like thunder in the face of the intruder.

“It’s okay to talk, people.”

The collective exhale eased the tension, slightly. The boat rocked ever so slightly as she fought her way against the turmoil. Dawson looked down at the screens that displayed from the scope. He saw nothing but blackness.

“Surface contact dead astern.” The sonarman pushed the phones against his ears and closed his eyes. “It’s a big one, sir.”

“Maybe we just got lucky.” The XO directed the scope astern, searching for the contact. “Starboard green. She’s coming this way.”

“Range?”

“Hard to pinpoint sir. Two miles maybe.”

“Dead slow, conn.”

“Dead slow aye.”

“Lets let them catch up to us. Maintain forward momentum against he current and glide right along beside them.”

“Glide, sir?”

“It’ll be a bit bumpy,” Dawson replied. “Riding along side a ship it going to make it interesting. Any idea what it is yet?”

“No sir, but it’s what you wanted, something really big.” The seaman keyed in some commands into his station before offering an opinion. “My guess is it’s a tanker.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just a hunch, but the signature just seems to fit the data.”

“If you say so.”

“It’s what you pay me for, sir.”

"It is at that, son. It is at that."

The cold war heats up again ....

White Staff - a fantasy novel

He reached down and stroked the soft coat of his gray friend. He knew he would never have the bond Aethan had with her but his weeks as her companion sealed a different bond between them. He was handed the reins of a chestnut mare that softly nibbled grains from a farmer’s hand.

“You will have little trouble over the flatlands to the south. There is little there to delay you. But take care as I may not have seen all that could affect your journey. The invading army may have strayed in an unsuspecting direction.” Aethan extended his staff toward Falton and moved it side to side and back again. Symbols flared along its length as a soft glow reached out enveloping his form. The layers of softness peeled away one after the other leaving his body partially transparent, a breath of wind for all to see.

           Falton slipped his boot into the stirrup lifting himself up into the saddle. He nodded to Aethan and turned his eyes toward Charise who stood beside his horse. He reached out and touched the hand she offered, though she was unable to see him directly from Aethan’s spell. She felt the wisp of his hand touch hers as he nudged his heels into the mare. He surged southwest running toward the coast of the Great Southern Waters.

A couple paragraphs from my epic fantasy novel, 'White Staff'. If you're a fantasy reader, or just a follower of this rambling blog, here is my little gift to you. Although this novel is available at many ebook sellers such as iTunes, Kobo, Amazon and Barnes and Noble, it is for a limited time, 75% off the regular price at Smashwords.com

Use the coupon code YR62J exclusively at Smashwords.com to get 'White Staff' for just 99 cents (normally $3.99). The code is only available through April 17, so hurry along and snap up your copy. Just click on the link above to 'White Staff' and enter the coupon code to get the bargain price. Again, that's 75% off.

I hope everyone takes advantage of this offer, and I hope you enjoy the book.

Without meaning

Yesterday was a first. A retail first for me; I had to work. My company decided last year it was time to keep up with the Joneses and opened the stores. This year, it was my turn to work the Easter holiday. It saddened me to a point. 

Holidays have become just another day. They are a work day. The only day we do not open now during the calendar year is Christmas day. I wonder how long that will last? We must open. They will be open so we can't be closed. 

From a business standpoint, I understand the thought process. They are however, overlooking one simple thing; employees don't want to be there. Hell, I didn't want to be there. But I suppose corporations are simply reacting to what the buying public wants. And what does the buying public want? They want every day to be like every other day. 

Holidays have lost the luster of family gatherings and lively fun and relaxation. People put so much effort into making the basket or wrapping the presents or cooking the meal, they can't wait till it's over with. Many men then sit and veg in front of a television or find something else to occupy their time, and the women want to run away and get out of the house. It's their escape. What do they do? They go to stores.

The holidays have collapsed in America and it saddens me. Growing up, I enjoyed nearly every holiday as the year rolled along, at last climaxing with Christmas. Unfortunately for me, few now hold any special meaning. They are nothing more than the day before and the day after. They are a work day. 

One day, when I put the world of retail behind me, never shall I venture into a store on a holiday. I would be stealing from those employees that which I have lost.

It's been a while

Life gets in the way ...

I've been gone for a bit. Sorry I haven't posted a ramble in almost a month. It's not that things haven't crossed my mind. Sometimes, I'm not near a keyboard to put them out. Although I work around computers all the time, it isn't something I can just bang out in the middle of the sales floor at work. I don't think my employer would appreciate me adding to the blogosphere while they're paying my salary.

Oh, there are a few things I've thought about writing. It just isn't always convenient. This month has been overly troublesome to that extent. The working world calls, and I must obey that call. What it does it place the writing world in another universe. Unfortunately for me at this time, that is nearly a parallel universe where the two shall never meet.

A week ago this Saturday, I had a day off. That could well be my only day away from work this month. Yep, you read that correctly; this month. Although this time of year is not normally an extremely busy time for me in my industry, it is often the time my company decides to do other things, like upgrade all the systems we own. Well, not upgrade actually ... replace them all. That requires a tremendous amount of work and supervision for all the other aspects of the job. Oh, and I have to replace about five employees who are leaving all about the same time.

Hopefully, I will be able to drop in on a more regular basis and post a few enlightening tidbits for your enjoyment, or just to unload some of my angst upon the world. It can be a real stress reliever.
Of course, there's still books to write ... hmmm, I've got a lot of work to do. I'll get to sleep some time around May, perhaps.

I believe in Angels

Recent events in my family have sent me to pondering life and our daily struggles through it. Many believe and many don't in the afterlife, God, angels, etc. I suppose unless something happens to you, you can never really know.

Very few people know of this story, less than a handful, I'd say ...

Many years ago when I was younger, about the age of twenty-two or three (give or take), I had spent the evening and well into the night at a wedding. It was in the summer months as I recall the evening was warm and I wasn't wearing a jacket. It was late, very late, about 2 a.m. when I was driving home on the freeway.

At that point in time, I lived in an older area of the city. In itself, it was relatively safe place to be, however getting to that point, one had to venture through some areas that weren't so friendly. As it happened, I ran out of gas on the freeway about a mile from the next exit. I guided my car to the shoulder and sat there for a minute. I was tired. I know the area and knew there was a gas station at the end of the exit. That meant walking to get there, buying their gas can and walking back to my car. Remember, this was well before the age of the cell phone. No 'phone-a-friend' or AAA was coming to my rescue.

Just as I got out of my car, another vehicle pulled up behind me. It was an old station wagon, light blue in color and several years old. Out steps this big fella, rather tall, at least compared to me and solidly built. He had a big blonde mop of tussled hair and he was sporting a white tee shirt and cut-off jeans. And he was bare-footed. He steps up and offers to take me down the road to the exit. I thanked him and we were off.

In the end, I got home safely. (I haven't run out of gas since). So what's so angelic about that, you ask? Nothing on the surface. I received help when I needed help. From my perspective, I was in no immediate danger other than getting hit by a car. However, after some time had passed, I had a revelation. As I was thinking about what had happened that night, it was if a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I saw the event clearly for what it was. The person who stepped to my aid was the spitting image of my cousin Tony, a big strapping farm-boy kind of guy with a heart as big as the ocean. Still, what's so special about that? You didn't recognize him.

Tony had been killed by a drunk driver about eight years before.

I believe in angels to this day.